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kckt88 · 4 days ago

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Scorched Hearts XXI

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

Jaehaerys is plagued by guilt but then recieves comfort from an unlikely source.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Violence, Guilt, Remorse, Fear, Uncle/Niece Incest, Mention of Brother/Sister Incest.

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 8550

A.N - Used Young Aemond as Face Claim for Rhaegar..

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx

Jaehaerys lurched awake with a strangled gasp, his body drenched in cold sweat. His heart hammered in his chest, each beat like the heavy thud of a war drum.

His breath came in ragged gasps, and his limbs felt heavy, as if the weight of the dream still clung to him, suffocating him with its intensity.

Valaena's screams echoed in his ears, a haunting, call that seemed to reverberate through his mind, pulling him deeper into a panic he couldn’t escape.

What did I do? What have I done?

His thoughts screamed as he frantically rubbed his face, his hands shaking uncontrollably.

The overwhelming fear surged through him—his heart pounding in his throat, his chest tight as if the air itself had become too thick to breathe.

His eyes darted around the room, wild with panic.

I didn't mean to—how could I?

His thoughts spiralled, faster and faster, as his head pounded with the realization of what he thought he had done.

A wave of nausea hit him, and his stomach turned over.

It wasn’t real. It can’t be real.

But even as the words whispered in his mind, a cold shiver of doubt ran down his spine.

He grabbed his head, feeling the pressure building in his temples. His heart still raced, threatening to burst from his chest, and his hands trembled violently.

Was it real? Had he-had he crossed a line?

Gods, no, no!

He could feel the weight of it pressing in on him, suffocating him with dread.

It had felt so vivid, so real, like he had actually been there, standing in her chambers—like he'd done things he could never undo. His breath hitched as the fear gripped him tighter.

It wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this. I didn’t mean to hurt her.

Panic surged again, a tidal wave crashing over him as his mind replayed the dream in fragments. He couldn’t even process it all.

Valaena, her voice, her warmth, the desire that had sparked within him so suddenly—he was terrified of what it meant, the panic in her eyes, and the way she struggled against him as he held her down and forced himself upon her.

The guilt, the fear, the confusion—how could he have let himself do that? How could he have hurt her?

Jaehaerys curled in on himself, knees pulled to his chest as if trying to protect himself from the overwhelming terror.

His hands trembled, and his body felt unsteady, like the ground beneath him might give way at any moment.

Aemond was going to come for him. He was sure of it. There was no other explanation.

His uncle had threatened him, his voice cold and lethal, warning him to stay away from Valaena.

He had crossed a line—he knew he had. And now, Aemond would make him pay for it.

He’s going to kill me.

The thought kept repeating itself in his mind, over and over, like an unshakable chant. Jaehaerys couldn’t push it away.

His stomach churned, and his breath came in shallow gasps, as though the very air was too thick to breathe.

The weight of his fear felt unbearable, suffocating.

The memory of Aemond’s glare, dark and filled with an intensity that made Jaehaerys shiver, haunted him.

He could still feel the burn of it, still see his uncle standing there, unmoving, like a predator waiting to strike.

And the worst part was that Jaehaerys didn’t know how to stop it, didn’t know how to take back what he had done. His mind raced with thoughts of how Aemond might come for him, what kind of death he might face.

What if he comes here tonight? What if he sneaks in through the shadows and ends it all?

Jaehaerys stood suddenly, his heart skipping a beat at the thought.

He couldn't stay here. The walls felt like they were closing in, suffocating him in a way that made his head spin.

He stumbled toward the door, the fear in him growing like a storm threatening to break. He had to escape.

He had to get away before Aemond found him.

His legs were shaky, unsteady as if they were betraying him, but he pushed himself forward anyway. His fingers grazed the door handle, but before he could open it, he froze, hearing the distant sound of footsteps.

Aemond.

It’s over. He’s coming to kill me.

Jaehaerys’ breath hitched as the sound of the footsteps grew louder, closer, and a cold sweat broke out across his forehead.

He quickly pressed his back against the door, trying to steady himself, but his hands were slick with nervousness, his heart thudding in his chest.

I’m not ready for this.

His thoughts scrambled in a panic. The tension in his body coiled tighter, like a string pulled too taut.

The door creaked slightly, and Jaehaerys’ breath caught in his throat. His mind raced, and he spun around, unsure whether to fight or flee.

His body was frozen in place, rooted to the spot by a fear that held him captive. Aemond was close, closer than ever, and Jaehaerys couldn’t stop the torrent of fear that overwhelmed him.

The footsteps stopped outside his door. Jaehaerys could hear his heart in his ears now, louder than anything else, drowning out all other sounds. The seconds stretched into an eternity.

This is it. I’m done.

He closed his eyes, trying to breathe through the panic, but it felt impossible. His hands shook violently, his pulse erratic.

Please don’t let him come in. Please don’t let this be the end.

The door handle shifted, just slightly, as if someone was testing it. Aemond, no doubt. The thought sent a fresh wave of terror coursing through Jaehaerys' veins.

He was sure of it now—Aemond was coming for him, and there would be no mercy.

The door creaked open just a little more, and Jaehaerys’ chest tightened. He felt like he was going to collapse under the weight of his fear.

Then, the door was yanked open, and Jaehaerys nearly collapsed in shock.

But instead of Aemond, it was Ser Willis, his loyal protector, standing in the doorway, his face a mask of confusion.

"I thought-" Jaehaerys gasped, his voice barely more than a whimper. He could feel his stomach churning as his mind struggled to make sense of the chaos swirling inside him. "I thought he was coming for me. I thought Aemond-was going to kill me."

His eyes were wide with fear, his breath catching in his throat. He couldn’t stop the tears that burned in his eyes. His entire body trembled, as if a thousand cold hands had grabbed hold of him, squeezing him tight.

Ser Willis, standing in the doorway, frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. His gaze softened slightly as he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. "Your uncle, my Prince? Why would he come after you?"

Jaehaerys’ breath caught in his chest as he tried to make sense of the words, but his head was spinning too fast. He couldn’t think straight.

Aemond’s going to kill me. He’ll make me pay for what I’ve done. I couldn’t stop myself.

"He warned me," Jaehaerys gasped, his words spilling out in a frantic rush. "He told me to stay away from Valaena. But I couldn’t-I couldn’t stop myself-" His voice cracked, a broken sob escaping his lips. "I-I shouldn’t have done it. I didn’t mean to-I hurt her, Willis. I hurt her. I attacked her. I-"

The room seemed to close in around him, the walls pressing tighter with each word, each breath. He could feel his chest tightening, suffocating him. His vision blurred, the world spinning wildly before his eyes.

Ser Willis, still unsure of what was happening, took a step forward. "What did you do, my Prince?"

Jaehaerys’ breath hitched “V-Valaena. I attacked her-I f-forced m-myself-”

He could feel his chest tightening, the bile rose in his throat.

With a strangled gasp, he lunged forward and threw up onto the floor, his body trembling violently.

The panic gnawed at him like a vicious animal.

