#jaecerys

[slavicdelight]

The High Tower and the Dragon's Heir

Pairing: Alicent Hightower x male!Targ!reader

Summary: Lady Alicent Hightower was the closest friend of Princess Rhaenyra, yet she couldn't help but fall for her older brother, Y/N.

Warnings: none, following canon divergence

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Alicent Hightower gracefully strolled the corridors of the illustrious Red Keep, her morning lessons with her inseparable companion, Princess Rhaenyra, having just concluded. The echoes of footsteps accompanied her every stride as she made her way towards the luncheon appointment with her father, Ser Otto Hightower, the King's Hand. The castle bursted with vibrant activity—servants hurriedly carried out their duties, knights stood in vigilant postures, and nobles engaged in animated conversations, exchanging the latest court gossip.

As she ascended a majestic staircase, the voice of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Westerling, reached her ears. With a soft smile, Alicent reciprocated the courteous greeting. The anticipation of her father's chambers lingered in the air as she approached, each step echoing with the weight of her familial responsibilities.

However, the routine of her morning took an unexpected turn when, just before she reached the sanctum of her father, a sudden force collided with her, threatening to send her sprawling. A gasp escaped her lips, but before the cold stone floor could meet her, strong and reassuring hands prevented her from falling. These hands belonged to none other than Y/N Targaryen, the eldest son of the reigning monarch, King Viserys.

In that fleeting moment of unexpected encounter, the bustling ambiance of the Red Keep faded into the background. Alicent found herself lost in his gaze. The air crackled with an unspoken tension, and as Y/N steadied her with an effortless strength, Alicent's heart quickened, realizing that even in the most predictable corridors, destiny had an uncanny way of intertwining lives in an unexpected matter.

"Oh my, Lady Alicent. I'm so sorry; I didn't notice you," the young Prince expressed with a charming smile, nearly as enchanting as the prince himself. His gaze held a hypnotic quality that left Alicent momentarily flustered. Deep down, she possessed an immense fondness for him, but the fear of rejection and the potential repercussions from his younger sister stopped her from ever expressing them.

"No, my Prince. It was I who should've been more careful," Alicent nervously replied, her voice betraying a subtle hint of admiration. The unspoken tension between them lingered in the air. Her father's disapproval of the prince added a layer of complexity to the situation. Otto Hightower believed him to be the same as his uncle, Prince Daemon, hence the mutual hostility.

"Were you heading to your father, perhaps?" the prince inquired, his curiosity evident. Alicent hesitated, aware of the strained relationship between her father, Ser Otto Hightower, and the prince. Otto's opinions about Y/N's fitness for becoming king often clashed with the prince's aspirations.

"Yes, my prince," Alicent replied cautiously, choosing her words with care. The prince graciously took a step back, allowing her to continue her journey towards her father's chambers.

"Then do not let me stop you," he said with a small, understanding smile, his gaze lingering for a moment before gracefully descending the stairs, resuming his own path through the corridors of the Red Keep. That brief encounter, had left Lady Alicent soft in her knees.

Entering the Hand's chambers, Alicent immediately noticed her father seated at the table, a large variety of dishes laid out. She greeted him respectfully and took her place on the opposite side. "Alicent," he acknowledged with a nod, his eyes shining with a mix of sternness and affection. "How was your morning?" he inquired, motioning her to being eating.

"It was fine. I studied with the Princess the whole morning after breaking fast with her and Queen Aemma," Alicent replied, offering a light summary of her activities. The mention of encountering Prince Y/N on her way to her father's chambers prompted a subtle change in his demeanor. His brow lifted, and a stern look accompanied his response. "Prince Y/N is not a good influence. I advise you to avoid him," he coldly said, his voice carrying a weight of disapproval as Alicent cast her gaze downward. "Very well, father," she agreed, and the remainder of their lunch unfolded in a heavy silence.

As Alicent's thoughts drifted back to the violet-eyed prince, she couldn't comprehend her father's disdain for him. In her eyes, he was gallant and the epitome of a perfect prince. The unspoken tension between father and daughter lingered, leaving Alicent with a sense of conflict between her loyalty to her father and a growing curiosity about Y/N.

A fortnight later, the joyous occasion of a tournament took place in order to celebrate the King's anticipated new heir gripped the Red Keep. Nobles from far and wide were invited, marking the event as a grand affair. Queen Aemma, began her labours early in the morning, enduring the suffering alone, as King Viserys presided over the jousting festivities. Prince Daemon, displaying exceptional skills, unseated Alicent's brother Gwayne from his horse.

Victorious, the Prince then diverted his attention towards the stands where Alicent sat. With a charming smile, he asked for her favor, stating, "Lady Alicent, I'm sure your favor would ensure my victory today." Casting a fleeting glance at her father, Alicent handed Daemon her favor. Unbeknownst to her, a certain prince of the crown observed the exchange with a glare and a clenched jaw.

The joy of the tournament swiftly gave way to a somber hush when a messenger arrived bearing the tragic news of Queen Aemma's death. The atmosphere within the Red Keep became grim, mournful mood reigned for weeks. The funeral, held on a distant hill, marked a solemn occasion where the lifeless forms of the Queen and the young Prince lay upon the pyre, awaiting the embrace of dragonfire from Syrax and Shadowspine, the loyal companions of the Queen's surviving children.

Following the ceremony, Alicent found herself once again in her father's chambers, the weight of grief hanging heavily in the air. "How is Rhaenyra?" her father inquired, slight concern etched across his face. Alicent, her fingers idly picking at her fingers, replied, "She just lost her mother." The sorrow that lingered in her words mirrored the collective grief that shrouded the entire Keep.

Not being one to hide his ambitions, her father suggested, "Perhaps you would like to offer the King some comfort. Losing a wife is a terrible thing. He would surely rejoice in a visit." Alicent reluctantly agreed to undertake this solemn task, driven by her desire to please her father. As she turned to leave, she overheard her father's additional instruction, his voice low and laden with subtle implication—indicating that she should dress herself in one of her late mother's gowns.

Rather than heading to the King's chambers as initially intended, Alicent found herself standing before the doors that guarded Prince Y/N's residence. A guard announced her presence, and she entered, greeted by a scene of disarray. The room resembled the aftermath of a storm—furniture upended, decorations scattered in chaotic way. Amidst the disorder, she discovered her prince, seated on the floor, his back against the bed stand, his once-silky hair now tangled, and his eyes holding a haunted look. The scent of alcohol lingered in the air.

Taking a seat beside the prince, Alicent met his gaze, prompting him to question her presence with a strained voice, revealing the results of earlier screams. "I came here to see how you're holding up, my Prince," she replied calmly, her eyes scanning the wreckage around them. He only scoffed in response.

Drawing on her own experiences, Alicent shared, "When my own mother died, people looked at me with pity. I didn't want it. All I wanted was to hear they were sorry." Her empathetic words hung in the air, and she continued, "I'm so sorry for your loss, my Prince," concluding her condolences with a soft look, her eyes reflecting genuine compassion. Y/N stared at her in silence, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, as he began to unveil the weight of his heartache.

"My father's quest for a second son is to blame for this tragedy. He never considered me worthy of the throne," he confessed, his voice full of bitterness and sorrow. "He wished for another son, a better son. One he could put on the throne after himself. I was never enough. Rhaenyra wasn't enough. He killed my mother for a new heir. And now, my brother is also dead," he uttered.

Alicent's heart ached for him, the immensity of his suffering echoing through the confessions. Despite already bearing the responsibilities of being the Heir, this added layer of tragedy made the burden almost unbearable. In her earnest attempt to offer solace, she stood by both Y/N and Princess Rhaenyra, a pillar of support during these dark times.

As Y/N was officially declared Heir before the realm, Alicent stood steadfastly by his side, witnessing the unfolding of destiny. She remained present during the uncomfortable prospect of their father's remarriage, understanding the siblings hesitation. The more time they spent together, the threads of friendship between Alicent and Y/N began to intertwine with the delicate threads of love.

When the time came for the Prince to choose a wife, he declared his intent to marry Lady Alicent, much to Rhaenyra's dismay. While Viserys rejoiced in the prospect, Otto, though reluctantly, agreed to the union. Though not a fervent supporter of the Prince, Otto recognized the strategic significance—marrying his daughter to the future king ensured the placement of his bloodline on the throne.

The union of Alicent and Y/N was immortalized in what became known as the White Wedding. It was a testament to the pure and evident love that bound the newlyweds. The ceremony resonated with the harmonious union of two souls, their vows exchanged amidst the sacred walls of the Sept.

Shorty after their nuptials, the arrival of Aegon Targaryen marked a new chapter in the royal family. The beautiful boy, with the coloring of his father and the distinctive facial structure of his mother, embodied the perfect mix of the royal couple. Aegon, the newest Prince, became a living testament to the love that flourished within the Targaryen lineage.

As Alicent carried the weight of their second child, King Viserys sought to hold a celebratory hunt on his grandson Aegon's second name day. The relationships within the Targaryen family began to mend, albeit slowly, and the noticeable favoritism towards Rhaenyra, perhaps due to her resemblance to her late mother, didn't escape Y/N's notice. Despite the slight discomfort, he chose to focus on his growing family, diverting his attention away from the nuances of favoritism and concentrating on the joyous moments that bound them together.

The grand hunt orchestrated by King Viserys brought a sense of delight to Otto Hightower, who relished the opportunity for both entertainment and strategic alliances. The men, engaged in the pursuit of a White Hart—a symbolic creature representing royalty—set out with purpose, leaving the women to find solace within the safety of the camp.

As Alicent sat beside her husband, Y/N, who held their young son Aegon in his lap, an unexpected intrusion disrupted the peace inside the tent. Rhaenyra, the spirited Princess, burst in with determination, her grievances clear. Viserys, in his pursuit to secure her a suitable match, had orchestrated a connection with Jason Lannister, much to Rhaenyra's vocal displeasure. The fiery Princess asserted her autonomy, rejecting the notion of being treated as a prize to be sold to the highest bidder.

The repercussions of this confrontation left Alicent aware of the strain in her once-unbreakable bond with Rhaenyra. The princess, fueled by a desire to ascend to the throne, resented the twist of fate that seemingly diverted Y/N's affections toward Alicent, who had become the new Princess consort.

In the next years, Rhaenyra's fate took a turn as she was forced into a marriage with her cousin, Ser Laenor Velaryon, because of previous liaison with her uncle Daemon in a pleasure house that added further complexity to the situation. The marriage, arranged against her will, led to the birth of bastards, whom she attempted to pass as legitimate—a move not lost on the eyes of the court.

Despite Viserys's blindness, the court recognized the discrepancy in the children's Valyrian features. Whispers spread, hinting at a connection with Ser Harwing Strong, the Commander of the Gold Cloaks, who served closely under the Princess.

These choices made by Rhaenyra made Alicent bitter. The apparent disregard for duty exhibited by Rhaenyra, coupled with the ability to evade consequences, fueled Alicent's resentment. Yet, in the face of this, the legitimacy of the children born to Y/N and Alicent remained unquestionable. The unmistakable resemblance of each child to their father nullified any potential doubts that might have arisen.

As their children matured, distinct personalities emerged, painting a portrait of the Targaryen legacy. Aegon, the mischievous firstborn, delighted in playing pranks and causing mayhem within the castle. Despite occasional mischief, his loyalty to the family prevailed, a testament to the intricate balance of his character.

Helaena, their only daughter, embodied sweetness and warmth. Though closed off to many, she harbored a great heart, often murmuring riddles that, while dismissed by most, held significance to her parents who recognized her as a dreamer with visions of her own.

Aemond, a mirror image of his father, shared not only physical similarities but also akin personalities. The only distinction lay in Aemond's shyness. His passion for history forged a special bond with King Viserys, who favored the small Prince. Their shared love for learning brought them together in frequent discussions about the boy's recent discoveries.

The youngest, Daeron, charmed all who crossed his path, earning the title of the most popular son among their subjects. His charm and charisma propelled him to Oldtown, serving his mother's uncle as a cupbearer and squire.

Amidst the dynamic growth of their children, Y/N and Alicent's love stood resilient. Any hopes Rhaenyra harbored of a falling out between the couple were in vain; their bond, an indestructible force, continued to strengthen.

The visible strain within the ruling family had spilled beyond the walls of the Red Keep, earning them the titles of "blacks" and "reds" among the common folk and nobility alike. Y/N, recognizing the fractures within his family, attempted reconciliation with his younger sister, but Rhaenyra remained consumed by anger towards him for marrying another and harbored resentment for Alicent, his wife for being said woman. The rift seemed irreparable.

Despite the familial tensions, Y/N maintained a close involvement in the training of his sons, personally overseeing their progress with the assistance of Ser Criston Cole, who had shifted his allegiance from Rhaenyra to the royal family. Aegon and Aemond exhibited remarkable progress, overshadowing their cousins.

During a training session, as Ser Criston instructed the young princes, Y/N was reluctantly pulled away by the demands of his duties as the Heir. King Viserys, observing from the terrace, keenly followed the lesson. The knight, calling upon Aegon, challenged him to a sparring match and taunted, "Let's see if you can touch me. You and your brother." The confident Prince, Aegon, responded with a cocky assurance, "I've won my first bound, Ser Criston. My opponent sues for mercy."

Undeterred, Ser Criston introduced a new challenge, pitting both Aegon and Aemond against him. The two princes advanced, swords in hand, but the seasoned knight skillfully blocked each of their attacks, showcasing his experience and expertise. The training ground became a battleground of skills, the clash of steel echoing the intricate dynamics of power, loyalty, and the indomitable spirit of the Targaryen lineage.

The training ground, alive with the clang of swords and the shuffling of feet, fell into a momentary silence as Ser Harwin approached, offering instructions to the brown-haired princes. His voice redirected Ser Criston's attention toward the younger boys. "It seems like the younger boys could use your attention, Ser," Harwin remarked as he walked closer. A subtle tension hung in the air as Criston questioned, "Are you questioning my method of instruction?"

In response, Criston motioned for Aegon to face Jaecerys, declaring it an "eldest son against eldest son" spar. The white-haired Prince's age and strength became evident as he overpowered the younger Jaecerys. However, as Aegon advanced, he found himself roughly seized by the shoulder and pulled away by Ser Harwin. Aegon, outraged by the intervention, protested loudly, resulting in a reprimand from the King.

Tensions flared further when Criston began questioning the Commander of the Gold Cloaks's interest in the princes' training, suggesting affections that a man might harbor for his children. The insinuation proved too much for Ser Harwin, who snapped and attacked Criston. The incident led to Ser Harwin's banishment from King's Landing, and a few days later, he perished within the walls of Harrenhal along with his father.

More sorrowful news followed swiftly. A raven brought the grim information of Lady Laena Velaryon's death, casting a pall over King's Landing. The weight of Laena's death cast a somber shadow over Y/N, who had considered her another sister growing up. The entire family traveled to Driftmark to pay their respects, attending a funeral marred by Lord Vaemond's continuous accusations directed at Princess Rhaenyra and her bastard sons. Prince Daemon's laughter, strategically employed to deflect attention, added a layer of tension to the already heart-wrenching day.

Once the children retired for the night, Alicent found a moment to speak with her husband. In the quiet confines of their chamber, she gently inquired, "Are you alright, my love?" Y/N, standing by a window overlooking the view of Driftmark, confessed, "She was one of my closest friends, and she died alone. Without her family or friends, because Daemon denied her return. She didn't deserve such a fate."

Alicent, though not as intimately acquainted with Lady Laena, offered words of solace, acknowledging her bravery and kindness. Y/N, appreciating his wife's comforting presence, sighed and turned to look at her. "I'm sure you're right, darling," he said, caressing her face. In that moment, they found solace in each other's embrace, a comforting respite from the sorrow that permeated their hearts.

