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gtgbabie0 · 5 months ago

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-Benjicot Blackwood x Arryn!Reader

{Benjicot doesn’t mind getting his hands bloodied if it means protecting your honour}

word count- 1.7k

!CW!//vulgar language, descriptions of blood// Enjoy my lovelies💕

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The Vale was all harsh winds and rain since the sun had first begun to rise above the horizon, a thick layer of fog rolls through the high mountains and over the hills creating a rather eerie atmosphere around the courtyard of Raventree hall.

You sit on the balcony that overlooks the training grounds with your sister, Jeyne Arryn, protected from the light rain by the stoney overhang. You both had been asked to unite your houses for a few days in hopes of getting the men more accustomed to the sword and shield a little faster.

It had been going great in all honesty, they seemed to have lifted each other spirits despite the pressure of the looming war.

“Is your friend down there?” Jeyne smirks, looking over at you with a playful gleam in her eyes.

She takes joy in the way your eyes widen ever so slightly, how you move away from the edge to slouch back into your chair. “No, not yet.” You mumble, crossing your arms over your chest in a harrumph.

You roll your eyes at Jeyne and the sound of her chuckles, smiling into her cup whilst she continues to tease you. Her jabs are soon cut off by the sound of men cheering and metal clanging together in excitement.

You immediately lean back over the stone railing of the balcony, looking down at the group of men searching for…

Benjicot. He had made quite a name for himself over the past few moons, his way with a sword was… wild to put it more kindly. He was a madman on the battlefield, charging in with absolutely no fear, the complete opposite of the shy boy you grew up with.

For a small second your gazes meet. He waves softly, sending you a sweet smile which you happily return before he’s dragged away to the training yard by his friends.

The sound of your sister’s giggling snaps you out of the moment, your face twisting into a small frown. “Do not start.” You huff, slouching back into the chair with a pout.

Your sister makes small conversation, keeping it light as you watch over the training. Benjicot found it hard to stay focused, his mind drifting over to the fact that you were watching him with your pretty eyes.

The pair of you shared plenty of fleeting moments together, lingering touches and sweet whispered words. You danced along the line of friends and something more but neither of you took the leap, too scared of ruining the deep friendship you have.

Benjicot sits on a tree stump, cleaning his sword with a rag as his eyes glance between the balcony where you sit and the men around the training yard. He was miles away, thinking about how he could see you tonight… perhaps a walk through the garden… or maybe sneaking you into the kitchens.

His mind soon gets away from him, all of his thoughts consumed by you… but then again when are they not?

The sound of two rowdy men snaps him out of his trance, his expression immediately darkening with his brows pinched together tightly. They sound drunk as they speak horrid nonsense about women, barely able to hold their swords let alone stand on two feet.

“I’d fuck her… bet her cunt is tight too, ey?” The taller one says, harshly nudging the other man's shoulder almost sending him tumbling to the floor.

Benjicots fingers tighten around the hilt of the sword, his knuckles going white with anger. He hopes for their sake that they’re not talking about you. “Mhm… bet shes a squealer.” The other man agrees, the pair of them chuckling.

The sound goes right through Ben, his blood running cold as he watches them cast their predatory gaze over to you as you lean curiously over the edge of the balcony.

The sword that he was cleaning drops to the floor with a dull thud. He acts way before he thinks, his body moving without hesitation and before he knows it he’s coiling back his arm, colliding his tight fist down against one of the taller drunkards face as the other scurries off.

A crimson colour stains his knuckles, the blood warm and wet in between his fingers. The adrenaline overshadows the pain that shoots down his arm, reducing it to a mere tingle that he’ll surely feel later on. He watches the fool drop to the damp, cold ground, writhing in pain whilst clutching his nose as it weeps a thick red.

Benjicot opens and closes his hand, trying to lessen the ache. “Perhaps next time you’ll hold your tongue.” He sneers before storming off with a mean glare that makes everyone step out of his way.

You had watched the whole scene unfold, worry immediately settling in the pit of your stomach, etching across your face. Your sister tells you to ‘stay put’ however her words fall upon deaf ears as you rush back inside, running down the halls and the twists and turns of the castle.

The Maesters chambers are where you find Benjicot. His aunt walks out of the room with a displeased expression, however, the candlelight gives away the amusement that flickers through her dark eyes.

She greets you with a warm smile, nodding her head. You return the action before slipping into the room, your gaze immediately finding his as he gives you a sheepish smile.

“Hey…” his words break through the silence, the crackle of the hearth taking over once more as you wordlessly walk deeper into the room.

His hand was submerged in a dark oak basin, the water inside had long turned murky with a minty almost medicinal aroma. You sit down on the chair adjacent to his own, brows pinched together in concern.

“Where’s the Maester?” You ask, looking at him with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Gone to get some sort of balm… I don’t need it.” His words make you tut, shaking your head as you watch him pull his hand out of the water. He seethes a little in pain, teeth clenched.

You reach over for a cloth, drying off his hand but whilst being careful to not cause him any more discomfort, he was already shifting and squirming in his chair.

“What even happened?” You sigh, holding his injured hand against your lap. Your thumb ever so gently caresses his palm in such a way that it makes his mind spin and his heart skip a beat.

He swallows, clearing his throat. “They— they were making… distasteful… comments towards you. I won’t repeat them.” He tells you, shaking his head firmly.

“How silly… look at your hands over some words.” You scold lightly, although there was no real bite to your soft tone. You couldn’t be, in fact, the thought of him defending you like this sends a pleasant warmth blooming through your chest. Although you wouldn’t tell him that, for his own sake.

“I’m fine, I have no regrets. They deserved it.” He states, watching the way you bring his knuckles into the candlelight to assess the damage.

They were red raw, the skin split open at the tips of each knuckle save for his thumb. A purplish colour tints the delicate skin, the shade darker around the cuts then fading off into a more dull colour. It certainly was not fine.

“You should be more careful.” Your words are hushed, whispered into the air, so soft that if he weren’t sitting so close to you he probably wouldn’t hear you. His eyes meet your own once more, admiring the way the candles cast an orangey light across your pretty features.

His fingers itch to reach out and tuck a loose curl behind your ear, to graze the back of his fingers along to warm cheek. But he refrains, even the mere thought has his stomach swarming with nervous butterflies.

You take another thin sheet of cloth, edges ragged with loose threads and the fabric an off-white colour. He looks at you with a quizzical expression, watching you dip one end of the cloth into the basin.

Before he can ask any questions you’re already leaning closer to him, knees bumping together. Your hand reaches out to ever so gently cup his jaw, fingers curling against his cheek to hold his head still whilst you wipe away a small mud stain just under his eye.

“Thank you…” he says, breath hitching in his throat at the way your thumb brushes along his warm cheek.

“No, I should be thanking you, really.” Your words make him smile, his eyes softening. “Thank you,” You add, your eyes searching his own.

He doesn’t speak, he can’t, not with you so close to him. He fears that he might have ruined the moment when silence wraps around the room. He suddenly doesn’t know what to do with himself or if he should move the hand that rests upon your lap.

He lets out a small noise in the back of his throat, trying to will the words from his lips but none come and it only serves to cause his mind to spiral, cursing himself and his inability to speak.

The feeling of your lips against his cheek brings him back, his worries and fears ebbing away until the only thing that was on his mind is your flowery perfume and the softness of the kiss. He finally lets out a breath. His hand rests against your knee as you pull back, a pang of disappointment hitting his chest.

“You don’t need to thank me… I’d never let anyone slander your name, but either way, you are welcome.” He finally manages to speak, the words tumbling out of his lips rather ungracefully.

You entwine your fingers with his own, minding his roughened knuckles, holding his hand ever so gently with your own. His thumb caressing the inside of your wrist, the calluses feel strangely nice.

“Perhaps afterwards we could walk through the gardens?” The suggestion makes his heart skip a beat, the image was already vivid in his mind, walking arm in arm with you.

“Of course, if it would please you, my lady.” He replies, hoping the words sound more graceful than before.

You hum in agreement, nodding your head. Your warm hands still in his own, the kiss lingering on his cheek, your knees pressing against either side of his own and your honeyed gaze still upon him… he realises he’s completely doomed, you hold his heart in the palm of his hand.

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 4 months ago

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The Prince - Chapter One

A/N: Hello! I have been working on this since the season started, so it seemed only fitting that I got the first chapter out before the finale. This fic is fully written, and will be posted every other day. (If you know me, this is unheard of, I usually post as I write.) Anyways, I hope you enjoy! This chapter is a little heavy on the world building, but I promise we get into the good stuff quickly. Let me know what you think and if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters!

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 4.6k Synopsis: Jacaerys fell in love with the reader years ago when they first met in the Vale. Five years later, the reader comes to King's Landing and tries to deny her growing feelings.

Next Chapter

Arnold Arryn was imprisoned in a sky cell after trying to contest the inheritance of his cousin, Jeyne Arryn. You were young at the time, and watching your father get arrested made very little sense to you. Jeyne was fifteen, and your closest friend in the world. You didn’t understand fully what had happened to your father. One day he was there, and the next gone.

Jeyne tried to explain it to you the best she could. She was a woman, and women very rarely got the chance to rule. She needed to make an example of your father.

What you came to learn, in the years that passed, is that banishing him to a sky cell was not the only example Jeyne was setting. As part of Arnold’s punishment, he – and all his descendants – would be disinherited from the Arryn line.

A testament to your friendship, Jeyne kept you in the Eyrie, kept you by her side. She let you wear the type of gowns she wore, you ate the same decadent meals, and she made sure everyone treated you as a lady, although the title no longer belonged to you. It was the only change that you really noticed in the coming years. Your father was gone, yes, but otherwise, life went on as normal in the Vale.

Jeyne had been three when she inherited the Vale. Of course, she would not be able to rule for years. So, Lord Yorbert Royce was elected to rule in her stead, until Jeyne became of age. As Lord Protector, it was Royce’s duty to see that the Vale remained prosperous.

In the final years before he died, when Jeyne was just coming into her role as Maiden of the Vale, Royce arranged a marriage proposal for you. House Blacktyde had visited the Vale when you were thirteen, and their second eldest son, Barun, had taken a liking to you immediately. Royce informed the family that you were without title, without dowry, but Barun was not to be dissuaded. Royce crafted an arrangement that would allow you to gain a title, becoming a lady of Blacktyde, that would also result in allegiance for the Vale.

It had been a win-win.

But after Royce had passed, and Jeyne had taken on the mantle of the Vale, it crept in how wrong the arrangement was. Barun Blacktyde was your same age, but he looked ten years your senior. He had strong arms, corded with muscles, and a sheet of blonde hair that covered his wicked face. In the few times you met, his hands wandered, prodded, and bruised. He was sinister.

Now, at twenty-one years old, there was no more stalling to do. Jeyne had told the Blacktydes that she needed you at her side, that you were still too young, anything she could think of to put off the wedding. She was stalling until she could find a way out of the arrangement, but your hopes were fading as time was.

On the morning when you were to meet with your future husband and sail away to the Iron Islands, a different guest arrived in the Vale.

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon was sixteen the day he saved your life.

War was brewing in Westeros, all the houses knew. After the death of King Viserys, the fight between Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Aegon had ignited anger across the realm. In the Vale, Jeyne assured anyone who asked that she was devoted to the rightful ruler, Rhaenyra. Yorbert Royce had gone in Jeyne’s stead years ago, swearing fealty to the future queen.

When Jacaerys arrived in the Vale, he had arrived on a mission for his mother, coming to strengthen and call upon the alliances that Rhaenyra had gained years back.

Jeyne needed absolutely no persuading, but she took a liking to the young prince immediately. Nearly ten years younger than her, she delighted in the pride he already carried, the future heir to the throne. If he had been anyone else, she would have laughed him out of the Eyrie. But Jeyne believed that women needed to stick together, and this was Rhaenyra’s son.

She also believed in always keeping her mirth. And few things delighted Jeyne the way the prince’s affections for you delighted her. You had been at her side when the prince came to call. The way Jeyne tells it, she could have said anything to the prince, and he would have nodded his head in agreement, so enchanted by you was he.

You remember it differently.

When Jacaerys had arrived in the Vale, you were at your breaking point. Bleak was your outlook on life. But when you saw his green dragon in the sky, it felt like hope for one shining second.

You were at Jeyne’s side and listened to her discussions with the prince. You would disagree that his attention only lingered on you. He was a proper gentleman and gave Jeyne the respect due to her title, but every so often, his attention would flit back to you.

Jeyne invited him to stay in the Vale for a few days, enough time for them to discuss what aid the Vale could provide, and time for he and his dragon to rest. The prince agreed, smiling – perhaps your way, but you couldn’t be sure. You had been smiling, too, because you knew that the prince’s stay here would put off your move to the Iron Islands.

Back in her chambers, Jeyne nearly squealed when she shut the door behind the two of you. Immediately, she poured two goblets of wine, thrusting one into your hand. This was not uncommon behavior for your cousin, who enjoyed any and all delights, but what you couldn’t understand was why.

“Oh, Y/N,” she said, breaking off with a laugh, “His eyes never left you!”

“Whose eyes?”

“The prince’s, who else!”

“That is not true.”

“It is! I think I just witnessed love at first sight,” she says with a snort.

“I think I’m just the first woman he’s seen who has not been related to him,” you say, making Jeyne burst with laughter. You can’t find it in you to belly laugh the way she was now. Jacaerys had been kind to the both of you, mocking him seemed wrong.

“Are you going to send aid?” you ask, hoping to change the subject.

“I’m sure,” she says, taking a swig of her drink. “I just need to figure out what he’ll have to offer to get me to agree.”

“What more could we need here?” you ask with a shake of your head.

“What indeed,” Jeyne muses.

In his short stay, Jacaerys imbedded himself in your life. Jeyne always overslept breakfast, typically still in her cups from the night before. That first morning after his arrival, you came to the dining hall to find Jacaerys sitting with a few lesser lords of the Vale, a wide, handsome smile on his face. When he saw you, you can’t deny that a light flared in his eyes. He stood up and pulled out a chair for you, inviting you into the conversation.

Over the next few mornings, his attention strayed from the lords and focused almost solely on you. He told you stories about his dragon, Vermax, and adventures they had gotten into with his younger brother, Lucerys. He explained the training he had been going through since he was a young boy. He even confirmed the legend of how Prince Aemond lost an eye, although that one was told at a hush.

Because of his dedication to speaking with you, you knew Jeyne’s initial assumptions were correct. Although never venturing into anything uncouth, Jacaerys always found a way to compliment you, to make you laugh, to make you feel seen.

His presence was a beautiful distraction from the future that was awaiting you.

The prince didn’t know of your betrothal to Lord Barun, and both you and Jeyne were happy to keep it from him. The lord had already voiced his complaints about returning to the Islands once more without his bride, but with the prince and his dragon here, it felt like nothing could touch you.

The morning that Jacaerys was meant to leave the Vale, you come down to the dining hall to find that he wasn’t there. You pretend that you are not disappointed. Spending your mornings with him had been a welcome change of pace, but you had known they would be coming to an end.

When you stand to leave, the doors opened at the opposite end of the hall. Prince Jacaerys walks into the room, a smile on his face the moment he spots you.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” you say, curtsying to him. He studies the dining table, the maids scurrying to clean up the mess, and his smile falters a little.

“I’m sorry to have missed our last breakfast,” he says. “I am leaving shortly. I only came to say goodbye.”

“Of course,” you say. He is to fly north to Winterfell next, fulfilling his promise to his mother. “It was an honor to have you here, My Prince.” He smiles and takes your hand gently in his, pressing a soft kiss.

“I hope to see you again soon, Y/N.”

“Good luck, Your Highness.”

Once Jacaerys and Vermax had disappeared over the horizon, you made your way to Jeyne’s receiving room. You are welcomed in immediately, and find your cousin slouched over on a couch, groaning quietly to herself. She is not a morning person by any means. You are not sure you had ever even seen her up this early.

“Good morning, cousin,” you say, drawing her attention up to you. She grimaces at the light shining through her windows.

“What has you so chipper so early?” she asks.

“I’m always like this in the morning,” you say. She makes a noncommittal sound as she sits upright.

“The prince just left,” she says.

“I know. He came to say goodbye.”

“Of course he did,” Jeyne says with a smirk.

“Did the two of you come to an agreement?” you ask, pouring her a glass of water. She doesn’t answer until after she’s taken a sip and looks up at you with grateful eyes.

“Yes. He’s agreed to send a dragon to protect the Vale.” She takes another hearty drink of the water, before deciding she doesn't like the taste. She motions for the wine, and you bring it over. “He also agreed to take you on as ward once the war is over.”

“What?” you ask, your head snapping to her face.

“Well, not his ward,” she says with a laugh, “Although, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. Rhaenyra will allow you into King’s Landing under her watch.”

“Why?”

“I made up some lie about learning more about the realm, so that you could become a greater aid to me. But what matters is that it will get you away from Blacktyde. With the war coming, I can keep him at bay for the length of it, assuring him that I need you here. But once it comes to an end, I want you in King’s Landing. He’ll have a harder time getting to you there.”

“Jeyne,” you begin, but she wavs a hand to silence you.

“When you get to King’s Landing, you will need to make it your chief task to marry as quickly as possible. I don’t know that he’ll ever stop,” she says quietly. You nod your head, the reality sinking over you. The single spark of hope you felt at seeing Vermax in the sky seems to light again within you.

“Thank you,” you say, crushing her into a hug she wants no business in returning.

In the coming weeks, Westeros changes, and The Vale with it. Within a year, two, the home you had grown up knowing and loving, transformed before your eyes.

No longer could you recognize the faces around you. Servants and guards you had grown up with your whole life were disappearing, either as a direct result of the war, or because of the conflict growing between families as different Houses pledged their allegiances to Rhaenyra or Aegon.

In the last year before the war ended, Jeyne ordered that you go to Gulltown. Jeyne had asked years prior in her deal with Prince Jacaerys that a dragon be sent to protect the Vale. Weeks after that agreement had been finalized, Queen Rhaenyra sent word asking that the Vale also foster her younger children, until they could be safe with her again.

Jeyne had accepted, and with their cousin, Princess Rhaena, the three youngest princes, came to live at Gulltown. She asked that you go there, as the war efforts struck closer and closer to the Eyrie. You begrudgingly agreed, because she was your Lady, but also because she didn’t often wear that look of panic in her eyes. After everything she had done for you, it was the least you could do in return.

And that was when you met Rhaena. She was just a few years younger than you and had just had a dragon of her own hatch. She had named the little pink creature Morning, and she was as beautiful as the sunrise.

Rhaena quickly became your close friend. With few friends around anymore, the two of you bonded quickly. You fantasized about the end of the war: what kind of dresses you would get to wear again, the foods you would eat, and mainly for Rhaena, seeing her family again.

The boys were her family, of course, and she doted on them as if they were her own, but she longed for her sister, for adult company. She had confided in you about her struggles to get a dragon of her own, and you knew she wanted to proudly show off her beautiful Morning.

You also dreamed of the end of the war, but for different reasons. If Queen Rhaenyra remained true to her word, you would be going to King’s Landing with Rhaena.

It seemed like the war would never end, until one day, it did.

Jeyne came to Gulltown. She was unexpected, but that wasn’t uncommon behavior for her. She often showed up and left without a warning. When she arrived, you and Rhaena were in the nursery with the younger boys, Aegon and Viserys, now seven and three. You were seated on the floor with Viserys, a dragon figurine in his hand and a horse in yours. You raced away from the dragon, but still Viserys swooped upon your figurine. You cried out playfully, making the younger boy laugh, just as Jeyne walked into the room.

“Jeyne!” you say in surprise, quickly standing. “I didn’t know you were coming to Gulltown."

“The young prince takes a liking to you,” she says with a smile. “Must run in the family.”

“Oh, aren’t you over that by now?” you ask.

“What do you mean?” Rhaena asks, turning both of your attentions.

“Nothing,” you say, shaking your head, “She’s just making a bad joke.”

“I am not,” Jeyne says proudly, knocking your shoulder with a hand, “You should have seen the crown prince when he saw her.” Rhaena looks at you curiously, and for some reason it makes you feel guilty.

“Her opinion alone,” you say, tidying up around the room. Rhaena gives you a small smile, seeming to accept this explanation, and then turns back to Jeyne.

“What brings you here?” she asks.

“Good news.”

She informs you both that the war has ended, and before the two of you can run off to bag your bags, she holds you back and tells you the best news of all. Barun Blacktyde grew tired of waiting and had married another.

Jacaerys awakes with a smile on his face. He is in a strange bedroom, one he hadn’t been in since he was a little boy. The room had been his mother’s, when they had lived in the Red Keep. It had passed through owners, many of whom Jace didn’t want to think about now.

Today, all of his thoughts were to be consumed by one thought: his family returning home.

It has been years since he has been able to communicate with his brothers through any other means than letter. And since the younger boys are still little, most of his letters go to his brother, Joffrey. He will be thirteen now, and Jace can’t even imagine what the boy will look like. What the younger two, or even Rhaena will look like now.