Ser Willis stepped back, his eyes wide with shock, but he quickly rushed to his side. "My Prince, you never left your chambers last night."

Jaehaerys wiped his mouth, gasping for breath. His hands shook uncontrollably as he wiped his face with the back of his sleeve, struggling to focus.

"I-I didn’t?" he muttered, his voice shaky and disoriented. His mind felt like it was unravelling.

"No, my Prince," Ser Willis said gently, his voice steady in contrast to Jaehaerys’ hysteria. "You remained in bed all night. You didn’t leave your chambers. There’s no way you could’ve-hurt her."

Jaehaerys’ eyes were wide with disbelief, his breath ragged as he tried to process the words.

I didn’t? I didn’t leave?

He staggered back, his knees weak as his mind raced. "I didn’t-I didn’t hurt her?" he repeated, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Ser Willis nodded; his expression filled with quiet reassurance. "No, my Prince. You were in your chambers. You didn’t leave. Whatever happened last night-it wasn’t real. It was just a nightmare, my Prince."

Jaehaerys’ chest heaved as he tried to steady his breathing. His mind struggled to make sense of everything.

The panic hadn’t faded, but the gnawing dread that had taken root was now tangled with confusion and shame.

"I-I thought it was real," Jaehaerys murmured, wiping his face again, his hands still trembling. "I thought I-I thought I-"

"Shh." Ser Willis placed a firm hand on his shoulder, his grip warm and comforting. "It was just a nightmare. You didn’t hurt anyone. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re safe, my Prince."

Jaehaerys swallowed hard, his heart still hammering in his chest. He looked up at Ser Willis, his eyes red and wide with fear. "But-but Aemond, he’s going to kill me, isn’t he? He’s going to find out, and-"

"No," Ser Willis said firmly, cutting him off. "Aemond is not going to kill you. You’ve done nothing wrong, Jaehaerys. You’ve just had a bad dream, nothing more."

Jaehaerys nodded weakly, still unable to shake the panic that clung to him. The fear was still there, lurking in the pit of his stomach, but now-now it was mixed with a strange sense of confusion. He wasn’t sure what was real anymore, and the feeling of being trapped in his own mind was almost too much to bear.

"I didn’t leave my chambers-" Jaehaerys repeated softly, his voice trembling. "It was all in my head-I didn’t hurt her-I didn’t-"

Ser Willis nodded, giving him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. "No, my Prince. You’re safe. Just breathe, Jaehaerys. It’s over."

But even as Ser Willis spoke, Jaehaerys couldn't shake the terror from his bones. His world felt like it was tilting, and the shadow of Aemond’s threat still loomed over him like an ever-present nightmare.

He could still feel Valaena, he could still hear her screams.

The fear was real, and it was crushing him from the inside out.

Jaehaerys pressed himself deeper into the shadows, his breath coming in shallow gasps. Ser Willis’s repeated assurances that what had happened was just a bad dream hadn’t settled the fear gnawing at him.

He couldn’t shake the terror, the vividness of it all. His mind kept replaying the images of that night—Valaena, his actions, the helplessness he had felt.

He couldn’t rest until he knew the truth, until he could see with his own eyes that nothing had happened.

He glanced over his shoulder, ensuring no one was nearby. The corridor was quiet, save for the distant chatter of people moving down the hall. He saw his twin sister Jaehaera pass by with their grandmother, Alicent, deep in conversation.

Jaehaerys recoiled into the shadows, avoiding them.

They wouldn’t understand. His mother—his dear, sweet mother—would never forgive him for what he thought he had done.

And his sister, his beautiful sister-gods she would surely turn from him.

The shame, the disgust, would surely consume them all.

What if I have ruined everything?

The thought kept swirling in his mind, heavy and suffocating. He couldn’t even look at his family, let alone face Valaena after what he had done. He had defiled her—the future Queen—and now he would be cast out.

I could run, he thought suddenly. I could take Shrykos and disappear. Fly across the Narrow Sea, never to be seen again.

But then another thought came to him: Or I could face the consequences. Be a man and accept whatever punishment comes my way.

The bile rose in his throat again as he took a few unsteady steps into the corridor. He couldn’t shake the fear—his heart hammered in his chest.

Suddenly, his worst nightmare stepped into the corridor.

Aemond.

Jaehaerys froze. His blood ran cold, and panic gripped his chest like a vice.

This is it. I’m dead. He’s going to kill me.

His feet stumbled back, his body pressing against the cold stone wall, trying to retreat from his uncle’s approach.

Aemond’s presence felt like an unrelenting storm, and Jaehaerys could do nothing but tremble, his entire body shaking as he slowly slid down the wall, landing with a thud on the floor.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but wait for Aemond to strike. His heart raced, and the terror that had already been bubbling in his chest exploded in a wave of panic.

Then, a shadow loomed over him.

"Jaehaerys?" The voice was calm, gentle—too gentle.

He looked up, and to his shock, saw Valaena standing before him, her face a mix of concern and confusion. His resolve broke instantly.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” He choked out, lurching forward and wrapping his arms around her legs, burying his face against her. "I didn’t mean to-I swear I didn’t-I hurt you—"

Valaena looked down at him, her eyes wide with confusion. "What’s wrong, Jaehaerys?" she asked softly.

Jaehaerys gasped for air, his words tumbling out in a frantic rush. "I hurt you-I-I didn’t mean to-I swear-I swear I didn’t mean to-" His body shook violently as he tried to explain, but the words wouldn’t come.

The guilt and shame crushed him from the inside out.

Aemond, who had stopped next to Valaena, frowned, his brows furrowing with concern. "What’s going on here?" he asked, his voice quiet but carrying an edge of confusion.

Jaehaerys, still on the floor, lifted his head and pushed himself to his knees. His hands were shaking violently, and his voice trembled as he spoke.

"Go ahead, Uncle-I accept my punishment. I deserve it."

Aemond blinked, utterly confused. "Punishment? For what?"

Jaehaerys’ eyes were wide with panic, his voice rising in pitch as he stumbled over his words. "I hurt her! I hurt her-I attacked her. She said no, and I-I didn’t mean to, but I-I didn’t stop-" His body was trembling uncontrollably now, his breathing erratic.

Aemond stood there for a moment, his confusion mounting. "What are you talking about, Jaehaerys?" His tone was sharp, but there was a flicker of concern beneath the anger. "What did you do?"

"I-I hurt her, Aemond! I did, I-" Jaehaerys sobbed, his voice breaking under the weight of his own terror.

Valaena, still standing, looked at Aemond, her brows furrowing. "I think-I think we should get Helaena," she suggested quietly, worried about the hysterical state Jaehaerys was in.

Jaehaerys’ eyes went wide, panic overtaking him again. "No! Not my mother, please!" His voice was a desperate plea, his hands trembling as he pressed them to his face.

Aemond, whose expression had shifted from confusion to something deeper, stepped forward and knelt beside Jaehaerys. He looked up at him, his voice low but firm. "Come with me, nephew," Aemond said quietly. "We need to talk."