With a shared understanding, Y/N guided Alicent to bed, where they surrendered to the embrace of sleep, seeking refuge from the weariness that accompanied the emotional journey. Their intertwined forms, nestled in peaceful repose, reflected the enduring strength of their bond in the face of life's inevitable trials.

The tranquility that enveloped Y/N and Alicent was shattered abruptly when a maid, panic-stricken, banged on their door, delivering news of a grave accident involving their son. Swiftly dressing into presentable robes, they rushed towards the hall where their children were present. The sight that awaited them was horrifying—Aemond, their beloved son, was a bloody mess, missing an eye. Alicent's anguished scream pierced the air as she ran towards her injured child.

Demanding answers, Y/N interrogated the Knights, learning that the Prince had been mauled in a brawl with his cousins. The King, arriving on the scene, angrily questioned the guards for allowing such an incident. Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys soon joined, but Y/N's attention shifted to the absence of Princess Rhaenyra. When she finally appeared, followed by Prince Daemon, their disheveled appearance hinted at a liaison that further fueled Y/N's anger. How could they disrespect Lady Laena's memory like this?

Amid the chaos, Rhaenyra declared the incident a "regrettable accident," but Alicent argued it was a planned attack. Rhaenyra defended her sons, claiming they were being attacked with vile insults against their legitimacy "Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned on where he heard such slanders". Y/N's anger flared; his sister intended to torture his gravely wounded son over a truth that was evident.

Rhaenyra's attempt to extract information from Prince Aemond, who had heard the alleged slanders, only heightened tensions. Y/N, protective of his son, forbade any harm to befell Aemond. As the King sought apologies and forgiveness, Alicent snapped, demanding justice and ordering the eye of Lucerys Velaryon to conduct it. Chaos ensued as Alicent, fueled by rage, advanced towards Rhaenyra with a knife. Y/N noticed his uncle making way to two women to undoubtedly aid Rhaenyra, which he couldn't let happen and stopped him before Daemon could reach her.

The struggle between Alicent and Rhaenyra unfolded, the room becoming a battleground of emotions and grievances. In the midst of the chaos, Aemond, now with one eye, offered comfort to his mother, stating "Don't mourn me mother. I might've lost an eye but I gained a dragon". Y/N joined the embrace, and as his father declared the matter over, the fractured family clung to the remnants of peace amidst the aftermath of pain and turmoil.

As the years unfolded, the Targaryen family found solace and unity in each other's company. Every meal became a cherished time for discussion, laughter, and shared moments, further strengthening the familial bonds that had weathered storms and emerged resilient.

Aegon and Helaena's marriage flourished, blessed with their two beautiful children, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. Aegon transformed into a caring and attentive husband, shedding his earlier tendencies to become the perfect Prince fit to one day ascend the throne. Aemond, despite the challenges posed by his limited vision, emerged as a formidable warrior under his father's tutelage. Determined not to be hindered by his condition, he trained with unparalleled dedication, surpassing many in skill and prowess.

Y/N and Alicent, beaming with pride, reveled in the achievements of their children. However, their joy was tempered by the somber responsibility that befell them. With King Viserys succumbing to sickness, he lay bedridden, casting a long shadow over the realm. The inevitable reality loomed—the time was approaching when a new monarch would ascend the throne.

Amidst the bittersweet echoes of Viserys's declining health, the Targaryen family stood united, ready to face the challenges that awaited them. The transition of power loomed on the horizon, and the legacy of House Targaryen stood at the threshold of a new chapter in the annals of Westeros.

The arrival of a raven bearing Ser Vaemond Velaryon's challenging petition for the Driftwood Throne thrust the Red Keep into a state of heightened anxiety. The assertion that Rhaenyra, Daemon, and their children would return to the heart of the realm brought a cloud of unease over the castle, especially given the recent mysterious death of Laenor Velaryon.

In the midst of the commotion, Alicent navigated through the corridors toward the King's chamber, where she knew Rhaenyra and Daemon would be discussing the pressing matter of King Viserys's condition. Upon entering, she greeted them with courtesy, acknowledging the lapse of time since their last encounter. Daemon responded with a nonchalant hum, while Rhaenyra inquired about the authority overseeing the trial of her son.

A new voice cut through the tension as Y/N entered, a smirk playing on his lips. He revealed himself as the authority presiding over the trial, promising a fair judgment even as he acknowledged the accusations thrown at his wife. The room held its breath, and Alicent, standing beside her husband, added, "We have pressing matters to attend to, but please, make yourself at home." With that, the married couple walked away, leaving the guests to navigate the looming trial and the shadows of familial discord that cast their pall over the Red Keep.

The throne room buzzed with tension as the petitions unfolded, each speaker presenting their case before Y/N, who sat on the throne in his father's stead. The weight of judgment rested heavily on his shoulders. Lord Vaemond Velaryon was the first to address the court, delivering a lengthy discourse on bloodlines and the survival of House Velaryon.

However, the proceedings took an unexpected turn when, during Rhaenyra's turn to present her defense, the door opened, and in walked King Viserys. Ready to defend his favorite child, the ailing monarch cast a shadow over the proceedings. The air thickened with anticipation as the confrontation unfolded.

In a swift and brutal turn of events, Vaemond found himself condemned for openly declaring the princess's sons as bastards. The throne room, once filled with the echoes of legal arguments, now bore witness to the irrevocable consequences of familial discord and political maneuvering. As the lifeblood of House Velaryon spilled in pursuit of power and legitimacy, the court faced the stark reality that the struggle for succession and survival could exact a heavy toll on those entangled in the webs of Westerosi politics.

The atmosphere in the dining hall was thick with tension, mirroring the strained relationships within the Targaryen family. Viserys, lying in his seat of honor, served as the symbolic divide between two estranged siblings, Rhaenyra and Y/N, as the air was charged with unspoken grievances.

Jace and Luke, Baela and Rhaena, each engaged in their own conversations, while Aegon and Helaena shared a tender moment, the Prince gently rubbing his wife's hand. Aemond and Daemon, ever vigilant, sat observing, their tension a reflection of the underlying conflicts.

As King Viserys was carried in, the room stood in a display of respect. The king began his speech, adressing his family. “It’s good to see you all together. My heart aches when I see the faces dearest to me so full of envy and drifting apart form each other. House of the Dragon must be united, so let us forget all and stay strong. If not for the realm, the for this old man, who loves you all dearly.“ But the damage had been done, and the fractures within the family ran too deep to be easily mended.

Rhaenyra's toast, seemingly a gesture of reconciliation, momentarily shifted the mood. Alicent responded gracefully, highlighting the common ground between them as mothers, but the facade of harmony was shattered by a seemingly innocent gesture—a pig brought before Prince Aemond, triggering memories of the Pink Dread incident.

Aemond's explosive reaction disrupted the fragile peace. The room fell into an uneasy silence as he stood, expressing a "final tribute" to the health of his nephews, ending the speech with an insult towards the boys calling them "Strong". Chaos erupted as the young princes clashed, and the adults scrambled to intervene. The disastrous dinner culminated in Princess Rhaenyra's decision to retreat to Dragonstone, leaving behind a shattered illusion of family unity. The scars of the past ran too deep, and the once-grand gesture of a family dinner had unraveled into a painful reminder of the irreparable divisions within House Targaryen.

The dimly lit corridors echoed with quiet footsteps as Y/N made his way to his father's chamber. Upon entering, a solemn atmosphere enveloped the room, and Y/N approached King Viserys. As he assisted the ailing monarch in preparing for sleep, Viserys muttered incoherent phrases, and amidst the confusion, Y/N discerned a recurring theme—Aegon's prophecy.

In the hushed moments of their interaction, the weight of impending succession hung in the air. Viserys, in his final moments, seemed to impart a significant task to his son, urging him to fulfill the prophecy. The murmurings faded as the night unfolded, and King Viserys the Peaceful drew his last breath.

As dawn approached, the realm awaited the news of a new leader who would step forward to succeed the late monarch. The corridors, once traversed by Y/N in anticipation, now held the echoes of transition and the uncertainty that accompanied the changing tides of leadership within House Targaryen.

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A/N: This one is slightly longer, but I couldn't help but give Alicent and her kids the husband and father they deserved. We all could agree that Viserys absolutely sucked in these roles. Thank you for all the support and it would mean the world to me if you checked out my other works ���

[cerisefait]

Dancing with hotd men

[headcanon] how I imagine jaecerys, daemon, aegon and aemond view dancing

Jaecerys tries his best

he tries to be the perfect son and heir for his mother, the queen.

so you best believe that he cares about all of his duties including dancing.

he sees it as a reflection of his, thus his house's manners.

with the help of his grandfather lord corlys and his grandmother rhaenys, he learned the delicacies of this art form.

he never imagined it but dancing actually became a secret passion of his; he loves how even the basic dance moves could form such an intimate connection.

how does he dance? well, he is very disciplined; his moves are smooth but his face is always stern.

It's not because he's not enjoying it, it's because he's too focused on both of your moves: he cares deeply about the way he is being perceived (being the eldest son of the rightful heir is hard work).

he loves to look deeply into your eyes and make you shine out of the both of you.

after the dance he always takes your hand and places a suave kiss on top of it like the gentleman he is.

Daemon steals you from your partner

he doesn't like to dance but he is good at it. he'd rather sit and watch you.

because he doesn't enjoy the idea of being in huge crowds, blending in. he always loves to steal the thunder with his chaotic actions.

so it's not a surprise that he steals your dance with your assigned partner and makes a scene.

he knows it'll cause gossips and drama but he doesn't care. all he cares about is his love and the fact that everyone knows you belong to him.

when it comes to dancing, he is not afraid of having a firm grip on you: it's one of the ways he shows his affection. it's -again- kind of a possesion thing.

it's more about what he feels than how he is perceived: his moves are still pleasing and smooth but it's all about being lost in the moment for him.

whenever you two dance, you fall in love with him again.

oh and he loves to touch foreheads, it makes him feel safe in your presence.

Aegon dances because its his duty

he doesn't enjoy dancing, he'd much rather sit at his king chair having alcohol served to him.

but being the king he is, he has responsibilities: to his people, his house, the realm. even though this wasn't his dream, he had to obey.

when he's sober, his moves are stiff: it's evident that he doesn't enjoy himself. it's your duty to console and guide him through it.

he usually puts on a happy face -which doesn't reach his eyes, yknow the one- and carries on, muttering curse words to himself.

but he lets you know how grateful he is for your presence here, with him.

fun fact: he does well when he's got a little bit of alcohol in him. he becomes all goofy and lovey dovey.

it only happens when you're alone in your chambers but you love to see that side of him.

Aemond watches you dance from afar

he's not a big fan. he finds combating etc more enjoyable than dancing so he never even learned the proper etiquette of dancing.

he also thinks it's a bit childish but when he sees you dance, it's over for him.

he loves the way you follow the rhythm, sway your body and enjoy yourself.

though he definitely becomes jealous of your partner and wishes to learn some of the dance moves so he could escort you.

not to show off in public ofcourse, he has this reputation of being a lone wolf: he's not a pda guy.

but he wants to be able to take you up to dance if he wanted to.

so he encourages you to teach him the basics in private; one time you layed your head on his shoulder while dancing and he was filled with joy.

he didn't show it to you but you knew his love for you. he didn't have to make grand gestures.

[targaryen-vigilante-wizard-jedi]

WITH EYES LIKE MINE

House of the Dragon Female TargaryenReader Insert

Chapter warnings- Menstruation, more of a filler chapter.

Chapter 10 - Blood Is Spilt

_________

121AC

Y/N sat lonesome in the courtyard, her gaze directed towards her bandaged hands that were, underneath the fabric, littered in scratches and cuts - all self-inflicted.

She had developed her mother's habit of picking her fingers and worsened it, not purposely so. The girl hadn't even realised just how violent her skin picking had become in the last year until her brother, Aemond, had caught sight of her maimed and bloodied hands the night prior. Without notifying anyone else, he swiftly cleansed her wounds and bandaged her hands to help heal them and prevent her from doing it again.

Another body seated themselves beside her, and she gave a quick glance to see that Helaena had sat by her side.

Y/N offered her a sad but sincere smile knowing what was to happen tomorrow.

Helaena looked somewhat glum, her eyes trailing towards a millipede crawling through the soil.

"Perhaps it won't be so bad." Y/N offered quietly, despite knowing that what she had said was lies. Aegon had always taunted and teased Helaena for being different. He had even openly bashed his sister and rejected the idea of their marriage to his mother, earning himself a bruised cheek.

"Aegon does not like me." The older of the two girls retorted quietly, her voice rather nonchalant.

Y/N tutted and kicked her foot into some dirt beside the bench she sat on.

"I do not think Aegon likes anyone these days, sister." Came Y/N's rebuttal, but it provided Helaena with no comfort or satisfaction.

Aegon was never there, and when he was, he was never sober. It was a horrible thing to witness, her two siblings being forced into a marriage that would only prohibit any chance at happiness for either of them.

The eldest of the King's sons had spiralled out of control and slightly wavered from his mother's grasp, frequenting the street of silk nightly and never loosening his wine filled cups.

Their family customs were not something that Y/N had agreed with. Her mother had called it 'disgusting' and 'immoral', but now she was wedding her son to his twin sister. Y/N did not fail to see the hypocrisy.

"He likes you... as many do." Helaena's voice was quiet as she spoke, causing Y/N to cast her gaze towards her older sister. "I'm not so sure about that." the younger girl couldn't help but roll her eyes at Helaena's words.

Helaena was silent and still for a moment before her hand found Y/N's, gently squeezing it.

Y/N glanced towards their joined hands before looking at her sister's face.

The older girl's lower lip trembled slightly as though holding Y/N's hand was bringing her pain as well as comfort.

"I am glad it was me rather than you." Helaena kept her gaze towards the ground as she spoke, finding the words difficult to speak through the imagery in her head. She found herself unable to maintain eye contact with her sister; she feared what visions she would endure.

Y/N felt a breath catch in her throat at her sister's words. With a sudden inability to speak, she opted for squeezing Helena's hand, an unwanted guilt finding its way into her thoughts.

________

The wedding of Prince Aegon II and Princess Helaena Targaryen was a solemn occasion, rather than a joyous one.

Helaena sat silent, her head directed to the table as she murmured incoherently to herself.

Aegon had tried to take his leave early but was unfortunately caught by the hand of the King, promptly punished with a quick hand to the face before being led back to the banquet in honour of his wedding.

The fifteen year old boy sat, his eyes red and glazed over as the alcohol allowed him to wallow further in his own despair and helplessness.

Y/N and Aemond both sat silently through the ordeal, but the girl couldn't help the thoughts plaguing her mind.

Did mother intend to wed Aemond and I to one another?

She was more than sure that no such thing could take place since she wouldn't be able to continue their bloodline but she found that her gaze had wandered to Aemond only to find that his eye was already on her. She leaned back into her seat before allowing her eyes to survey the crowd feasting; men of all ages surrendered their eyes to her lilac-pink gaze, none hiding their lust for power.

Any one of them could be her future husband but none repulsed her as much as the thought of marrying her own blood.

Her mother had driven it into her head that it was a sin to the Old Gods and new, to commit such a crime as marrying your own kin.

Her mother had forced her eldest children to commit the very thing that disgusted and disturbed her.

Y/N's eyes then fell on Aegon's defeated and depressed face, a drunken giggle escaping his lips as he laughed at his own miserable fate, swirling the wine in his cup as though he were entranced by the ripples it caused.

Despite their interactions having decreased over the year, Y/N's concern for her eldest brother only continued to grow, especially when he'd begun to disappear into Flea Bottom for days on end.

Without asking for her mother or father's approval, she stood from the table, so many male gazes still focused on her every move.

Inhaling deeply, she turned her gaze to incredibly inebriated Aegon, whose gaze was still focused on the wine in his cup.

Just as he had done for her the year prior, she walked over to him, her steps slow and light so as not to draw too much attention to herself.