He imagines he has changed much, too, in the last five years.

When he sees them again, time stands still. He recognizes Joffrey first, but only because he looks so much like Luke. Jace races to him first, wrapping him in a bone crushing hug. His brother hugs him back just as fierce, and when they break away, there are tears in his eyes to match his own.

“You’ve gotten big,” Joffrey jokes.

“So have you,” Jace says with a smile.

He embraces Aegon and Viserys in turn. The boys had been so young when they left, he’s not sure they recognize him. They hugged him back, but it seems more so because Joffrey did first, than anything else.

Lastly, he sees Rhaena. She has grown in the last five years and is more beautiful than he remembers. He convinces Baela to let her go for a moment and embraces her, too.

“Welcome home,” he says. She doesn’t respond other than with a sob-like sound but rubs a hand over his back. She is smiling when they break apart.

They start their day at the dragon pit, those who had gone to the Vale wanting to show off their dragons, Rhaena especially. It has been years since Jace has flown with any of his brothers, and flying with Joffrey now, he feels a weight lift off his chest.

His mother wants them close all day, and doesn’t let them stray too far. When Joffrey asks for specifics about the war, Jace has to tell him in hushed tones from the corner of Rhaenyra’s chambers.

At the end of the day, a feast has been arranged for the family, as well as a few of his mother’s trusted advisors. Jace sits next to Rhaena, across from Joffrey. Rhaena speaks animatedly with Baela about Morning, and the pride in her voice brings out his own. He remembers what it was like when Vermax first hatched, when he realized the honor he had been given, to become a dragon rider.

So lost in these thoughts, he only catches the last few words of Rhaena’s story.

“What did you say?” he asks.

“Oh, just a story that Lady Jeyne told Y/N and I,” she says, as if it’s a passing thought, something completely inconsequential, and turns back to Baela. Jace stares off into nothingness, until Joffrey chuckles into his food. Jace glares at him, kicking him discreetly under the table.

“What?” Baela asks, looking between the two.

“Nothing,” Jace says firmly.

“Have you been to see her yet?” Rhaena asks, looking at Jace.

“Seen who?”

“Y/N,” she says with a shake of her head.

“No, of course not.” He knows he says it too harshly, but he is actively trying to fight off an embarrassed flush, and to figure out a way to choke Joffrey from across the table without his mother knowing.

“Oh,” Rhaena says, “Seemed like she took a liking to you.”

“Did she?” Jace asks, his heart rate accelerating.

“Well, I wasn’t there,” she says with a laugh, “But Lady Jeyne certainly thought so.”

“Ah.”

“It would be good for one of us to greet her,” Rhaenyra says, across the table. “In welcoming the children home, I fear she got lost in the commotion.”

“I’d be happy to,” Jace says. Joffrey is barely breathing across from him, holding back laughter.

“Thank you, Jace.”

When supper finally ends, Jace makes sure to grab Joffrey and hold him back while the others exit.

“What did you say?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“What did you say to Y/N?”

“About what?” Joff asks, brushing him off. “Your eternal crush on her? Nothing.”

“Why did Rhaena make it appear otherwise?”

“Because Lady Jeyne liked to joke about it,” Joff says. “I swear, I never talked about it except with you in our letters.” Jace nods, centering himself. He ruffles Joff’s hair, frustrated with himself for badgering him when he only just got him back.

“Sorry,” he says gently.

“Don’t worry about it. Are you going to go see her?”

“I told Mother I would,” he says, straightening. Joffrey smiles at him, a little bit in jest, but also with enough encouragement that assures Jace that he can walk up the steps to your chambers.

“Good luck,” Joff says with a pat on his back.

When a knock comes from your door, one of the maids assigned to your quarters opens it. You hear her gasp in surprise but then she says, “Your Highness.” It’s the only reason you are able to connect that the man standing in your doorway is Prince Jacaerys.

You adjust your dress as you walk towards him, trying to see the boy you met so many years ago. He is taller now, maybe even broader. His hair, somehow, has gotten even curlier.

“Y/N,” he says with a smile. For some reason, the sight of it sends your stomach into a summersault.

“My Prince,” you say, curtsying to him. “What a lovely surprise.”

“It’s wonderful to see you in King’s Landing,” he says, the smile still on his face.

“It’s wonderful to be here,” you say. “I wasn’t sure I would ever get to see it.”

“Would you like to see more of it?” he asks quickly.

“What?”

“I could give you a tour, if you’d like,” he says. “The Keep is vast; it took me months to figure out all its hiding places.”

“I’m sure you have much better things to do than give me a tour,” you say abashedly. He steps forward, looking at you with kind eyes.

“You and your house safeguarded Rhaena and my brother for years. It would be my honor to show you my home,” he says. Something about the look in his eyes, the passion behind them, makes you think that this is a bad idea. But you also know, there is no way to decline your prince.

“The honor is all mine, My Prince,” you say. He smiles at you, a dimple forming in his cheek you hadn’t noticed before. You take his outstretched arm.

He guides you out of your chambers and into the hall. Outside, the sun has begun to set, casting shadows all along the airy halls.

“I apologize for not coming to welcome you sooner,” he says.

“You were reuniting with your family, there is no need to apologize, Your Highness.”

“Just Jace is fine,” he says, drawing your gaze to him. “You’ve known me long enough.”

“Have I?” you ask with a laugh. “I knew you for only a matter of days, five years ago.”

“It seems like longer, but I suppose that’s true,” he says, “And you did not know me when you saw me at your door.”

“What?” you ask in surprise.

“You didn’t recognize me.”

“Well, the prince I met five years ago was a boy,” you say, heat rushing to your cheeks for some unknown reason. “You do seem like a completely different person.”

“Maybe I am,” he says with a coy smile.

“What about me?” you ask, lifting your chin to him. He says his next words softly.

“What about you?”

“Did you recognize me?”

“Of course. The years have made you more beautiful, but you still look like Y/N,” he says. A chill passes over you at the casual way he says your name. You briefly try to make sense of what you are feeling, but more than that, you want to stay in this moment.

He turns you down a hallway, guiding you towards the great hall.

“So, what truly brings you to King’s Landing?” he asks. “Your cousin was adamant about it years ago.” Something in his expression makes you think you could tell him; makes you believe you could tell him anything.

“Jeyne is more than my cousin, she’s my best friend. She has done me a great honor by keeping me in the Eyrie. But she also knows that we are somewhat . . . sheltered there.”

“Sheltered?” he repeats.

“There’s not much more I can learn there.”

“They’ve seemed to have taught you well enough. Joffrey says you were a great sparring partner,” he says, making you laugh.

“He’s too kind. Or he’s a liar,” you say, a fluttering in your stomach when Jace smiles at you. “I was more of a dummy for him, I think.”

“He was always quick with his sword. I have a scar on my forearm from sparring with him.” He turns over his wrist, his arm still linked with yours, and rolls up his sleeve to reveal the miniscule scar. You laugh at him. Jace’s eyes are on you the whole time, alighting at the sound from your lips.

“A warrior’s scar,” you tease.

“Indeed,” he says, his smile falling.

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly, “I didn’t mean to discount all you did in the war, Your Highness.”

“I know,” he says, a soft expression on his face.

You fall into a surprisingly comfortable silence as he leads you through the gardens.

“Is continuing your studies the only reason you have in coming to King’s Landing?” he asks.

“There are not many prospects for marriage in the Vale either,” you say, dropping your head.

“Ah,” he says stiffly, “You know, I find that hard to believe.”

“What?”

“That no one in the Vale would want to marry you,” he says, making you blush.

“Well, having absolutely nothing to offer in the way of a title, or even a dowry, I’m not the best candidate.”

“Even so,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief.

“How about here?” you ask, “And hope for me here?”

“I think so,” he says, looking at you intently.

“We shall see,” you say, casting your eyes away from him to look upon a rose, nearly as red as you feel.

When you get back to your chambers, all you want to do is write to Jeyne. You promised yourself you’d wait at least a week before writing to her, but after the evening you had, you aren’t certain you can wait that long.

The prince had taken you out for nearly two hours, showing you all around the Keep, asking you questions about yourself, and completely confusing the memory you had of him.

Even five years ago, he always had a way with words. His affections were clear and sweet. They were apparent still, visible in the way he looked down at you, the tender way he held your arm to his.

But what had changed was the way his actions made you feel. Before you had blushed at his brazenness and laughed along when Jeyne made fun of it. It wasn’t funny anymore. Prince Jacaerys was a man now, and whatever feelings he had would be as grown up as he was. Even with the news of Barun’s marriage, you were still here to find a husband, quickly. That man was never going to be the prince. You vowed to yourself then that you wouldn’t see him again, unless absolutely necessary.

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

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vanilleandclove · 5 months ago

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the meadow in which you lay | 1

ser erryk cargyll x arryn!reader | chapter one: the king and his men

After the tourney, your encounters with Ser Erryk have been slim to none. Yet, with your cousin's wedding festivities, you reunite with your dear knight even with the unturn of events.

word count: 2k | warnings: description of violence, innuendo to an anxiety attack.

previous - next

taglist: @holb32 @callsignwidow

When the news broke that Queen Aemma had died during her labors, your father became suspicious. Thereafter, in the dark hours of night, news of Prince Baelon's death rang through the halls, only prompting an urgent meeting on the King's succession.

"I would like to see my sister Viserys" your father spat, consumed with grief as your brother and you peeped during the council's meeting, mourning the loss of your sweet aunt Aemma. You glanced at your brother, his eyes glassy and jaw tightened, he had always been fond of your aunt Aemma as he was always taken care of by her whenever your parents had to oversee engagements in the Vale.

"Might I remind you of formalities Lord Arryn" Otto Hightower spoke in reply, only earning the deadliest of glances from your father whom cared deeply of his sister and now must see to the engagements in the Vale as Jeyne must take the seat as your father's health was faltering.

"Piss off with your shit formalities Otto, my sister dead in childbirth knowing well of her conditions and how her past births and pregnancies had been. I would prefer to see my dear little sisters corpse before she is burned" your father spat, raising his voice at the Lord-hand. Truth be told, Aemma was part Targaryen, child of your grandsires second marriage, being cremated by a dragon was a festivity.

Your father never saw his sister, though he sobbed violently at her funeral, the Kingsguard worried he would dehydrate. As you saw your dear aunt's corpse burn alongside your cousin whom never was able to live, to love. To your left you saw the Kingsguard an obscured view beneath the flames.

You chose to comfort Rhaenyra during the loss of her mother, Alicent showing empathy to the situation. Rhaenyra dismissed you during the late of night, Alicent long gone to attend to her father's summons. As you paced through the halls, searching for your chambers, you were met with heavy silver nearly knocking you off your feet.

"Are you alright my Lady Arryn?" the knight said frantically, gripping onto your waist in order to catch your fall, feeling your body as it shook erratically. Your breathing was uneven, body grown heated; you bit your lip in order to stop the flow of tears, faltering greatly and becoming putty in the knight's hands.

"I am d-deeply sorry Ser, I cannot-" your words were taken by grief and anxiety, the flow of tears never-ending. Erryk quickly wiped your tears and embraced your figure tightly, in order to stop your nerves overpowering your body. Lightly cooing in your ear to help ease your worries. Your love, deep as it may, eased every bone.

"Sshh darling, it is alright. I have you" Erryk whispered into your ear, as whimpers left your mouth and shuddered your body. You knew of Erryk's duties, as Ser Ryam's health further faltered. Yet your worries laid in the man who held you, as the Stepstones became a threat.

Near the end of the night, you could not forget the touch of your once lover. Nor could you forget a year and a half later, as you were called to court in King's landing once again as Rhaenyra's lady in waiting. After catching Rhaenyra and Lord Commander Harold, choosing the knight for a replacement in the Kingsguard.

"Cousin!" Rhaenyra smiled, hugging you deeply, "I did not think you'd journey this far, how is Jeyne?". It had been far too many moons since you've seen your cousin, within that time, your father had been kissed by death leading your mother to become a dowager. Your brother had business to attend to as he was now betrothed to one of the Tully girls. Leaving you to find your place in court, specifically that of the rightful heir, Rhaenyra.

"I might admit, the Red Keep seems quite smaller than when we last saw each other my dear cousin" you joked, greeting Ser Harold as well, "Looking rather dashing as always Ser Harold", the knight smiled and nodded his head at your words. He knew of your affections with his once squire, granted, he would be a fool to not notice the way Ser Erryk would straighten his posture as well as you would when you two would encounter one another.

"Oh! You should join my father and I to supper, he would be delighted to have your company as much as I" Rhaenyra mentioned, though her enthusiasm quickly diminished as she glanced over to Alicent, walking with none other than the King. "They spend an awful amount of time with one another" she lightly spited, she had not talked to Alicent since their prayer.

"I wish I could but the journey has me spent, may I go wash up- my princess" you spoke, Rhaenyra's temper became airy once again, she ticked her tongue.

"You do not have to use formalities, we are family" Rhaenyra smiled.

You often wondered how it would be had you be Targaryen, your hair would be pale, kissed by snow. Your irises would be purple, like that of precious gemstones. You would be closer to a god than that of a man. Though, you do not envy your cousin, having the royal duties and having to pretend almost all of the time.

You bid your goodbye's and went to your assigned chambers, not much has changed within a year; though you must note, Rhaenyra was right back Alicent's time being spent mostly around the King. You hoped, by the old gods and new, that Alicent was not hoping to be the new wife of Viserys, that her father has not sunk his fangs and claws into her yet and she has some sort of rationality.

"Would you like us to run a bath for you Lady Arryn?" one of the handmaidens spoke, their smiles always gleaming when you came, "Oh how your hair is that of silk!".

"It is ok, you all are dismissed" you nodded, "I will settle down and run my bath, you all should catch some sleep my ladies" the handmaidens were shocked at the lack of your need.

"Though, Margot" you spoke up as the others left your chambers, "Do you happen to know the status of the Cargyll brothers?". Margot, your sworn confidant that follows you everywhere, from the Vale to King's Landing. She piqued at your inquiry, smirking lightly.

"A Kingsguard is no match for a husband my sweet Lady" Margot quirked her eyebrows, "Though I heard murmurs of their duties to be sent to the Stepstones; granted I believe it is just a rumor dearest".

Your heart leaped from your body, you've heard rumors time and time again. But one that focused on the enlistment of your dear lover and his twin? God's save us all, you'd hope he'd never leave to be sent to a death sentence. Your thoughts wandered to the urgency of the Stepstones, over to the remarriage of the King, and much to that of your cousin.

For next several days, you stood by Rhaenyra's side, in her angriest of moments as the King had declared he'd to be wed to Lady Alicent Hightower. Every emotion that followed, how fear raked through her body as she wondered if she'd be overshadow by the potential children Alicent would sire her father, if the child, had they be male, if it was dismantle her claim to the throne.

The wedding, was lackluster. After all, Alicent did not feel as your friend as she once was now that she was now your cousin's step-mother and your Queen. The months that followed, Alicent became with child. Rhaenyra's hand still not given to be wed, neither that of yours which left a distaste to your brother whom has heard far too many marriage proposals for your hand. Within the turn of the year, Prince Aegon, was born. Donning the Targaryen, pale, white hair, Aegon was paraded around the Great Houses as they hoped he would be made heir, not Rhaenyra, not a woman. There were words of House Stark asking for your hand, as well as House Blackwood. Dashing, honorable, and driven young men they were, but they were not the knight of your heart. They were not Erryk.

Within the next three years, Erryk and Arryk were called to join Prince Daemon to fight in the Stepstones. Prince Aegon, on his second name day, dealt with the earnest jewels one could have on their name day, as Rhaenyra dealt with more marriage proposals than that of the Streets of Silk's finest of women. That have you, assisting your brother in his duties, the Riverlands complemented you, House Tully greatly welcomed you as your brother was now married. Now, you return once again to King's Landing to celebrate Rhaenyra's wedding to Ser Laenor Velaryon, though you must say, you never sensed they'd be match, romantically speaking.

The wedding festivities were one of fond memories you hold in the times of your youth. Your cousin and her now husband, the future consort were certainly a match, despite the boisterous interruption of the now, Queen Alicent Hightower, during the first feast. You noted the spite Alicent threw to your cousin, rolling your eyes as she feigned pride and congratulations for Rhaenyra. Though, you simply did not care towards the end of the night that was filled with dancing and feasting. You did however take into account Ser Harwin Strong and his protectiveness to your cousin, your heart fluttered as you then realized, the man loved her. As she did to him as well, just as Ser Laenor had his heart sworn to another. Duty is in fact, the death of love.

"May you grant me one dance my Lady Arryn?" Erryk questioned, as you were shamelessly eating, your mouth stuffed, looking up at the man who asked for your hand only to be met with embarrassment, he smiled, allowing you to chew and wiping the corners of your mouth for you.

"I'd be delighted" You smiled as you joined your cousin on the dancefloor, herself finding company in Ser Harwin, a gentle man he was to her.

"It has been years my Lady" Erryk murmured, you lock eyes as the song progresses, now noticing Daemon and Laena sharing a dance, Laenor off to the side with another. "I pained myself with the idea of you forgetting me I must admit".

"You truly are a sadist Ser Erryk" you giggled, holding his hand lightly, not squeezing enough for people to note intimacy, "I could never forget you my dear knight, nor that of your brother".

"Now that right there pains me" he ticked his tongue and just as you were about to bump into a Lannister, he shifted your position by grabbing a hold of your waist, "My brother and I may have been born together but we are quite different".

"I know that better than anyone I'm afraid" you teased, "One day the histories will remember me as the breaker of oaths if I continue to fancy you".

"I'd break a million of oaths to wed you Lady Arryn" he whispered, a part of you wants to believe him wholeheartedly, to know that this is not just teasing.

"You would have already done so".

"I can live without a keep to call my own" he began, "It is you I cannot fully disregard".

"But you can partially…".

"With great restr-".

The night was soon dimmed into a fight, as Ser Criston bashed the man of Ser Laenor's affections into a pulp, the graphic form of violence put a somber and unneeded memory onto the night. But how Harwin protected Rhaenyra was how Erryk protected you. You held onto his forearm tightly, fearing if you'd let go, you'd be trampled. Your heart was beating erratically, and he made his way through the crowd, not caring if one decided to fight him, but you? He'd commit murder and treason if one laid even a finger on you.

#hotd #house of the dragon #game of thrones #ser erryk #ser arryk #ser erryk cargyll #ser arryk cargyll #rhaenyra #rhaenrya targaryen #alicent hightower #house of the dragon fanfiction #ser erryk cargyll x reader #erryk cargyll #erryk cargyll x reader #angst #smut

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misguidedasgardian · 1 year ago

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The Hour of the Wolf (4)

IV. It is you

MASTERLIST

Summary: Pressures makes wind, earthquakes, and marriages

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats,arranged marriage, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon,

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3.8 k

Notes: I don;t think this is going to be a love story, this is about politics, and a truly arranged marriage, their relationship will develop of course, but I just wanted to get that out there

“You have done a great job with her”, Cregan raised his eyes to encounter the mythical Jeyne Arryn, cousin to the late Queen Aemma, keeper of the East, Lady of the Eyrie, they both contemplated you as you sat the Iron Throne and gave audiences

“I have done nothing, it’s all her”, he said severely

“You are good with her, for her”, she said then, looking at him with her piercing blue eyes

“I know what you are implying…”

“She needs a husband”, she said

“You should stay here in court, as her hand when I leave”, he said almost at the same time

“You can’t leave her”

“I have to, I have a child…”

“She needs you, the realm needs you”

“The North needs me, she will be fine”

“You know that is not true, she is still too young to differ allies from foes”

“She will learn”

“At the cost of the realms”, Cregan Stark looked at her severely, but he had met her equal, this woman was not going to back down

“What about my son? What about my people? How is that going to work?”, he asked then

“You can come and go”

“A year at a time”

“Maybe”, she said. The small council had been relentless, just as Jeyne was being

His name was in that alliance

He pledged to take you to wife, you, in name, regardless of who you had become… you were his betrothed. And it’s not like he gave his word lightly, only, like he said, he need a wife and a lady of Winterfell, he did not want to become the King consort of the Seven Kingdoms, he did not want to take care of you… forever…

But he had taken the capital for you

Yes he promised your mother…

But he had done it for you, an unknown princess, on his mind

He found himself looking straight at you

Like the first time he saw you, he thought, again, you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Since he took the capital, color had returned to your face, you no longer had darkness under your eyes, your cheeks were fuller, you also filled your dresses more, meaning you were eating more, sleeping longer…

You were better

His eyes then trailed over all the faces of the Lords gathered there in the throne room, lickspittles, asskissers, many of them, without honor, just hunger for power and gold

Did he really care for what happens to the people of the other six Kingdoms? Were you really in danger? Kings had been surrounded by traitors all their lives and nothing major had happened…

Well… until Otto fucking Hightower

No, he couldn’t let that happen again

He thought he only wanted to bring justice to the traitors, but it wasn’t true, he cared about what happened

He cared about what happens to you…

The realization made him shift on his feet

He cared about you

He did not want you to get married to someone who was going to please the small council and take your place eventually, who was going to manipulate you or worse

He didn’t want you married to someone who…

No… he just didn’t want you married to anyone else… that’s it

The bare thought made him shiver

You felt yourself being watched intensely, and found Cregan Stark’s eyes

You felt your cheeks heated, as you looked away like a little girl who had been caught doing something silly

You were only a young woman, barely turned eight and ten name days

And Cregan was only a young man who had the power of the biggest country in the seven kingdoms and wanted to use it to avenge his Queen

He was himself impulsive, reckless even, maybe the rest saw him like the greatest choice, but he knew the truth

He wasn’t

What if he tipped you off a ledge? What if he sets you off resulting in the destruction of cities and the annihilation of thousands?