Jaehaerys hesitated, the fear still clouding his mind, but then Valaena, who had been standing helplessly to the side, placed a hand on his shoulder. Her voice was soft, almost soothing. "It’s okay, Jaehaerys. I think you just need someone to talk to. Aemond will help you."

Jaehaerys nodded shakily as he rose to his feet, still unsure of what was happening.

But before he could fully comprehend it, his arms shot forward and he wrapped himself around Valaena in a tight hug, his body still trembling violently. "I’m so sorry, Valaena-I didn’t mean to hurt you-Please-"

Valaena, taken off guard, awkwardly patted his back. "I’m fine-really. It’s okay," she said softly, trying to comfort him despite her own confusion about the situation.

Aemond, now watching the scene with a mixture of concern and confusion, said in a quieter tone, "Come, nephew. Let us talk."

Jaehaerys slowly released Valaena, standing up unsteadily, but still shaking. Valaena remained standing there, watching him with a perplexed expression on her face, her confusion written across her features.

Jaehaerys glanced over his shoulder at her before following Aemond down the corridor, the weight of his fear still pressing on his chest.

Aemond led Jaehaerys through the silent pathways of the Red Keep, his pace measured and his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.

They emerged into the gods wood, the ancient weirwood tree standing stark and pale against the sky.

Aemond stopped beneath its branches, turning to face his nephew. His gloved hands gripped the hilt of his sword as he studied Jaehaerys with his single sharp eye.

"So," Aemond began, his voice calm but firm, "-do you want to tell me what all that was about back there?"

Jaehaerys hesitated, the urge to lie flickering briefly in his mind. But he knew better.

Aemond would see through any falsehoods, and besides, the weight of his guilt was too much to bear. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Jaehaerys spoke.

"I-I fear that I attacked Valaena," he confessed, his voice trembling, he could feel the bile rising again at the thought of what he thought he had done.

Aemond tilted his head slightly, his gaze unwavering. "You didn’t attack my wife," he said evenly.

Jaehaerys stepped forward, his desperation evident. "Are you sure? I-It felt so real. I can still hear her screaming, telling me to stop-"

Aemond shook his head. "I can assure you, nephew, that you did not attack my wife."

"But-but are you sure?" Jaehaerys pressed, his voice cracking.

Aemond’s expression remained firm as he answered, "I am fairly sure. Besides if you had attacked my wife-” His tone darkened, the faintest edge of threat colouring his words. "-You’d already be dead."

The blunt statement sent a chill through Jaehaerys, but he couldn’t shake his unease. "It just felt so real," he murmured, his voice breaking. "The thought of hurting her that way-it makes me feel sick." His breath quickened, panic overtaking him as he buried his face in his hands. "W-What’s wrong with m-me? H-How c-could I?"

Seeing his nephew on the verge of hysteria, Aemond’s expression softened. He stepped forward and pulled Jaehaerys into a firm embrace.

Jaehaerys struggled for a moment, but the weight of his emotions overtook him, and he collapsed against his uncle, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Shhhh-" Aemond murmured, his voice low and steady. "It’s okay. It sounds like it just a bad dream, nothing more."

"I’ll leave," Jaehaerys gasped between sobs. "I’ll go to Oldtown-or maybe Driftmark with Jace and Baela. I can’t stay here."

Aemond pulled back slightly, his hands resting firmly on Jaehaerys’ shoulders. "Why would you do such a foolish thing?"

Jaehaerys wiped his eyes, his breathing ragged. "Because I can’t look Valaena in the face. It may have been a dream, but it terrified me—that I could-that I might-" His words trailed off, his guilt and fear evident.

Aemond cupped Jaehaerys’ face with both hands, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Listen to me," he said firmly. "I do not believe you capable of such a thing. You have your mother’s gentle heart, Jaehaerys. And you’re not going anywhere."

"But-but you said that if I ever looked at Valaena, you’d skin me alive and feed my body to Vhagar," Jaehaerys stammered.

Aemond exhaled heavily, his expression shifting. "Look, I admit I may have gone overboard with my threats. I love my wife very much, and I’m possessive of that love. Growing up, I didn’t have much of it, and there are days I still fear losing what I have."

"Father once told me that my Grandsire didn’t like him," Jaehaerys murmured.

Aemond huffed softly, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "Good King Viserys cared more about his precious Rhaenyra than any of us. We were nothing more than afterthoughts. Growing up like that wasn’t easy."

"And Valaena?" Jaehaerys asked hesitantly.

Aemond’s expression softened, his gaze distant. "Valaena showed me love. She taught me it wasn’t a weakness but a strength. She made me feel valued, appreciated-wanted." He looked back at Jaehaerys, his voice steady.

Jaehaerys shook his head. "I’m sorry that I-that I like her. I try not to-"

"It’s okay," Aemond said simply.

"Maybe if I put effort into finding a wife, I’d forget about her," Jaehaerys suggested hesitantly.

Aemond smirked faintly. "Perhaps. But don’t push yourself into something you’re not ready for."

Jaehaerys managed a small smile. "You give good advice. Maybe I should come to you instead of my Father."

Aemond chuckled, the tension between them easing. "Going to Aegon for advice is like asking Daemon for eyebrow maintenance."

Jaehaerys blinked, then burst into laughter. "But Daemon doesn’t have eyebrows!"

"Exactly," Aemond said with a rare grin.

As Jaehaerys’ laughter subsided, Aemond’s expression turned thoughtful. "Speaking of Aegon’s great advice. Your visits to the brothel-are you being safe?"

Jaehaerys flushed but nodded quickly. "Yes. I don’t finish inside."

"Good," Aemond replied, nodding approvingly.

Jaehaerys hesitated before adding, "When I told Valaena about it, she said the name Sylvi was familiar to her."

Aemond sighed deeply. "Because of me. Sylvi was my first. I was taken to the brothel on my thirteenth name day."

"It was Father, wasn’t it?" Jaehaerys asked quietly.

Aemond nodded. "Yes. He said it his duty to ensure that I was as educated as he was."

Jaehaerys wrinkled his nose. "I always thought Valaena was your first."

"She should have been," Aemond admitted. "But she wasn’t."

Jaehaerys shifted uncomfortably. "The woman I see at the brothel—her name is Marra. But she wasn’t my first either. It-it was Jaehaera."

Aemond raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Does anyone else know?"

Jaehaerys shook his head. "No. Jaehaera seems like she doesn’t want to get married, but she wanted to experience the touch of a man, and I offered—"

Aemond held up a hand. "I get it. I just don’t want to hear about it."

Jaehaerys nodded quickly, his cheeks flushing. "I also-um-laid with one of my maids, but Grandmother found out and sent her away."

Aemond sighed, shaking his head. "That’s why you should be more discreet."

"Thank you, Uncle," Jaehaerys said earnestly. "For everything."

"You’re welcome," Aemond replied, clapping a hand on Jaehaerys’ shoulder. "Now, let’s head back. I don’t want my wife thinking I’ve done away with you."