Her hand gently clasped his, her fingers touching the coolness of the cup in his clutch. "Aegon," her voice was quiet and polite, far different from what she used to be.

Aegon's glazed over eyes flickered towards her and he over-enthusiastically smiled at her. "It appears my favourite sibling has come to celebrate such a monumentous occasion with me." His other hand reached over and placed itself over her free one.

"Come, sit with me, my lovely sister. " He tried to pull her down to his level, uncaring of the absence of a seat next to him.

She kneeled so she was eye level with him and pulled her hand from his in order to place it over the cup he still held.

"I think you've had enough, brother." Aemond interjected from behind Y/N. His voice, a little deeper and sterner, than it had been a year ago.

Y/N briefly glanced at him, grateful that he had come to her aid.

Aegon slightly scoffed when he heard his brothers voice. "Of course you'd be skulking not too far behind her. You're worse than the knight."

He was, of course, referring to Ser Criston. It wasn't exactly the guards fault, though. He had been ordered by the Queen to keep an eye on Y/N and he'd never refuse an order from his Queen again, not after Driftmark.

"I pray your barrenness spares you this fate, sister. Especially with the likes of him." Aegon glared at Aemond before wrenching his hand from Y/N's and drinking from his cup.

Y/N stood a moment longer, her mind running circles around his words and the cold, uncaring nature of them.

Without so much as a word or glance to either one of her brothers, she retreated to her seat and sat silently.

Aemond lingered a moment longer, watching Aegon drink the rest of the liquid in his cup without a care in the world.

___________

123AC

"A girl and a boy, a difficult but worthy birth indeed," a voice came from within the room just as Y/N was allowed entrance.

Whimpers and cries filled the room. Some belonged to Helaena, who was still suffering the brutal aftermath of the birth. "You have done so well, Helaena." Alicent praised before grasping her eldest daughter's clammy hand and pressing a kiss to it.

The babes were held in the arms of two wet nurses, who had allowed the children to feed at their bosom.

As Y/N looked at the children, she didn't know what to feel, and as selfish as it was, she could only think about how she had been denied the opportunity to experience the joys and difficulties of motherhood.

Her body may have been spared the pain of the birthing bed, but her heart would forever have a hole. Without so much as a word to her mother or sister, she left the room.

Helaena's exhausted expression turned to one of slight confusion as she called her sister's name quietly.

_________

Quiet sobs and cries left the youngest daughter's lips as she thought of her future; perhaps husbandless, dragonless and childless.

The Gods had been cruel when they gifted her the name Targaryen. To have her suffer in such ways that her suffering would never cease.

The guard outside her door stood still listening to the Princess' cries as he often did.

Soon, she would sleep, and he, too, would sleep until he returned to his post in time to hear her wake with a scream.

Her dreams were different, still frightening but different. The man was still there every night, as were the sounds of dragons roaring, the smell of burnt lands, scorched flesh.

"The blood of Old Valyria is spilt." His voice bellowed, figure still masked by shadows. "The age of dragons will end with us and only us."

Y/N woke up, sweat trickling down her face. She had no time to focus on the clamminess of her face as she felt a horrible stickiness between her legs and under her buttocks.

"What?" She murmured softly to herself before removing the covering from over her body.

Her eyes widened at the sight of the frighteningly large and irregular patch of blood staining her sheets and legs.

"Princess, have you woken?" A voice came from behind the door and before she could react, two servants entered the room, in their hands were towels, an outfit, scrubbing salts and oils.

"The Queen has organised this outfit for you, Prin-" a loud gasp of horror left the first servant as her eyes landed on the bloody mess on the sheets.

The second servant, quickly and quietly left, in a hurry to inform the Queen.

Having seen the servant leave in such a hurry, Ser Criston took it upon himself to enter the room but as soon as he did he turned on his heel and exited.

The troubles of womanhood were something he wanted no part in.

The remaining servant made her way towards the visibly troubled princess and grasped her gently by the shoulders and away from the bed.

Her hands guided her toward the black armchair near the fireplace.

"It is alright, m'lady. It is only your first blood, you've grown into a woman."

At that sentence, Y/N shook her head, tears filling her eyes. "No, please. Do not tell my mother." She pleaded, eyes watering and body beginning to shake at the thought of being forced into an unwanted marriage.

Y/N already knew what it meant when a girl had her first blood; her body was ready to produce heirs but hers was not, never would be. So what was happening to her?

The Queen entered the room and immediately made her way over to her distraught daughter.

"Hush, my girl. You're almost a woman grown." Alicent's hand held her face before the other made its way to her forehead, seemingly checking for a temperature.

"Wet towel." She called to the two servants who scrambled to procure the requested item.

"My Queen." One of the girls spoke before handing the Queen the wet towel. The maids and servants had learned that the Queen had a more hands-on approach than most women of her status would (or should), especially after the events of Driftmark.

"Ssh, let us get you dressed, my sweet."

__________

It wasn't long after that the news of Y/N having her first blood reached the ears of everyone, including her father and siblings.

"My girl, soon to be a woman." Viserys praised, his smile was proud and his hand clutched his cane, the other stroked her cheek affectionately.

Y/N did not react to his touch, instead keeping her gaze to the floor. She could count the direct interactions her father had with her in the past year on one hand; their relationship strained far more than any other.

Aemond only continued to stare at her, his eyes taking notice of the changes in her face and her body. She had grown too.

He found his eye lingering on her far longer than it should have.

Aegon had heard the news but did not congratulate nor mention it to her. Instead, he raced off to the Street of Silk, as he so often did those days. Things had changed too much too quickly for him. He was a boy of sixteen and already had children that he never wanted.

"This is wonderful news, sire." At the new voice Y/N's eyes moved to look for the source of the voice and her lips turned down slightly at the sight of the Hand, Otto, stepping forward.

A phantom pain rose in her cheek and she unconsciously flinched; the memory of her grandsire's hand smacking her cheek in her mind.

Aemond was no fool, though he had never suffered at the hands of the King's Hand, he knew his older brother and youngest sister both had and it infuriated him to know such a fact.

Otto approached the King, his mind scheming once again.

"Perhaps it is time to consider the potential candidates for the young Princess' hand." Otto wore a smile on his face, a sickly sweet one; it was like that of a dog baring its teeth.

Viserys' eyes wandered over his youngest daughter, and he found himself reminiscing of his eldest daughter, of how he had allowed her freedom and failed in doing so with Helaena.

He nor anyone would deny that she had already gone through so much at such a young age and so he gave a curt shake of the head before speaking.

"We needn't rush these things, Otto." At her fathers words, Y/N gave him an appreciative nod, a slight smile on her lips.

"She still has some years to enjoy being a child, let us speak of this matter in the future."

Her fathers words drew a smile from her lips and she let her eyes rest on him.

The King released a heavy breath, her eyes having the same strong effect on him even then, that they had had from the day she was born.

In return, he too smiled at her.

[Not the best chapter. I have had severe writers block for so long so really struggled to finish this one so I know people will have lost interest. I think either next chapter or the one afterwards will be when further into the future. I was going to do it in this chapter but it felt like way too much of a jump.]

[adsari]

I have to respect Jace. He was in the North for a day but he took lesson on standing and serving very seriously

[elegantsplendour]

Some of my favourite Aemond gifs 💚🤍

[thebitchentity96]

I'm back baby!!!

[naggascradle]

hotd has become a rhaenys party for me in a way. and watching larys scheme his way through this whole court

[deithe]

if jon *does* have a valyrian name it has 2 be something like. aemon. lyanna would not name her kid jaeherys that's such a loser name. aegon is out due to the overabundance of aegons. she's not naming her kid daeron due to obvious dorne related reasons, however i could get behind jon being named after the 16 year old gay prince who started a war. aemond? no. gaemon? hilarious but also no. daemon is a fucking no straight out of the gate. viserys i could see, the male equivalent of visenya, but unlikely.

best option? he has no valyrian name. he's just Jon. not jonothor, just Jon.

[drmaddict]

It would be a little unconventional

Summary: Aegon and (Y/n) just married. No one has seen them in the last four days. But that doesn't change the fact that half the castle can hear what they're doing.

Word count: 1.309

Autors note: a bit subby Aegon, anal fingering, well... smut as you may have guessed

"How long has it been since anyone's seen them?", Daemon asked the group, bored.

Rhaenyra smirked. Alicent killed her wine goblet with a look. Jaecerys surprisingly joined Alicent and cut his flesh with more force than necessary.

"Daemon." Rhaenyra rebuked him, still smirking.

He was not impressed. "When was the last time you saw them?", he asked her directly.

She rolled her eyes. "At the wedding.", she replied curtly.

"Which was four days ago.", he added just as curtly.

"Princess, perhaps you should-"

The door to the dining room opened. All eyes shot to (y/n) like moths to a flame.

"Is that your night gown?" Jaecerys asked his sister in shock.

"Yes.", (Y/n) said curtly and immediately grabbed various dishes from the table. She threw a handful of bread rolls onto the plate of fruit, which she simply took and immediately reached for a carafe of wine.

"You can't walk around-"

(Y/n) immediately interrupted her brother. "I'm already off again. Just relax. By the gods."

"Where's Aegon?", asked Alicent.

(Y/n) smiled. "He's asleep."

"At such an early hour?"

"He was tired." (Y/n) shrugged and pressed the carafe of wine into the hand of the member of the Kingsguard who had been following her until just now.

"Long night?", Daemon grinned.

(Y/n) grinned. "It seemed rather short lived to me."

Jaecery's glass shattered in his hand, his grip was so firm.

With that, (Y/n) simply turned round again and motioned to the man from the Kingsguard to follow her. He complied, overwhelmed.

Aemond watched with satisfaction as Jaecerys and Lucerys shoved their food back into themselves with an angry look. "Be glad you can't hear them.", he said to his nephews, sounding bored. "Whorehouses sound more chaste than those two."

Jaecerys leapt across the table towards him.

"Aegon?" she whispered, jerking his shoulder slightly.

"Ngh.", he sighed and curled up, pulling the blanket tighter around him.

"I got something to eat."

A snore was her reply.

She sighed. Had she overdone it? Was it too much for him? He liked sex. She knew that. She liked sex. They had sex. A lot of sex... Mainly because of her. And she wanted to do it again. Was she overwhelming him? Him? Aegon II Targaryen, who had spent his entire adolescence shagging his way through every brothel he could find?

She looked at his sleeping face. How could he look so innocent after what they'd both been doing for the last four days?

She poured herself a cup of wine and sat down in the armchair in the room.

The last few days had been wonderful and exciting. They had tried each other out before the wedding, but had always been careful not to risk pregnancy. They hadn't gone all the way. They also had to meet in secret. They had to be quiet. But now. Now they weren't holding back. And by the gods she would do anything to hear the sounds he was making. Those little sighs. The whimpers. The high clear moans when he was about to come. His eyes. Watery and so big as they looked up at her. He didn't want to believe that she had already read a thing or two.

That she wasn't completely ignorant. She was sure he wouldn't question her creativity again.

She sipped her wine and gazed into the fire of the flickering fireplace.

But perhaps she was really overdoing it. Everyone always made fun of how much lust Aegon had indulged in over the years. But she understood. Would people make fun of her too?

She heard the blanket rustle. She turned her face towards the bed. Aegon sat up, his face scrunched up. He rubbed his eyes. His hair was sticking up wildly from his head. Irritated, he looked around, then his gaze landed on her. "What are you doing?", he asked, pouting slightly and still sounding sleepy.

She looked at her glass. "I'm drinking wine." ,she explained simply.

Aegon pouted more. "What are you doing in that armchair? Come here!", he whined.

She grinned awkwardly. "I just thought you might want a break.", she mumbled.

Aegon furrowed his eyebrows in irritation. "From what?"

"Well..." she pointed vaguely at the bed. "From me-"

"If I want a break from fucking my wife, or letting her fuck me,", he winked at her, "I'll let you know."

She smiled awkwardly. "It's not too much?"

He shook his head with a smile. "If anything, I've got a few books and we'll try everything I found in there."

She grinned. Playfully, she stood up. "Anything you want to start with?"

Aegon smiled. "It would be a little unconventional.", he purred.

He gripped her hips as she settled on his lap.

"Tell me about it.", she whispered and kissed his neck softly.

His breath trembled. "There's a contraption. A harness and... hmmm... and a fake phallus. You could take me with that. Fuck me."

"And that's good for you?"

"I never come harder."

"Explain it to me.", she sighed against his neck.

Aegon reached out to take her hand. Without hesitation, he took two of her fingers in his mouth. One would almost think, he wanted to blow her fingers, licking over her tender skin with such fervour.

"Fuck.", she sighed. His eyes were glassy and so wonderfully veiled.

Aegon released her fingers and lay on his back. She moved beneath him. He quickly shoved one of the pillows under his bum and spread his legs. "And now-", he placed her fingers at his opening. His breathing was shaky. "Start with one finger. Push upwards. There... fuck... there's a point... Ha."

He dropped his head powerlessly into the pillows as she slowly slid her finger inside him. "Like this?"

"Yes! Fuck yes!"

She pressed in further. Watched his face. The crease between his eyebrows. The closed eyes. The slightly open mouth.

"Add the second one. But slowly."

She complied with his request. "Does it hurt?"

He shook his head. "It only stings at first. It's better with oil."

She grinned. "Do you do that to yourself?", she whispered against his ear.

He grinned. "As often as I can."

She grinned. "You like it?"

He nodded quickly. "Move your fingers. Like you're fucking me."

She withdrew her fingers and pushed them back in. Aegon sighed happily.

"You were talking about a point."

He nodded. "Further in. That's right. Press your fingertips upwards. A little to the right. Ah, right there! Oh fuck. Fuck!"

She drew little circles over the spongy spot. "Like this?"

Aegon groaned, whimpering. "Yes.", he whimpered. "Faster. Please. AH!"

She complied with his request. She started kissing his neck again. Caressed his skin. "Can you come just like that?"

Aegon simply nodded. Unable to speak. The sight made her feel the heat between her legs. She felt the wetness. He lay decadently in front of her and she savoured the sight of him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Aegon's semen shot all over his chest and down to his chin. Even (Y/n's) cheek was not spared.

His body tensed. It felt like his insides wanted to break her fingers.

He drove his ass towards her fingers like a madman. Much longer than usual, he floated in ecstasy before his body collapsed.

He lay there, beaten and unable to move.

"Holy mother.", he sighed.

(Y/n) giggled. She kissed his cheeks. She playfully rubbed her nose against the shell of his ear. "I don't think I've ever been so wet.", she whispered.

Aegon's body trembled. He smiled slightly.

"I can't move a muscle, but... If you want a repeat of last night...", he grinned mischievously at her.

She bit her lip. She positioned her thighs next to his head.

"But tell me if I get too heavy.", she smirked.

"I'd die a happy man," he grinned.

[witchofhimring]

Being the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and claiming Cannibal

This is sort of an offshoot of my Being the Daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen where Reader claims Cannibal instead of Tessarion. Thanks to @katiekatluvz for giving me the idea! Sorry for the long wait I finally have time to write after exams!

Minor Rhaenyra x Reader (platonic)

This happens before Aemond looses his eye.

This was dangerous, possibly suicidal. But after Aegon's comments earlier you could not take it anymore. It was another forced family gathering where Viserys tried to get his eldest child's family to sit with his second wive's. Things started out okay, there was eating and the occasional conversation. You were merely concentrating on just finishing your meal and getting the hell out. Everything fell apart, with it simple being an innocent comment made by Helaena. She had simply said; "When will you get a dragon Y/n?" Oh poor Helaena. She had meant well but of course Aegon had to stick his nose in matters not his own. "Maybe you would like a pig. Call it the pink dread." Aegon threw you a nasty look. Face heating, you shyly looked down, avoiding his gaze. Of course Aegon would find it funny to make fun of other peoples misfortune. "Shove off." Jaecery's snarled at Aegon. Aegon was not done, even when you had gone back to eating. "I guess one day you shall have a dragon. After all, you are a very strong girl." A thick blanket of tension blanketed the door. Everyone, even those at the other end, heard. Helaena's breath hitched, a low exasperated sound escaped Alicent. Aemond snorted. Your cheeks burned with hurt and shame. "Some of us burn hotter than others." Aemond added.