And yet…. He was the only one you trusted

Months on the road, maybe years away from you, years away from his home, his child… There must always be a Stark in Winterfell

But when he leaves you to be in Winterfell, he was going to wish he was in King’s Landing, and when he is here, he wishes he could be in Winterfell, he was already missing it, he wanted to see his son, his five year old son, he had left him in good hands, with his loving half sister, and trusted friends and servants… but still

He was so small, he had it when he was so young, the only thing he had left of his dear friend Arra

If he married you… if…

He was going to give you children, his child, second child, was going to sit the Iron Throne one day… and his oldest was going to be Lord of Winterfell

That was… enticing, to say the least

Too good to be true….

Having children with you, a thought that enticed and scared him in equal measure

A child of Ice and Fire, a child who was going to be a Northerner by blood and a dragon rider as well…

He shifted on his feet again

He wanted it

And he could pretend he had a choice all he wanted, but he didn’t… he had signed the pact… the woman… the Queen seated in the Iron Throne…

Was his betrothed

It didn’t have to be two months, a week long boat ride to White harbor and another week on the road and he could be home quickly…

It had to work

Did you want this?

He gave you the service of ending the courts early, and then you abandoned the throne room.

But before he could reach you, he was intercepted by Celtigar

“I need to talk to you”, he said, Cregan only nodded as they walked together to a hallway of the Keep which seemed to be empty

“What is it?” He asked, his patience long gone

“I can marry her”, he said quickly

Cregan stopped in his tracks, and frowned

“You trust me, don’t you?”, he asked when he saw his face

“yes, but…”

“I can get you out of the pact… if she is the one to accept”

He should be relieved, he should have said yes immediately, but the thought of you marrying someone else… he didn’t like it.

Not that he didn’t trust his friend, he did, he was the best choice according to him, the day before he had offered himself, the thing is… he had changed in the last 24 hours…

He wanted it, you, the seat at your side, the children you were going to give him…

But he wouldn’t even accept it himself, this was deep inside of him, he wanted to protect you, none of those southerners had what it took, only him, he didn’t trust anyone else, not really

Only him…

“My name is in those papers”, he growled

“But perhaps if I speak to her, began to court her…”

“I’ll talk to her”, he cut him

“I really think I should be the one…”, with only one look Cregan makes his friend stop speaking. He had just realized what he truly wanted to do, and he did not need to be contradicted now. “You are marrying her, aren’t you?”, he said, a smile sneaking on his friend’s face

“I don’t know yet, I don’t want to pressure her”, Celtigar only hummed

“I want to marry her too”, he said then. Cregan looked at his friend and he understood him, he was challenging him…

“May the best man win her affections then”, Cregan said.

He was not going to lose

And as he walked away Celtigar only smiled, having pushed his friend in the right direction by only pretending to want your hand in marriage

Cregan had asked Lord Redwyne for help and together they had set you up with young ladies, that shared your age, your ladies in waiting as it were. But instead he found you alone in the Red Keep garden, walking and escorted by one of your white cloaks

“What happened with your ladies in waiting?”, he asked point blank as he approached you, the lack of property, referring to you not as “your grace”, and it made your guard almost wince

“I send them on their way”, you said simply, leaning in to smell a beautiful flower, barely acknowledging him

“I don’t want you to be lonely”, he said gently, you raised your eyes to look at him

“yes, I know but they are so… vain… “this lord looked at me”, or “have you seen the dress she was wearing…”, Cregan only smiled condescendingly at you, “and I…”

“You are thinking about the wellness of millions”, he said, “concerned about the future of the entire realm, I understand”

“I understand the need to be distracted for a while, but…”, he only nodded

“I understand”, he said shortly

“Why are you here?”, you asked, nervous, he didn’t understand the change in your dynamic, you had felt confident and calm enough to cry in front of him, but now you were evading his gaze, and shifting in your feet in nerves

In your mind was a bit more clearer

You realized you liked him, you found yourself feeling butterflies in your belly when you saw his handsome face, and you wanted to punch yourself, for being so childish, you were not a young girl in front of her knight in shining armor, you were a Queen now, he was your hand, your advisor, and the head of one of the most important houses on the entire realm.

But you felt your legs shake, and your breath caught in your throat every time you saw him approach you

And every time he was near, you wanted him to stay near you, you felt your chest strangle your heart each time he walked away from you.

Gods this was strange even for you

“I want to ask you something”, he said slowly, you looked at him then, concerned

“You are leaving”, you said.

You were not an idiot, you knew he had a son, he was the Lord of Winterfell, he needed to rule his home. You couldn’t expect of him to stay here forever

That took him by surprise

“No”, he said softly

“But you have to go one day, don’t you?”

“That is what I wanted to talk about”, he said softly, your attention was on him then, you tried to pull on those dark feelings that would make you mad at him when he did decided to leave, he could not see that wide-eyed little girl who had a crush on him, not now, and you will not beg when he tells you it was going to be time for him to return home…

“... the marriage offers”, you were lost for a second but that certainly brought you back to attention

“Uh?”, you asked

“You had been offered several hands of many lords over these past few days”

“Did the small council put you up to this?”, you asked, bored

“You need to get married”, he said severely, “we need to make your family strong again, you need to settle your line…”

“I understand”, you said, looking down. You knew he had signed a pact to marry you, but you also did not want to hold him to it, there were different times, it was naive for you to think he was going to hold up his part, he had done enough already

“A marriage is also an alliance”, he continued, “you need someone who will help you and guide you, but not manipulate you…”

You only nodded

“A strong person, with a powerful family name…”

“If you say Tyland Lannister I swear…”, he chuckled, and shook his head

“No…”, he said. He then stopped all his movements, you felt his gaze on you, so you stopped as well and raised your head and eyes to look at him, “who do you want?”, he asked then

“I’m not sure”, you said, but you did… you wanted him

For the doubt in your mind made him question his own decision. He thought you were going to name him, but you were truly doubtful

You didn’t think he was an option

“I don’t know any of those men”, you said then in a whisper

“You know some…”, he tried, you looked at him

He felt even guilty for wanting it

He gave in to his deepest desire, of power and lust.

“Yes you are right”, you whispered, looking away from him again, “I just…. need to think this through”, you said with a low voice, you wanted to end this chat

But he didn’t, he needed you to say it

He had heard the small council ask him to, he had heard Lady Jayne Arryn… but he needed to hear it from you.

“There must be someone in your mind”, he said softly, with a gentle, soothing voice

“There was”, you admitted

“Talk to me, I’m your hand”, he continued, “I am here to advice you”

“Until you leave me”, you say then, without thinking, it was barely a whisper

So that’s it, he thought, you resented him for even the mere thought of him abandoning you

“I can come back”, he said then, with a hint of amusement on his voice

You only hummed, you didn’t believe him, and you were going to feel terribly lost without him, again, alone, like you had been before he saved you…. before he took the city in your name and put you on the throne

He did all of that

There was nobody else you wanted by your side but him

You shared a longing look, a long gaze

What did he want? you asked yourself. He looked like he wanted to listen to you but also to speak, at the same time. You didn’t know what else to say

“What does that mean?”, you asked then. He sighed, loudly

“I signed a pact…”, he said

“Yes, my brother offered my hand in marriage in exchange for your allegiance and your swords”, you said lowly

“No”, he answered back, you looked at him intently, “he asked for my loyalty, he had it already, but he negotiated our union for the simple fact he was scared of something befalling you, he wanted to send you North under my protection to keep you safe from harm, from the war, and from the Greens”

Ah yes, safe from Aemond and Aegon

“That sounds like my brother”, you said, melancholy tainting your voice

“He wanted to keep you safe”

“In more than one way you had kept your promise”, you assured him, “you took the city, took control…”

“I did”, he said softly, “for you”

“You are going to put a crown in my head”, you said

“In three days”, he said then, “and then you should announced your betrothal”

“I don’t have one”

“You do”, he said finally, his eyes, piercing eyes bore into yours, he dwarfed you in size, and even though he had left his fur cloak behind… he still look big and imposing

“Cregan…”, you called

“Say it”, he encouraged

“You signed the pact…”, you said.

As you looked at him, you grew angry

What did he want from you? to beg? you didn’t even know. He had signed that past, to marry you one day, and yet, he dodged that part at every turn, he needed to return home, you understood that he had a son, a little boy who needed his father, so why was he here? talking to you in this way?

“You promised to marry me”, you said softly, he barely nodded, his eyes looking intently at you, “but I understand…”, he frowned then, and you started walking away from him. Letting him standing in the garden

You called in a small council meeting, on your own accord

They were right, you needed to make your family bigger and stronger…

“I called in this meeting because I have to make a demand”, you said firmly, your small council looking amongst each other, Cregan was silent, playing with the dragon eye in front of him

“Tomorrow the Barahteon will present themselves to me, and I want to tell you my intentions so you’ll be prepared”, you said firmly, “It is to my understanding that princess Jahaera, daughter of Aegon the Usurper, is still in Storm’s End…”

“As a guest”, said lord Lannister

“As a hostage”, you said then, “It is to my understanding that she was on her way here, when Aegon was poisoned”, you said softly, “I know because it was discussed at the dinner table in front of me, yet, she is not here, I understand they are trying to keep her safe as some sort of leverage, but…”, you continued, and then you soften your gaze, “I want her here, she is a little girl, a Targaryen, daughter to my lovely aunt Helaena, and she should be with me and Aegon, with family”, you said softly

“Your grace is most graceful”, muttered the Maester, the others murmured their affirmations

“Tomorrow I will demand of the Baratheons to bring little Jahaera back to me, when she is here, we will betrothed her to Aegon, to finally solidify the family and end this madness”, yous aid with a soft smile

Aemond, Aegon, Alicent and Otto are and will burn in hell

But not Helaena and her children

She was an angel, so were the little boys that lost her lives

Jahaera was the only one left, you owe it to Helaena to keep her safe

After the affirmation and support of your small council, you walked towards your little brother’s chambers

He had become so quiet and sad, which was expected, but still, you tried to keep his mind busy, you would put Septas and maesters to teach him and accompany him, at all ours, soon, one of your King’s guards will teach him the art of the sword.

Now you make sure to sit and dine with him

Even though he barely spoke

“Jahaera will come to court soon”, you whispered to him as you served yourself a cup of wine

“Who was Jahaera?”, he asked innocently, of course he didn’t remember

“Helaena’s child”, you said, “she is your age, you can have fun together”

“Oh”, it's the only thing he said, while continue to have little pieces of bread and meat

“Maybe one day you can get married”, you said lightly

“When are you getting married?”, he asked then and made you laugh

“Soon, but I don’t know with whom!”, you said as it was a joke, it was sad that it was true

“Marry Cregan”, he said simply

“WHy?”, you asked him, amazed

“I see the way he looks at you”, he said simply

“How does he look at me?”, you asked him

“As papa looked at mama”, he said, and you got quiet

“He has to go back North”, yous aid lightly

“You can command him to stay, you are the Queen”, he said, still not looking at you

“If I only command without listening to reason I’m a Tyrant”, you said softly, “not a queen”

“He wants to stay”, he said

“I don’t know if he does, you know Northerners don’t fare well here in the south”, you joked

“Command him”, he insisted

“Aren’t you a little tyrant?”, you teased, reaching over the table and tickling his side until he squealed in a laugh

But gods if that made you think…

“He looks at you they way papa looked at mama”

Daemon Targaryen wasn’t much of a communicative man, he didn’t need to speak, it was all in his eyes…

He could make men tremble with just his gaze, he could make his children giggle with a wink, and he could make your mother swoon with that sparkle in his eyes.

Even little Aegon could tell

Even if the nannies took control over your little brother, you were by his side until he fell asleep, and then you went to your own room

You served yourself a cup of wine, another cup of wine.

“Call in Lord Stark please”, you asked Eryk, and he nodded and went to fulfill your requirement

It was inappropriate, to say the least, to summon a man to your chambers at this late… but you needn't to worry about such matters… Or you did

Your brother was right, you were a Queen, you had to begin to act like one

Cregan foud you seated by the fire, in a relaxed stance, with a goblet of wine in your hand

“Your grace”, he greeted, he seemed serious, but you believed you found a glint in his eye… you were started to get to know him and his facial expressions, as cold as they may seem

“My Lord Hand”

“You will summon me and believe me, I will attend to your calling, but I must say, if someone sees me coming into your chambers at the hour of the owl, where we are going to be alone…”

“I’m aware”, you said, smiling at him

“What do you need?”, he asked gently, with a smirk on his lips

“Today in the garden…”, you started, “you mentioned the pact you sign”

“Yes I did”, he said

“Why?”, you asked him

“Why?”, he asked back

“Why would you bring it up?”, you asked again, “it seems that you do not intent to honor it”, he got quiet then, analyzing you

“I meant…”

“There is no one else…”, you said, “it is you”, you looked up at him, your eyes sparkling. He softened his gaze

“Is that a command?”, he asked, amusement in his voice, it was like he was playing a game.

“Marry me”, you said, “honor the pact of Ice and Fire… you can come back home, on the condition of course that you come back…”

“To you”, he said

“To me”, you agreed. “Everyone will be at ease, well, except for the Hightowers, when you sit at my side in the throne…”, you said, he barely nodded, still smiling

“I don’t think so…”, he said finally, you stopped all your movements, was he rejecting you? he was not going to marry you? you had to command him, if he refused, you could fall through, you couldn’t make a man marry you… you started feeling ashamed of even summoning him here… you were starting to feel like an idiot

He turned his back to you and went to the small table in the corner and served himself a goblet of wine.

“I think they will feel threatened..”, he continued, you smiled then, taking a breath you didn’t know you were holding, “you and me together…”, he continued, taking a sip, “soon they’ll realize… the dragon and the wolf sat together… and they are all sheep”

You both smiled widely at each other

this is the vibe I was going for jajaja

Cregan is... complex... everyone wanted a tougher Cregan, i'm giving a gray one. He has ambitions, and wants power, and he is not indiferent to us, the beautiful young Queen... of what I read about Cregan, it is what I perceive... anyways... hope you like... maybe I moved it a bit too quickly but I want to get to the good part

taglist! ��️

@lyannesworld @tremendouswolfsaladranch @unlesshouse @mimsie95 @ostricx @amelia262006 @marihoneywk @ahristata @happinessinthebeing @dd122004dd

@lyannesworld @aestmilky @lightdragonrayne @delaynew @mxtokko @stargaryenx @lightdragonrayne @delaynew @mxtokko @good-night-starlight @yentroucnagol @beebeechaos

#IV.misguidedhour #cregan stark #cregan stark x oc #cregan stark x reader #cregan #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan x y/n #cregan fanfiction #house stark #house targaryen #house of the dragon fanfiction #hbo house of the dragon

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the-fiction-witch · 7 months ago

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In The Eyrie

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Jacaerys Velaryon Couple - Jacaerys X Reader Reader - (Don't Meet Her Yet) Rating - Politics Word Count - 956

Jacaerys felt his heart racing the moment he left Dragonstone. He was to offer his hand to the daughter of Lady Arryn of the Vale. As per his mother's demands. He and Vermax took to the sky flying through an autumn storm to the Eyrie. He lands in the courtyard and as he gets off Vemrax's back. He sees a man with intricate blue armour with the sigil for House Arryn, he looks around expecting Lady Arryn to meet him but he only notices a woman from the balcony above.

"Prince Jacaerys Velaryon I take it?" The guard,

"Yes," Jacaerys answers,

"the lady of the Vale has been expecting you. Come." He demanded as he led Jacaerys through the castle to the grand throne room, where the stone seat sat and the moon door opened to see the harsh drop to her world below, a woman in a light blue dress with dark brown braids sat on the throne the lady Jeyne Arryn, she looked down at him expecting him to speak. He approached the throne and bowed before her.

"My lady… May I say your title has maiden of the Vale seems an earned one, you are as beautiful as tales had said.”

"You can halt your compliments, dear boy. I know why you are here. Your mother Rhaenyra offers your hand to wed my daughter. In turn our support in her war against her half brother the King Aegon Targaryen," Jeyne spoke,

Jacaerys feels his heart sink within his chest in disappointment as she mentions the war, He nods respectfully as she knows the true reason why he was sent here. "I must speak truthfully my lady, but this alliance was not my choice."

"alliances never are. If you wish to be king someday you will have to come to terms with that." She said, "What do you offer as a suitor for my daughter?"

Jace nods as he knows what he must say, though the words are like poison to him. He will do whatever it takes to ensure his mother's demands, "My mother has instructed me to offer a dowry of 500 gold dragons to be paid to House Arryn upon my wedding day. There is also an alliance offered in the form of the loyalty of House Targaryen and all her allies in the war against the usurper,”

"A generous offer, but I asked not what your mother offered. I ask what you offer, what will you supply my daughter with as her husband?"

He was taken aback for a moment by her words but dug deep to find some sweet things to say, “I will offer her a life filled with love and happiness. I will show her the beauty and the excitement of the world. I will treat her with the respect that she deserves. I will show her the joy and passion that a marriage can provide.”

"Would you swear before all in this realm to hold my daughter as your only bride? Never to take another. Never to father bastards. And to place her by your side as your queen?"

“I swear before all in this realm to hold your daughter as my only bride. I shall never take another. I shall never father bastards. I shall place her at my side as my queen. This I swear with all of my heart before the Gods.”

"Even if my daughter is not of your choosing?"

Jace knew this question was coming, it was not of his choosing but his duty to marry. He looked up to the lady Jeyne and nodded. "Yes. I would honour this arrangement even if I had the choice. My heart may not lie with her but my duty is. I promise you that no matter who my heart yearns for, my duty comes first."

"even if she may not be... To your tastes? You will do your duty to her?"

Jace's face would shift to a slight frown at her words. He had to admit, she was not what his heart yearned for. Yet what she said was true, it was his duty to obey. Not only would he make his mother happy but the Vale would stand behind Rhaenyra. He felt as though she was looking at his inside and reading his mind he felt a slight heat rise over his face for a moment as he nodded. "Yes, my lady. I will do my duty by her, and I will never dishonour her."

"Then it is agreed." She nodded "Arise. Son-in-law."

Jace nodded as he got to his feet.

“We will aid in this war to come, my only request is that no green dragons are to harm the vale or the Eyrie and we will demand a dragon here to defend us.”

“I- I am sure that can be arranged,”

“Good, you are welcome to stay Prince Jacaerys,”

"I thank you for your hospitality, my lady. How long shall I stay in the Vale?"

"you may stay as long as you wish, Your dragon to is welcome. The storm that lingers now will be a week at least I suggest you use that time to become understanding with your wife to"

Jace couldn't help the small smile that grew upon his lips as he realised he would have some time with the lady he was to marry. He couldn't help but wonder what the woman would be like that he would spend the rest of his life with. "I will be certain of that, my lady."

"Lord Skyee, take Prince Jacaerys to her chambers and allow him to meet whom he had agreed his life to," the lady told one of her men,

"Yes my lady," the guard nodded,

Jace was not given time to reply as she commanded her guard to take him to his betrothed.

Masterlist Of Jacaerys Velaryon

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ichorai · 2 years ago

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amsterdam ; jacaerys velaryon. (m)

track two of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; jacaerys velaryon x arryn!f!reader

synopsis ; prince jacaerys velaryon traveled to the eyrie to secure aid for his mother's cause. he didn't at all expect to fall in love an arryn while he was there.

words ; 4.7k

themes ; fluff, smut (minors dni!), fantasy

warnings / includes ; unprotected sex, oral (f recieving), jace is very much infatuated with you (expect lots of praise !!), reader is the only child of jeyne arryn of the vale, mentions of daemon and rhaenyra, in this fic jace is over eighteen when he goes to the eyrie !! cursing, mentions of death, vermax is grumpy bcs he has to sit outside in the cold someone save him

main masterlist.

The Eyrie stood tall and proud on the very top of rocky mountains—so high that white wisps of clouds could be seen far below where the castle was situated. Jacaerys unmounted his dragon, placing a reassuring hand on the large, olive-green scales of his snout.

“Kesan sagon arlī. Umbagon,” he murmured to Vermax, who huffed out a plume of warm smoke and settled back on his haunches, clearly unhappy with the prospect of waiting around in the cold. I will be back. Stay.