Jaehaerys hesitated, then asked shyly, "Do you think-Shrykos and I could accompany you and Vhagar sometime?"

Aemond smiled faintly. "I would like that. And I promise, Vhagar will not devour you."

"Good to know," Jaehaerys said with a nervous laugh.

Together, they turned back toward the Red Keep, the tension between them finally eased.

A few days later, Jaehaerys hovered awkwardly in the doorway of Aemond and Valaena’s chambers, shifting from foot to foot.

His gaze darted around the room; his nerves plainly visible in the way he wrung his hands. The air smelled faintly of lavender, and the soft crackle of a hearth fire filled the silence.

The chambers looked so different from how they had appeared in his dream — warmer, brighter, more alive. It eased his anxiety, but only a little.

"You can come in, Jaehaerys," Valaena said gently as she approached, carrying one of her twins in her arms. Her tone was soft but firm, like she was coaxing a skittish animal.

Jaehaerys blinked and nodded, slowly stepping inside. His eyes darted around, lingering on the tapestries, the neatly folded blankets, and the cradle near the hearth.

It all felt so ordinary, so safe — and yet, a lingering unease still clung to his heart.

"Looking forward to flying with Aemond?" Valaena asked, her voice light as she adjusted Vaelarra on her hip. "I hear your father invited himself along."

Jaehaerys managed a small, sheepish smile. "Yes-and you know my father. He doesn’t like being left out of anything."

Valaena snorted, amused. "As always." She glanced toward the cot, hearing a soft stirring from within. Her other child, Vhalarr, had woken. "Oh, would you mind holding her for a moment? Vhalarr’s waking up."

"Uh—" Jaehaerys started to protest, but Valaena had already moved forward and placed Vaelarra into his arms. His breath caught in his chest; arms stiff as if he were afraid to drop her.

But slowly, instinct took over, and he shifted his hold, supporting her head the way he’d seen others do.

Vaelarra gazed up at him with wide, violet eyes — so calm, so watchful. She didn’t cry, didn’t fuss, only blinked as if she were studying him.

"You're honoured, you know," Valaena said with a glance over her shoulder as she scooped up Vhalarr from the cot. She rocked him gently, patting his back with practiced ease. "Usually, she screams at everyone except me, Aemond, or Rhaegar."

Jaehaerys looked down at Vaelarra, her tiny fingers curling and uncurling against his tunic. A smile tugged at his lips. "Maybe I’m just good with children."

"You could be right," Valaena replied, swaying slightly as she settled Vhalarr against her shoulder. "No doubt you’ll make a fine father one day."

Jaehaerys chuckled softly. "I’d have to find a wife first."

Valaena glanced at him knowingly. "What about Jaehaera?"

Jaehaerys froze. His heart thudded in his chest as panic flickered in his eyes.

Had Aemond told her? Did she know?

Valaena turned back to him, one brow raised as if reading his mind. "I notice more than people realize," she said casually. "I see the way she looks at you, and the way you look at her when you think no one else is watching."

"She’s my—" Jaehaerys stammered, his throat suddenly dry.

Valaena tilted her head. "Like that’s ever stopped anyone in this family. You know our customs as well as I do, I’m married to our uncle after all-"

"I know," Jaehaerys muttered, glancing down at Vaelarra. "But shouldn’t I marry outside the family? Form alliances, strengthen House Targaryen, all that nonsense?"

"Not necessarily," Valaena replied, gently rubbing Vhalarr’s back. "What’s to be gained from such a match? Besides, the Queen gave you leave to choose your own bride."

"Jaehaera doesn’t want to marry, though," Jaehaerys pointed out, his brow furrowing. "She’s said as much before."

"Has she told you that directly," Valaena asked, "or have you simply assumed?"

Jaehaerys opened his mouth to reply but stopped, frowning. "Well-she mentioned not being keen on the idea of marriage, but—"

"Maybe she was only saying it because she thought it’s what you wanted to hear," Valaena suggested, her eyes sharp with insight.

Jaehaerys blinked, her words sinking in like stones falling to the bottom of a pond. It made sense, but the realization filled him with a strange, twisting feeling in his gut. He glanced down at Vaelarra, his heart suddenly heavier.

Was that really it? Had he misunderstood Jaehaera all this time?

Before he could linger on it, Valaena smiled at him. "Or," she added softly, "perhaps it’s best not to push yourself into it until you’re ready."

Jaehaerys looked up at her, surprised. "Uncle Aemond said the same thing."

"Sometimes," Valaena said with a small grin, "Aemond gives good advice."

Jaehaerys huffed a short laugh, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. "Perhaps I should have come to him for advice from the start. Maybe then—"

"I’m flattered, you know," Valaena said suddenly, turning toward him fully, her expression open but kind. "That you find me appealing-"

Jaehaerys froze, his heart thudding painfully. "I—" he stammered, eyes wide with embarrassment.

"But," she said gently, "I love my husband far too much to even entertain the idea of another." Her words were kind but firm, as unyielding as steel wrapped in silk.

Jaehaerys took a deep breath and nodded, the sting of rejection softened by the warmth in her tone. "I-I’m sorry for— I want you to know that I would never hurt you. Or any other lady. Not like that, never like that-"

"I know," Valaena said simply, meeting his eyes with unwavering certainty.

Jaehaerys looked down at Vaelarra. "But my mother, she dreams things. And sometimes, they come true. What if— what if—"

"Your mother does indeed possess a rare gift," Valaena said gently, her voice steady as she walked toward him. "But that doesn’t mean what you dreamt will come to pass."

"Do you really believe that?" he asked, his voice small.

Valaena cupped the side of his face, her gaze warm but firm. "I do. You’re a good boy, Jaehaerys."

His breath hitched, and he went quiet for a moment, his mind oddly still. Then, the sound of boots echoed behind them.

Both of them turned as Aemond strode in, his one eye flicking briefly to Valaena and then to Jaehaerys.

"It’s time to go," Aemond declared, his commanding presence filling the room. "I’ve sent word to the dragon keepers. Shrykos and Sunfyre are being prepared for flight."

Jaehaerys glanced at Vaelarra, the tiny girl still gazing up at him with wide, curious eyes. Gently, he laid her down in her cot, brushing his fingers over the fine strands of silver hair on her head.

For a moment, his thoughts drifted to Jaehaera, and something inside him stirred.

What would it be like to see Jaehaera carrying his child?

The thought bloomed unbidden, filling him with warmth — and something close to fear.

He shook the thought from his head, turning to bid farewell to Valaena. "Goodbye, Auntie-" he said, offering her a small but genuine smile.

Aemond pressed a quick kiss to his wife’s lips, his hand resting briefly on her waist. Then he clapped Jaehaerys on the back, urging him toward the door.

As they left the chambers, Jaehaerys glanced back one last time at Valaena, watching her cradle Vhalarr.

She glanced up and met his eyes with a small smile. He nodded once before following Aemond down the hall.

A little while later, when Lirri and Arro were watching the younger children, Valaena peeked her head around the door to Rhaegar’s chambers.