A fist slammed on the table. Visery's, despite being well past his prime, struck the table with enough force that it quivered. Even your mother, normally so vocal, had fallen silent. "You will not utter such slanders in this house." He snarled. At that moment Visery's did not remotely look like the loving grandfather you knew. Visery's glanced at his wife before ordering Aegon to his study. Hanging your head, you ran out of the room, ignoring your mother's cries.

Your door was locked, barring anyone from entering. Even your beloved mother. As the hour grew late there was silence outside. Night did nothing to calm the raging heat in your heart. Of course Aegon thought he was better, riding on oh-so-great Sunfyre and his silver Targaryen hair. And who was Aemond to laugh at you! He didn't have a dragon either!

Here you were, deprived of Targaryen looks and dragonless. Tears rolled down your cheeks. Outside a roar echoed across the water. Wiping the remaining tears you opened the window. A gust of wind nearly blew you back. Bellow the sea surrounding Driftmark thundered, crashing against rocks. Far ahead was a great black lump, so dark that even against the sky it was easily seen. You would have thought it was Vhaegar except that Laena and Daemon were in Pentos. Beyond a stretch of sand were the dragon caves. If one exited the gaves and ran across the sand they could reach the dragons. Sunfyre and Dreamfyre were snoozing in their cave. Vermithor and Silverwing were back at Kingslanding. There were others, of course. You entertained the idea it might be Meyles until the dragon roared once more. It's screech was nothing like you had heard. It sounded like metal being scrapped together. Yet instead of being afraid, an idea came.

Any sane person would have thought twice. Then again, Targaryens were not exactly known for their sanity. Waiting till the early morning, you slipped out. When the sun was just pocking over the horizon that Driftmark was quietest. The guards would be tired and few would be up. Down the halls you slunk, nearing the exit. There was a small side door leading to stairs. These stairs took one right down to the courtyard. Passing a pair of sleepy guards you slipped behind a pair of barrels. Now it was just down the steps. That was when you heard a noise.

A familiar drawl could be heard. Great. Aegon was awake. Quickly you ducked behind a pair of barrels by the door. He stumbled inside and right past you. "I should have kicked him." Once he was gone you looked left and right. Then came the hard part.

The court yard was empty. Not even your father Laenor would be out training. Beyond was the gate, with two guards standing sentry. If you could slip past them, and across the sand, then you could take a small passage that lead to the dragon cave.

It was down to luck. The guards would need to be distracted for long enough. Fortunately, there was luck on your side. The walls supporting the gate were made of stone. And they just so happened to be uneven pieces of stone. Meaning all you had to do was climb up. The guards were so focused on the other side that you could get up without being spotted. Small hands grasped the rocks and you climbed. It occurred to you at that moment wearing a nightgown was likely not a good idea. But it was too late to turn back.

The salty air whipped your hair. Reaching the top you had a view of the caves beyond. There were soldiers guarding but none were looking up. There were four you could see. And now that you had reached the top there was yet another problem. You had no plan other than wait and hope. It was poor planning strategy. Though in your defense you were ten. The sun was rising higher in the sky. Would you even be able to sneak out!?

"Change!" A call nearly caused you to jump up. Looking over the side you saw the guards marching away. Taking the chance you jumped down. The force in which your feet hit the ground made them sting. "Hey!" To your horror you saw guards rushing toward. Shit. Taking a deep breath you plucked up the courage and ran. Having a head start helped. But these were full grown men, and running in sand was hard. The only thing on your side was that they were covered in armor. It meant you were able to reach the dragon cave that remained unguarded. It was was left unguarded for a reason. Because none would ever dream of challenging The Cannibal. For a moment you looked at the dark passage, and then looked back. You could hear them calling out. "I've come this far." And with that, you headed in.

The first few steps plunged you into pitch black. The air tasted stale and the rocks threatened to rip open your feet. Most dragon caves were well maintained, but even dragon-keepers would not dare go near this one. A few steps later and a few crack in the walls gave light. Step by step you walked forward. Now you could smell it and it nearly made you gag. But you had come so far that to turn back now was not an option. You heard a deep rumbling and stopped. Even the foundations of this cave seemed to hum. When the noise stopped you proceeded. Ahead you saw the tunnel end. Finally you met The Cannibal.

Despite the dragons infamy few could describe it. In fact many did not survive such an encounter. And it was enormous. Only slightly smaller that Vhagar, The Cannibal turned his head and mad poisonous green eyes met yours. Dragon eyes had always fascinated you. They held this terrifying imperious gaze. But when you looked into The Cannibal's all you saw was a wild raging fire. You had heard of Wildfire, created by the lords of Old Valyria to mimic dragon fire. While you had never seen wild fire, you thought his eyes might be close enough. Dragon scales came in all colours, but black was rare. The only other dragon known to possess such a colour was Balerion the Black Dread. Smooth pitch black scales glistened in the sunlight. His great jaw had uncountable razor sharp teeth larger than you. The large tale swung around and The Cannibals body was facing you. Then he opened his mouth and fire curled at the throat.

"I will die." In that moment you felt fear and rage. You were as good as the rest of them. Why should you not have a dragon! “Dohaerās, Cannibal! Lykirī!” Those were the only words you could say. Something akin to fire swelled within you at that moment. A defiance bordering on madness. The fire in The Cannibal's seemed ready to burst forward. "Lykirī!" You thought those would be your last words. It was not fear you felt in that moment, but the desire to prove something "At least I tried, like a true Targaryen." The blast of white hot flame which would encase and disintegrate your body never came. Your eyes met his. The Cannibal was looking down at you with his imperious glance. Was he not going to burn you?

That was when you heard voices. It seemed the guards had decided to go in. Better to perish in dragon fire than whatever your mother might do to them for failing to protect her only daughter. Then you stepped forward. Now was not the time to be afraid. Already you had braved possible dragon fire. Over rock and bits of bone you stepped, ignoring the stinging in your feet. From The Cannibal was a ladder attached to a harness. "So The Cannibal once had a rider." At that moment you did not ponder too much. They said The Cannibal had never been ridden before. But since his very being was a mystery you supposed it was possible.

Scrambling up the rough ropes you desperately hurried to the top. "There she is! She's...she's on the dragon!" The Cannibal jerked back nearly sending you flying off. "Daor!" You ordered loud as possible. To your astonishment the dragon listened. Reaching the top you fastened the harness, securing you in place. The Cannibal seemed to know what you wanted, for the moment you were settled the dragon gave a great huff and speed down the corridor. Every jut of his muscle sent you roughly inching forward. "This is much more uncomfortable than I thought." You always imagined dragon riding as a smooth ride. But now you realized that was untrue. Then what would flying be like? You barely had any time to comprehend anything before sunlight was visible. The Cannibal then picked up speed. Suddenly The Cannibal launched into the air with a great jerk. Had you not been harnessed in you would have fallen. His leathery wing beat the air as the ground became smaller.

You would have smiled if it had not been for the fact your voice has disappeared. The thrill, terror and excitement nearly paralyzed you. The Cannibal was not going up smoothly. The dragon seemed to be doing his best in order to shake you off. Despite this the harness was well made, and thank the gods. You had just enough sense to seize the reins and pull at them. It did nothing to slow The Cannibal down but you were suddenly possessed with a renewal in courage. Sitting straight in your saddle there was suddenly a level of control you felt. The Cannibal must have felt it, for he leveled himself. Soaring above the clouds you finally looked down. "We really are close to the Gods." You muttered.

You flew several laps in the sky. It was less about commands and more about the connection between dragon and rider. You had to remain in control of your emotions. Not being used to dragon riding, your legs started to cramp. Deciding it was time to descend you ordered The Cannibal down. Surprisingly graceful, The Cannibal started to climb down. His cave became more clear. A crowd was gathering outside of the cave. You were not too surprised since they probably thought you dead. With a great thud The Cannibal landed sending sand into the air.

"Y/n!" You had never heard your mother scream like that. Practically leaping off the rope ladder you flew into your mothers arms. "Oh Gods Y/n!" Rhaenyra clutched you close with shaking arms. You mother who was usually so indomitable and strong was shaking and weeping. Her arms held you in a vise grip. "Y/n...never do that again!" Rhaenyra had broken apart, gripping you by the arms. Normally you would bust into tears and apologize. But a fire was ablaze in your chest was burning bright. Taking your mother by the hand you lead her to The Cannibal. Rhaenyra looked hesitant but seeing your determination encouraged her. Reaching out you placed a hand on The Cannibals warm scales. "Touch him." Rhaenyra's fingertips grazed the dragon. Then she steadied and placed her hand directly on the dragon. The Cannibal crooned and for the first time seemed something close to calm.

Looking back you saw your brothers, aunt and uncles. There was pride such as you had never seen on your brother's faces. Your eyes met Aegon's and Aemond's, for the first time you did not look away. This time it was them who looked away from your defiant eyes. You were Y/n Velaryon. Daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Rider of Cannibal. And fire dwelt within your veins like any blood of the dragon.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Taglist:

@katiekatluvz

[nebulaafterdark]

The Succession (Pt 5)

Summary: After the battle of Rook’s Rest, Queen Y/N is forced to rule alongside Prince Regent Aemond, in an attempt to keep her children safe and eventually seat her mother, Rhaenyra, on the throne. While attending her husband, on what appears to be his deathbed, she begins to unravel the dark truth of his near passing.

Warning: Suggestive language

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon (Strong!Reader)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

“You do not understand,” Y/N protests. “I need to see my brother, he must be tended first. If he dies, my mother will kill me.”

“If you die, the King shall kill us.” The grand maester taps her chin. “Let’s see the damage.”

Y/N moves her hand from her shoulder. “How bad is it?”

The maester begins cutting away surrounding fabric to reveal the extent of her wound. An open, oozing gash, torn clean from one side through the another.

Alicent rushes in, “what have you done?” She demands.

“Aemond is dead.” Y/N whispers, “I killed him.”

“I meant to yourself, what have you done to yourself?” Alicent demands.

“He stabbed me, and he fell.”

“What of the dragons?”

“Baela and Moondancer are searching for Jaecerys and Vermax. Vhagar is dead, as best I can tell.”

Alicent holds a hand to her head.

“Mayhaps you might look in on my husband?” Y/N says, “tell him I am well and that I love him.”

“You expect me to lie to my injured son?”

“Only the first part would be untrue.” Y/N arches a brow.

“Drink this, your grace. For the pain.” The maester presents her a black vile, milk of the poppy. “We’re going to pack the wound.”

Y/N’s eyes widen, “why?”

“I fear the blade must’ve twisted, your grace. The area has been gouged clean. There is not enough flesh for a stitch to hold.”

“Seven hells,” Y/N grimaces, chugging it down.

Even milk of the poppy does little to dull the pain as they begin pressing against the wound. Her screams can be heard echoing the Red Keep for less than a minute, before she faints.

————————————————————————-

“And now I need you to wake, sister.” A voice says, reaching Y/N in her dreamless sleep.

“Jace, she needs time.”

“There is no time.”

Y/N groans, willing her eyes to open.

Jacaerys pats the side of her face, “there you are.”

“You’re alive?” Y/N croaks out, blinking at him in the dim light.

“As are you.” Her brother says, simply, “at present Daemon’s army is marching on us from Harrenhal and mother is on her way for the throne.”

“That is no matter,” Y/N says, “we were only ever holding it for her.”

Baela looks to her betrothed.

“Sister,” he takes her hand, “what is expected of our mother now…to truly seize power, you understand what it would cost?”

“Aegon is in no state to bend the knee, I’m sure if I could speak with her-”

“I fear there may be no chance, if you, yourself, do not provide a show of strength.”

“Helaena has Dreamfyre and I have Stormborn, my children’s dragons are small. Sunfyre is gone.” Y/N reminds them.

“You’ve Vermax and Moondancer.”

Y/N looks to her brother.

“We will stand with you.” Baela assures her.

“Against our mother, you will stand with me?”

“Surely you have not done this for a crown, which would’ve been yours in time. You have done it for Aegon.” Jace sighs, “he is an idiot, but from what I understand, he loves and cares for you.”

“He does,” Y/N nods.

“He has been in talks with our mother for some time, attempting to make terms. That is why he lies injured.” Jace tells her, “his raven did not arrive in time and Rhaenys thought it an attack levied against her. Still I do not wish for his head.”

“Do you think she would do it?” Y/N wonders, “kill him in front of me?”

“You have not seen her these past weeks, since Luce’s death, I cannot say what she’ll do.” Jace loves his mother, fiercely, but he loves his sister too.

“We can anticipate even less of my father’s movements,” Baela admits. “He’s not returned to Dragonstone in nearly as long.”

“I hope to resolve this peacefully.”

“I do not believe our mother thirsts for Aegon’s blood, this is merely a precaution.” Jacaerys tells her. “You must dress, prepare the dragons and the King’s Guard, we do not have much time.”

“We will also raise the smallfolk, they will stand with us.” Y/N says, crying out as she sits upright. “And Aemond’s body, make sure it’s found. I plan to make a gift of it to our mother.”

Jacaerys nods, taking Baela’s hand and setting off to their tasks.

Chérie comes to dress her, pulling out the red dress Rhaenyra gifted her daughter as a symbol of solidarity on the day of Lucerys’ petition. A show of force against the Hightowers, even as she stood beside them.

Y/N shakes her head. “Bring me the green dress.”

Chérie swallows hard, “at once, your grace.”

The green dress is arguably the most beautiful gown she owns. A gold hand embroidered tapestry over emerald green satin. A wedding gift from Aegon. She’s never worn it, save for his rooms upon request, or to have it fitted after the births of their children. This day she stands for her husband and his house. This day she wears Hightower green.

She passes her husband’s apartments on her way to the throne room, turning the knob with familiarity. “Where are the children?”

Aegon looks to her, “in with the maids, shrouded by guards, my darling. I’ve just had the wounds dressed, I did not want them to see.”

Y/N nods, “of course.”

“You are a sight for sore eyes,” Aegon smiles.

Y/N shifts between feet. “Thank you, my love. I am headed to the throne room to meet with my mother and discuss terms of the succession.”

Aegon holds a hand out to her, “come.”

Y/N closes the distance between them, lacing their fingers together as she stands at the side of his bed.

“If her only want is my head, let her have it.”

“What?” Y/N reels back, “no.”

“Hush now and listen,” he insists. “My body is broken, the maesters say I will never be whole. You will be free to remarry-”

“Stop it.”

“A fitting father for our children.” Aegon continues, “so long as I live, I will only stand in your way.”

“No,” Y/N tears her hand away from him, “you’re wrong.”

“I say this out of love,” he insists.

“No harm will come to you. Those are my terms, I present my mother with the throne, and the body of the man who killed her child. I offer her the peace I have made and all the good with it. It is nonnegotiable.”

“It needn’t be this way,” Aegon tells her.

“You’re mine, Aegon.” Y/N insists, “my husband, my confidant, my dearest friend. You are still all of those things to me, however many times I need say it, however many years it takes for you to believe me, I have time. We have time.”

Aegon sighs, “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you.”

“A punishment for something, surely.” Y/N lets out a laugh.

Aegon shakes his head, “a gift from the gods.”

Y/N presses a quick kiss to his lips. “I’ll be back.”

“I will be here.”

Y/N closes the doors to her husband’s chambers behind her. “Stay with my husband.” She orders Cole, waiting to collect her in the hallway.

“Your grace, I am needed at your side.” He says.

“No, you will stay here and defend my fucking husband as though your life depends on it, and best believe it does.”