Blowing out a nervous exhale, Jace squared his shoulders and turned on his heel, making his way into the white-stone castle.

Blue-cloaked guards stood in his way of the wooden entrance, faces stony and hands resting on the hilts of their swords, at the ready.

“I am Jacaerys Velaryon, son of the rightful Queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen. I’ve come to urgently speak to Lady Jeyne Arryn to secure aid for my mother’s cause.” His voice rang clear and true, confident despite his inner turmoil.

The guards glanced at each other, before stepping aside, letting him walk through.

“This way, my Prince,” one of them said, guiding him through winding corridors and eventually, down a long hall. The blue-veined, marble walls shone with polish—so much so that Jacaerys could see his own warped reflection looking back at him.

And at the end of the hall, laid two thrones of weirwood—nothing compared to the hunkering mass that was the iron throne, but still grand nonetheless. Seated on one was the Lady of the Eyrie, Jeyne Arryn, with a head of dark locks like his, and soft features that contrasted starkly with the scowl pulling at her lips.

The lady was facing her side, where she was speaking in hushed whispers to her only daughter—Y/N Arryn, the infamous Jewel of the Eyrie.

Jace could feel his heart stumble upon itself when he laid his eyes on you. Suddenly, your name made sense. Sure, he had heard tales of your regaling beauty and your kind nature, but words alone were not enough to fully encapsulate just how breathtaking you really were.

The sunlight streaming through the tall, arched windows bathed you in a warm glow, casting long, sloping shadows over your skin. Draped over your form was a dress of cerulean hue, cascading down your hips as if it were water. Jace considered himself a gentleman—he had to take care not to let his eyes wander to the low-hanging cut of your neckline, where the very beginnings of your cleavage were exposed, and a glinting pearl necklace hung just above your clavicle. Your hair was cut rather short, nearly as short as his, but framed your face just perfectly. Your lips were moving hurriedly as you spoke to your mother, eyes alight with a certain fire, but Jace couldn’t quite catch what you were saying. The stories not only told of your enchanting beauty, but of your strongly overprotective mother, who always turned away any and all suitors for you. And proposals were never short, from what he heard. Jacaerys felt a strange flame of jealousy brew within his stomach.

“Apologies for the interruption, my lady,” announced the guard. “Jacaerys Velaryon, here to speak with you.”

Upon the abrupt announcement, you promptly clamped your mouth shut, looking over to Jace with a scrutinizing, yet curious gaze, meeting the Prince’s own intrigued eyes.

His throat was suddenly dry. It took everything within him to tear his attention away from you, and look towards your mother.

“My lady,” greeted Jacaerys, fists clenching and unclenching behind his back. “I’ve come on behalf of my mother, the Queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen. She kindly asks you to remember that she is part Arryn herself, as you are half-siblings with the late Queen Aemma, and hopes you will support your cousin’s claim to the throne.”

Recognition sparked within the Lady’s eyes, remembering her half-sister, Aemma. From beside her, you subconsciously straightened yourself as he spoke, lips parting out of interest. This was Prince Jacaerys himself—heir to the throne. Jace gradually shifted his weight from foot to foot, feeling your gaze practically burn holes straight through him. You couldn’t help but notice that he was quite the handsome young man, with a head of thick, dark hair, and hard-set, determined eyes. He spoke evenly and calmly, voice soaked with honey and smoked cedar and ocean salt. The Prince looked to be around the same age as you, give or take a few moons. And as Jacaerys had heard much about you, you knew just as much about him—and now that you were seeing him in person… the stories seemed to prove themself true. He didn’t look one bit Targaryen or Valeryon, but rather resembled the bold, physical characteristics of a Strong.

Either way, bastard or not, Jacaerys Velaryon intrigued you.

The argument you’d just had with your mother about traveling to King’s Landing and seeing the world for yourself was still fresh on your mind, and seeing Jace right here in front of you felt like much more than a coincidence.

“Yes,” your mother said, standing up from the throne to step closer to the Prince. “I do remember the rather twisted history of our families. In fact, I seem to recall your great-uncle Daemon was married to Rhea Royce until her… untimely death.”

The Lady of the Eyrie was plainly hinting at the fact that his stepfather murdered his first wife. Jace steeled himself by blowing out a small breath.

“It was truly unfortunate,” said Jace diplomatically.

The woman narrowed her eyes, eerily similar to your expression. “Despite my contempt for your great-uncle, it would be hypocritical of me to say Targaryen men are the root of the problem. Mine own kin have sought to replace me as Ruler of the Vale thrice by now. My cousin, Ser Arnold, oft claims women are too soft to rule. He is currently in one of my sky cells, if you would like to see.”

Jacaerys shifted uncomfortably. He’d heard little of the sky cells—only that the room bore three walls instead of four, leaving an open gap for anybody to plummet to their grueling death. And knowing how high up the castles were built, there would be no chance for survival. The grounds were sloped and it was not uncommon for prisoners to roll off the edge during their sleep.

“Mother,” you spoke for the first time, making his head snap to you. You watched him sympathetically, an apologetic glint to your eyes, voice smoothly soft but tone firm. “I am sure the Prince has much more important matters to attend to than my bumbling fool of an uncle.”

Jeyne nodded at your words. “Yes… of course. We’ll help you fight your war, Prince Jacaerys. Send word to your mother that we support her cause and will supply her with as many soldiers as she needs—in this world of men, we women must band together.”

Relief flooded through Jace’s veins. Momentarily, he caught your eye and dipped his head in gratitude.

“On one condition,” said the Lady of the Eyrie, holding up a hand. “We will send you support if and only if you swear to protect the Vale from the Greens with dragonriders.”

Irrational hope flared within Jacaerys’ chest—the thought of being able to spend more time in the Vale just to see you a bit more made him rather excited. Though, knowing his mother, he would most likely be stuck by her side as heir to the throne than up North protecting the Vale.

“That can be arranged,” agreed Jacaerys. “We swear to protect the Vale and the people within it.”

“Then our deal is done,” said your mother, before lowering herself slightly, as an act of bending the knee to the Prince. You followed suit, meeting his gaze once again, this time with a subtle, radiant smile cinching the corners of your eyes. The guards flanking the hall were the last to mirror your actions, all bending the knee to the heir of the iron throne.

Jacaerys was making his way out of the hall, surprised when you bid your mother adieu and rushed after the Prince, much to her overprotective dismay, offering to walk with him to his dragon. You waved the guards away, but they still hovered over the pair of you with uncertain expressions.

“It’s just a brief walk,” you reasoned. “I’ll be fine.”

Relenting, the guards backed off and left you alone with the Prince.

“Come along, my Prince, I can show you the way out,” you gently laid your hand on his forearm, tugging him with you further down the hall. The young man could feel his heart slamming against his chest, a thundering pulse in his ears nearly deafening him.

Now that you were so much closer to him—mere inches—Jace could see finer details about you, and impossibly, you somehow became all the more beautiful. The blue fabric of your dress grazed his more coarse tunic.

“There is much I have heard of you, my Prince,” you began, a kind smile illuminating your features. “I must say, I admire your Queen mother greatly.”

“Jace,” he softly said.

You blinked at him. “Pardon?”

Tripping over his words, Jace quickly backtracked, “I, uh, you don’t have to call me your Prince. Jace is just fine.” A bit more hesitantly, he tacked on, “I’m not quite used to the title just yet. It feels strange.”

A part of him was worried you’d be appalled at the impropriety of calling him by a nickname, but you merely grinned, all wide and sweet.

“Alright then, Jace. Have you anywhere urgent to be? The hour is growing late—perhaps you can stay for supper. You cannot possibly run more errands on an empty stomach.”

You leaned closer and he caught a whiff of saccharine fruits and jasmine oil wafting from your hair, a smell that he yearned to drown himself into. It also didn’t slip past his notice that your chest was pressed up against his bicep. Good heavens, Jacaerys needed to get a grip of himself.

Ever the responsible son, Jacaerys knew he had to be on his way to the Three Sisters, a small cluster of islands up North, to gain their support for his mother, as well. But he was ahead of schedule, and he deserved something of a rest after hours on dragonback. After all, he’d packed little else than fruit and bread and dried meat rations—the idea of a warm meal was more than appealing.

Perhaps those were all just excuses. The true reason he wanted to stay was because he wanted to spend more time with you.

“Wouldn’t your mother mind?” he asked, a little apprehensive, not wanting to get in between you and the overprotective Lady of the Eyrie. She already had a distaste for Targaryen men, thanks to his stepfather Daemon, and he wasn’t too keen on being added to the roster.

Expression faltering just a smidge, you shook your head. “No, she’s so very busy running the Vale—warding off her cousins who are fighting for their claim to inherit the Eyrie. It’s a whole lot of political nonsense, if you ask me.”

Hesitantly convinced, Jace allowed himself to smile in hopes of seeing your own once more. “If you insist, my lady. Supper sounds wonderful.”

To his delight, you beamed, and led him to a winding marble staircase, flourished with blue carpets that matched your dress. “Great! The morning hall is right up here—it’s rather quiet around this time, since it’s a bit early for supper.”

“Perfect,” mumbled Jace, the idea of being alone with you setting his cheeks aflame.

Once in the hall, you kindly requested one of the servants to fetch a bowl of lamb stew and some cider for the Prince, gesturing for him to sit on one of the narrow, long tables that stretched nearly the entire length of the room.

You engaged Jace in amicable chatter, which he seldom got to do with anybody that wasn’t his family—everyone either hated him because of his uncanny resemblance to Harwin Strong, or they were intimidated by his status as heir to the throne. It was refreshing, and frankly, made Jacaerys a little envious of those without the burden of responsibility on their shoulders.

The stew arrived not too shortly after, along with a silver chalice full of spiced apple cider that burned his tongue in all the right ways. You sipped on your own cup, nearly choking with laughter when he began recounting a story about his younger brother, Lucerys, nearly falling off his dragon during his first ride. Jace thought you had the most mellifluous laugh, practically music to his ears. He itched to hear the sweet sound over and over again.

“I wish I had siblings sometimes,” you wistfully said, placing your chalice down on the table and resting your face on your palm, propped up by your elbow. “It gets awfully lonely here. My mother, I love her, I do, but she never really lets me go out of the Vale. The only times were when I was a small child, and even then I was accompanied by half a dozen guards.”

Jace hummed sympathetically, spooning more of the peppery stew in his mouth. “So it’s true, then? Your mother constantly rejecting all the suitors and proposals lined up on your doorstep?”

“Yeah,” you fixed him with a warm smile. “Though, I suppose it’s not that much of a loss. Most of the men asking for my hand were more than twice my age and always looked upon me in a… lewd manner. It’s no wonder my mother turned all of them down.”

Without thinking, Jace blurted out, “You deserve to wed someone you love. A man who loves you doubly so.”

You fell silent, regarding him curiously. Maybe Jace didn’t know any better, but you appeared to be flustered. Clearing your throat, you said, “Thank you, my pr—Jace. Besides, the proposals aren’t really what bother me. It’s the fact that I stand to inherit the Eyrie and I have yet to explore the rest of the world. I’m afraid that once I am Lady of the Vale, I won't have any time for myself.”

“I have a dragon,” said Jace, in a half-joking, half-serious manner. “I can take you flying around Westeros one day, when the war is over.”

“You mean it?” you whispered, a genuine glimmer of excitement laced behind your words. Jace nodded, his heart leaping into his throat with the motion. “That would mean the world to me, it really would.”

The two of you fell into another comfortable silence. You downed the rest of your cider and he mopped up the remaining bits of his stew with a steaming loaf of bread.

“I have yet to find a suitor to my liking,” you said, pursing your lips hesitantly. Jace gestured for you to keep talking, drinking some of the cider to wash down his meal. “And I’ve heard you’re betrothed now, yes?”

At the mention of his betrothal to his cousin Baela, Jacaerys stiffened.

He leaned forward. “Can I be completely honest with you? And you must promise not to say a word of this to anyone.”

You nodded, eyes wide.

“I do not wish to marry Baela,” he whispered, glancing around to make sure nobody was listening. Your lips parted, as if you wanted to say something, but you kept quiet, allowing for him to continue. “The romantic love I harbor for her is scant—she is more of my sister than anything. I cannot see myself ever… consummating our marriage.” Heat seeped into his cheeks, and a part of him instantly regretted admitting that to you.

“Perhaps you need not marry her, then,” you responded without a second’s pause, before freezing at your words, as if they had slipped from your mouth out of your own volition. “I’m terribly sorry, my Prince, I shouldn’t have…”

Whatever you were beginning to say died on your tongue when Jace moved his hand across the table to settle gently on top of yours.

The atmosphere between the two of you seemed to shift.

Jace studied your features with a keen eye, noticing the bright glint to your molten irises, the gentle curvature of your nose, the small birthmark on the left side of your jaw. And, not at all discreetly, his gaze fell to your lips, where your teeth were worrying into the supple flesh. His own expression melded into one of raw longing—nearing desperation, even.

And you could see it all on his face, plain and clear. Jacaerys Velaryon was enraptured by you.

It was not at all like how the suitors asked for your hand—they looked upon you like a direwolf would a slab of meat, as if you were merely an object for their carnal desires, as if you were to warm their bed and nothing else.

Jacaerys, however, looked upon you like you had scattered the very stars in the sky with your bare hands. And you had no doubt you mirrored his yearning countenance.

“Come with me,” you whispered, standing up and lacing your fingers with his, tugging him away from the table, and out of the morning hall.

With a dazed look on his face, Jace followed along, allowing you to pull him towards more stairs. Up, up, and further up, the two of you went.

Until he stood in front of a large oaken door, your free hand pushing it open and the other ushering him inside the spacious room. The waning, clementine light of the setting sun shone through the diamond-shaped windows, framed by blue velvet curtains, bathing you in a regal, aureate luminescence as you softly shut the door behind you and leaned against the wood, fixing him with a burning stare. Your lips were parted, and your chest was rising and falling in a tantalizing manner.

The cold realization that he was in your chambers suddenly dawned upon him. Seven hells, this was… beyond improper. Reality slapped Jacaerys out of his lustful stupor, and he struggled to formulate a coherent sentence.

“My lady,” he began, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “This is… we shouldn’t—”

His words dwindled away when you reached behind yourself and began undoing the laces of your dress. Despite his protests, Jace made no move to leave. He could feel his breeches growing uncomfortably tight. It felt like there was not enough air in the room for him to breathe.

“I… I should probably get going, Vermax—my dragon loathes the cold, you see…” he tried once more, to no avail.

The blue material fell from your shoulders, cascading down your body and pooled onto the ground in one seamless motion, leaving only a thin pale shift between him and your naked body. He fell deathly silent.

You were the most beautiful person Jacaerys had ever laid his eyes on. No woman, no man, nobody in all of Westeros, could ever compare to the likes of you.

Throwing all caution to the wind, the Prince surged forward in two large strides, sealing the distance between you. One of his hands carefully cradled your face as if you were hewn from porcelain, and the other clutched your waist, thumb grazing over the sides of your ribs, dangerously close to your breasts.

And his lips met yours in a heated frenzy, your noses bumping against one another amidst your vigor.

“Should you wish to stop, just say the word, my lady,” he murmured against you, tugging you away from the door and walking you backwards to the large bed.

Your knees buckled against the mattress and you fell back, eyes darkened with wanton need. Your fingers began hurriedly undoing the buttons at the top of his tunic. “Don’t stop, please,” you breathed out just as he began languidly kissing you once again. “Don’t you dare stop.”

A newfound confidence fueled his movements with your affirmation, and he rid himself of his shirt, tossing it somewhere behind him, along with his straining breeches and undergarments. You let your eyes roam over his toned chest, lids half-hooded.

“You’re so beautiful,” you told him, following suit and shirking your thin shift off, leaving you completely nude in front of the Prince, save for the opalescent pearls hanging around your neck.

His breath hitched at your praise. “I was just about to say the same thing,” he muttered hotly against your flushed skin, trailing kisses down your jaw, roaming over the slope of your neck, your shoulders, your chest. “Beautiful,” he said, echoing himself with every kiss. You fisted the sheets beneath you, desperate for him to touch you where it ached the most.

A wave of arousal danced over you when he came face to face with your breasts, his tongue slipping out to drag along one of your pebbled nipples, his hand lifting to tweak the other between his fingers. His lips enveloped one of the pert buds, and he glanced up to see you with your head thrown back, a sigh of pleasure falling from your throat.

“Jacaerys, please…” you moaned, breathing stilted.

Eager to please, Jace pulled away from your breast, trailing wet kisses down your stomach, along your hips, and to the insides of your thighs. His hands held your legs apart, which trembled with anticipation and need.

His cock twitched against the bed upon seeing your slickened cunt, soaked with your essence.

“All this for me?” he hummed, laving his tongue mere inches away from where you needed him most.

“All for you,” you said, a low groan tumbling from your lungs when he finally surged forward and buried his face into your cunt, licking into your warm hole, the crook of his nose pressing repeatedly into your spasming clit.

Embarrassed by your volume, you slapped your hands over your mouth, muffling your breathless whines.

Obviously not pleased with this, Jacaerys looked up at you with a stern look, halting his ministrations. “Let me hear you, my lady. I want to hear you.”

Hands quaking, you let them fall away from your lips, clenching into fists by your sides. Jacaerys smiled at you, the lower half of his face gleaming with your arousal. Then, he lowered himself back down and abruptly attached his lips to your sensitive clit, making your hips jolt upwards with the sudden rush of pleasure.

“Jace!” you wailed, grinding your cunt against his mouth. He hummed in approval, clearly getting off on your own pleasure. Two of his fingers circled your entrance, and he slowly pushed them into you, cracking one of his eyes open to observe your breathless, writhing figure.

He continued his ministrations, fucking you with his fingers and sucking relentlessly on your clit until you seized up beneath him, a litany of pleas falling from your kiss-swollen lips.

“That’s it, cum for me. My good girl,” he praised, moaning into your cunt as you did what you were told, grinding against his face as you came down from your high, until you began to flinch away with overstimulation. Jace wished to have you ride his face, use him as the dragon he was, be completely at your mercy… but he was desperate to feel your cunt around him.

Jacaerys made his way back up your body, kissing you once more. You could taste yourself on him, which made you dizzy with delight.

“I need you, Jace,” you mumbled, wrapping your legs over his waist, your hot, soaked pussy pressed against his abdomen. “I need you inside me.”

“As you wish, my lady,” he whispered with one final kiss, ever the gentleman. “Tell me if it’s too much. I wish not to hurt you.”

Lining himself with your still-sensitive entrance, he began to slowly ease his way in, keenly watching your expression to make sure he wasn’t paining you in any way.

“So good,” you mumbled, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his shoulder. “Feels so good, Jace.”

“Beautiful girl,” the Prince groaned once he bottomed out inside your warmth, eyes rolling into the back of his head from the overwhelming sensation of your sopping cunt fluttering around his cock.

He started off gentle, slowly rocking into you, eyes darting between your blissful features, and your breasts bouncing with every thrust.

You began to move in tandem with him, wanton moans echoing throughout your chambers when he reached down to rub slow circles on your clit.

The slapping of his skin on yours made a flustered expression burrow itself permanently on his face, dusting his skin with faint rouge. You felt so fucking good, nearly too good to be true, and Jacaerys wouldn’t at all be surprised if he woke up and you turned out to be a dream.

Your name tumbled from his lips in rapid repetition as he could feel his orgasm approaching, rhythm faltering when you clenched viciously around him. He met your eyes, leaning down to kiss you sweet and slow. “Can you cum for me again, sweet girl?” he murmured, a satisfied growl thundering in the back of his throat.

Shivering, one of your hands raked down his back desperately, on the very precipice of your climax. You came with a shout of his name, stars blotting out your vision, clenching so tightly around him that Jace had a hard time moving, which had him moaning a breathy string of curses.

He showered you with more praises, thrusting into you once, twice, three more times, before his voice tapered off into a groan, hurriedly pulling out of your throbbing cunt to cum all over your stomach, both your chests glistening with sweat.

Panting, Jacaerys collapsed onto the bed beside you, pressing a chaste kiss to the side of your temple. “My beautiful, sweet girl,” he murmured, making your heart swell with pride and adoration.

You turned to slot your lips just beside his nose bridge, rubbing your thighs together contentedly. “My handsome, gentle Prince,” you responded, voice hoarse and exhaust weighing down your eyelids.

“You did so well for me. You can sleep now, my lady.” he reassured, expression softening as he pushed a stray strand of your hair away from your face. “I’ll clean you up.”

You could only tiredly smile at him, allowing your eyes to fully slip shut, chest rising and falling evenly as slumber took over your form. Jace could only watch fondly, pressing one last kiss to your temple, before making his way off the bed.

The next morning rolled by far too soon. The sun glared through your windows, straight into your eyes, and you tried waving it away with a huff of annoyance, to no avail. Finally, you sat up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes with the back of your hand. Once you came to, you noticed that you were neatly tucked into the center of your expansive bed, and you lifted the thick blue blanket to look down, mildly surprised to find any and all stickiness between your thighs and on your stomach was gone.