The soft scratch of charcoal on parchment met her ears, and she smiled at the sight before her.

Her twelve-year-old son sat cross-legged on a cushioned bench by the window, his head bowed in deep concentration as he sketched on a sheet of parchment.

His long silver hair caught the glow of the afternoon sun, giving him an almost ethereal glow.

"Mother?" Rhaegar glanced up from his drawing, his lilac eyes sharp but curious. "Is everything alright?"

"Everything is fine," Valaena assured him with a soft smile as she stepped fully into the room.

Her gaze lingered on the page in his lap — a rough but striking sketch of two dragons mid-flight.

It brought a flicker of pride to her heart. "Your father is flying with your uncle and cousin. I thought perhaps you and I might join them. It has been some weeks since I last took to the skies with Silverwing."

Rhaegar’s eyes lit up with excitement. "Truly?" he asked, setting the charcoal aside with a grin. "I would love to!"

"Then go on," she said with a small laugh, motioning toward his wardrobe. "Get your riding leathers. Quickly now."

Valaena chuckled softly as she watched him dart around the room, grabbing his leathers and tugging them on with practiced ease.

His excitement was infectious. Once he was dressed and tugging on his gloves, he ran back over to her, his face flushed with eagerness.

"Ready!" he declared.

"Not quite," Valaena said with a sly smile. "I have something for you first."

Rhaegar blinked, his curiosity piqued. "A gift?"

"A gift," she confirmed, pulling a carefully wrapped package from behind her back. It was wrapped in dark cloth and tied with a silver ribbon. She held it out to him, and he accepted it eagerly, his fingers quick to untie the ribbon.

His breath caught as he pulled back the fabric. "Oh" he gasped, his eyes wide with awe.

A cloak of deep crimson was folded neatly within, the colour rich and bold. On the back, the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen was stitched with exquisite precision, its threads of black silk shimmering in the light.

The shoulders adorned with intricate embroidery in the pattern of dragon scales, as though the hide of a dragon had been woven into the very fabric.

"That’s not all-" Valaena said, her voice soft but eager.

Resting within the folds of the cloak was a silver dragon chain, similar to the one Valaena often wore when flying, its body coiled with delicate precision. Its head, jaws open in a silent roar, formed one of the clasps. The other end was the dragon’s tail, ready to latch onto the other side of the cloak.

Rhaegar’s eyes flicked between his mother and the chain, realization dawning on him. "Is it—" he breathed, lifting it to inspect it closer. "It’s Sapphyre!"

"Yes," Valaena said, pride swelling in her chest. "It was crafted in her likeness, down to every ridge and claw."

Rhaegar ran his fingers over the small silver dragon, his face filled with wonder. "It’s beautiful mother-" he whispered.

Valaena unfolded the cloak, draping it around his shoulders with practiced care.

The red fabric fell perfectly to his knees, light yet warm. She reached forward, fastening the silver dragon chain, ensuring the clasp was secure. Her hands lingered on his shoulders, steadying him for a moment, before she leaned back to take in the sight of him.

Valaena breathed out slowly, her gaze warm and full of affection. "Look at you, ñuha zaldrītsos," she said softly, tilting her head as her eyes roamed over him. "Sīr olvie hae aōha kepa." (My little dragon, so much like your father.)

Rhaegar flushed a little under her gaze but smiled, nonetheless. "Kirimvose, muña," he said softly, his eyes shining with gratitude. (Thank you, mother.)

She cupped his cheek for a moment, her thumb brushing lightly against his skin before she drew back, her face alight with quiet pride. "Come, little dragon," she said, standing once more. "Our dragons await."

The two of them left his chambers together, Rhaegar walking a little taller, his new cloak trailing behind him like a king's mantle.

Servants and courtiers, they passed in the halls took notice, some of them nodding their approval.

Whispers of admiration followed them, but Rhaegar didn’t seem to hear. He walked with his head high, his eyes fixed forward, his hands brushing against the silver chain at his collar.

Valaena smiled to herself, letting him feel the weight of it on his shoulders. It suited him, she thought. The cloak, the chain, the dignity — he bore it all well.

They made their way down to the outer courtyard, where two horses were already saddled and waiting for them.

A stable hand stood by, keeping them steady as Valaena approached. She watched as Rhaegar climbed into his saddle, watching as he gripped the reins with ease. He’d grown so quickly, she realized.

It felt like only yesterday she was hoisting him up onto a saddle herself. Now, he needed no help at all.

Once she mounted her own horse, they rode out through the gates of the Red Keep. The sun was warm on their backs as they followed the familiar path toward the open meadow beyond the city walls.

Rhaegar leaned forward in his saddle, excitement bubbling just beneath his composed exterior. His hands tightened on the reins as they cleared the final stretch of the path, the wide, open expanse of the meadow stretching before them like a sea of green. But it wasn’t the grass that held their attention.

Silverwing lay coiled in a half-circle, her silver scales glowing with an ethereal sheen. Her eyes were closed, but her chest rose and fell with slow, steady breaths.

Sapphyre was more alert, her deep blue form curled on the grass, her head resting atop her talons. The second she spotted them, her gaze followed their approach with sharp, eager attention.

As Valaena and Rhaegar drew closer, Sapphyre let out a trilling call, a bright, rolling sound like the clash of crystal chimes.

Her long, sinuous tail whipped across the ground, kicking up small clouds of dirt.

At the sound, Silverwing stirred. Her eyes opened slowly, pupils narrowing to slits as her head lifted. Her neck uncoiled like a serpent’s as she turned toward the familiar scent of her rider.

Valaena smiled, her heart swelling with the warmth of familiarity. She reined in her horse, slowing it to a stop, and glanced over her shoulder at Rhaegar. His face was lit with anticipation as his eyes locked on Sapphyre, a wide grin spreading across his face.

Without needing to be told, they both dismounted, their boots crunching softly against the earth.

Valaena handed her horse’s reins to a stable hand who had been sent ahead to meet them, and Rhaegar did the same.

Their horses snorted and shook their heads, but soon the stable hand led them away, leaving mother and son to approach their dragons alone.

Rhaegar stepped forward first, his eyes locked on Sapphyre. The blue dragon’s eyes tracked his every movement, unblinking and watchful. She tilted her head as he approached, her nostrils flaring as she caught his scent. Her breath came in sharp, short huffs, and her body shifted, her wings fluttering in small, eager twitches.

Rhaegar reached up, placing his hand gently on the smooth, cool scales of her neck. His fingers trailed slowly, reverently, from her jaw to her throat, feeling the rumble of her low purr beneath his palm.

"Ñuha riña," he murmured softly, his voice low but clear, "kessa īlon sōvegon?" (My girl, shall we fly?)

Sapphyre tilted her head, blinking once, before she trilled a high-pitched response, a sound like a songbird's call mixed with the deep resonance of thunder.

She pressed her neck into his hand, leaning against him with all the weight of her affection. Her eyes were half-lidded as her tail whipped the ground in excitement.