————————————————————————

Rhaenyra meets Daemon along the gates of the Red Keep. The streets are lined with smallfolk and the occasional yellow cloak, clearing a path for them.

Aegon the fourth begins to fuss in his grandsire’s arms.

“I’ll take him,” Rhaenyra offers. The babe quiets almost instantly.

“He well and truly does not like me.”

Rhaenyra only laughs. “It happens that way sometimes, I’m afraid. Though it may help if you smile.”

Daemon scoffs.

The line of bystanders continues down to the throne room, where Jacaerys and Baela stand on either side of Y/N, at the iron throne.

“This is quite the battalion you’ve assembled, daughter.” Rhaenyra remarks, “do you plan to challenge my claim?”

“Not in the least,” Y/N assures her. “I should like nothing more than to see you sit this throne. But I do have terms of my own.”

“Let’s hear them.”

“First and foremost, the guaranteed safety of Aegon and our children.”

“And what of Aemond?” Rhaenyra wonders.

“Bring him,” Y/N says, to the guards.

Daemon watches as a large black sack is carted in and laid at Rhaenyra’s feet.

“I slain him myself, with the help of my brother and his betrothed.” Y/N tells them, “you may see for yourself. Though I must warn you, he fell from the sky. The sight is not a pretty one.”

Daemon is the one to tear back the fabric and confirm that it is, in fact Aemond. Nodding to his wife.

“What other terms do you have?” Rhaenyra asks.

“Alicent, Helaena and her children.” Y/N swallows, “I wish for their safety as well.”

Rhaenyra pauses, as if to consider.

“You should also know that these guards and the smallfolk which line our halls are here for me. In my name, for my claim, not Aegon’s. The White Hart appeared for me; they follow me.”

“And who do you serve?”

“You, mother. Same as I always have.”

“You will bend the knee?” Rhaenyra purses her lips.

“Now, if it pleases you.” Y/N assures her, “so long as my terms are met.”

Rhaenyra nods, “very well. I should like to be crowned in the dragon pit, where I will reaffirm your title as my heir.”

Y/N takes a deep breath as she rises, approaching her mother and taking Aegon IV in her arms. “Thank you, my Queen.”

“Mother.” Rhaenyra corrects her, gently.

————————————————————————

Over the next weeks, Aegon grows tired of lying about. His unlikely budding friendship with Lord Larys seems to be the culprit.

Y/N is halfway to Aegon’s bedchamber when she hears his pained cries. Rushing in to find him collapsed on the floor.

“I can’t, I can’t.” Aegon protests as the grand maester attempts to bring him upright.

“I am so sorry, your grace.” Orwyle apologizes.

“Leave him.” Y/N shoos him away, “leave him.”

“Your grace,” the maester sighs, allowing Aegon to rest against the floor, “I must get him back to bed.”

“I will do it.” Y/N shakes her head.

“My Princess, surely with your injuries you cannot.”

“If I should need your assistance I will call upon you, Grand Maester. At present, I require a quiet word with my husband.”

The maester nods, “yes, your grace.”

Y/N waits until the doors close behind him to address her husband. “Aegon, I know how dearly you desire to walk again. But it has been but a moon turn since you arrived here in such a state they could not say if you would live. You must remain abed.”

“You did not marry a crippled man.” Aegon bites out, bitterly. “I did not father children as a crippled man.”

“You did not marry me with one arm that may never rise above my head or a scar across my face.” Y/N reminds him.

“My cock is ruined, did I tell you that?” Aegon laments, “it is burnt and disgusting, they do not believe it will rise.”

Y/N sighs, lying down at his side, “allow me to worry about that.”

“It is not you.” Aegon explains, “my love, I cannot bear to look upon my own reflection. I do not know the man staring back at me.”

“I hear your words, husband. You are entitled to this grief. But you needn’t punish yourself for it, nor face it alone. We will fight this battle together, as man and wife.”

“It is difficult for me, allowing you to see me in this state of disrepair, I am…they tell me I will never be whole.”

“My heart aches for you,” Y/N tells him, “but I do not pity you. I believe in you.”

Aegon nods, “you’ve no idea how much it pleases me to hear you say this.”

“You are different, I will not deny this. But different needn’t always be a bad thing. However different our circumstances, I can appreciate the distaste for one’s own reflection. I have felt it most my life, I do not look the part of a Targaryen Princess.”

Aegon exhales, looking to his wife. “You are devastatingly beautiful, the fact that you cannot see it is a tragedy all its own.”

“I love this body because you are in it, not the other way round. When you are no longer in pain, we’re going to train your cock, like a dragon to heel.” Y/N points a finger toward it. “Dohaeris, Rȳbās,” serve, obey.

“Ow, fuck,” Aegon protests clutching his side as he laughs.

Y/N covers her mouth to stop her own outburst.

By the time the Grand Maester rushes in, they are curled up on the floor, cackling like animals and holding their wounds. “Your graces!”

Aegon mutters to his wife, some form of gibberish, only she seems to understand.

Nodding as she chokes out, “lykiri.” Be calm. Sending them into such a state the Grand Maester simply excuses himself, without another word.

“Is everything alright?” Alicent asks, standing with a hand to her heart just beyond the door.

He smiles, “the road ahead is long and painful, but his grace laughs. He has joy.”

“And Y/N?” Alicent wonders, “how is she?”

“The wound is clean but slow to heal.”

“Is the arm lost to her?” Will it move?

“There will be pain, but it moves even now.” He rests a hand on Alicent’s shoulder, “better days in due time, your grace.”

Series Taglist: @oh-you-mean-me @barnes70stark @lovelyteenagebeard @niyahnotnia @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @callsignwidow @hyde-jpg @novelswithariana @klutzylaena @ynbutbetter @ravenqueen27 @danart501 @woodlandwrites @saraiadg @tempo-rary-fix @lxdyred @supernaturalstilinski @httpvomitello @dd122004dd @shadowrose13-blog1 @dracaryxzs @magictrump @vee-mage @mrs-starkgaryen @labellapeaky @multifandom-loser @minttea07 @blackdiamond2317 @baybaybear1 @tea-effect @heavenly1927 @sabyreads @champomiel @8812-342

[blondiebabes]

My Dear Nephew

*Requested* sub!Jaecerys x Dom!Reader. reader is older than Jaecerys. repeated as with Deamon and Rhaenyra. jaces aunt takes him to the silk streets and takes away his virginity in a brothel. this was originally gonna be longer but i lost motivation. lmk if you guys want a pt 2

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You sipped your wine reveling at the effect you had on your dear nephew. He was stuttering while trying to talk to his cousin, Baela, your hand running up and down his thigh becoming increasing brave.

You had clocked his infatuation with you as soon as you reunited after his time on Dragon Stone. The first you saw of him after his arrival entailed you approaching him and him unable to meet your eyes settling for glancing between his hands and your bosom. Then you decided you would do whatever it took to make him yours. He was too sweet and innocent for you to allow him to roam free. You're his aunt it's your job to keep him safe, and you intend to keep your title as a loving aunt.

Your hand had just reached to skim over the top of his bulge when your brother, Aegon, had pushed Jacaerys too far. Jace shot up, your hand falling down, pushed back his chair and started to charge his uncle. You rolled your eyes and finished your goblet of wine slammed it back on the table, stood and walk out. You walked until you met the door of you chambers.

As you stepped in you headed straight to the bath for a much needed soak. As you lay in the bath, the water near scalding, you thought more about your nephew, and his relationship with his cousin Baela. You felt the curl of jealousy deep in your body at the memory of Jace desiring her company instead of yours.

Stepping up and out of bath you decided to do something about it before you lost him to her. You dismissed your maids and guards, donning peaseant clothes you went throught the hall until you found the painting of Aegon the Conqueror. You grasped the right side of the frame pulles and it swung open like a door.

You quickly stepped through the hole, closed the painting, and made your way through the tunnels. You had memorized the tunnels long ago because you and your brother Aegon loved to explore them as children. After seven turns you reached the painting you were searching for. Steading your beating heart you took a breath and slowly cracked the painting. You saw Jace sitting in his bead looking at the ceiling, he was alone in his room.

Smiling you fully pushed open the secret door and stepped inside.

"Aunt what are you doing here? Jace asked sitting up and looking around the room alarmed by you rentrence.

"Do I need a reason to spend time with my precious nephew?" You asked stalking closer to him like a wolf on the prowl.

Sensing his lack of words you spoke. "Well I have a reason anyway, we need to talk about your crush on me." You closed the space between you two and took a seat next to him. Jace began to deny your words so you placed a hand over his mouth and continued. "Theres no use in denying it, it is plain to see. I came here to say I feel the same. And I intend to do something out our feelings." You removed your hand from his face.

"Do what?" Jace asked looking suprised and embaressed at once. "Do you trust me?" You ask putting your hand on his upper thigh, just as it had been during dinner. "Um, yes." Jace mumbled looking at your hand.

"Perfect." You said jumping up. you handed him a set of peaseant clothes and instructed him to put them on. He started to question you but stopped after you sent him a look. He emerged from behind his closet no longer looking the the Prince, but a common person.

You dragged him through the secret tunnels and the two of you emerged outside the castle. You guided him throyugh flea bottom to the brothel your brother Aegon spoke fondly of. While walking Jace seemed to try and look everywhere at once. it was obvious he had never been on the streets of kings landing before.

"So Jace. have you ever fucked a girl before?" You question trying to sound calm as to not startle him.

He stopped walking immediately. "What no. Of course not, it is unbecoming of a prince." He replied turning to look at you. "Have you?" He asked suprised and possibly scared of the answer. "No I have not fucked a girl." You reply with a teasing smile. You grab him hand and continue to drag him through the crowded dirty streets. When you reached your destination you took a moment to ensure that your telltale hair was hidden beneath your hood.

You opened the door to the brothel and pulled Jace in. Immediately you two were both hit with a wave of the scent of perfume and the sound of moans. A quick look at Jace told you he had never witnessed anything like this before. You allowed him a moment to collect himself before guiding him to a somewhat secluded corner in the communal area. You placed him with his back aginst the wall and you infront somewhat hiding him from view.

"Well, what do you think of my surprise." You ask putting your mouth to his ear and nibbling on it. Jace jerks and it causes his bulge to press into your stomach. You cup his dick with you hands accepting his low moan as an answer. You place his hands on your body, one on you waist, the other you guide under your shirt up to you breast. Jace looks at you in wonder while rolling your nipple inbetween his fingers. You slide your hand in his pants while he's distraced and pull his cock up so it tucks inbetween his waistband and stomach. Jace lets his head fall back aginst the wall as you take his weeping tip into your fingers. You rub his slit with your thumb, while getting on your knees infront of him. He looks at you with wide eyes after realizing what your about to do. You look up at him throught you eye lashes and pull his pants down to his ankles.

His dick slaps you in the cheek and you grab it with a smile keeping eye contact. You put you lips on it and swirl your tongue around the tip. You watch his eyes roll back in his head and the two of you are in you rown world until you hear a whistle directed at you and Jace. Jace seemingly remembering where the two fo you are goes ridgid and pulls your mouth off his dick. You stand up while jace is hurridly fixing his pants.

"Ignore them Jace, they are just here for a show." You whisper in his ear positioning yourself so Jace cant see the man who was making noises at the two of you.

"Well I dont want to be a show for them." Jace replies angrly. An idea hits you and you pull a hesitant jace back to the entrance of the brothel. You approach a working girl and toss her a couple gold coins in exchange for her best private room. She leads you and Jace there, and leaves without a word.

You let jace confirm that the room is empty and away from prying ears and eyes.

You walk to the bed in the center of the room and begin to take your boots and hood off. Jace stands there watching you, he moves towards you after you beckon him.

@antohfbjuh

[targaryen-vigilante-wizard-jedi]

WITH EYES LIKE MINE

House of the Dragon (Female)Targaryen reader insert

Chapter Warnings -mentions of difficulty eating, reader-character's sleeping disorder, reader-character's depression, mentions of infertility, implied creepy old noble men (nothing is explicitly said as I don't feel comfortable writing about that but this is HOTD and she is a Targaryen). Longish chapter

Chapter 8 - Aemond's Gift

120 AC

Y/N had been forced from her bed early that morning as the servants rushed themselves in to prepare her for young prince Aemond's eleventh nameday banquet.

With what he had had to endure, Alicent had decided that Aemond deserved a truly monumental celebration.

Once she was dressed, Y/N quietly thanked and dismissed the servants before she turned to her table, which held a little royal blue box on top of it. Inside the box was her gift to Aemond. She only hoped he would cherish it as she had. A striking silk purple ribbon was hand-tied neatly around the box; it seemed some of Y/N's lessons with the haggard old septa had proved useful.

Royal blue had always been what she deemed 'Aemond's colour', and she was rather fond of shades of purple herself

Or perhaps it had been ingrained into her to dress in purple by the several men who had whispered to her father and mother on how it 'brought out the purple of her eyes' and 'complimented her ever-growing beauty'.

A knock was placed upon her door before it was opened. She hurried to hide the gift, fearing it was her brother who had entered, but to her joint relief and dismay, it was her Queen mother.

"Oh, my love" Alicent gasped, her eyes gleaming at Y/N's appearance - the servants, as instructed by Alicent, dressed her in a royal blue dress with intricate silver embroidered flowers adorning the skirts. The ends of her hair were curled and voluminous, trailing down her back. Specially made silver butterflies adorned either side of her head, holding half of her hair up.

"You look wonderful." She gave a smile to Y/N as she approached her. Y/N turned her head from her mother to hide her fully-formed frown.

She was unsure of how to respond. Just two mornings prior, Alicent had lost her temper and dug her fingers into her cheeks and jaw for defying and embarrassing the septa.

Y/N had known it would only be a matter of time before her mother would reveal her true colours once again. For the past nine years, her mother had shown nothing but disdain and hatred towards her.

Why would her daughter nearly dying change anything?

"Thank you," the young girl murmured softly, as she kept her eyes focused on the box in front of her, her delicate fingers traced the ribbon.

"The septa has taught you well,your ribbonwork is rather lovely." Alicent stood behind her, her eyes flitting between her daughter and the small gift box. Her attempt to compliment her was in vain. No compliment of hers could interrupt the tension her harsh hands had forced between them.

Her eyes caught sight of the two circular bruises on her daughter's cheek, marks left behind by her frenzied fingertips.

Before any more conversation could take place, the door opened once again, and im hobbled the King, clutching his cane tightly.

His breaths were heavy, heavier than they had been days prior. Y/N knew his health was deteriorating rapidly.

King Viserys stood still, taking in Y/N's appearance before he let a gentle yet pained smile overtake his face.

"You look so grown, my girl," the king sputtered in an emotional croak. Tears welled in his eyes from the sight. She resembled Rhaenyra so much in that moment, if only it truly were her.

Y/N may have been young, but she was no fool. She knew that her father was thinking about Rhaenyra. While Viserys had always been a fairly good father, he had never shown nearly as much love or emotion towards her (or any of his other children) than he did Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra would always be the apple of his eye, just as Aemond was her mother's.

Y/N forced herself to smile before giving her father a tight nod. "Thank you...father."

________

The feast was to begin shortly, and all of those who were attending waited patiently in the hall for the royal family to arrive.

Viserys and Alicent had hoped that they'd enter the feast as a family, but Aegon had destroyed any chance of that happening as he had arrived earlier than anyone else and was already intoxicated by the time his father and mother arrived.

"Dear Gods," Viserys grumbled, closing his eyes in discontent at his son's unabashed wooing of servants and guests alike.

Alicent kept her eyes fiercely trained on her eldest. She would berate him of his shameful behaviours later but tonight was to be about Aemond who was next to arrive.

The young prince had been late to arrive as he had been preoccupied soaring the skies with Vhagar since late afternoon.

His eye scanned the crowds who had gathered for him and applauded his arrival, but he could not find the only person he had wished to see that evening.