Did you dream of what transpired last night? Was Prince Jacaerys only but a figment of your hyperactive imagination?

Feeling a bit dejected, you fell back against your feather-stuffed pillows, rolling onto your side. It couldn’t have been a dream, though—it certainly felt real. Heat spidered across your skin at the lewd memories of the night before.

Your suspicion was only confirmed when you caught sight of a small, folded piece of paper on your bedside table. With nimble fingers, you plucked it off the surface and unfurled the sheet, a small smile dancing at the corner of your mouth. You found it endearing that Jacaerys’ handwriting was a nearly illegible, messy scrawl of ink across the parchment.

My dearest lady, As much as it pains me to leave you, I have urgent matters to attend to for my mother. I will be heading North to the Three Sisters in hopes of gaining their favor. I will never forget this night with you, nor will I forget my promise to take you flying across Westeros after the war ends. You are, without a doubt, the most wonderful thing to have happened to me. I still wonder if I am dreaming, because a beauty such as yours cannot possibly exist. I will come back for you, sweet girl. I swear it by the Seven. Yours, Jace

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x reader #jace velaryon x reader #jacaerys smut #jacaerys fluff #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys velaryon fluff #jacaerys velaryon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfiction #jace velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon imagines #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #house of the dragon smut #hotd smut

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blueberrypancakesworld · 4 months ago

Text

Former heirs of the house

Domeric Bolton x betrothed!reader

warning : fluff, kisses, hurt/comfort, implied character death, Ramsay is Ramsay as always, no use of Y/n

Summary : During his time as squire in the Vale of Arryn, with his father's and Lord Redfort's consent, a betrothal was celebrated between the two houses. After the young betrothed couple had spent the fall in the Vale, it was time to return to Dreadfort in the winter to meet his family, their new home and Lord Bolton and his bastard. But Domeric protects his betrothed and tries to give her the best despite the harsh winter, his love warms her even in the darkest times of the House of Bolton.

info : Sweet Domeric Bolton I would have loved him to survive a "gentle" Bolton and I know Roose mourns him in secret but well have fun with targaryentuesday and see you next week :)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The North was harsh, the direction and land in the kingdom of Westeros where the inhabitants were the harshest, for unlike the burning sun in Dorne, the winter was unrelenting and left every man frozen to death before he could even open his eyes.

The houses of the North united under the protection of House Stark, the vassals were numerous, but few houses besides the Starks were as notorious for their history as the Bolton, a house with pink flesh and dark red blood as its banner, a stripped house that gave warmth and taught enemies to fear death itself.

So even more than two centuries after the conquest by Aegon, the old house still stood, with the blood of the first men and Dredfort standing proudly, the fortress still surrounded by the harsh winter.

Roose Bolton the Lord of House Bolton and the Lord of Dreadfort was a man of mystery, brutality, pragmatic decisions and goals but above all he had once been a man with an heir, his first born son Domeric a boy born to ride with nimble deft fingers for playing the harp and a taste for history he had become the quiet heir.

So Roose had planned it and to show friendship and trust he sent his son first to his aunt's house where he spent four years until he became a young man, a good-natured young man of whom his father was proud and would soon join the council as his heir.

But until then he went to Lord Redfort where he not only looked upon his sons as his own brothers but his heart yearned for such a companion, someone to talk to, someone to have by his side…until he saw her.

The Lord's only daughter who had been sent back to her father by the Lady Jeyne Arryn after serving as Lady in waiting, ,,A pleasure to meet you my lady," Domeric had introduced himself, taking her hand in his and placing a gentle kiss on it which she returned with a curtsy.

Most of all it gladdened his heart that she had shown no fear, he knew of his father's reputation for the deeds of his house but to see such beauty before him who did not judge him had stirred him, ,,I hope to see more of you now dear Domderic" she had replied before heading back to her chamber to recover from the journey.

The black-haired man tried to ignore the looks of his "brothers", who were aware of the beauty of their common sister, only Lord Horton had an interested look at the situation.

The two young heirs soon reunited at the dinner table and sat opposite each other, complimenting what appeared to be her new dress, which featured the red and white banner of her house and a sumptuous tapestry, ,,I heard from my father you were staying, may I ask how you like the Vale compared to your area?" she asked, cutting off a piece of the roast that had been specially cooked to celebrate her return.

Domeric found her curiosity amusing like a young bird exploring the air, ,,It's higher, thinner you feel close to the stars and yet the cold here is not cutting like on Dreadfort…I admit it warms me to be here once more now that you are here too" he returned the compliment and saw her lower her gaze from the compliment and take a sip of the wine.

The two of them talked about their time at House Arryn, about Domderic's duties and past years as a squire, always finding common ground that they enjoyed until it was time to go to sleep and the two of them wished each other a good night. But no matter how many days and weeks passed, how often the moon changed with the sun, they never got away from each other.

In his free time, he watched her and kept her company with his harp playing as she sewed and embroidered, even training the falcon she had gotten when she had blossomed, which she told him with a smile. ,,For such a pretty flower even the wind always plays a song" he had tried to distract her and played another song on the harp.

Until he was called to do more chores, not seeing her watching him and yet always keeping a distance from his horse her fear of the animals still present and her hand stroking her arm ,,An excellent rider" she muttered to herself and didn't get her father's raven flying off with a message.

Another week passed and the days merged into one another and yet it was getting colder, one knew that autumn was coming to an end, the beautiful colorful hue of the leaves and forests would slowly come to an end.

,,With the end of autumn so that you can return at the beginning of winter," her father announced as he suddenly stood up and pulled out a parchment, reading his father's fine writing Domeric looked surprised but above all with a fast beating heart at the young woman he had fallen in love with.

In his drive of the wind that drove him to write new songs, her fine hands when she clapped when he won a victory in training and squeezed his hand lightly and the secret kiss they had shared under the great oak just before the hour of the bat.

It was on the last day of fall that the couple, now betrothed through the Septon of House Arryn, made their way back to Dreadfort to be better prepared for the winter and to join her soon-to-be husband's family.

The morning sun showed the small group the way as the couple were escorted down the hill in a small carriage, ,,You don't seem to be enjoying the ride, shall we stop?" Domeric asked, gently grasping her hand and about to ask for something to eat but she waved it away, ,,It's the horses Domeric they worry me I don't get on with the animals" she admitted and suddenly heard the black haired man laugh as joy was seen in his bright eyes.

He tried to pull himself together as he saw her angry look and she changed sides of the carriage threateningly but he pulled her back into his arms, ,,Don't please your worries are mine too when we get to Dredfort believe me I'll help you" he assured her more gently and gave her a soft kiss on the hand as she shed her huff and gave him a reassuring nod as the young couple rode on towards Dreadfort.

She confessed her love to him once more as he played his harp while she leaned softly against him but soon her eyes closed in exhaustion and tiredness and she did not notice the loving smile of her betrothed towards her, ,,Sleep well my love" he murmured and he himself closed his eyes unaware of what was to come for them both in the coming moons.

Arriving at his home castle was as warm as it usually was for his family, his father gave him a contented look with a hand on his shoulder, his mother pulled him into a short embrace and yet warmth always emanated from her.

,,What a beauty you are for my brother surely an easy one to get you such skillful harp playing" commented Ramsay who had also greeted Domeric he liked his brother always wanted one but he felt the coldness and especially the rejection in the bright blue eyes of his younger half-brother.

Domeric put a hand to his fiancée's side and gave her his cloak, ,,Our interests have brought us together Ramsay and my harp playing is as much a joy as ever" the older man said and took his fiancée into the castle to warm up and show her around, the stables, the chambers, her room where all her things were, the hall where dinner was served a few hours later and the castle wall where she gave him a gentle kiss.

,,As cold as it is, you always carry your warmth to here," she said, tapping the spot where his heart lay and she saw his joyful expression as they looked at the cold white landscape together and he felt again how drawn to her he felt as she seemed completely taken by the winter, and though he sensed her insecurity, it was once again she who rose above herself and tried to fit in while even finding common ground with his father over falconry for at least a few moments.

But the best was yet to come as the betrothed couple made their way to the stables and he showed her a white mare, ,,She is young and strong and has never thrown anyone…and if you fall, you will fall softly in snow no harm will come to you" he promised and gently stroked her arm that she had once broken in the children's slates after her horse had thrown her, a fear that had never quite left her and Domeric promised to help her get over it.

He placed a wooden stool at her saddle, kissed the back of her hand and at her command helped her onto the horse, ,,That's it just hold the reins gently you see calmly" he said stroking the horse before taking her hand and stroking it over the coat with her watching with satisfaction as she slowly relaxed and even gave a happy almost relieved smile.

,,I'm still in the saddle that's good' she commented, stroking the pretty animal's neck as she tried to get a feel for riding again while Domeric mounted his stallion and rode ahead out of the courtyard onto the wide snowy fields where she followed him and the two rode slowly side by side at first.

He waited for her until she had the horse under control again and dared to ride on, ,,You're doing well my dear" he praised her and after a few more safe moments the horses trotted through the snow laughing and a little conversation had broken out between them.

They both rode on, barely paying attention to their surroundings until a sudden cry sounded and the mare and rider fell to the ground as the horse caught hold of a root under the snow and stumbled, ,,Are you all right, dear? Are you hurt? Should I call the master?" he asked immediately, jumping off his stallion and helping her out of the snow while freeing her leg from the reins so that the horse could get up without causing any further damage.

His hand moved along her head, afraid to see blood or another fracture as he heard her smile, tears of surprise and fear in her eyes but it seemed to be what she had needed, ,,I'm fine really thank you Domeric for showing me how to ride again" she said and he sat down with her in the snow all wet that it was cold, he felt her kiss his lips and she knew again of his care and warmth as they rode back to Dreadfort hours later holding hands.

Warming themselves in front of the fireplace in his chamber and wrapped in evening cloaks on furs, they lay in each other's arms and listened to Domeric's harp playing while suddenly there was a knock on the other door and Ramsay came in.

,,A warmed wine for your cold bodies, we don't want you to catch a cold," the bastard said and placed the silver tray on the floor next to them both while his eyes, just as bright as those of his half-brother's, ran over their bodies almost eagerly and Domeric's fiancée became a bit distracted.

,,Thank you Ramsay would you leave us now have a good night" he said and his half-brother left the two with a smile that drove the cold back into her body before the two of them took a rash of the wine ,,So we'll be warm again don't worry he's just well the harsh north I'd say but I'm with you I promise my heart" he reassured his betrothed and gave her another gentle kiss before the pair spent the night together in front of the fireplace.

It seemed that as long as they were together the otherwise quiet castle would come to life and warmth, his father almost smiling and his mother looking cheerful, but just a few months later the couple complained of stomach pains that they were unwell.

A couple who tried to carry on despite their illness managed to get through it with potions and tried to consummate the marriage but the only thing they had left was one last bloody kiss and overturned wine jars brought to them by a certain bastard.

From now on he would get all the beauty his brother had gotten, at least he was gracious enough to close the door behind him to pay his respects while Domeric and his beloved wife lay in each other's arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #domeric bolton #house bolton #domeric bolton x reder #ramsay bolton #roose bolton #male x female #targaryentuesday

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written-in-flowers · 2 years ago

Text

Fly Away: Pt. 5

Pairing: Young!Aemond x Young!Velaryon!Reader | Side pairing: Rhaenyra x Alicent, Aegon x Helaena

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Au: friends to lovers, childhood love, incest (duh), slight homophobia expressed, repressed feelings, mutual pining, teenage runaways, mentions of bullying, arrange marriages

Word Count: 7k

Summary: Young love overcomes all in a family full of broken bonds and broken hearts. When Princess Y/N Velaryon and Prince Aemond Targaryen are discovered missing from their beds, their mothers must come together to find them. The search might do more for their families than a mere marriage pact can.

A/N: want to clarify now that we stick with young!Aemond throughout the story. Ewan’s Aemond comes in at the very end. This is mainly done starting a bit before The Princess and the Queen and a little bit after the events at Driftmark. I do pull some scenes from the show, but it remains relatively loose throughout. Want to also point out that The Dance doesn’t happen in this universe, so...happy ending expected, because we need more of those.

Previous Chapter < | > Next Chapter

Taglist: @yitish, @imjustboredso, @discowizard88, @mddieeunson, @caramelcandescence, @bookwhoresthings, @astrumark, @ophelialaufey

****

She’d finished writing to Lady Jeyne Arryn when your lady-in-waiting entered her chambers. She’d hoped to persuade a betrothal between you and Eldric, one of Lady Jeyne’s younger brothers. The boy is a bit younger than you, but he was an Arryn of the Vale. An alliance between House Velaryon and House Arryn will be beneficial to both sides. The fair-haired girl waited for her to sign and seal her letter before speaking.

“Forgive me for the interruption, Your Grace,” the girl bowed, “But Princess Y/N was not in her bed this morning.”

Rhaenyra smiled softly. This was not the first time a maid informed her that your bed was empty. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” Rhaenyra said, grabbing another slip of paper, “She must’ve gone for an early morning flight, Helen. She loves riding Starshine in the morning.”

“Yes, Your Grace, but she missed her morning meal as well.”

“She can eat when she comes back.”

You always came back. Rhaenyra dismissed Helen, then returned to writing the second marriage proposal: to Lord Rickon Stark. He had a son, Cregan, who was roughly your age. House Stark are a noble house and Wardens of the North; you will do well there. She hoped. Rhaenyra knew you had not fully forgiven her or Alicent for breaking the betrothal. She noticed the bouts of sadness you’d have during meals, particularly if they served a dish that reminded you of Aemond. She’d taken a look at your drawings when you didn’t see, and saw that a fair few were of Aemond and Vhagar. Rhaenyra knew what heartache looked like, and she certainly knew how it sounded. She’d forever feel guilty breaking her own daughter’s heart, but the pain would pass with time. You’ll come to see that, in the long run, retracting the pact benefited everyone involved.

Perhaps you’ll like Rickon’s son, and forget all about Aemond.

Rhaenyra wrote to Lord Stark, as well as Lords Tully and Manderly. All had sons who would make fine suitors for her only daughter. When she finished, about half past one, she left her chambers for the training yard. She spotted Luke and Jace being trained by the master-at-arms, heeding his instructions and executing them as told. Rhaenyra could never shake the very slight pang in her chest each time she looked at them. They reminded her too much of their father, of Harwin. Especially Jace, who already had his mane of brown curls and nose. Watching them swing swords at straw dummies, she stood on the balcony overhead and looked on quietly. The rumors of their births cannot reach her in these high walls; the whispers and murmurs could not touch them here. Yet, they’d come all the same that night at Drift Mark. Seeing them now, she thought of the insult that resulted in so much bad blood. She regretted now what she’d said about Aemond; suggesting he be questioned rather than cared for. She’d been concerned for her own sons, who’d been attacked, and the dangerous rumors that floated in the room. But, then Rhaenyra imagined how Alicent must’ve been feeling seeing her son maimed.

Rhaenyra knew her temper. She would’ve picked up that knife too, were she in Alicent’s position.

She’d ordered a bowl of grapes, cheese and wine while she watched over them. Sipping from her wine cup, she’d been clapping for Luke’s strong sword swing when Septa Sarisa appeared. An older woman with a narrow nose, thin lips, and dark eyes, she wore the gray robes of the female clergy.

“Septa Sarisa,” she said, “How can I help you?”

“I’m afraid it is your daughter, Your Grace,” she replied. “She did not show up for her lessons after breakfast this morning. I spoke to Helen, and the girl says she has not seen her.”

“That’s odd,” Rhaenyra’s brow furrowed, “Y/N isn’t known to skip lessons.”

“Could she possibly still be flying, Your Grace?”

“Hm, possibly.”

She looked over the balcony railing and called to her sons, “Boys, have either of you seen your sister?” When they both shook their heads, she turned back to Septa Sarisa, “Perhaps she is flying still. I am sure she’ll turn up, Septa, and when she does I’ll send her to you.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

Rhaenyra planned on having a serious talk with you when you finally returned.

****

“I have already spoken with Lords Tyrell and Baratheon. They’ve all accepted a possible betrothal for the young prince.”

Alicent sat on her husband’s left as she told the council her plans for Aemond. Ever since she broke the betrothal between Targaryen and Velaryon, she’d reached out to other noble houses. It saddened her every time she came to see her son, see the eyepatch covering his wound, and know he’ll never be the same. She’d seen him struggle at the dinner table, trying his best not to knock anything over and the neck pains he’d have from twisting his head so much. Maester Orwyle told her he’d eventually learn to cope with his disability, but her heart broke regardless. Aemond. Her sensitive, shy boy who’d only wanted to have a dragon like a “true” Targaryen. What hurt most that night was the realization.

The realization that her husband, father of her children, will never care for them. His son became permanently damaged, and he did nothing. He cared more about what people said of Rhaenyra’s bastards than what they’d done to her son. Aemond only protected himself against children who’d attacked him first. Her husband did not give a single word of comfort or concern. He’d questioned Aemond, who’d lied to protect her. The only version of the story he’d accepted was the one that Rhaenyra’s sons told him.

How could she let him marry the sister of such boys?

“A marriage with House Tyrell can ensure resources are plentiful,” her father said to her. “The Tyrell’s supply a majority of their crops to Westeros; each year. We can use this match to make sure citizens of King’s Landing do not go hungry. Lord Tyrell’s daughter is a lovely maiden.”

“Lord Baratheon,” Lord Beesebury, Master of Coin, spoke up with a quavering voice, “Has four daughters. Two of them are Prince Aemond’s age, but the others are a bit older and have flowered. An alliance with House Baratheon will ensure we have their support should we ever see a time of war.”

“Let us hope it never comes to that,” Viserys said from his seat at the head of the table.

Alicent did not know how to tell him that the day might come. Rhaenyra will become queen one day, and her stomach churned knowing what that could mean. The men of this world would rather tear it down than have a woman ascend the Iron Throne. She did not doubt Rhaenyra’s abilities; she never would even now. But, with her uncle Daemon at her side and her possible Hand one day, things may become difficult. He will no doubt influence her to murder Alicent’s children, since their claims challenge Rhaenyra’s. Alicent could not let that happen.

“My lords, Your Grace,” Lord Tyland, Master of Ships, called for their attention, “House Lannister controls all the gold coins in Westeros. Our gold mines are endless and bountiful. May I propose a union between House Lannister and House Targaryen? My brother, Jason, has a daughter close to Prince Aemond’s age.”

Simply speaking about Aemond’s betrothals gave her a headache. Aemond’s recent injury resulted in his sudden spike in temper. He glared at her whenever she mentioned him marrying another girl. She knew he’d grown to love Princess Y/N, and that he’d possibly never love anyone else. Alicent sometimes scoffed when he proclaimed this out loud. He is a boy. He knows nothing of love or romance. She knew, with time, Aemond will eventually forget about you and do his duty to his family. How could he love the girl who’s family permanently damaged him? True, you had not swung the blade, but your brother had. Things would be more complicated if the marriage went forward as planned. This decision is easier for everyone involved.

“A fine suggestion,” her husband said with a smile. “I heard your niece is something to be envied in Casterly Rock.”

Lord Tyland smiled proudly, “She most certainly is.”

Beauty was one thing, but what about her personality? Was she kind? Generous? Creative or imaginative like Aemond? She’d no doubt be terrified by Vhagar, whom Aemond adored and visited daily. Would Lady Lannister be a good companion for her lonely boy? She hoped so.

The council meeting ended with Alicent telling Lord Tyland she’d consider his offer. She truly would consider it. Aemond is approaching manhood soon, and will need to marry eventually. She left the council chambers, and decided to go look for him. However, she’d gotten a few steps before Maester Hunt came towards her.

“Your Grace,” the old maester said to her, “Forgive me but I’m afraid I have urgent news.”

“What’s happened? Is it Aemond?”

“Partially. I’d gone to Prince Aemond’s quarters to examine his eye, but the boy was not there. I spoke with the maids, and they said his bed was empty this morning.”

“Hm,” she hummed, taking a moment to think, “Aemond wouldn’t miss a treatment. He told me just last night his eye hurt him deeply.” She recalled how the boy nearly cried from the pain in his eye. She’d given him tea to calm him, then kissed him goodnight. “I’ll see where he has gotten off to. He is most likely in the library with his tutor. I will tell him to see you when he is finished.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Alicent changed course and walked towards the library. Aemond might’ve gone to return books he’d borrowed and pick up new ones. When she arrived, she fully expected to find her children sitting with Maester Crowlin and learning about the histories and cultures of Westeros. Instead, she only found Helaena and Aegon. Aegon, who sat with his head in his hand and eyes half open, no doubt nursed a hangover. Helaena paid attention, however, scribbling down notes and listening intently. The seat between them, Aemond’s seat, remained empty.

“Ah, Your Grace,” Maester Crowlin, a middle-aged man with thinning brown hair, greeted her with a smile. “I was just teaching the Prince and Princess about the houses of The Reach.”