Valaena watched from a few paces away, her heart full of quiet pride. It was a beautiful thing to see the bond between a dragon and her rider. She watched as Rhaegar circled to Sapphyre’s side, he climbed into the saddle with smooth, practiced ease, moving with a grace born from years of training. He fastened the leather straps across his legs, checking each buckle twice as she had taught him.

Sapphyre shifted beneath him, her body shivering with anticipation as her claws flexed against the ground. Her wings unfurled with a slow, steady grace, each membrane catching the light as veins of blue shimmered like distant stars. She held them open for a moment, letting the breeze roll beneath them, preparing herself for flight.

Meanwhile, Valaena turned her attention to Silverwing. The older dragon watched her closely, her silver eyes gleaming with quiet wisdom. Valaena approached slowly, her hands loose at her sides, her steps calm and deliberate.

Silverwing's gaze was a heavy weight on her shoulders, but it was a familiar one, like the watchful eye of an old friend.

When she reached her dragon, she placed a hand on the side of Silverwing’s face, feeling the warmth of her scales beneath her palm. Her eyes met Silverwing’s, and she lowered her forehead until it rested gently against the dragon’s brow.

"Ñuha riña," she whispered, her breath soft against Silverwing’s warm scales. (My girl.)

Silverwing released a low, rolling rumble, a sound that echoed in Valaena’s chest like the deep hum of the earth beneath the sea. Her long, silver tail flicked, and she tilted her head slightly to press into Valaena's touch.

After a moment, Silverwing shifted her weight, lowering her shoulder and flattening her wing to create an easy path for her rider.

Valaena stepped lightly onto Silverwing’s foreleg, climbing with practiced precision until she settled into the saddle on her back. She fastened herself in, her fingers working quickly to secure the straps around her waist. Every motion was fluid, natural — the result of years spent flying together.

When she was ready, she took a deep breath, her eyes scanning the open sky above. "Sōves," she commanded firmly, her voice clear as a bell. (Fly.)

Silverwing lifted her head, her wings snapping open with a thunderclap of sound. The air around them shifted, the grass flattening as the wind from her wings surged outward.

With a single powerful leap, Silverwing left the ground, her claws digging into the dirt for one last push before launching herself skyward.

Valaena felt the familiar rush of air against her face as the world dropped away beneath them. The meadow, the trees, the Red Keep in the distance — all of it grew smaller as they climbed higher into the sky.

A second roar sounded just behind her, and she glanced back to see Sapphyre leaping into the air after them. Her dark blue wings beat with strength and speed, her flight path sharp and sure.

Rhaegar sat tall in the saddle, his hair whipped by the wind, his cloak trailing behind him like a stream of fire.

For a moment, Valaena felt as though she were looking at a younger version of Aemond, so steady and sure of himself. But there was more of herself in Rhaegar too — that quiet pride, that determination. Her heart ached with love for him in that moment.

Silverwing climbed higher, cutting through the clouds like a ship slicing through waves. Valaena tilted her body forward, pressing her chest to the saddle as her eyes narrowed against the sharp wind. She could hear the steady beat of Silverwing’s wings, could feel the deep, steady thrum of power in her every motion.

Behind her, she caught a glimpse of Sapphyre, rising with them, her form sleek and sharp as a blade of obsidian. Rhaegar’s laughter echoed behind her, bright and wild with exhilaration.

Valaena grinned. She could hear the joy in his voice, the wonder of it all. No walls to hold him. No burdens of court or duty. Just the open sky and the wild freedom of flight.

"Faster, muña!" Rhaegar called to her, his voice carrying over the wind. (Mother).

Valaena looked back at him, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Faster?" she called back, her voice rising with challenge. "As you wish, zaldrītsos." (Little dragon.)

She pressed her knees more firmly against Silverwing’s saddle "Aderī Silverwing-" (Faster.)

Silverwing roared, and suddenly they were plummeting through the sky like a falling star. Rhaegar laughed behind her, his voice high and wild with delight. Sapphyre followed suit, diving after them.

For that one perfect moment, mother and son flew side by side, their dragons cutting through the sky like streaks of silver and blue flame.

High above the endless stretch of sea, the world seemed smaller, quieter. The roar of the waves below was a distant murmur beneath the thunder of dragon wings.

Aemond sat tall in Vhagar’s saddle. His one eye scanned the horizon, sharp as a falcon’s, watching the clouds shift and swirl. The cold wind whipped at his silver hair, but he paid it no mind.

This is peace, he thought. The vast sky belonged to him. To them.

But then — a flash of silver.

It darted past him like lightning cutting through a storm, so fast and sudden that Vhagar snarled in surprise, twisting her great, ancient neck to follow it.

Aemond leaned forward, his hand gripping the saddle horn as he craned his head to see. His lips parted in surprise, and then a sharp, delighted laugh escaped him.

Valaena.

She rode Silverwing like a creature born to the skies, her dark hair wild and loose in the wind, her figure framed against the sun.

Aemond’s heart stirred with something fierce and warm as he watched her tilt her body, leaning into Silverwing's movement as one would lean into a dance.

The sleek silver dragon folded her wings tight against her sides, her body a streak of shimmering light as she dove like an arrow toward the sea.

“Show off,” Aemond shouted, though his grin betrayed his pride.

The silver blur plummeted with breathtaking speed, and for one heart-stopping moment, it seemed as though Silverwing would crash into the waves below.

But at the last possible moment, Silverwing unfurled her wings with a powerful whoosh that sent a spray of seawater bursting into the air. She levelled out, skimming the surface with perfect precision. Her talons raked the water’s edge, leaving trails of white foam in her wake.

Beautiful.

Before Aemond could call out, another shape darted past him on the other side — a flash of deep blue, so close he felt the disturbance of air against his face. His head whipped to the side, and he caught sight of Sapphyre.

Her deep cobalt-blue scales shimmered like the ocean depths in the sunlight, her wings carrying her in swift, graceful arcs. Rhaegar sat atop her back, his riding leathers snug against his small frame, his new red cloak whipping behind him.

"ñuha tresy, ñuha ēlī valītsos” Aemond muttered with a flicker of pride in his voice (My son, my first boy).

Sapphyre’s path curved smoothly, the young dragon circling back around to fly alongside Vhagar.

Her eyes glowed with playful mischief, and she gave a rumbling trill as she glanced at Vhagar — bold, daring.

Rhaegar tilted his head toward Aemond, his smile wide with excitement, his eyes alight with the thrill of the flight. He raised a hand in a wave. Aemond raised a gloved hand in return, his eye watching his son with quiet approval.

"Hold steady, boy," Aemond called out to him, his voice carried by the wind. "Steady hands, steady heart."

Rhaegar gave him a nod, his face serious, his grip firm on the saddle as Sapphyre hovered alongside them.

The young boy glanced down at the water below and then at Vhagar, eyes full of wonder and admiration.

Before Aemond could say more, a golden light caught his eye from below.

Sunfyre and Shrykos.