He took notice of Helaena, who had helped their Grandsire and the servants prepare the feast, her eyes lit up upon seeing his form, and she ran to him, embroidery in hand.

She wore a pale, long-sleeved yellow gown that had been taken in at the waist to accentuate her developing figure.

"I do hope you like my gift, I made it myself to celebrate your nameday, it is a truly splendid occasion for you, Aemond." Helaena's smile was bright as she gave the embroidery to Aemond whose lips turned upwards at the sight of the sword.

"Thank you, Helaena. I shall hang it in my chambers."

Aemond took his seat beside his mother at the longest table within the room. On his other side sat Helaena meanwhile his father sat beside his mother and Aegon begrudgingly sat beside him.

Alicent chewed her lip nervously. She knew she should have escorted Y/N herself, but she did not want to hurt their fractured relationship any further than she already had, and Viserys hadn't the energy to chase his young daughter from her chambers.

Before everyone had taken their seats, the doors opened once again. The awaited princess entered, fingernails dug into her clasped hands, with ser Criston Cole trailing behind her. She tried to ignore the gasps and murmurs and whispers as she tread into the room.

As soon as the doors opened and she entered, Aemond had first smiled at her appearance. She was wearing blue; 'his colour' as she had so often described it many times before. Silver crystals dangled from her ears and silver butterflies decorated her flowing, perfect hair, and he did not think he had ever seen her look as pretty as she did in that moment.

However, her sullen expression and bruised cheek quickly caused his smile to change to a perturbed frown.

Otto did not so much as glance at her, but if he had he would have surely smiled at the bruising on her cheek. The incident hadn't changed his cold and callous attitude towards her but at least he was honest and stood by his actions, which is more than she could say for her mother who had adopted the act of the concerned, grieving mother.

King Viserys nodded his head in her direction with a content smile on his face, pleased with her appearance.

Queen Alicent gave a tight and uncomfortable smile -her eyes were trained on the bruises even from such a distance- but she looked like a princess should, no longer unruly and messy like she had been prior to the incident.

Helaena eagerly clapped her hands together, excitedly as she took in her sister's dress - it wasn't a light-coloured dress like she would normally have worn, but it made her look regal and mature.

In an attempt to alleviate her uncomfortableness caused by the intent eyes of the seated crowds and her family she kept her gaze to the ground.

As soon as Aegon had taken notice of her appearance, he had halted his suave attempts at wooing the serving girl before him. He sat still and silent in his seat, his lips slightly parted. He was unused to his youngest sister, looking so grown. It made him feel uncomfortable and wary of his mother's intentions of dressing her so. She was a girl of nine years.

She normally dirtied her outfits with picking flowers or dancing outside, but every last detail was impeccable and untouched from her hair to her heeled feet. His lavender eyes then wandered to the crowds, to which he saw many predatory gazes ogling his child sister.

Whispers and murmurs reached his ears, some too crude to be used to describe a girl of nine years and lascivious even for a predatory creature such as himself.

It seemed that Y/N had taken notice of them, too, as her steps wavered slightly. She hated the noble men and their disgusting words.

Aegon's grip on his cup tightened before he stood to his feet, garnering the attention of his family and the crowds.

Without so much as a glance to the serving girl -who had preoccupied his attention prior-, his mother, father, or anyone, he walked down the steps and ambled over to Y/N, doing his best to stop himself falling.

The little girl finally looked up, her sullen expression remained as Aegon approached her. She thought he might have decided to take his leave, but instead, he offered his hand out to her, his eyes focused only on hers, ignoring everyone else.

Y/N looked him in the eyes and gave her eldest brother a gracious yet short nod, grateful that he had diverted everyone's attention from her even at the cost of their mother and father's disappointment.

Aemond felt a numbness surge through his body as he watched Y/N take Aegon's hand before he led her gently up the stairs towards the table.

Once they approached their seats they seated themselves, Y/N being more conscious of noise meanwhile Aegon more or less threw his chair from the table to seat himself, uncaring of his mother, father or Grandsire's scornful gazes.

The feast then began, and everyone started to eat their way through their meals, all except Y/N, whose eyes studied her small, cut hands to distract herself from the smells of the food and the cringe-worthy sounds of everyone eating.

"Y/N," Aegon's voice pulled her from her thoughts and she looked to him.

With his knife and fork in hand, he gestured towards her plate. "Eat."

As much as her brother drank, he was not oblivious to his surroundings, that was clear.

Y/N released a staggered breath before she shook her head and refuted his request vehemently. "If I eat, I'll fall asleep. The hunger keeps me awake longer."

Aegon frowned at her words, but he did not relent. "I was not asking," he paused, his face stern yet concerned. "Eat."

Y/N sighed and shifted in her seat, but she did as he said, picking up a spoonful of peas and placing them within her mouth. She struggled to swallow them without gagging, which did not go unnoticed by the older boy, but he was just relieved she had eaten.

His eyes repeatedly looked to her expectantly throughout the feast, and each time, she would place a fork full of chicken or spoonful of peas to her mouth in hopes of appeasing her brother and escaping to her chambers quicker.

As Aemond's eye glanced towards the other end of the table, he realised he was feeling the same emotions he had felt whenever seeing his brother riding Sunfyre; jealousy and rage.

Aegon had always played the role of elder brother effortlessly when it came to Y/N. He and Helaena were taunted or blatantly ignored most of the time. Meanwhile, Aegon had always ensured he had time for Y/N and vice versa.

Aemond himself did not understand their connection, Aegon had always been horrible, but Y/N had always tried to see the good in him; their pretty older brother.

More than anything, he wanted to disrupt their interactions and whisk her away from his words of poison.

Eventually, Y/N tired of Aegon's expectant stares and stood before speaking quietly, "may I be excused?" Alicent figured she needed to use the chamber pot and so she nodded.

"Of course, my darling."

Aegon wasn't as trusting as his mother, he knew that she only wished to leave the feast as much as he did.

Ser Criston, without being instructed to, approached and gently took the girl's hand and led her down the stairs.

Most of the crowds were too immersed in conversing, or their hands were dug far too deep into their meals to take notice of the Princess leaving.

Ser Criston Cole knew she only wanted to escape from such an environment, and he did, too. Feasts were not an enjoyable occasion for the guard. They served as a reminder of the poison that was Rhaenyra and Laenor's wedding banquet all those years ago.

He did not like the lingering emptiness he felt as a result of that feast. Even his hatred could not rid him of it.

Y/N had dropped ser Criston's hand and exited the feast with a quickness to be admired.

She heaved a deep sigh as the doors closed behind her.

"I must retrieve my brother's gift, I did not want to gift it to him in front of everyone."

"Lead the way, Princess." Ser Criston had no understanding as to why he had grown so tolerant and accepting of accompanying and guarding the princess who had once embodied the word nuisance. Perhaps it was their shared experience of having their joy and happiness stolen from them at the hands of others or perhaps it was their experiences of pain- Ser Criston's was physical while Y/N's was a balance of both physical and emotional, leading them both to become shells of their former selves.

He supposed he should be grateful, he was a man grown when Rhaenyra broke his heart, Y/N was nine when she had been attacked and on the brink of death, her dragon had escaped and she was officially declared to be barren by a maester.

His eyes wandered to her small body that moved swiftly through the long corridors, and somehow, he knew that the worst was yet to come for a girl of Y/N's beauty and title.

He swallowed uncomfortably at his thoughts. But he would not allow himself to become concerned or care for the girl or her wellbeing, yet.

Y/N opened the doors to her chambers and grabbed the small box hastily before exiting. She turned to look at Ser Criston who looked to be nauseous at that moment.

"You look unwell, should I call for a maester?"

Ser Criston could have cursed, he did feel unwell, but he had been doing his best to hide it.

"I should be fine, Princess. I'll take you back to the feast."

"Come walk with me through the gardens. The fresh air and smell of flowers will help." She ignored his words, and before he could protest or agree, she began to walk away from him presumably in the direction of the garden.

It took a number of minutes and convincing words to the other guards until they both found themselves in the gardens. Ser Criston seated himself while Y/N wandered over to the rows of white and red roses and felt their petals with her fingertips.

"How does it feel to wield a sword?" Y/N's voice along with her words came unexpected to the guard but after a few moments he answered.

"Heavy."

Y/N rolled her eyes, dissatisfied by his answer. She did not repeat herself and only watched him expectantly.

"It is both liberating and demanding, but with time comes skill." He answered as honestly as he could to which Y/N nodded.

"And do you think a girl could wield a sword?" Her question was not meant to be amusing, but the guard snorted and gave a disapproving chuckle.

"It would take a very resilient and hardened woman to wield a sword. There are not too many of those these days."

"Visenya Targaryen was a fierce and skilled warrior, and she was a woman." Y/N offered as a rebuttal, in efforts to open his mind to the idea.

"Why do you show such interest in wielding a weapon? A princess should not be concerned with such matters." Ser Criston huffed, but he noticed that Y/N's suggestion had worked, and his nausea was dissipating. Perhaps he had eaten too quickly.

"If I were trained in the art of the sword, my brother would not have lost his eye, and I would not have nearly died at the hands of the twin-bitches." Y/N spat viciously, but the knight had chuckled aloud at her choice of words. He wondered if she had any idea of what it meant or how it would normally have been used in a sentence.

"Y/N?"

The silver haired girl spun to see Aemond standing a few feet away. She could only wonder how long he had been there and how much he had heard.

Aemond knew that the gardens were a place of comfort for Y/N, especially the area which kept the roses, which is why it had been the second place he searched when she had not returned, the first being her unguarded, empty chambers.

"Aemond." She greeted allowing herself to smile at him. Her feet were light as she approached him.

"What are you doing out here?" He had squinted his eye and looked between his sister and the guard with suspicion.

"Prince Aemond, forgive me. I was feeling unwell, so the young princess directed me to the gardens to get some air." Ser Criston explained, his voice calm and his face expressing no concern regarding Aemond's presence.

Aemond had no time to answer as Y/N held out a small box to him. "I did not want everyone's prying eyes upon us. I would have rather waited until after the feast, but since you are here -" She gestured to the box with the ghost of a smile upon her face.

Aemond's eye travelled her face, and her eyes shone even in the shadow of night. He took the box from her, his face lacking expression.

She found herself growing nervous but refrained from showing it. Even ser Criston had risen from his seated position to get a better view of the gift.

He opened the small box gently and found inside a singular dark blue rose. He smiled down at the gift, happy that Y/N had not completely changed.

Unable to contain her glee, she bounced on the heels of her feet and let a small smile take over her face. "I hand painted it -in my book blue roses represent rarity, uniqueness along with dreams, pride and mystery - there has never been and never will be a Targaryen braver, smarter or more unique than you Aemond," Y/N grasped his arms lightly and began to let the words flee from her mouth.

"You had a dream of claiming a dragon, and you did not only that, but you claimed and rode the biggest and oldest dragon in all of Westeros at the age of ten." Even though it had been meant as a compliment, Y/N could not stop the envy that she felt, Aemond had already ridden Vhagar more times than Y/N had been allowed to ride Veranys. She had only ever ridden the dragon seven times, with her last ride having been the longest.

Aemond felt his chest tightening at her words. He did not want to appear weak and so withheld any emotions that would encourage tears. He nodded, and despite the pain it caused in his cheek and socket, he smiled for her. "I love it, thank you, sister."

Y/N shook her head before speaking, "That isn't all," Once again, she nodded her head towards the box, and underneath the flower lay a small black silk pouch which at first blended with the layering inside the box. Aemond's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, wondering what it could possibly be.

He opened the pouch and had to force himself to squint at the glinting object to identify it.

"I've always said blue was your colour." Y/N's voice had lowered multiple octaves as she awaited his response anxiously, once again.

Aemond dug out the item from the small pouch and found a sapphire gemstone laying in his hand. He was about to ask where she had obtained it from.

"I didn't steal it, if that's what you're wondering...or maybe I did." She whispered the last words rapidly to which Aemond shook his head, fond of her antics.

Her eyes were focused on the glimmering stone, as though its shine had captivated her.

"I've cherished it, more than any tiara, necklace, ring - I kept it hidden within my table, it's the most beautiful gem I've ever seen so it made sense to give it to you, with you being 'the prettiest child'" She did her best to speak in their mother's voice as she called him the prettiest but it was not entirely a joke. Aemond had always possessed a certain regalness and etherealness to his appearance that Y/N thought no other to have, perhaps it was his thirst for knowledge and his eloquent ways of speaking that had helped solidify Aemond's position as the most beautiful and graceful of Viserys' children -at least to Y/N and her mother-.

Ser Criston, for the first time in too long, felt his lips twitch into a smile as he watched the scene before him. For as heartless as he was, even he could not deny the sweetness of the exchange. In that moment, Y/N truly embodied her name of 'The Sweetling Princess' bestowed upon her by the nobles and smallfolk, alike. Perhaps the incident had not hardened her heart quite as much as he had thought it had, and to his surprise, he felt glad for such a possibility.

"I shall cherish it as you have done," he paused as his eye found her two brilliant lilac-pink ones. "It will be my greatest treasure." Aemond then grasped Y/N tightly and pulled her into a hug, which she returned as her arms linked around his neck.

[A nice chapter -I think- for a change. Hopefully no-one was too ooc here, that's my pet hate when it comes to stories.

While everyone seems pleasant and kind, I do intend to keep their personalities and behaviours they adopt as they get older.

The next chapter might have the characters aged up a little, but not significantly so.

I don't want to miss out on any chance of establishing concrete relationship plots between Y/N and her family.

Hope you enjoyed this one, I have tried to proofread this as best as I can but autocorrect is a pain in the neck

Thanks for reading my story so far!]

[pearl-nouveau]

A Woman's Purpose - Cregan Stark x Reader [chapter two]

summary: After your grandsire's death, you fly to Winterfell with Jacaerys and find yourself nervous to treat with Cregan years after your heated moment together.

warnings: none i think

a/n: short chapter, just felt like a good stopping point. anyone want part three,,,?🤗

The actions of Alicent and her eldest son did not shock me, but they deeply wounded a sense of hope that I hadn't realized was still deep within my soul. I would always remember Cregan praising my kind heart, but sometimes it felt like a curse. I had believed at my core that our family could find it within themselves to forgive, to come together, to support my grandsire's wishes and put a woman on the Iron Throne... I had believed that Alicent had a spine, that Aemond had humility, that Aegon had a heart. And Heleana, my poor, dear aunt whom I considered a close friend - it pained me to think of her caught in the center of such a mess. I longed to see her and I longed to see my mother on her throne. 

I thought back to the dinner we had before leaving for Dragonstone again. We had been merry, since Jaecerys and Lucerys were newly engaged. I was happy for Jace especially since we had talked so often of hoping for happy marriages, and Baela was a wonderful girl who he already adored. It pleased me that there was a possibility for love between the two of them. 

Aegon had drunkenly wandered to my seat and leaned towards my ear. 

"Poor niece... Your only purpose to be married off and still yet to be engaged. You'll be running out of options soon." 

His amusement sickened me and I continued to pick at my food, trying to ignore him, but he continued. 

"If you don't pick you'll end up with some elderly lord with a thumb for a pecker. Best swallow your pride and pick someone to claim you. Can't be your own woman forever, girl." His breath reeked of alcohol. 

Jacaerys had noticed his advances and stood to intervene, only for Aegon to direct his attention towards Baela, which began a whole other mess leading to the night quickly unraveling. 

It had made you think about marriage, not only as a duty, but as a tool. It had always been an important fixture in politics, but after everything that has happened with the throne, I knew that it would be even more urgent for me to take a husband. I lay in my bed at Dragonstone, resting my eyes, considering the current predicament of betrothal.

When it came down to it, there was no one I wanted to imagine myself marrying except for the Northern man who had captured my heart so many years ago. I feared, however, that it was too late. I had already refused him, in a way, one time. In addition, I had humiliated myself with his advances and then fled. He very well may hate me; find me to be a tease, a whore. I shuddered to think about it. 