“That’s wonderful, Maester,” she replied politely. She looked to Helaena and Aegon, who snapped awake at the sound of her voice. “Where is your brother?”

“I don’t know,” Helaena replied.

“How should I know?” Aegon replied, irritably.

“You should know because you’re the one who was meant to watch him,” she said sharply. “You know things have not been easy since his injury. He needs to be watched.”

“He can do things himself now,” Aegon dismissed. “If he needs so much observation, why not leave him with a guard?”

“Did something happen to Aemond, Mother?” Helaena asked, ignoring Aegon.

“I hope not. Maester Hunt said he wasn’t in his room, and he needs to have his eye examined.”

“What’s there to examine? He’s already lost it.”

“Aegon!” she snapped, “He is your younger brother. Show a bit of concern.”

“Mother,” Aegon sat up in his seat and faced her. Out of all her children, Aegon resembled her the most. They shared the same nose and face shape. Her father said had he been born with brown hair, he’d be a spitting image of her brother, Gwayne. “Aemond probably snuck out of the palace early this morning and went to the Dragonpit to see Vhagar. Yes, yes, yes, I know he’s supposed to go with me or Helaena, but you know he likes to do things by himself. He’s been especially annoying about it since his accident. I’m sure wherever Aemond is, he’s fine.” When she appeared dissatisfied, he closed his book and groaned, “I’ll go to the Dragonpit and see if he’s there.”

“I’ll go with you,” Helaena said, closing her own book and standing with him.

“You don’t have to,” Aegon replied. “I can go by myself.”

“Aemond is my brother as well,” she said. “I want to see if he is alright.”

“Ugh, you women,” Aegon rolled his eyes, “Aemond’s fine. You’ll see.”

Alicent allowed her children to leave. Aegon might be a little reluctant at times, but she’d noticed a very slight change in his behavior towards Aemond. Perhaps he felt guilty for not protecting his brother. Perhaps he realized his constant bullying and teasing caused his younger brother to seek out the largest dragon and claim it as his own, resulting in the fight at Driftmark. She reassured herself that they’d find him. They had to. Where else could he have gone?

***

This was stupid. Aegon sat beside Helaena in the wheelhouse taking them through the city. He’d prefer to have gone alone, since then he can sneak into a tavern for a drink before continuing to the Dragonpit on the hill. Helaena is too soft for the city. She’s too gentle and delicate. Aegon knew the streets of King’s Landing like the back of his hand; if Aemond snuck off somewhere outside the Dragonpit, Aegon could venture alone to find him. Of course, he said none of this to his mother. She already disapproved of his lifestyle; he’d give her no more reasons to scold him.

“Do you really think he is alright?” Helaena asked him.

“Yes. He’s probably with Vhagar right now, talking to her or stroking her.”

Aemond loved dragons. He knew everything about them, and wanted one for as long as Aegon could remember. When he claimed Vhagar, Aegon admitted he’d been impressed. He never expected that from him. Vhagar is old, battle-worn, and too large for the world. Only the bravest of riders could’ve claimed her, since it is the dragon who chooses really. It made him realize that Aemond might not be as big of a twat as he’d once thought. Unfortunately, due to his injury, Aemond could not fly Vhagar right away. The Dragon Keepers heavily advised against it, since he needs to adjust to his new vision before doing so. Aegon managed to feel a drop of pity. He knew when he bonded with Sunfyre, he’d wanted to ride the dragon immediately.

“Things have not been easy for him,” she continued, “Since he lost his sight.”

“He is not blind. He has one eye left.”

“But he still has difficulty regardless. What if he flew Vhagar?”

“He’s not supposed to.”

“When has that stopped Aemond from doing anything?”

He nodded. He supposed his sister was right. He looked over at her, seeing the worry on her face. They’d been married a few months now, and he still had not taken her maidenhead. He couldn’t find it in himself to do it. He didn’t particularly like Helaena in that manner. They share nothing in common. She’d be better suited to Aemond, but his mother insisted on the betrothal. Targaryens have wed brother-to-sister for centuries; it only made sense for the eldest boy to marry his younger sister for blood purity. Aegon honestly tried, but he’d drunk too much at the wedding feast and could not perform his duty. It’d upset his mother considerably. He scanned briefly over her soft features, her dreamy violet eyes and long mane of silver hair. She is not ugly; in fact, quite the opposite. He realized this is one of the few times she spoke to him normally. Usually, she’s spitting out riddles and nonsense he couldn’t decipher. But, that wasn’t important.

“The Dragon Keepers will have stopped him. They know he cannot fly.”

The wheelhouse went throughout the city until they reached the large doors of The Dragonpit. A tall and wide fortress, Aegon knew down below were tunnels and caves where the dragons lived. The high domed ceiling brought in rays of light inside the dimly lit space. Helaena walked behind him as he approached the doors. Any minute now, they’ll see Aemond with Vhagar, bring him back to the castle, and his mother will be relieved. One of the older Dragon Keepers approached him when he walked into the center of the room.

“My Prince, welcome. Have you come to see Sunfyre?” he asked in High Valyrian.

“No. We have come to look for Aemond. He was not in his bed this morning, and our mother is concerned. Is he here?”

“No,” he shook his head. “Prince Aemond has not been here at all today.”

“Are you certain?” Helaena interrupted. “Our mother deeply worries for him.”

“I am certain, Princess. If Prince Aemond had arrived, we would have known.”

A sense of dread filled the bottom of Aegon’s stomach. “Is Vhagar here?”

“Vhagar is too big for the caves,” he said. “She often becomes hostile and irritated when left in the caves for too long, so a keeper must have let her out for a flight. But, I assure you, Prince Aemond is not here.”

“Let us check the caves,” Aegon told him. “He might have broken in when nobody noticed him.”

“I believe that is impossible. We have Keepers patrolling day and night.”

“Aemond is intelligent. He would know how to avoid detection.”

Unable to argue further, the aged Keeper went to round up others for a search party. Aegon could not go back without him. If he did, his mother would assume he hadn’t truly bothered or did not care enough to try. He’d tell her that she was wrong, but she’d never believe him. His mother often thought the worst of him. He did whatever she asked; he defended her whenever anyone spoke ill of her, and stood at her side. Still, she continued to scold and berate him. Nothing he did mattered. So, he must come back with Aemond. He needed to prove that he could do something worthwhile.

Helaena followed him into the tunnels, each sibling carrying a torch as they walked through. The thick smell of dragons hung in the air, being blown through by gusts of air. Aegon passed each iron door, taking care to mind his steps, and hoped he’d find Aemond somewhere.

“How do you speak High Valyrian so fluently?” Helaena asked him.

“What?” he looked at her, surprised by the sudden question.

“Valyrian. You speak it well. How? You hardly pay attention in lessons, but you speak it just as well as Aemond.”

Pink filled Aegon’s cheeks, but he hid them by facing forward. “I…” his stomach churned thinking about it, “I guess I picked it up quickly.”

Not completely truthful. Aegon studied High Valyrian, the language of his ancestors, in hopes of impressing his father. He knew about his father’s fascination with Old Valyria, and thought if he learned it quick enough, he might receive some sort of praise. Instead, his father simply acknowledged it. It’d been the only time Aegon showed any interests in his studies, and his father did not care. Aegon always thought he’d been the only one Viserys disliked. Aemond and Helaena stuck more to Targaryen traditions than he did. They did not disappoint anyone like he did. But, when Aemond lost his eye and his father’s true favoritism showed, he realized it was not only him. His father did not care about any of them. He did not like them. They are not offspring from his first wife, the beloved Queen Aemma, so they aren’t important.

Aegon learned that night that his mother, sister and brother were all he had left.

“You speak it very well,” she said, getting closer behind him.

“Thank you.”

Aegon noticed, as they walked, they were alone. Usually, they are surrounded by people, and Aegon has an excuse to avoid her. But right now, in the empty tunnels and caves, it was only them. He gulped, smelling a hint of her perfume in the air.

“I don’t think Aemond is here,” she told him. “We would have found him by now.”

He conceded. She was right. “Wonderful,” he sighed, “What am I supposed to tell Mother? That I failed to do the one thing she expected of me….again?”

“This isn’t a failure,” Helaena reasoned.

“We came here to find Aemond. We didn’t find Aemond. I’d consider that a failure, wouldn’t you?”

“Well,” she hesitated, following him as he started his way back, “Perhaps he’s somewhere else in the city. He could’ve tried to come here on his own and gotten lost. We can go into the city to find him.”

He snorted, “You going into King’s Landing?”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re too…”

“‘Too’ what?”

He heard the firmness in her soft tone. “There are places in the city that noblewomen like you shouldn’t go to,” he said. “It’s better if I go on my own. Maybe send the City Watch to look for him. But you, Sister, must go back to the keep. You can tell Mother that I went to find him.”

Maybe then she’ll be happy with him for once.

****

Alicent spent most of her afternoon waiting for Aegon and Helaena to return. She hoped with Helaena by his side, Aegon may actually stay on task and not be distracted. It is usually a gamble sending Aegon to do anything, since he normally came back without having done it. Sitting in her apartment, she found it difficult to eat or focus on anything else. She tried busying herself with her daily tasks: figuring out more marriage proposals, joining prayer at the palace sept, and tending to her household. She hoped if she kept her mind occupied, time would pass quickly and she’d have Aemond home soon. Yet, as the hours went on, she’d yet to receive word from Aegon or Helaena. She immediately felt guilty for asking them to go. She should have sent Ser Criston with them, but she’d tasked him with having the Kingsguard search the castle. Aemond could have easily gone down into the dungeons or be holed up somewhere else. She prayed they found him soon.

She’d been staring off into her fireplace, twirling her necklace between her fingers absentmindedly, when the door opened. She spotted Helaena first, her breath catching in her throat.

“Helaena,” she moved over to her, clasping both her daughter’s hands, “Have you found him?”

“I’m afraid not, Mother,” she said sadly. “The Dragon Keepers say they did not see him, and he was not in any of the dragon dens. Aegon went with the City Watch to look for him.”

“Aegon? Aegon is still searching?” she asked in disbelief.

“Yes,” she nodded. “He said Aemond might have gotten lost in the city, and he knows it better than me. He ordered the commander to have his men look for him, while he went on ahead to Flea Bottom.”

Alicent groaned. King’s Landing is a hub of distractions for her son. She knew he’d eventually stop looking, find a brothel or tavern, and drink the night away. He’d come stumbling back, drunk and absent his brother still. She plopped down onto her couch, poured herself a glass of wine, and drank. If Aemond is in the city, she hated to think of what might befall him. He might be mugged or assaulted. He might be murdered. She pictured a group of men hauling her son away, and trembled. Tears started to well in her eyes, while Helaena looked uncertain of what to do. Helaena. So sweet and kind, yet so unsure of certain social customs. She might have been a good match for Aemond, but Alicent wanted so badly to avoid her marrying Jace, she gave her to Aegon. She gazed outside to see the sun still in the sky. It is not too late. Aemond might come back on his own.

He was always the clever one.

“Your Grace,” Ser Criston appeared next, giving her a bow when addressing her.

“Ser Criston,” she breathed, putting her cup down to walk over to him, “Have you found him?”

“I’m afraid not, My Queen,” he replied apologetically. “We searched the entire keep and found no sign of Prince Aemond.”

She groaned in despair. “Where could he have gone?” she asked him, her composure starting to slip. “Aemond is not one to stray away from home. He never leaves the Keep except for the Dragonpit. Why would he leave and not tell me?”

She paced. Her nerves refused to let her sit any longer. Briefly, she thought of Rhaenyra, who’d tell her to breathe deeply and bring back her focus. She’d felt it slipping so often these days. Losing Aemond had only worsened the anxiety in her bones. She suddenly started picking at her nail beds, but immediately stopped herself.

“The Prince will be found, Your Grace,” Ser Criston said gently. “Prince Aemond is a smart and capable young man. I’m sure wherever he is, he is safe.”

“We do not know that,” she cried. “We do not know because he is not here. He…” she breathed deeply again, “He must be so frightened.”

“He is fine,” Ser Criston reached for her, and brought her over to sit. “Hopefully, Prince Aegon will return with good news.”

“Or drunk.”

“Aegon would not drink now,” he insisted. “Not when his brother is missing.”

“You do not know Aegon.”

“I know that he cares for his little brother,” he said, “And you and Helaena. You are all he has. I trust Prince Aegon is doing his best to find Aemond right now. We must practice patience and wait for news.”

She’d done her waiting. Far too much of it. She would not be satisfied until her son came home.

****

Rhaenyra stood on her balcony overlooking the ocean. Her eyes stared right at the darkening clouds ahead of her. Rays of yellow and orange broke through the thinner clouds, while night time began overcoming them. Nobody saw you all day. Septa Sarisa said you never showed up for any of your lessons. Maester Gerardys said you hadn’t visited him today. Jace and Luke said they had not seen you either. She’d sent the household guard to search throughout the castle, but no sign of you was found. Rhaenyra could not help imagining the worst.

You’d run away.

“Rhaenyra?” she heard Laenor call gently behind her.

“The sun is almost going down,” she told him, sniffing back worried tears. “She always comes home before sundown. She doesn’t like flying at night. She says it’s harder to see.”

“I’m sure she’ll be home soon,” he comforted, putting his hands on her shoulders. “You know our little dove. She gets carried away when she rides.”

“She does love her adventures.”

It was true. It wasn’t uncommon of you to take long trips, and come back with treasures or stories for your brothers. Lords and ladies often spoke of seeing Starshine soaring through the skies above them or the young princess showing up at their doorsteps with her dragon. They commented that you were a courteous guest, who never overstayed her welcome. You liked being free in a world where you’re given so little of it. Rhaenyra never scolded you. Westeros may one day become yours; you should know its people. But, you always came home. That was the one thread of hope she clung on to.

Laenor saw the concern, and said, “If she is not home in an hour, I will send men into the village to look for her. She might have lost track of the time in a pub or a pot shop there.”

You didn’t drink. You are far too young for ale or wine. But, you did enjoy the songs, the people, and the stories. She knew you talked to certain people in the small village below. It was another freedom Rhaenyra let you explore at your leisure. Her father let her have those small bits, so she let you have them as well. Rhaenyra consented to this, and decided she’d dress for dinner. Her lady-in-waiting helping her, she imagined where you might be right now. She smiled thinking of you sitting on a bartop in your riding leathers, listening to a bard play a raunchy song you’re too young to understand. You’ll be talking with the barmaids or the barman, asking curious questions about commoners’ lives. You might find a group of sailors who recognized you, who’d tell you stories from across The Narrow Sea. If anything, with the Gods’ favor, you might’ve run into a man from Driftmark, who will bring you to Dragonstone safely.

Rhaenyra arrived for dinner, and saw Jace and Luke sitting with Laenor. She’d fed Joffrey already, and left him to sleep in his cradle. Her eyes swept over the table over and over as if she might’ve missed you somewhere.

“Y/N-” she began to say but Laenor stopped her.

“I sent men into the village,” he said. “They’ll come back with her, I’m sure of it.”

“Mother,” Luke spoke when she sat down, “Did Y/N run away?”

“Of course not,” she assured him. “Why would your sister run away? Her home and her family are here.”

“She cried a lot when you told her she wouldn’t marry Aemond,” he replied, sticking his fork into a thick slice of beef. He tried cutting it on his own, but Laenor came to his aid. “What if she ran away to King’s Landing?”

“Your sister wouldn’t do that. She’s most likely in the village, like your father said.”

“What if she’s not?”

This question came from Jace. She saw the sullenness in his face, and frowned. “She is. Don’t worry about your sister,” she said to them, “She’s a strong girl. She can handle herself.”

Rhaenyra forced herself to swallow her own words. You might be a girl, but you are strong. You ride the fastest dragon of the clan; the Dragon Keepers told her a rider needs a specific kind of strength for that. You stand up and face things, rather than sit down and take them. If you are lost somewhere, you will make your way back home. Rhaenyra told herself if you did not appear by morning, she’ll take Syrax and look for you herself. She distracted herself with her husband and sons, anxiously awaiting news from one of the guards in the village. It wasn’t like you to be so late.

***

They didn’t find him. Aegon returned to her as the night grew darker, sweaty with his hair tied from his face, stinking of the city, and without Aemond. Her stomach dropped. She thought she might be sick. Alicent plopped back onto her couch, no longer interested in the food on the table nearby. One plate was picked at, while the other untouched. She had the cook make Aemond’s favorite dinner, as if the Gods might bring him back to her if she did this. Her father stood nearby, silent and concerned as she wept.

“I will have the men keep looking,” he told her, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Aemond cannot have gone far. Even if he did, he’d come home soon. He’s a good boy.”

Yes, a good boy. Her good boy. Her son. Images of Aemond in various disastrous scenarios filled her head, and she stopped herself from sobbing. Aemond’s disability only made things worse. The world did not build itself for a boy missing an eye, and it will not adjust either.

“He must be in so much pain, Father,” she wept, tears watering her eyes, “His eye…It pains him so…How is he going to manage without his medicine? He must be suffering so much.”

“Aemond is fine,” he assured her again. “Alicent,” he turned her to face him, “Aemond is a strong, smart, capable boy. He will come home.”

“Aemond’s not dim-witted,” Aegon chimed in. When they looked at him, he continued, “I mean to say that he will not go into situations blindly. He’s cautious.”

“I will send word to lords nearby,” her father told her, standing up, “And tell them to keep an eye out for the prince.”

“Psh, tell them to search the skies, if they must,” Aegon scoffed. “Aemond wouldn’t go anywhere without Vhagar.”

“The Dragon Keepers told you nothing of the beast?” Her father asked him.

“Only that she doesn’t fit in the dragonpit, so they release her from time to time. They say she most likely was let out by a keeper…”

Her father studied her son, “And you believe differently?”

“I think Aemond snuck out of the keep sometime during the night when the rest of us slept,” he began, “And made his way to the dragonpit. King’s Landing at midnight is the perfect time for a prince to go walking about without being noticed, and Aemond is short. He can easily be overlooked. He cannot get into the dragonpit without alerting anyone, so he must’ve waited until they released Vhagar. Then it is a matter of waiting for her to land. Aemond calls her when he needs her, and she obeys.”

Alicent looked upon him in surprise. Aegon is often fully in his cups by night time, so he isn’t much use to anyone. She’d fully expected to hear he’d lost himself in a pleasure house or a tavern, but he’d come to give his report himself, fully sober. It comforted her that even if he pretended otherwise, Aegon did care in his own way. She loved that about him.

“Are you saying he’s run away?” her father asked him.

“It is a possibility. Otherwise, where is he and why has he not come home? Aemond would have at least left a note or given worse of his whereabouts to not upset Mother,” he answered. He watched both of them for a moment and said, “I’ll take Sunfyre and go searching in the morning.”

“Aegon, that is not my wish,” she stood up and walked to him. “If something ill has befallen your brother, I do not wish for it to happen to you.”

“I will be fine, Mother. I know the city and the lands around it,” he then gave a reassuring smile, “I pay attention in lessons occasionally.”

She gave him a soft smile, caressing his cheek. Moments like this were rare and few in between, but she cherished each one. Her eldest. Her wildest, most reckless child. The boy who is prone to distractions, libations, and indulgences. She kissed his cheek, then released him.

“I will go with him,” said Helaena, who’d stopped sewing to speak.

“You do not-” Aegon began but was quickly cut off by Helaena.

“-I will,” she said firmly, staring at Aegon. “Aemond needs all of us, not just you.”

Yes, he needed them all.

***

She’s majestic. Aemond could not think of any other word; it fit her perfectly. Laying in the grass outside the little shack, a blanket of darkness went over the sky so it was dotted with stars. Aemond rarely saw the stars in King’s Landing; the city lights and tall towers blotted them out. Yet, here in this quiet island devoid of people, he saw every single one. He enjoyed connecting them together to make his own constellations and shapes. Then, he realized he’ll only ever see half the sky again.

“Do you think anyone is worried about us?” you asked him.

“I’m sure my mother is,” he answered. “She has been very…suffocating lately. She made Helaena and Aegon watch over me all the time; she never lets me out of her sight and is always fussing over me.”

“She only cares about you.”

“But it becomes bothersome,” he replied. “Your mother must be worried about you too.”

“She will be, I suspect.” You both sat in silence for a while, then you asked, “Aemond?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think they’ll ever find us?”

Aemond would rather imagine anything else. Their little island is not too far from Driftmark, he knew. It’s possible a passing ship might see Vhagar or Starshine flying around and tell Lord Corlys, your grandfather. He knew both your families will find you soon. It was honestly only a matter of time. His hand grasped yours absentmindedly.

“It’s possible,” he said, not wanting to lie to you. Aemond wished he could; he wanted you to be in the here and now with him, not in the miserable future. “I hope they never do. My mother wants to betroth me to someone else.” If he never went back, then he couldn’t marry another girl. “She told me she’s found girls she thinks will suit me well.” He turned to see your stony face, eyes flared slightly with jealousy. “But, I don’t like any of them. Truthfully. I’ve never met any of them before.”