Sunfyre's resplendent golden scales glowed like molten gold in the afternoon sun, each shift of his wings a cascade of light. Shrykos, smaller but fierce, her pale gold scales catching the light like sunlit sand, spiralled playfully through the air.

The two dragons chased after Silverwing, their movements wild and spirited. Sunfyre banked to the right, his wings tilting as he followed Silverwing’s path along the water.

Shrykos, eager to prove herself, twisted and darted around him, spiralling like an arrow loosed from a bow.

Together, the three dragons cut paths around one another in perfect, playful chaos.

Aemond leaned back in the saddle, letting himself relax as he watched the display. His eye tracked their every movement with the sharp precision of a warrior assessing a battlefield. But there was no danger here, no enemy.

Just his family, his kin — dragons and dragon riders soaring together beneath the open sky.

This is how it should be, he thought. No thrones, no war, no endless struggles for power. Just the sky, the sea, and the fire of dragons.

Vhagar rumbled beneath him, her deep, ancient voice vibrating through his bones. He reached down to pat her neck, his fingers pressing against her rough, weathered scales.

“Let them have their fun, old girl,” he murmured to her. “They’ve yet to learn that the skies belong to us.”

Vhagar snorted, a plume of smoke curling from her nostrils. But she did not chase them. Not yet. She watched, her molten eyes tracking every twist and dive with the patience of something that had seen it all.

Below, Silverwing rose from the water, droplets of seawater sparkling as they cascaded from her wings. She climbed higher, higher, wings beating with graceful strength.

Shrykos and Sunfyre spiralled upward as well, weaving around one another as if caught in a wild dance. Their roars echoed like distant thunder, a harmony of sound that could be heard for miles.

They twisted and snapped at each other playfully, diving and feinting, their movements so tightly in sync it was as though they shared one mind.

“Fools,” Aemond said with a small smirk, watching their antics. But there was no heat behind the word. Only fondness. He let them play, let them chase each other in wild circles, all the while knowing that he and Vhagar could end it all with one beat of those massive wings.

His gaze drifted to Valaena, still riding Silverwing, her body moving fluidly with each motion of the dragon. She glanced back at him, her dark hair wild in the wind, and for a moment, her eyes met his.

Bold woman, he thought with admiration, his smile hidden beneath the sharp lines of his face. Her gaze lingered for a moment longer before she looked ahead, urging Silverwing to fly higher, faster.

"You're going to make me chase you, aren't you?" Aemond muttered to himself, rolling his shoulders with a grunt of resolve.

He leaned forward, his hand gripping the hilt of his saddle with firm precision. "Vhagar," he called, his voice sharp and commanding. “ivestragī īlva urnēptre zirȳ” (Let us, show them).

The ancient dragon responded instantly. Vhagar surged forward with a roar that shook the very air around them, her great bulk defying all logic as she moved with terrifying speed.

Silverwing, Sapphyre, Shrykos, and Sunfyre darted ahead, but they could all feel it — the shift in the wind, the looming presence of something vast behind them. They twisted their heads just in time to see Vhagar barrelling toward them, her massive shadow eclipsing the sun.

Rhaegar let out a laugh, his grin wild as he shouted, "She's coming for us!"

Valaena turned her head, eyes gleaming with mischief, and she called out to her son, "Then fly faster, zaldrītsos!" (Little dragon!)

The chase was on.

Sapphyre and Rhaegar twisted through the air with playful ease, Sunfyre and Shrykos darting after Silverwing, their roars blending into a triumphant chorus.

The dragons danced in the sky, swirling, chasing, rising higher and higher into the endless blue.

And behind them all, the mighty Vhagar surged forward, unrelenting and unstoppable.

This was freedom.

Not the iron cages of courtly life. Not the weight of thrones and crowns. Not the heavy chains of duty and obligation.

This — this wild, unchained flight, this was what it meant to be a dragon.

TBC

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #hotd fic #aemond one eye #aemond x oc #aemond #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #kcktfics

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kckt88 · 1 year ago

Text

Dynasty.

The Beginning

Courtship

Wedding & Consummation

Bath Time

Arrival(s).

Mother and Father

Petitions and Final Tributes

The Hand, The King & The Dragon

Dragonstone (Rhaenyra POV)

Blood and Cheese

A Time for Grief

Rooks Rest & The Silver King

The Gullet

Taking of a City.

Harrenhal and the Rivers Part I

Harrenhal and the Rivers Part II

The Gods Eye

The Fallen Queen (Rhaenyra POV)

New Beginnings

Ravenous

Don't Leave Me

Another Plane of Existence

Gēlenka Zaldrīzes I (Aemond POV)

Gēlenka Zaldrīzes II (Aemond POV)

Gēlenka Zaldrīzes III (Aemond POV)

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kckt88 · 1 year ago

Text

Take My Breath Away.

Take My Breath Away I.

Takes My Breath Away II.

Take My Breath Away III.

Takes My Breath Away IV.

Take My Breath Away V.

Take My Breath Away VI

Take My Breath Away VII

Take My Breath Away VIII

Take My Breath Away IX

Take My Breath Away X

Take My Breath Away XI

Take My Breath Away XII

Take My Breath Away XIII

Take My Breath Away XIV

Special Chapter - Breath of Doubt

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kckt88 · 7 months ago

Text

Ashes.

Summary:

Madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a Targaryen is born, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land.

Warnings - Angst, Drama, Upset, Dark Aemond, Reference to Sex, Mild Violence, Madness, Referenced Deaths, Character Death.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x DAELLA (DAERON TWIN SISTER)

Word Count: 3060.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

"Aemond-" implored Daella, her voice tinged with desperation, "-How many more innocent lives must perish? Our family already lies shattered, broken by the flames of war, and yet you seek to continue this madness."

Aemond turned to face her, his features hardened by resolve. "The Targaryen legacy must endure, Daella-" he declared, his voice unwavering.

Daella shook her head in dismay, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "But at what cost? Aegon, Helaena, all of their children and Daeron have been lost to the chaos of the Dance of Dragons. We are all that’s left of mother’s children-must we subject her to more pain and suffering“

Aemond's jaw tightened, his grip on the hilt of Dark Sister growing ever tighter. "I will not falter now, not when victory is within my grasp." he insisted, his voice laced with bitterness.

Daella took a step closer, her gaze piercing through the darkness. "Victory?" she echoed, her voice trembling with disbelief. "What victory is there in the ashes of our family? Do you not see, Aemond? We are but shadows of what we once were, our house consumed by its own ambition".

"I will not back down," he declared, each word dripping with venomous resolve. "I will do whatever is necessary to ensure the survival of our house, we will rebuild the Targaryen legacy and ensure it returns to its former glory”.

“-And how exactly are you going to that-in case you hadn’t noticed the Targaryen’s are in short supply at the moment” said Daella.

“For now-but once you birth the babe you currently carry, I will wait for the sufficient amount of time for you to heal and then I will get you with child again-“

“I’m not your broodmare” snapped Daella.