At that moment, Jacaerys barged into my room. 

"Sister," breathlessly he addressed me, "mother has requested us to go to Winterfell and treat with Cregan Stark." 

There was a hint of a smile on his face, although we both knew the task was serious. I had no immediate response to him, so he elaborated.

"I suggested that you come. I believe you should see him. Besides, it is the perfect excuse to go."

I turned away, suddenly emotional. I wiped at my face. "Perhaps he has already taken a new wife," I shook my head. "We only need one representative of the crown."

"You're coming," He said finally. I realized it was no longer a request, but an order.

"Does mother know?"

He shook his head. "This is for you to figure out. No interferences." I raised an eyebrow at him. "Except for mine, right now. I would hope that if we are to enter the Hell of war we can find at least some happiness within the chaos."

His words made me want to weep, realizing how much he has grown and how much more he will have to in the coming years. How much all my siblings would grow. I feared for the lives of my loved ones. Instinctively, I reached for my brother and pulled him to me. He hugged me back tightly. 

"It'll all be okay, little dragon," his old nickname for me made me chuckle into his shoulder, "tomorrow, we ride for Winterfell."

That night, I dreamt of Cregan. Brief, hazy glimpses of moments we shared in the past. Moments that made me fall in love with him. 

I saw him poised in front of Vermithor, no fear in those stormy eyes, his hand outstretched to stroke my beautiful dragon's scaled face. He had respected the authority of my beast, and Vemithor in turn had leaned into the Lord's touch. That moment had brought heat to my stomach and tugged at my insides. The Bronze Fury was not easy to befriend. 

I saw him across the altar in the sept where I took him on a tour, his head bent in prayer, dark hair framing his face. He had caught my eye and held it, unblinking, keeping it until I looked away.

I saw in the golden hour in the training yard, his gaze finding me between every attack. He moved like ice against his sparring partners: cold, calculated, hardened. No one bested him. When we walked to dinner together afterward, he walked behind me, and I had suddenly felt a tug at my hair. He gently pulled the ribbon holding my braid together - a braid commanded by my mother - letting my hair fall down my back. I like it down like this, he told me, wild and free, like you. 

Morning was unwelcome because it ripped me from the warmth of my dreams with him, but the realization that I was soon to be headed for Winterfell thrilled me. I quickly dressed and packed with my handmaidens before finding Jacaerys in the hallway. He said nothing, grasping my hand and nodding solemnly. We moved to the dragon pit together and prepared Vermax and Vermithor. When we exited the cave, I saw my mother and younger siblings watching on from above. 

"We should say our goodbyes," I told Jacaerys, "the Gods only know when the next time we will all be together is."

Jace nodded, and we joined with the rest of our family. I kissed each of the little ones on the forehead, pinched their cheeks, sniffed their baby skin, making every attempt to remember them as they were in case I was struck from the back of my dragon. Lucerys stood tall when I came to him, like the proud little fighter he was, and I gave him a tight hug and a squeeze of luck for his own journey. I worried for him dearly, but Lucerys was perhaps the most smart and capable of us Valeryen children, even at his young age.

"Good luck, raqiarzy," I spoke into his hair. He was nearly as tall as me at that point. "I shall see you soon."

My mother gazed at me with that look she always wore as I moved to stand in front of her. So diplomatic, so very regal. Sometimes I wished she would soften and just be my mother for a moment. But now, finally involved in diplomacy, who was I to her? Still her daughter, or some cancerous growth jeopardizing her claim?

I felt her arms around me. "Be safe," she whispered into my ear, "I love you, my daughter."

Tears filled my eyes and I hugged her back. I thought about all of our fights about my marriage. Who was I truly fighting? We were both shackled by tradition, still, I realized. Her claim had been an abstract future and now it had all come crashing down. She was still fighting the same battles against men that she believed to have won as a girl my own age. None of our past disagreements mattered now. Happiness and freedom were no longer mine to take for myself; they may be ripped from us all at any moment. 

My mother and I separated and she placed a kiss to my brow. Her stoic demeanor had faded and I could see wetness in her eyes. Jace offered me his arm and I reluctantly took it, turning away from my family and trying not to think about our uncertain future. 

The journey to Winterfell was long and cold, as many journeys on dragonback are, but I was comforted by the presence of Vermax and Jacaerys gliding back and forth below me. Our dragons, very different in size, flew quite differently. Vermax was nimble and slight, disappearing between clouds and darting in and out of sight easily. A formidable stealth opponent. Vermithor, on the other hand, was enormous and flew with simple, powerful strokes of his golden wings. He was fearsome, and I found him to be the most beautiful creature in the world. As terrifying as he was, our bond was strong. He never raised a tone at me; he grumbled and purred in my presence only, and awaited orders with undying loyalty. He had been my dragon since the time I was ten and four, and our relationship only strengthened by the day. 

The sky greyed as we flew further North and the air began to chill. I shivered not only from the cold but the impending reunion I was to have with Cregan. I had no idea what to expect. I had considered opening his letter but it was still too frightening to me. It left me even more unprepared for a conversation with him. 

When we reached Winterfell, Jacaerys and I circled Vermax and Vermithor a few times to signal our landing. We made no sudden moves towards the castle and its surrounding fortress, and landed in an isolated field. The wind whipped my long hair out from the veil I had tied around my head. It floated around my head like a halo as I squinted in the heatless sunlight. 

"Someone rides this way," Jacaerys called from the back of Vermax. He began to disembark and I glanced over to where he looked. A rider on a black horse, eighteen hands tall, came galloping towards our dragons. Vermithor let out a roar of distaste. He didn't like people coming near him - or me. I calmed him with coos in High Valerian and began to slide down his wing. The rider had stopped next to Jace and gotten off the horse.

As I crept closer, I knew it was Cregan. His stature was unmistakable. Tall and dominating against the bleak horizon in his furs. Gods, I had never seen him in his heavy Northern furs. It made me want to crawl within them, to feel the heat of his body around me. Coming closer, I saw him clap Jace on the shoulder with familiarity, and then turn his gaze to me. With no hesitation, he came towards me. I saw behind him Jace getting onto his horse, the ghost of a brotherly smirk on his face, and kicking the horse forward towards Winterfell. 

"What-" I began to question as Cregan came within arm's length of me, unable to finish as he pulled me to his chest in a tight hug. The furs were just as warm as they looked, and I melted into his arms. It had been so long since I smelled him. Like sap and smoke and ale and somehow roses. My arms snaked under the cloak and I could feel the hardened muscle of his body through his shirt. And then I realized - he was hugging me, as if he missed me, as if...

"I've missed you, my princess." He spoke into my hair. 

"You aren't angry with me?" I breathed into his cloak. He pulled back and took my chin in his calloused fingers, his face laced with confusion.

"How could I ever, my girl? You didn't read my letter?"

I flushed. "I was embarrassed. I thought you would have wanted me to keep quiet after I... lost control like that." He barked out a laugh, which would have made her feel ashamed had he not paired it with a gentle kiss to her cheekbone.

"I'll show you what losing control really is, someday," he kissed her cheek again and hummed. "Darling, I wrote you that letter and apologized for leaving so quickly... had it been up to me I would have stayed until you chose to see me again and asked for your hand right there. I had to get home to my son and my duties here but you have never left my head." Now it was his turn to flush as he recounted the contents of his letter. "I... I had begged you to someday consider me to be your husband if you ever found that marriage was something you wanted. None of my advisors could convince me to take another wife until I knew that there was no chance. I have held out hope for years, I have taken no other lover, and I beg you to end my agony and provide an answer," he dropped to his knee as if his body were giving out on him. "Is there a chance? Someday, that you would allow me to love you as I already do?"

It all became clear to me that my world was soon to fall apart, and standing in front of me was a man who was promising to stand by my side in the worst of times. As my family is torn apart and our power in the realm shattered. A smile crossed my face.

"You mean to tell me that the most eligible Northern Lord has been withholding his services from the ladies of the North, all because a faraway dragon rider was stuck in his dreams?" 

My teasing lilt was enough for him to look up at me and grin, standing to his full height towering over me. He grasped at my waist with one hand and cupped my face with the other. 

"They've been left wanting, I suppose." My Lord Stark said contemplatively. 

"As have ladies in the South." I told him, surprised by my own boldness and pleased by the delivery. 

He wasted no more time in capturing my lips, kissing me as if he were starved. He kept taking breaths to stare at me before continuing. His lips moved lovingly across my neck, my jaw, my throat, hungry to taste every inch of skin. After a while, I pressed against his chest and examined his face. It was even more beautiful up close than I remembered. His face an oval with hardened edges. Strong brows and thick pink lips that I was free to kiss. His hair pulled back haphazardly to keep from blowing in the wind. He kissed me one more time, this one softer than baby's breath, and held my head in one of his strong hands before nodding towards Winterfell in the distance.

"I let Jacaerys take my steed so we might walk together." He gestured back to the dragons. "Whatever they eat I will have brought to them."

"They'll eat anything. Even you," I poked his chest. 

"You just tell me if Vermithor ever starts feeling jealous. I shall begin to steer clear." 

We walked together, slowly, catching up after the last couple of years. I asked of his son and he told me that Rickon was nearly three years old. He stopped me for a moment. "I've already an heir. If we wed, I shall not force you to bear my children. You will never be just the mother of my children. You will be my wife." 

I smiled at that, saying nothing. Children hadn't crossed my mind. I supposed I was not ready to think about it. The way he spoke so definitely about our marriage gave me pause. 

"Cregan, I-" my words faltered, but I persisted. "I think you ought to know that I didn't come here just to see you." 

He chuckled. "I figured as such when you brought your brother and two dragons."

I blushed. "We need you and your army to stand by my mother. My uncle has taken her throne. My grandsire's crown was scarcely off his head before Aegon took it. My mother raises an army to stand against him. I am not a bargaining tool, I will not marry you for an army-"

"-I would never presume to trade you like an animal. The North will see your mother, the rightful queen, on her throne, you have my word. I want to marry you because I fell in love with you in King's Landing those years ago, and I wish for you to be free as you want to be. If marrying me is not how you will find your freedom, I will accept your answer." The concept seemed to pain him. 

Would marriage truly shackle me? Being with Cregan felt like being on dragonback for the first time. It felt like gliding over a lake of glass water, your arms outstretched. I had fought and fought for so many years to be free, but free from what? I now saw in front of me a new kind of freedom, away from the clawing hands that surrounded the crown always. I saw a man who chose me and respected my happiness. I looked around at the rolling hills and distant mountains. The cool wind on my face. Bustling people entering and exiting the gates of Winterfell. Perhaps I imagined it, but I heard laughter. Children. I closed my eyes for a moment and felt peace.

I opened them again to see the hopeful face of Cregan Stark awaiting my words. If what he said was true, would he remain here in front of me for the rest of my life, always waiting to grant my next wish?

I smiled. Reached out to him. Snaked my hands around his neck, brought his face close to mine. 

"I choose me," I told him quietly. "So, I choose you."

We sealed the betrothal with a kiss. 

[alicentsgf]

how am i only now realising the significance of the little clay dragon breaking when alicent first went to visit viserys - when i saw her accidentally breaking it again in the most recent episode. this tiny symbol of the targaryen dynasty, representative of something so powerful and yet its so delicate and easily broken. The targaryens are so easily broken. And alicent breaks it without even meaning to, because viserys never should have put it in her hands. Viserys knew it was delicate, that the dynasty is all smoke and mirrors. He spoke with Rhaenyra about it when he named her heir. he knew and yet he hid from it. he placed something so flimsy in the hands scared children. children he never bothered to even know. rhaenyra, alicent, aegon, jaecerys, etc, all of whom never asked for the responsibility. who were never even taught to understand the responsibility. and now there are dragons lying broken.

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Snow Drop Part. 7

Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader

Description: After Y/N's rejection, Jaecerys fears he has lost his love forever unaware of the true nature of her feelings. Meanwhile Y/N struggles to stay away from The Prince she secretly loves, having faced heartbreak before. Can an overheard conversation get Jace to fight for her love?

Warnings: female reader.

Writer's note: Sorry it's been a while. I had this written ages ago but work and just life in general got in the way of me posting it. Hope you enjoy reading it.

Jacaerys became a ghostly shell of himself in the days that followed his disastrous profession of love to his lady. He rebuked himself for having believed that she could have returned his feelings, having clearly only viewed him as a friend. She was far too beautiful, too sweet, too incomparable. By imposing his affections upon her he had spoiled any chance of remaining in her orbit, even if only in the capacity of a friend. He felt her absence like a cold shard of ice through his heart and sometimes convinced himself that he saw her, as if she were a ghost of a memory dancing in his periphery. Dark circles formed purple bruises under his eyes from lack of sleep and he was unable to lift the feeling of a pressing weight on his heart at all times, as if the wound to it from her rejection was a palpable thing he carried with him always. The pain he felt at the loss of her, both as a friend and as the Princess of his heart would not cause him to intrude upon the distance she had imposed upon him. Nevertheless, he could not resist from leaving snowdrops in books he thought might interest her in the library, leaving them placed on the open pages for her to find. He told himself that such a gesture should not displease her, even if she knew that if was he who left them. She did so love those flowers and he would much rather imagine her delicate fingers brushing the petals of them, than the flowers lying in a forest, unseen by her. He never stayed to see if she would come across his gifts. He had enough strength yet to allow her space away from him, though it pained him to acquiesce to it. The absence of the flower from the page on the morrow was an intimation that she had been there and had cared for his gift, even if she did not care for the sentiments it expressed. Whilst the thought of her touching the flower and being pleased by it gladdened his heart, almost as if she were touching his hand with her own, it also saddened him. His lady disappeared with the morning light just as the flower did; as if she had never existed, except in his mind.

It was with these painful thoughts oppressing him that Jacaerys pressed a kiss to his fingertips and then to the flower he had left open on a book on the history of Targaryen dragons for his lady. The hour was late and he knew he should leave on the chance that she would enter the library and be disturbed at the sight of him, so he turned to leave. He had only begun to walk back to his chambers from the library when, turning the corner, he was met with the at once welcome and alarming sight of his lady. Only too welcome, given how long he had been deprived of the sight of her beauty and sweet presence, but alarming as he noted the tears glistening on her cheeks. Without any forethought, he immediately reached out to her, raising one hand to cup her face, and another to take hold of her elbow, gazing into her eyes with concern.

"My dearest love, what is the cause of your distress? Are you unwell or hurt?"

To his surprise and concern, she only closed her eyes, wincing as if in pain, before attempting to push him away from her. Believing her to be injured, he maintained his hold on her, wrapping an arm around her waist, determined to assess the cause of her pain before he released her.

"I know, I know," he hushed her, "I will release you as soon as you tell me where the pain is. I can only help you if I know what has befallen you."

She pushed his chest halfheartedly with her palms, as if unsure whether she wanted him to release his hold on her or melt into his embrace. Her head fell to rest on his chest, as if in spite of herself, and she mumbled into the velvet fabric of his tunic.

"I hate you for this," tightening her grip on his tunic as she said so, pressing her head more forcefully into his chest.

Jacaerys closed his eyes, wincing himself, as he drew in a sharp breath, her words lancing through him like a knife. It pained him immeasurably to know that she not only did not, and would never, return his love for her, but also that his very presence was so hateful to her. Her tight grip on him, however, convinced him that she still required comfort, so he wrapped her in his arms more securely, rubbing her back up and down tentatively.

He lowered his head to rest upon hers, whispering disconsolately, "I know, I am sorry for it, I will leave you as soon as you are calmer."

To his surprise, she only tightened her grip on him further, crying harder into his chest, so that he began to grow really alarmed. Raising one hand to gently cup her head, he pulled her away from him slightly to look into her eyes.