“What if she marries you to Floris Baratheon?”

“Who’s that?”

“One of Lord Borros’s daughters. She’s said to be very pretty.”

“My mother could marry me to the prettiest girl in the world, and I still wouldn’t like her as much.”

This made you smile softly, turning your head to look at his. He loved how your eyes glimmered when you looked at him. It made such a difference from those he received at home.

At home, people turned their heads whenever he walked past. Even if he wore his eyepatch, they knew what laid underneath it and it disgusted them. His mother told him wearing the patch will protect his socket from any further damage, but he knew the real reason. Such a hideous scar churned the stomachs of most proper ladies. They saw his injury and looked away, pretending not to notice the wound starting above his brow and down to his cheek. What girl would want to marry him when he was missing parts? An important part, he might add. It made living so much harder. All the skills he’d learned from Ser Criston with both eyes, he must relearn with only one. Ser Criston, thankfully, is an understanding teacher, who has taught him new maneuvers and techniques to use against well-visioned opponents.

He’d begun to ask if you wanted a cinnamon bread he’d brought with him before a stabbing pain came to his eye. Aemond bolted upright, cupping the pain surging in his socket. It throbbed. It ached. He gritted his teeth. He ripped off his eyepatch and put his palm to the wound. They’d taken the stitches off already, removing the eyelid since he no longer needed it, so the socket remained empty. He growled through his pain, hardly hearing anything you said. His normal eye started to tear up. No. No, you can’t see him cry. You can’t see him like this. Quickly, he ran away towards the trees. He heard you calling after him, but he continued running. The forest was darker at night, so he couldn't see with his regular eye.

“Aemond, wait!” he heard your voice echo through the forest. “Please, wait! Aemond, it’s not safe-”

He hadn’t seen the tree. Aemond charged right into the trunk on his left side, the force knocking him onto his back and making his shoulder burn. He had not dislodged it, but the pain still burned. Aemond curled into a ball on the ground, clutching his eye and weeping. He heard your footsteps disturbing the twigs and leaves on the ground until you knelt beside him.

“Aemond,” you said softly, persuading him to sit up. He heard you uncork a bottle, “Drink this, please. It’ll help you feel better.”

Milk of the poppy. He’d stolen it from the maester’s stores before he left, but he hoped not to need it. Aemond sat up shakily, gingerly taking the bottle and sipping it. The herbal milk thickly coated his tongue, yet he still drank it. In a few minutes, his pain would subside, but the throbbing pain of his socket continued to plague him.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” he said to you, drawing his knees to his chin and not looking at you. “It…It still hurts sometimes.”

“I’m so sorry, Aemond,” he felt your delicate fingers brush through his hair. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“But, it’s my family’s fault you’re suffering this way now.”

Aemond thought about that night. He’d felt so confident; he’d finally claimed his dragon, and you’d be in love with him for sure. Aemond remembered thinking he might kiss you the next time he saw you. Then, your brothers and cousins ruined it. They’d attacked him when all he’d done was claim a dragon. The other riders taunted him for not having one. He thought it only made sense to have that same behavior. Why was it alright for them to bully him, but not for him to bully others? They’d maimed him, and never said they were sorry. His own father did not care.

“Here,” you handed him his eyepatch, “You dropped this.”

“Thank you.”

He turned his head and placed it back on his head. He didn’t want you to see it. If you saw it, you’d be disgusted with him and leave. Aemond already hated seeing the wound itself in mirrors; he hated imagining your face when you did.

Slowly, you and Aemond walked back to the house. You let him rest on the bed rolls that replaced the bug-infested straw mattress, while you made a fire in the hearth. Soon, warm light spilled from the fireplace and filled a part of the house. Aemond wondered how people lived in such small houses. You suspected a family once lived here, since you’d found broken toys behind a divider with a rotting bassinet. The back door led to a small campfire with a spit hanging over it, a rack for hanging animal skins implied that they must’ve hunted for their food. It must’ve been a simple living. People in King’s Landing navigated dangerous back alleys and streets, while people on this island lived quiet lives. Seeing you standing by the firelight, he realized he might like living this way. No servants whispering and spying on him. No fretful mother or indifferent father. He could live this way with you for as long as he could.

“Is it better?” you asked carefully, coming towards the bed.

“A bit,” he said.

You’d gone behind the wooden divider to change into your nightgown, a long dress that ended at your ankles. A cool breeze blew in through the open windows, combatting the warmth of the fire. Aemond’s cheeks grew hot when you slipped underneath the blankets faintly smelled of dragon; he remained on top to avoid your bodies touching. You still snuggled close to him, the closest your body has ever been to his.

“Isn’t it uncomfortable?” you asked. “Wearing the patch to sleep?”

“No,” he fibbed. He normally didn’t wear it to bed, but his stomach tightened taking it off in front of you.

“You don’t have to hide it from me.” The words broke the silence that’d grown between you. He caught you gazing at the patch. “I won’t think any less of you for it.”

When he did not respond, you gingerly reached forward. His entire body stiffened as you gently removed the patch. He sensed the gasp you withheld. An empty hole remained where his eye once was; the dark, scarred tissue around the socket made for an unpleasant sight. It disgusted him sometimes. The heat of tears rushed up his neck to his face, causing him to bury it in the pillow. He wished you’d never removed it.

“I’m a monster,” he sniffled, not looking at you. “You wish to marry a monster.”

“You’re not a monster, Aemond. You’re strong and brave and smart. Very smart and very brave.”

“Please, do not lie to me.”

“I never have,” you insisted, scooting towards him. The warmth of your body under the thin sheet spread over his own. “Aemond,” you slipped your hand under his cheek so he looked at you, “You’re the only one out of all of us who approached Vhagar…Vhagar, the oldest and mightest dragon of them all. You bonded with her because…because she sensed your courage and strength. Vhagar is too big for the dragonpit, so I think she’s sort of gotten used to being alone. When you approached her, she might have seen that you were lonely too, and wanted you as her rider.” Your thumb wiped the tear going down his temple, “I do not care if you’re whole or not, I still am…fond of you.”

‘Fond’. You’re ‘fond’ of him. You’d never love him; not now that he’d lost his eye. It’ll keep you from loving him completely. Every dream he had of you suddenly vanished, and he cried again. The thoughts he once envisioned of you two being like Jaeheryes and Alysanne would forever remain daydreams. How could you possibly love him when he looked like this? He blamed your brothers. They’d attacked him, and were never punished. They didn’t want him to marry you, so they took his eye. Now, the words ‘I love you, Aemond’ will never fall from your lips.

You put your arms around him as he laid on his back, the sheet still separating you, and you let him cry. He forced himself to keep them quiet, but his shaking body gave him away. Neither of you said anything, yet your gentle squeeze of assurance soon quieted him. Finally, the medicine started working its magic, and he soon fell to sleep beside you.

****

A/N: Awww, poor Aemond! Poor everybody really. These kids really have everyone worried, but they only want to be together <3 I really enjoyed writing this chapter, so I hope you guys liked it! Thanks for reading, as always.

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x yn #house of the dragon #hotd drabbles #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #ewan mitchell #leo ashton

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 3 months ago

Note

What are the WIPs that you decided not to write because other people posted similar ideas?

I will not be telling because I will not be posting them. They've all been deleted. This is why I hate when people sent the same request to multiple writers...

Don't worry, I have a lot of wip that I'm working on at the moment. Here's a few:

Bet we’d have really good bed chem | Cregan Stark x Reader office Modern AU

You’ve never read office romance novels, but your life quickly becomes one when your eyes fall on the new managing director of Velaryon Importation. The only issue is, you don't share the same time zone.

A night of ice and fire | Cregan Stark x Velaryon twin!Reader x Jacaerys Velaryon

After two weeks of negotiating with Lady Jeyne Arryn, you fly to Winterfell to join your twin brother and reward yourself with a sweet treat from the North. Dragons were known to be possessive and jealous, but Jacaerys was not — as long as he could join.

We said ‘baby, no attachment’ | Aegon II Targaryen x Reader Modern AU

You both said 'no attachment' every time Aegon would take you into his bed. It was the same music all of summer, and you truly had never been happier. When August ends and college starts again, you are forced back into your respective lives. You try to forget him, but when a first date turns sour, you realize that the one your heart wants is your roommate’s brother.

#ask #about requests #aegon ii targaryen x reader #cregan stark x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader

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ao3feed-tywin · 1 year ago

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Gendry's Son | Male Reader X Harem

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/cgpi4zK

by Hollunk

After a 30 year reign, Y/n Baratheon has fallen on the field of battle. Facing the final Blackfyre Rebellion. Taking the final Blackfyre down with him. But he refuses to give in to death, and is reborn in the body of the supposed second son of Robert Baratheon, Orys Baratheon.

Words: 3623, Chapters: 1/3, Language: English

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

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage

Categories: F/M

Characters: Sansa Stark, Arianne Martell, Elia Sand, Daenerys Targaryen, Margaery Tyrell, Myrcella Baratheon, Original Female Character(s), Reader, Ashara Dayne, Jeyne Westerling Stark, Cersei Lannister, Robert Baratheon, Joffrey Baratheon, Tommen Baratheon, Ned Stark, Tywin Lannister, Catelyn Tully Stark, Brandon Stark, Bran Stark, Robb Stark, Jon Snow, Gendry (A Song of Ice and Fire), Arya Stark, Benjen Stark, Jon Arryn, Varys (A Song of Ice and Fire), Petyr Baelish, Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Olenna Tyrell, Bronn (A Song of Ice and Fire), Sandor Clegane, Brienne of Tarth, Thoros of Myr (A Song of Ice and Fire)

Relationships: Sansa Stark/Original Male Character(s), Arianne Martell/Original Male Character(s), Elia Sand/Original Male Character(s), Daenerys Targaryen/Original Male Character(s), Margaery Tyrell/Original Male Character(s), Myrcella Baratheon/Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s), Ashara Dayne/Original Male Character(s), Jeyne Westerling/Original Male Character(s), Catelyn Tully Stark/Original Male Character(s), Cersei Lannister/Original Male Character(s)

Additional Tags: Aunt/Nephew Incest, Sibling Incest, Shameless Smut, Older Man/Younger Woman, Older Woman/Younger Man, Westeros (A Song of Ice and Fire), Essos (A Song of Ice and Fire), Greyjoy Rebellion | Balon Greyjoy's Rebellion Against the Iron Throne, Parent/Child Incest

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/cgpi4zK

#ao3feed #fanfic #ao3feed tywin #ao3feed tywin lannister

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 4 months ago

Text

The Prince - Chapter Four

A/N: Hello friends! This chapter is one of my favorites, full of angst and longing (my favorite things to write). I got to write from Rhaenyra's perspective, too, which was a new challenge. Please let me know what you think and if you'd like to be tagged! Thank you for all your support of my writing! It's been so long since I've been invested in a story and part of that is due to your encouragements. <3

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 3.8k Synopsis: Things come to a head, as a tense argument breaks out in the Dragonpit. Jace reaches out to his mother for help.

Tag List: @rinisfruity14, @gaiaea, @rexorangecounty

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

The next few days pass in a blur. Jace is embarrassed; you rejected him. But more than anything he is frustrated. You didn’t reject him because you don’t share the same feelings, you did so because there is not a chance for the two of you to be together. Jace can’t change the fact that he is a prince, and even if he wasn’t betrothed to Baela, you are still titleless.

The truth of what you said in the gardens settles within him. So few got to marry for love. But his intentions have still not changed. He will keep fighting for you, he will find a way to change the current situation.

He spends the next few days staying away from you, shielding his pride, and coming up with a plan.

When he arrives at his mother’s door, a few nights after the garden, he doesn’t even realize he has come there, until he is knocking on the door. He is let in right away, and he finds his mother dining alone, smiling at something Elinda says.

“Mother,” he says. He cannot remember the last time he came to his mother’s chambers like this, upset and unexpected. His mother looks up with a smile, at the sound of his voice, but it falls when she sees his face.

“Jace?” she asks, standing up, “What is it?”

“I request an audience with the queen,” he says, straightening his spine, hoping to emphasize the severity of his arrival. A hesitant smile breaks across his mother’s face, and she lets out a chuckle.

“What is this?” she asks.

“Please,” he says. Something in her face changes at his look. She gives a curt nod to the maids, and they scurry out of the room. Once they are gone, Rhaenyra leans against her dining table, looking at him with curious eyes.

“You have the floor, Jace,” she says. He takes a breath, giving himself one second before he throws his entire life into disarray.

“I want to end my betrothal with Baela,” he says.

Rhaeynra knows Jace completely. He is part of her, after all. Her first son, her rock in so many ways during the war. But sitting at the head of her table the next day, watching her son speak with Baela, she is seeing someone new.

Jace has had a hard life. He’s seen so much heartbreak – chief among them, the loss of his brother. But through it all, he has always been a prince. Strong when he needs to be, with a kind heart, and a devotion to duty. She has never known him to bock at responsibility, in fact, he often seeks out more. He is the example of a perfect prince, a perfect son.

She chides herself for not realizing sooner that something has changed with him.

She remembers vividly the day he came back from the North, so many years ago. Just that short trip had made him grow up so much. She had foolishly assumed it was only due to the loss of his brother, that had flung him into adulthood. But he had grown on that trip, excelled with the lords and ladies he met with, brokered deals for her, and apparently, had fallen in love.

There were thralls of guests at her table, but Rhaenyra didn’t pay them any mind. She barely even looked at Daemon next to her, or Joffrey on her right. All night, her eyes were on Jace, and his were on you.

Rhaenyra didn’t know much about you. You arrived in King’s Landing about two months back. When Jeyne Arryn had requested you to take ward here, Rhaenyra had thought little of it, so entrenched in the war. Even when you had arrived, she didn’t think much of it. There were so many faces coming and going in the Red Keep, you were just another one, albeit a beautiful one.

She knew that you were close with her younger boys, and Rhanea, too. She had seen Jace spending time with you, but she hadn’t noticed his feelings. She sees them now, though.

You are a beacon for Jace. Every move you make, whether it’s to laugh at your tablemates, or simply flicking your long hair over your shoulder, Jace’s eyes follow. And to Rhaenyra’s surprise, your eyes search for him just as often. A few times, your gazes collide, and a blush forms on your cheeks.

She thinks back to Jace’s words in her chambers. She had been completely blindsided. They had grown apart, now that he was older, and the war was over. They had begun to explore separate paths. But she thinks, even if they had been as close as they used to be, she still might have missedthe change.

“I want to end my betrothal to Baela,” he says. Rhaenyra looks at him, speechlessly, shaking her head to make sure she heard him correctly.

“What?” she asks.

“I want to end my betrothal.”

“Where is this coming from?”

“I have fallen in love,” he answers. She studies his face, as if she hasn’t seen him until now.

“With whom?” she asks quietly.

“Y/N Arryn.”

She believes him now. She had been worried, when he told her, that he was being compelled by lust. But watching him now, it was true love in his eyes. And beneath that, lay a sadness she knew all too well.

Rhaenyra wants him to have everything. He deserves everything. But he is a prince, and he has a duty to his country to marry well and produce noble heirs.

If it had been another highborn lady he was betrothed to, the choice might have been easier. But this was Baela. Rhaenyra loves her, and she knows Jace does, too. Just – not in the way he feels for you.

“What would we tell Baela?” she asks.

“I- I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head. “But it’s killing me, not to be with Y/N.” Rhaenyra frowns at her son, cupping his cheek gently with her hand.

“I made a promise to Rhaenys years ago, that I would wed our families together.”

“I know,” Jace says, his voice hollow.

She searchs his face for a long moment. She wants to tell him no. There is no way it would work out, but he had already seen so much heartbreak in his life. And she knew the pain of an arranged marriage.

So, she hadn’t told him no. She told him she had to think about it. But she saw, it wasn’t going to be an easy answer, either way.

The next morning, Jace finds you reading in a corner of the castle, alone. It is the first morning you’ve spent in so long without Rhaena at your side, talking over suitors, or meeting with those suitors themselves.

Seeing Jace, at first, makes you blush, remembering the night in the garden. But then you settle when you realize how much you’ve missed him. He has become one of your closest friends here, regardless of the feelings you have grown for him, and not seeing him the last few days had hurt.

“Good morning, My Prince,” you say as he sits across from you.

“No one is here,” he says with a frown, “You can call me Jace.”

“Why are you up so early, Jace?” you ask. He gives you a soft smile and sighs, hopefully letting out the tension in his shoulders.

“I couldn’t sleep. I thought I might see Vermax, go for a ride,” he says.

“Is it tiring to ride a dragon?” you ask.

“It can be, I suppose. Although Vermax is gentle, when he wants to be.” His eyes flick to yours, and for some reason, you get the sense you aren’t just talking about his dragon anymore.

“It’s hard to imagine a creature of that size being gentle,” you say, closing your book.

“You should come see for yourself,” he says simply.

“What?”

“Come with me to the dragon pit. I’m sure Vermax would love to meet you,” he says with a smile.

“I don’t desire being burnt alive,” you say quietly, leaning in conspiratorially. Jace laughs softly, the dimple in his cheek prominent.

“Vermax would never hurt you if you’re with me,” he says. “I promise.”

“Well, I did come to King’s Landing to further my education. Feels wrong to come all this way and not see its dragons up close.”

The entire walk down to the pit, you are anxious. Your heart thuds and your breathing is shallow. You are starting to regret your agreement in coming down when Jace grabs your hand for one second and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You’re safe, Y/N,” he says as he guides you into the entrance of the Dragonpit. The look in his eyes makes it easier to believe him.

The pit is dark, even at the first light of morning. The temperature is at least ten degrees warmer, and there are sounds you can’t begin to distinguish coming from somewhere deep. Jace leads you to a long platform that looks over a slope. Glancing down at it, you see the tread of giant clawed feet. You take in a quivering breath as Jace greets one of the dragon handlers and requests that Vermax be brought out.

“Doing alright?” he asks, coming to your side.

“Yes,” you say, in an unconvincing manner.

“Vermax is on the smaller size,” he says lowly, “Although I wouldn’t repeat that to him.”

“Even small dragons are massive,” you say. Jace looks at you with a smile, opening his mouth to say something, when you hear a sound coming from the dark entrance to the pit. You move behind Jace out of instinct, as a very large green dragon walks towards you. Jace laughs to himself.

“You’re alright,” he says softly as the beast comes to a stop. Vermax turns his attention to Jace and lets out a breath of steam. You grasp onto Jace’s shoulders, momentarily terrified.

“Hello to you, too,” Jace says with a laugh. You sigh when you realize the steam must have been a sign of affection.

Vermax moves his massive head closer to the two of you, close enough that Jace can pat his snout. You want to shrink behind Jace, want to run, but you know that quick movements around a dragon are not wise.

With his other hand, Jace reaches behind himself, and grabs hold of yours. He doesn’t let it go.

“Do you want to say hello?” he asks, and you aren’t sure if he’s talking to you or the dragon. Vermax’s eyes look to you then, and a shiver of fear races over you. “I promise, he’s scarier than he looks.” Vermax chuffs in response to Jace.

Slowly, you move to Jace’s side, dropping his hand for only a moment to switch which one you’re holding. You give yourself a moment to relax before meeting Vermax’s eyeline.

“Okay, now slowly raise out your hand,” he says. You do as he says, your limb shaking at the movement. Vermax’s snout, which is a good five times larger than your hand, sniffs at the palm. You wait with bated breath, until he nudges against it, and lets you rest your hand on him. You let out a sigh, relaxing as Jace smiles.

Now that you’re this close and settled, you realize that Vermax isn’t entirely green. There are spikes of orange-red that run down his neck. The contrast is striking.

“Oh,” you say with a sigh, “He is beautiful.”

“I’m in love with you,” Jace says in response. You whip your head to him so quickly, something in Vermax’s demeanor changes. Jace tenses and puts out a hand to the creature, at the same moment, pulling you back a step. It’s only a second, and then Vermax eases. Jace turns back to you and reads your wide, sad eyes.

“Whatever you’re going to say,” he says, “Don’t. It’s going to hurt me, and Vermax won’t like that.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you say, whisper soft. Jace shrugs.

“I don’t either.”

“We talked about this in the garden, it’s not something—” You stop when Vermax shifts again. Another breath of steam washes over the two of you, but this one somehow feels warmer, deadlier. Jace sweeps you behind him, holding you close to his back.

“Y/N is our friend,” he says to the beast, his words firm. “Our friend,” he says, and this time, chances a glance back at you at the word, friend.

“Maybe I should go,” you say. You realize you are still holding onto him, and then how much you don’t want to let go.

“He’ll settle,” Jace says, his hand covering yours, resting on his shoulder.

“Yes, but will I?” you ask, making him let out a tut of laughter.

“Alright. I’ll be back in a moment,” he says to Vermax. The dragon trills in response. Jace takes your hand and guides you back towards the Keep. “Don’t worry, everyone feels like this when they meet a dragon for the first time.”

“He really is beautiful,” you say, “In the most terrifying way possible.”

“Vermax is well tempered,” he says, “Be grateful you never saw Vhagar.”

“The stories were horrifying enough,” you say as you come to a stop outside the door to the castle. Your hand is still in Jace’s, the Dragonpit far behind you. You drop it, trying to do so indiscreetly, but Jace notices the absence and sighs.

“You were going to kiss me, you know. Back in your chambers,” he says. You stutter over a response, shaking your head in disbelief.

“There was one moment, yes,” you say, “But then I came to my senses.”

“No, Brigitta walked in,” he says, stepping closer to you. “That’s why you didn’t. And now, you can't even hold my hand.” He gestures around the empty space. “No one else is here!” he shouts. Below, Vermax calls out in response.

“You don’t get it,” you say softly, trying to keep your frustrations at bay.

“What don’t I get?” he asks.

“Do you know what I risk, just being alone with you? You are our crown prince, Jace, there is very little you can do to damage your reputation. If one person gets the wrong impression about us, if we give in to this feeling—” You stop when he moves closer still, his eyes alighting.

“I would be ruined,” you say. “It wouldn’t matter that you are the prince. I would be tainted goods.” He snarls at the description.

“Y/N,” he starts, but you reach for his hand, stopping him.

“Jace,” you say breathlessly. “I wish there was a way but—”

“What if there was?”

“There’s not.”

“I asked my mother to end my engagement.”

“You what?!” you ask much too loudly, stepping back from him.

“I assumed you’d be pleased,” he says, hurt etched into his features.

“What did she say?”

“She is considering it,” he says. You sigh, leaning against the rocky cave wall. “There are a lot of moving pieces.”

“Of course there are. You and your family just went through so much grief to assure your mother’s claim to the throne. Why risk any of it again?”

“Because I love you,” he says plainly.

“We shouldn’t even be discussing this. We need to forget this; you need to forget me.”

“You act like it is so easy,” he says, approaching you again, “Tell me, have I confused your feelings for my own?”

“No,” you say quietly. “It’s not easy, at all. But what makes it harder is the fact that you keep bringing it up. You keep giving me hope,” you say, meeting his eyes. His are wide and nearly pull you in with the affection you find there.

“But there is hope.”

“Your mother is not going to cut Baela out like that,” you say, “And even if she did, I am no queen.” He looks at you sadly, like he wants to argue.

“You would make a good queen, Y/N,” he says delicately. You scoff. “Don’t you think I’ll be a good king?” he asks.

“Of course I do.”

“Then you know that I wouldn’t make the wrong woman queen.” He moves closer, taking your hands in his. He studies the way your hands fit into his, before speaking. “But even if my mother doesn’t agree, who is to say we have to be married? That we have to fight our feelings?”

“You’re suggesting I become your whore,” you say, face paling as you pull away from him.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he says, reaching for your hand. You stay just out of his reach. “You would be taken care of—”

“Think of what you are saying,” you spit, “I would be an outcast. I would be your whore, and Baela your lady wife. Any children I bore you would be bastards. Is that what you want?” you ask. You think there might be tears forming in his eyes.

“Of course not,” he says firmly.

“As much as I wish things could be different, Jace, I just don’t foresee them changing. But you wound me, every time you get my hopes up.”

“You are not the only injured party, Y/N” he says. “What would you have me do?”

“Let me find someone else,” you say quietly. “Let me do what I came here to do and then I’ll be gone.”

“And I’ll just have to watch you with someone else?” he asks in disgust.

“Is that not what you just suggested I do with Baela?” you ask. He groans, gripping the railing along the walkway tightly.

“So, let’s say I agree to let you find someone else.”

“Let me?” you ask incredulously.

“That I stop fighting for you,” he corrects with a roll of his eyes, facing you again. “What if my mother changes her mind?”

“She won’t.”

“What if she does?”

“By then, it won’t matter to you anymore!” you exclaim.

“What?” he asks, brow furrowing.

“These feelings will die, if we let them. You’ve had this crush for so long, you think that our story must end with us together, but it doesn’t have to be that way.”

“Y/N,” he says with a shake of his head.

“Let’s just call this what it is – an attraction that we danced around for too long.”

“Do you think me so foolhardy? That I would confuse lust with love?” he asks, taking your face in his hands, so you can’t turn away from him. “I am not that boy you met in the Vale years ago.”

“I know,” you say, putting your hands around his wrists.

“I have laid with women before.”

“Jace.”

“I have even thought I was in love,’ he says. “But never, did I feel anything close to this.” You close your eyes with a sigh, leaning into his palm. His thumb brushes your cheek as he frowns at you. You are speechless. You believe him, want to believe that his hopes can come true, too, but the logical part inside of you is more insistent than your heart.

“I just—” you start, sighing when his face falls. “Jace,” you say smally. He pulls away from you, retreating. “I think we need some time apart, to figure things out.” You are certain there are tears in his eyes now. He bites the inside of his lip and nods.

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t be,” he says.

“Jace,” you say, “We have to try.”

“Okay,” he says with a shrug. He looks so broken, you don’t want to leave him there, but you know there is nothing you can say right now to make him whole. You slip out the entrance, and it’s not until you get to your chambers that you let your own tears fall.

You are filled with so much anger. Anger at your father for fucking up your life in the first place. Anger at Lord Yorbert for arranging your initial betrothal. Anger that Lord Blacktyde left you so cautious about your next match. And anger that no matter how much you know you need to stay away from Jace, you can’t seem to.

You think you know the reason why, but you aren’t ready to face it yet.

Jace spends most of the day flying. The fresh air and altitude seem to clear his head a little. The moment in the Dragonpit never fully leaves his mind. He wants to do what you ask, because of the pain on your face, the pain he could practically feel himself.

But he loves you and doesn’t want to be apart from you. He thinks he might go see his mother when he lands, plea to her again. He needs advice at least on how to navigate this next bit.

When he gets to the Dragonpit, though, his mother is already waiting for him. He dismounts and moves hurriedly towards her.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, breathlessly.

“There is trouble in the Iron Islands,” she says. “It seems skirmishes have been breaking out since my ascendence.”

“Ser Tyland?”

“He’s there now, fighting for what he claims is Lannister territory.”

“You want me to go lend our assistance?” he asks. She searches his face, a sad smile on her own.

“It will be dangerous.”

“I assume so,” he jokes, making her laugh to herself. “I’ll be careful,” he adds.

“I know you will.”

“I’ll leave tonight,” he says, “There’s just something I need to do first.” She examines his eyes, like she knows what he has to do, but she doesn’t argue. She just nods and leans in to kiss his forehead.

“Thank you, Jace.”

Night has fallen over the keep, and it is improper for him to go to your chambers this late, but he wants to see you before he goes. He must. The hallway is empty, save for one guard posted at your door.

“Your Highness,” he says, standing up straight. Jace knocks on the door and your maid, Brigitta, comes to answer it a full two minutes later. She does not look surprised to see him.

“Your Highness,” she says in greeting, curtseying as the door shuts behind her.

“I need to speak with Y/N,” he says. The color drains from Brigitta’s face.

“I’m sorry, My Prince, Lady Y/N does not wish to see you,” she says, whisper soft. Embarrassment floods his cheeks at the uncomfortable looks the guard and Brigitta give him. He isn’t sure why he is shocked at this answer, you had said that you needed space.

For one horrible second, he thinks about ignoring your request and ordering his way into the room. But he knows that would just make you angry.

“Very well,” he says with a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Brigitta says again.

“Don’t be. Can I request a favor?”

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

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laenyrasdarling · 5 months ago

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what to request ₊˚ପ⊹ how to do it

here’s a mostly all-encompassing guide on how to make a request to me! see this list for context specifics, and the second post linked above for how to submit your formed request!

.ೃ࿐ characters;

✦ rhaenyra targaryen, laena velaryon, alicent hightower, rhaenys targaryen, helaena targaryen, mysaria, jeyne arryn, rhea royce, aemma arryn, elinda massey, & alys rivers

.ೃ࿐ poly ships;

✦ rhaenyra/laena/reader, alicent/rhaenyra/reader, rhaenyra/rhaenys/reader, rhaenyra/helaena/reader, rhaenyra/mysaria/reader & elinda/rhaenyra/reader (but do ask if i’m open to one i haven’t listed above!)

.ೃ࿐ no;

✦ male characters x reader, character x character fics, modern au’s, male!readers, explicit gore/injury, original characters, & very intricate requests (i prefer to work from prompts/short requests)

.ೃ࿐ yes;

✦ targcest & velaryoncest, infidelity, arranged/forced marriages, slice of life fic, poly fics, gender-neutral!readers, non-canon compliant plots (ie the dance doesn’t happen, certain marriages don’t exist/people don’t die, etc), smut of most varieties (threesomes, praise/degradation, semi-public/public sex, punishment kink, power dynamics, dubcon, anal), & any and all fluff

.ೃ࿐ types of content;

✦ short fics (<700 words), headcanons, blurbs, & preferences

ೃ࿐ reader descriptors;

✦ targaryen/hightower/velaryon!reader, kingsguard/queensguard!reader, physician!reader, small council!reader, servanr!reader, knight!reader, lady-in-waiting!reader,

ೃ࿐ examples of requests;

✦ “hii could you please write some rhaenyra/rhaenys/reader fluff headcanons?”

✦ “a helaena drabble with an age gap and some praise?”

✦ “i’d love a laena fic where she teaches a reader who’s afraid of water how to swim/sail”

✦ “could you maybe do your take on what would’ve happened if the reader had been married to rhaenys when she got passed over for the throne? with some comfort and maybe a little smut as they help rhaenys work through those emotions”

✦ “a rhea fic where she survived daemon’s nonsense, and the reader came across her soon after and helped her back to health pls?”

#.crystal communications

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vanilleandclove · 5 months ago

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the meadow in which you lay | 3

ser erryk cargyll x arryn!reader | chapter three: one for glory, another for honor

When Prince Lucerys's claim to Driftmark is question, your cousin seeks your support as a pillar of strength. It has now been a near six years since you've seen your lover, you are near strangers, but no different.

word count: 2.4k | warnings: criston cole is a bitch, alicent got ate up twice, sexual references, give the reader a damn s** t**, clear description of wounds and stitches | a/n: did i accidentally age down jeyne? yes. rip jeyne arryn you would have loved pride month. (i still believe jeyne would have been great friends with luke and jace in my always correct opinion). also, three posts back-to-back??

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taglist: @wolvestitches @holb32 @callsignwidow

"They mean to call Lucerys's claim to the Driftmark throne? What business do I have there?" you questioned your brother deeply, as Jeyne returned back from her walk with Jessamyn and greeted you both with kisses on your cheeks. "The Vale has Jeyne for it to be protected, I owe no business to defend the piss poor Hightowers" you continued.

"Rhaenyra, our cousin. If you can help her defend Luke's claim, they would not question defending her either" your brother reasoned, only leading your sinuses to burn and head to pound.

"Brother I know you mean well, but you know exactly what they think of our cousin and nephews" you responded, "And what treacheries Criston Cole rallies into Alicent's ear about me".

"And your paramour, Ser Erryk Cargyll" your brother quirked, only leading you to glare at him. "I believe it would strengthen your reputation and our cousin's".

"I or he would have to be married to be a paramour brother, watch your tongue".

"He is married to law Y/n, I only mean to protect you" your brother defended himself, "A Kingsguard is no-".

"No match for a husband, yes, I know and made acutely aware of said fact" you interrupted, "I do not need protection brother, I never needed protection" you continued, "I will go to court only if our cousin requests me to" getting up from your seat at the table and merely walking off until your brother spoke up.

"If you plan to avoid the knight, surely you can tell him by raven that you do not mean to continue your affections had you be in King's Landing" and with that suggestion came the fall of your heart, how deeply it shattered.

You simply nodded, not looking your brother in the eye after his suggestion, you could not. If you return to court, they will twist your words, they will make a spectacle about you just as they've done to your cousin. By proxy, they'll call into question the honor of your lover. He may have loved you, tasted you, and garnered your affections, by textbook, he broke no oath. By the conservative opinion of the Hightower's, he was a sinner, he had committed blasphemy.

That night you sat pondering on your vanity chair, cursing the gods for making you in love with a man you cannot have. As you toyed with the rings that laid on your fingers, you wondered if the world be different, if a wedding ring would be donned on them. A Kingsguard is no match for a husband, luckily you did not want to be matched to another. Who is to say you were a match to a wife, as the high lords sat like puppies to Otto Hightower, with the exception of the Vale, Riverlands, and the North. You once told Ser Erryk you loved him, you told a knight you loved him, words only a fool would utter.

You ended up returning to court as Rhaenyra summoned you, the journey more exhausting than last. Six years have passed, Rhaenyra's boys have grown into young men, Laena's daughters as beautiful as always. You had greeted them upon their arrival as they trailed just behind you.

"Forgive us for always meeting in the worst of circumstances cousin" Rhaenyra sighed, her stomach had homed another child, you hoped it'd be a girl, knowing Rhaenyra always wanted a daughter or sister, "You've seemed to be glowing".

"I believe it is the thick air cousin" you laughed, "Daemon" you nodded at the Prince.

"Have you seen him yet?" Daemon asked, only earning a confused look from you. "The King".

"They would not let me visit, though I am sure they would let the Heir and his brother see to his bedside" you answered Daemon, "You two visit, I will see to it that the children will be settled down". Both Rhaenyra and Daemon nodded to your kindness.

You signaled the children to follow you, it had been years since they step foot into the Castle. Lucerys and Jacaerys found their way to the Red Keep to evaluate the guards practice, you'd join them after showing Joffery to his quarters and Rhaena to her twin sister.

At the Red Keep you quickly saw Erryk and Arryk sparring one another, as well as the spectators flooding the floor to oversee Criston and Aemond sparring. The Prince disarmed the cocky bastard, you snickered only to be caught by the cocky bastard himself.

"Lady Arryn you seem to be fond of the Red Keep, would you like to spar with us men? We have heard of your fierceness in the fields, granted, we hope you are just as fierce in bed" Criston smiled smugly.

You smiled back before looking at your nephews "Fetch me a Morningstar boys, and a shield, for Ser Criston" you instigated, all eyes now landed on you, including the Cargyll twins.

"Morningstar? To a sword fight? Scared to be disarmed?".

"Oh no you wound me Ser" you laughed as Lucerys handed you the Morningstar and Criston the shield, "Only to prevent another bloody fight like you started at my cousin's wedding".

As you waved the Morningstar around, you blocked several hits from Criston, hitting his shield twice which resulted into breaking it in half. After which you disarmed yourself, handing the Morningstar back to Lucerys, you quickly tripped the knight with your legs and climbed on top of him, his hands situated at your waist before you violently dislocated his shoulder before putting it back into place. His screams shocked the spectators, but it was not until he pulled out a blade and stabbed into your thigh did they react.

"Enough!" Erryk quickly intervened, seeing the bloody mess that leaked from your thigh, the rage that coursed through your veins immediately translated to you removing the blade and stabbing into Criston's hand to pin him to the ground once and for all. Though Erryk must admit, your sheer violence to the knight was, well sexy, it did not discount your own injury and how that worried him.

"See to that the Lady Arryn is handled by the Maesters, Ser Criston as well" Arryk told several guards, you looked at your nephews with pride before speaking.

"Now that is how you get bloody revenge" they both laughed and beamed as Erryk carried you bridal style in order to maintain pressure to your wound, you caught a glimpse of Aemond as he had a look of shock. "Ser Arryk, please do not make a fuss of this to my cousin, granted Alicent might have my head for damaging her beloved whore".

Arryk only laughed at your words before Erryk swiftly walked through the halls, quick to enter your chambers and assess your wound that was bleeding profusely.

"You are mad at me" you spoke up as Erryk cleaned your wound, long minutes have passed since he undressed your bottom half of clothing, his hands were gentle but his gaze not, "Talk to me Erryk".

"Ser" he spoke up before cauterizing the wound in order to stitch, leading you to yelp out in pain and grip his free hand, "You could've gotten yourself killed Lady Arryn, you know well of Ser Criston's temper just as much as I".

"Well Ser, it was only a demonstration".

"You are a woman, a Lady no less, if one peeped to your brother, they would have his head on a spike in the Vale, granted the loves you gained in the North and the Riverlands would surely support his beheading" Erryk critiqued, before grabbing the needles and stitches, giving your legs another look.

"I know I am a woman, I know I am a Lady as well Ser Erryk" you fought back, "You want his head on a spike and hide behind the idea of my brother wanting to kill him, knowing fully my brother would not cause such hysterics unless he'd be backed by Rhaenyra and the bitch Hightowers were gone from court" you scoffed, only earning a small smile from the knight due to your obscenities. "Do not take your anger out on me Erryk, I know you better than anyone" you pleaded, the knight's quip to hurt you by not allowing you to refrain from politics and formalities.

He started the stitches before saying "Six years, I am near twice the man you left Lady Arryn" he started, one stitch fully weaved as you bit your lip to distract yourself from the pain, "Granted, I have never bedded a woman, nor have I sought the company of one seeing that I am bound to the King. I do not own lands and I know plenty of Prince Aegon's depravities. I know more of the histories of Westeros, better yet I know how to make the unmarried, fierce, who most claim to be barren, Lady Y/n Arryn, cum. I am a man, still the man you once loved" Erryk teased, weaving the second to last stitch.

"You take pride in the fact that you know how to get me off?" you chuckled, feeling the heat pool in between your legs.

"I take pride in the fact that you loved me" Erryk sighed, finishing the stitches before aiding you into dressing up and standing on your feet, "Though, I must say no food or sweet in the land can match the sweetness of you, Lady Arryn".

These past six years taught you more about restraint than you bargained for truly, if it were not for your wound and the oath being a vow of chastity, you'd wager that Ser Erryk would have already been spilling his seed in your womb, but, restraint.

"I still hold the same amount of love for you just as I did when we were younger" you told him, he shook his head once more as your confession rolled off your tongue, "I do not jest, I just know the repercussions that you can face. I can handle the great and smaller houses calling me a whore, I cannot handle you being exiled, perhaps beheaded for betraying an oath to the King".

Erryk stood there for a moment, afraid of his words betraying him and hurting you, "I'd give the King my neck if it meant you'd love me" he told you, his hand lightly grazing your knee, your pupils dilated as your eyes only focused on your lover. Emotions of love and pain in unison synchronized between the two of you, as if your energies converged with one another. Warmth and frost rushed through your blood.

"I love you, but that does not mean I am able to lose you like every wife who marries knows…" you started, when you marry one, the implication of death separating you when the gods take your lover is evident and prepared, "A life without you is not a life I want to live Erryk, you have taken my heart when I was barely a lady, now I am a woman and my loyalty to you never wavered- neither my pride".

A knock interrupted your conversation, causing you to jolt and Erryk to discard his hands from your body. "You may enter!" you cleared your throat, being met with Alicent.

Her eyes bore into your soul, she took notice to the knight in your chambers, "Back to your post Ser Erryk" she commanded, you took a glance at him, nodding for him to be eased into his dismissal. As he left, Alicent's lips pursed, you did not fear her no matter how much she wanted you to.

"You are excused from court Lady Y/n Arryn, may you begin your journ-".

"I did not come for you, Alicent" you interrupted, "I came to court for the likes and commitment to my dear cousin, not the Hightowers".

"Just your 'dear' cousin?" Alicent quirked a brow, "Or the lover you parade around who is clearly breaking an oath he made on his own, which should be punished as such".

"As such? What your father, the usurper, would have his head for simply being a trusted friend of mine?" you scoffed, staring back at her wildly, "Lay a finger on Ser Erryk or Arryk, you will be waging a war you and your father cannot fund or survive. You forget, we were never once sisters as you propagate everyone to believe, your victimization may work in the throne, but when it comes to one of the greatest houses, it falters".

Alicent smiled in fear as you were now face to face, "One day I hope we can be friends".

"I hope you find solace in the fact that we never will be. Your grace".

As you all gathered in the throne room to contest the ascension of Lucerys to the Driftmark seat, as Lord Corlys health was questionable, the tension was thick. You still wondered what Rhaenyra needed you for in the means of defending your nephew's claim. Vaemond's vile insults that led to Daemon slicing his head in half, bringing the arguments to a close as there was no one else to contest Lucerys parentage and claim.

"Will you join us all for supper cousin?" Rhaenyra asked as you walked towards the Godswood tree, "Please I would not be able to tolerate Otto and Alicent alone".

"Only for you cousin" you giggled, "I take she informed you of the incident in the Red Keep this morning?".

"How is your leg?" Rhaenyra implored, observing how your leg had a faint limp to it, "She also insinuated you and Ser Erryk were engaged in- rather sexual activities".

"I'd need more than a half hour with him Rhaenyra" you quipped, "Criston is a cunt, if you asked me, I would not let him take my maidenhead" you looked to her, she rolled her eyes at the remark.

"We all have our regrets; you chose the better knight".

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