"Darling, you begin to really alarm me. What can have distressed you so much and how can I remedy it?" he asked frantically. "Has someone harmed you?" he added, his eyes darkening and his voice growing steely as he mentally prepared to dispatch the offender who had upset his Love. When she only shook her head, after returning it to rest against his chest, he tentatively enquired, in a softer voice, conveying his trepidation at her answer, "Is it me that distresses you so, my Love?"

He received his painful confirmation when she released a sob, which caused an acute pain in his chest, believing himself to be the cause, before she forcefully pushed him away from her and ran from him before he could stop her.

Unbeknownst to Jacaerys, his lady was suffering his own absence as acutely as he was hers. Believing that she was doing what was best for them both, she had forced herself to push away the only man she could ever imagine opening her heart to, locking away her own love for him as she did so. Her days had been as equally listless, her nights as sleepless as Jacaerys, overwhelmed by a feeling of loss that his absence filled her with. She was determined, however, to maintain her distance from him, even if the flowers she knew he left for her had her almost breaking her resolve. Each night she would take the flower he had left on the open pages of books he knew would interest her, her heart warming painfully at the thought of his kindness and attentiveness towards her and her interests. She carefully pressed each flower into a book of stories her mother had given her as a child, preserving them as memories of her lost love, telling herself that she could allow herself this one foible. It was the questioning of a maid she had grown friendly with that had caused her to break down into tears. She had good naturedly teased Y/N for her interest in the Price, asking her why she had been avoiding him of late when she had previously seemed so taken with him. Y/N could only take so much of her teasing before her repressed pain brimmed forth in her tears, and she made to seek out the repose of the library, where she could at least feel close to him in remembering the time they had spent together there. She was alarmed to practically run into the arms of the Prince, but found herself unable to release her hold on him as he tried to ascertain the cause for her distress. His tender concern and genuine alarm at her distress only made it that much harder for her to reject his tender touch, as he tried to comfort her, and she found herself unable to release her grip on him. His tentative suggestion that he was the cause of her distress, although not in the way he imagined, and that he should leave her, led her to give into desperate tears, as she held onto him like a lifeline. It was only at his unintentional reminder to herself that it was the impossibility of her being able to return his feelings that led her to push him away from her, though it hurt her to do so. She was pained at the thought that her repeated rejections of his advances caused him discomfort, but she reminded herself that men's love was fleeting and he would recover from them to rule over the Seven Kingdoms, where she could lose all if she gave in.

Several more days had passed, though not without Jacaerys attempting to catch his Love when he passed her down the hallway on his way to the Council room one day. She had quickly sidestepped him when he had attempted to enquire into her wellbeing, and he had forced himself to allow her to walk past him, without any further enquiry on his part. His internal turmoil at the loss of his love and over her own evident distress, which he could not remedy, being the cause of it, continued to manifest itself in outward signs. His mother even began to grow concerned for the state of his health, though he was quick to assure her on the point and to brush away her concern.

Jacaerys now made his way to the library, earlier than he was wont to do, planning on retiring early that evening, if only because the only sight he could now have of his love was in his dreams. He turned behind a book case filled with books on natural history, searching for a book on flowers that his lady had not read, raising his hand to reach for one volume, before the sound of two voices arrested his motion. He stood, frozen in place, as he heard the voice of his Love.

"I won't be long, Margery, I only wanted to find a book I was interested in reading."

A feeling of contentment washed over him at the sound of her voice, although he also knew that the sight of him might startle her from her search, so he resolved to remain where he was until she had collected her book.

"I don't know how you can read so many, it's that Prince of yours whose responsible. You think of nothing else but him."

Jacaerys felt his heart stop at the sound of the maid referring to him as Y/N's Prince. His own heart already belonged to her, but the thought that she might view him as hers had a spark of hope alighting in his heart.

"He is not my Prince, Margery. Don't say such things out loud, someone might hear you and misunderstand. I don't think of him all the time."

He felt the spark of hope diminish as his lady spoke, turning into cinders.

"I'm no fool, Y/N. I've seen the way you both look at each other, like you're the only other person in that one's world. I used to find it difficult to get you to shut up about him and now you won't speak of him at all and avoid him as if you were afraid of him. Did he do something to you?"

"No! He would never harm me, he is a gentleman and a true Prince."

The other maid's words had caused him to grip onto the shelf opposite him in restrained pain. The thought that he would ever harm his love was horrifying to him. However, his lady's impassioned defence of him had his heart soaring. That she should think so well of him still filled him with hope that he could hope to renew his friendship with her if he was careful not to let his true devotion to her run away with him.

"Why do you avoid him so then? You'd think you hated him."

His lady's next words had his heart stopping altogether before it continued to beat urgently, the sound of it resounding in his ears as his breathing quickened and a smile upturned his lips.

"I don't hate him! I love him!"

A moment of silence passed before Margery responded.

"You...love him?"

Y/N responded in so quiet and soft a voice he had to strain to hear her, holding onto her words like a lifeline.

"I do, and it is precisely because I love him that I have to avoid him. He is a Prince of the Realm, the Heir to the Iron Throne, and I am only a lowly servant girl. It could never work. It is for the best that I avoid him."

He closed his eyes tightly shut, rebuking himself for not realising that his lady did return his feelings and that it was really only her fears regarding his intentions that were preventing her from telling him so. He should have been more assiduous in urging the seriousness of them.

"Has he made any improper advances towards you, Y/N?"

"He would never do such a thing, I do not wish for you to view him so harshly. He told me he loved me and that he wanted me to marry me."

"What?! And you said no to a Prince's proposal!? Are you mad?"

"Don't goad me, Margery. Yes, he did everything properly, but he is still a man and a Prince no-less. It would not be the first time a man has professed his love for me, only to retract it later. I have already told you of this. I thought Christopher loved me, that he would marry me, but he only wanted one thing and when I would not give it to him he proved just how foolish I was to trust in the word of a man."

Hearing his Love speak of her fears and her experience of her love being misplaced in that bastard, he wished that he could hold her to him and reassure her that he would never be so careless with her heart. His promise of love to her was solemn and unbreakable, he would never love another. He struggled to repress his anger with the man she spoke of for breaking her heart and making such demands of her. He resolved that he would kill him if he ever encountered him, his hand clenching around the book shelf he had been holding.

"I know, Y/N, but not all men are like that braggart. You have spoken to me often enough of how honourable and gallant the Prince is. Have I not sworn that if I hear 'Prince Jacaerys is a true prince in every manner of the word' one more time I will have to have an intervention with you?"

Jacaerys found himself smiling again at this, delighting that his lady should think so highly of him. He only hoped that she would see him as her Prince too, not just a stately figure she admired from a distance. He would close that distance entirely if he could.

"Yes, yes, I know it and I will not deny that the Prince could not be further from Christopher. I do believe he is in earnest about his intentions towards me, but I cannot trust that he will remain earnest. More than that, how could I claim to love him if I would willingly jeopardize his claim to the Iron Throne by tying him to a lowly servant girl? I love him far too much to do that, even if it pains me to reject his love. Do you not think it hurts me to avoid him, when I would much rather be with him always?"

He felt the wind taken out of his lungs from her declaration. His heart swelled with even more love than he felt possible for a human being to contain within themselves at her selfless concealment of her love for him, in her desire not to hinder his passage to the throne. She could not know that he could only imagine ruling with her at his side. It pained him to know that she thought so lowly of herself, when he thought she was the epitome of perfection, the most beautiful girl in the world, the Princess of his heart. At the same, he was filled with new found determination to convince her that he would never waver from his love for her. He had already resolved to love her forever, if only in silent resignation at her indifference. Now that he knew she felt the same way about him, that she wanted him too, he would not rest until he had succeeded in assuring her that he was hers and hers alone, if she would have him.

"You are more selfless than I would be in the same position, Y/N. I don't envy you. I must ready the Princess Rhaena for bed now, so I will leave you to it. Don't stay up too late, I worry about you. You haven't been sleeping or eating much. If you are to reject the Prince, can you not also neglect your own health."

Margery's words felt like a sharp rebuke to him, as he cursed himself for not having realised the true cause for his lady's distress. His concern for her wellbeing was only surpassed by his determination to ensure that he was never so careless again, not now that he knew she loved him. He would assiduously care for her all the rest of their lives together, if she would permit it. He grew restless for Margery to depart so that he could convince her that such was the case.

"I won't, don't worry. Thank you for worrying about me Margery, you are a good friend."

Jacaerys waited until he heard Margery's retreating footsteps and her close the library door, before he emerged from his hiding place, making enough noise in the hope of not startling his Love too much. She looked up from the book she had opened before her in alarm, as she met his gaze.

"My Prince! How much did you...what did you hear?!"

"Everything, my Love. I am sorry for listening to your conversation but I could not help overhearing."

As he spoke, in a gentle voice, communicating the tenderness he felt for her within it, he took slow, measured steps towards her.

"I am only sorry that it took me overhearing your conversation to understand the reason for your distress. I hope that you will forgive me for my carelessness in not realising before and that you will allow me to renew my proposal of marriage once again. I urgently entreat you to believe that I am most ardent in my love for you and in my hope that you will consent to be my lady wife and my Princess."

He had nearly approached her, reaching out towards her with his arms, as if to embrace her, before she ran from him behind a nearby table. He could not altogether repress a smile at her antics, as she moved to the other side of the table when he moved to walk around it.

"You needn't run from me, my Love." Smirking, he continued in a teasing tone. "Did you not say that you thought me gallant and a Prince in every sense of the word?" He inwardly rejoiced at the blush which arose on her cheeks as her mouth parted in shock at his words, and he took the opportunity of her surprise to move further round the table towards her. Reaching to clasp her hand in his, he added, "I would be your Prince, if you would only have me."

Coming back to her senses, she quickly withdrew her hand and Jacaerys' face fell as she turned and ran from him. He would not stand by, this time, as the only woman he would ever love fled from him again, not when he knew that she loved him too, that she wanted him, if she would only allow herself to put her faith in him. He was determined that if she wanted him, she would have him. With renewed determination, he ran after her, quickly catching up with her. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he turned her towards him. As she raised a palm to push against his chest, he pressed his own hand firmly against her hand, sliding her hand up to rest against the place where his heart beat frantically against his chest.

"Do you not feel how my heart beats for you and only you, my Love. It has only ever been you. My feelings for you are unalterable, as unshakable as the foundations of Dragonstone. I would lay my life down for yours, hold you in my arms when you are happy or sad, care for you when you will not care for yourself, and protect your heart as I would do your person. You are the Princess of my heart and I would have you be the Princess of the Realm too. Please believe me when I say that nothing would bring me greater happiness than for you to accept me as your husband who only wishes to adore you for the rest of our lives." Seeing that she was relaxing in his hold, gazing up at him as he spoke, he continued determinedly, in the hope that she was really beginning to believe in his earnestness.

He spoke even more softly now, as he approached the next sensitive issue he was urgent to address. "I know that that blaggard was unfaithful to you and careless with your heart, when to me it is the most precious thing in the world." He looked into her eyes intently, urging, willing her to believe in him. To put her faith in his love for her. "I vow to protect your heart. It is the only prize I covet. No throne could compare to your love. I believe that I would have found and loved you had we met in any other life. We would always have found each other. I feel as if there were a string tethering your heart to mine. It can never be broken on my end, but I will release you now if you believe that you cannot place your faith in me or my love for you."

He pressed her hand more firmly to his heart as he finished speaking, praying and willing that he had said enough to convince her of his love for her.

He was foolish not to have seen that he would need to convince her that he had always viewed her as an equal. Whilst proud of his noble House and fiercely loyal to it, Jacaerys saw all members of the Queen's household, whether noble or not, as deserving of the respect owing to those loyally serving the true Queen in whatever capacity they could. His own insecurities about the nature of his birth and place within House Targaryen aside, he did not believe that those who were not from noble Houses were therefore inferior. Though unconventional, he did not anticipate any strong objection to his match with Y/N from anyone who mattered to him. It distressed him to think that his lady may have believed his intentions to have been different to those he would have had towards a noble lady, but he was determined to prove to her that this could not be further from the case. She was always a Lady to him, noble or not, and he would find a way to make her believe this.

He watched in anguished anticipation as several emotions flickered across his lady's face, before she looked up to meet his gaze. He momentarily stopped breathing as she slowly raised her other hand to his chest, before sliding both hands from his chest to rest upon his shoulders.

"You earnestly mean to say that you love me and want to marry me? Even though I am no Lady, just a lowly servant girl?"

He placed both hands on either side of head, lowering his forehead to rest against hers.

"You are, and have always been a Lady to me. You have never been lowly, nor do I consider any other soul under this roof to be who serves the true Queen. We each have our role to play in service to the Queen, and you have performed yours admirably. Though, I would have you give up that role for a new one as my Princess, should you assent to it. I earnestly entreat you to believe that I mean what I say when I say that I love you more than words can say and that your assent to my proposal of marriage would make me the happiest man alive."

His eyes were closed, fearing that he had not done enough to convince her, that she would still reject him. He let out a shuddering breath when he heard her next words, music to his ears he had scarcely have imagined hearing.

"I will put my faith in your love and your promise then. You already know that I love you too, and I think too highly of your honour to believe you would not safeguard my heart if you say that you really mean to do so."

He was so elated at her words, so grateful for the trust she had placed in him, when he now knew that she had been wounded in the past by misplacing her trust that he wasted no time in pulling her head and waist towards him. Wrapping his arms around her, he attempted to remove any physical distance between them, to enwrap her in an embrace that would signal to her how carefully he intended to safeguard her person and her heart. Breaking away from her slightly, he bent his face towards hers, placing a gentle kiss on the side of her jaw, watching her reaction carefully to see if his affections should displease her. Watching her eyes close in contentment, as she tilted her jaw towards his lips, he continued to place tender kisses to her jaw, before looking into her eyes for the permission he sought, glancing at her lips. As she wrapped her arms around his neck and lowered her gaze to his lips, he crashed their lips together, pulling her, with one hand on her waist and another cupping her head, towards him. He could hardly contain the joy he felt at being able to finally hold the girl he loved in his arms, to feel her soft lips moulding with his, and her arms around his neck. Breaking the kiss so that she could catch her breath, he placed one more tender kiss to her throat. He panicked, however, when he felt her arms loosen around his neck and her weight sag, wrapping his arms around her back and waist to support her weight against his.

"My darling, are you not feeling well?"

To his relief, she only pressed her head against his chest and mumbled into his tunic.

"I am well. I just felt a little lightheaded, I don't think I was breathing."

Seeing that she was not fainting, and noticing a blush creeping onto her cheeks, as she once again buried her face in his chest, he could not repress a slight smile. He directed his gaze away from her so as not to embarrass her, as he said his next words.

"Do you think you can walk, my Love?"

When she shook her head against his torso, he placed an arm on the small of her back and another underneath her knees as he swept her up in his arms, delighting at the little cry of shock his love emitted at his sudden gesture. She quickly wrapped her arms around his neck, even as she scolded him.

"What are you doing, my Prince?"

Smiling indulgently down at her, he pressed his forehead to hers for a moment before saying in a teasing tone, "your Prince is carrying his Princess, since you have owned that you cannot walk yourself. If I had known that kissing you would have you swooning in my arms I might have attempted it sooner." He laughed in amusement as she covered her hands with her face and pressed it against his shoulder.

"There is no need for embarrassment, my Love. You have the same effect on me." He dropped his teasing tone, investing his words with the tenderness he really felt towards her, as he pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head, and began to walk her back towards the library. Holding his love in his arms, he felt that he could scarcely contain his joy, having never believed it to be a possibility. The Prince and his Princess spent many long hours afterwards, catching up on the time they had spent apart. As they talked and laughed through the evening, Prince Jacaerys did not for a moment let go of his Princess, continuing to hold her against him on his lap. Now that he had won her heart to him, he was reluctant to release her from his embrace, still fearing that this would all prove to be but a dream. Happily, Y/N seemed as reluctant as the Prince to leave his embrace, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, placing her head close to his heart.