“You are my wife-it is your duty to provide me with as many children as I desire”,

Daella watched him, her heart heavy with despair. "Where has my sweet husband gone?" she whispered, her voice barely audible above the echoes of his fervent proclamation. "You’re not the Aemond I know. You’ve changed and not for the better”

But Aemond paid her words no heed, his mind consumed by thoughts of retribution.

In his eye burned the fires of vengeance, casting shadows across the once noble features that now seemed twisted by the weight of his pursuit of power.

Daella's heart ached as she reached out to gently grasp Aemond's hand, her touch a silent plea for him to listen, to remember the love they once shared amidst the chaos that surrounded them.

With trembling lips, she spoke words heavy with emotion, her voice barely above a whisper yet filled with desperation.

"Aemond, what of our child that I carry," she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears that threatened to spill over. "-Please let us leave this place, just you and me. We can raise our child away from this war, away from all the death."

Her words hung in the air, a fragile hope clinging to the shadows of the throne room.

But Aemond's gaze remained cold and unyielding, his hand tightening around hers with a grip that spoke of determination rather than tenderness.

"We cannot flee, Daella," he declared, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine. "Our enemies must be vanquished. I will not rest until all who oppose us are dead".

Daella recoiled at his words, her heart breaking with each syllable that fell from his lips. "But at what cost, Aemond?" she pleaded, her voice trembling with anguish. "Do you not see the madness that consumes you? Our child deserves better than a life steeped in bloodshed and revenge."

But Aemond remained unmoved, his eye blazing with a fervour that chilled her to the core. "I will do what must be done," he vowed, his words a solemn oath that echoed through the empty halls of the Red Keep.

“-And what is that supposed to mean?” asked Daella as she ran a hand over her round stomach.

"You have no idea the sacrifices I have made," he spat, each word laced with bitterness. "You do not understand what I have endured, what I have done to take the crown-"

Daella recoiled at the intensity of his words, her heart heavy with sorrow and disbelief. And then, as realization dawned upon her like a bolt of lightning.

"It was you wasn’t it, you killed Aegon," she accused, her voice trembling with accusation. "You murdered our brother."

Aemond's expression remained stoic, his features hardened by the weight of his confession. "It was a mercy killing," he declared, his voice devoid of remorse. "Sunfyre was badly damaged after the fight with Meleys at Rooks Rest and Aegon severely injured, his bones twisted and broken, his armour melted onto his skin”.

“S-So you just took it upon yourself to kill him-he was our brother, our King” said Daella.

“It was a kindness to put him out of his misery” replied Aemond.

“You say that it was Meleys who injured Aegon, but how do I know that it wasn’t really you. Three dragons took to the skies that day and only one survived. Awfully convenient isn’t it-the lone survivor able to spin any tale he likes”.

“-I survived, Aegon didn’t what more is there to say” said Aemond.

His words struck Daella like a physical blow, leaving her reeling with shock and revulsion.

The man she had once loved, the father of her unborn child, stood before her as a stranger, a cold and calculating figure consumed by his own ambition.

Horrified by the depths of darkness that now lurked within him, Daella could only stare in silent disbelief, her heart breaking with each passing moment as she realized the true extent of the monster her husband had become.

Daella's voice trembled with a mixture of fear and resolve as she met Aemond's gaze, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Aemond-you're breaking my heart-" she whispered, her words a desperate plea for him to see reason, to turn away from the darkness that threatened to consume him.

But Aemond's response was not one of understanding or compassion.

Instead, his features contorted with rage, his eye wild with madness as he reached out to grasp the back of her neck with a vice-like grip.

"Our mother turned against me," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "Don't you turn against me."

Daella's breath caught in her throat as she felt his fingers tighten around her neck, the threat of violence hanging heavy in the air.

She stared into his eye, once so full of warmth and affection, now clouded by a darkness she could scarcely comprehend.

“A-Aemond” gasped Daella.

“I killed Lucerys, I chased him and his pathetic mouse of a dragon through the skies above Storms End-I watched as Vhagar tore him and his little dragon to shreds-“

“Y-You told me it was an accident” said Daella.

“I told you only what you wanted to hear, my sweet wife pacified by my false words of remorse and my cock-fucked you good that night didn't I-Do you remember how ravenous I was, how I made you peak over and over, my desire for you was unrestrained” exclaimed Aemond smirking.

“J-Jaehaerys. He was killed because of what you did-it’s your fault he’s dead, our sweet sister lost to madness after what she witnessed after what they made her do-she took her own life”.

"I killed Daemon-this you know" declared Aemond, his words dripping with cold satisfaction. "-I struck down the once great Rogue Prince along with his dragon, their bodies left to rot in the waters of the Gods Eye and I would do it again without hesitation."

The air seemed to grow thick with the weight of his words, and the shadows that danced across the walls of the chamber seemed to whisper of the darkness that lurked within his soul.

"My spies on Dragonstone have informed that word of Daemon's death has reached our half-sister-" he spat, his eyes ablaze with fury. "-And that wretched whore has fled across the Narrow Sea with her only surviving son."

Daella recoiled at the venom in his words, her heart heavy with sorrow at the thought of their family torn asunder by treachery and bloodshed.

"W-What will you do?”

Aemond's laugh was cold and mirthless, sending shivers down her spine. "I will hunt them down, no matter where they hide. There is no place they can run, no sanctuary they can find, that will protect them from my wrath- "

Daella's heart sank at his words, the realization dawning upon her that there was no reasoning with the darkness that threatened to consume him.

Tears welled in Daella's amethyst eyes as she pleaded with Aemond, her voice trembling with desperation and love, as she reached out to him.

"Please-" begged Daella; her words choked with emotion. "-Don’t do this“

“I will extinguish our half-sister’s line once and for all”.

“Aemond-you’re going down a path I can't follow” exclaimed Daella.

“-ābrazȳrys” growled Aemond (Wife).

“-Because of what you've done, what you plan to do, I beg you to stop this madness. I love you Valzȳrys " (Husband).

Her hand trembled as she ran her fingers through his long silver hair, seeking to soothe the storm raging within him, to bring him back from the edge of darkness that threatened to consume him.

But Aemond's singular eye remained wild, his expression twisted with a madness that sent shivers down her spine.

"There is no turning back," declared Aemond, his voice a harsh rasp that echoed through the chamber. "I will not rest until our enemies are vanquished, and justice is served."

Daella recoiled at the coldness in his tone, the distance that had grown between them, until she felt as though she no longer knew the man standing before her.

The realization of his descent into madness struck her like a physical blow, leaving her heartbroken and afraid.

As she stared into his eye, searching for some trace of the man she loved, but she knew that she could no longer reach him, that the darkness that consumed him was now beyond her grasp.

Daella's voice trembled with fear as she spoke, her heart heavy with the weight of the truth she could no longer deny. "I'm frightened, Aemond," she confessed, her words barely above a whisper. "Frightened of what you've become, of the darkness that consumes you."

Aemond's expression softened at her words, a flicker of something resembling remorse crossing his features as he pulled her into his arms, enveloping her in a tight embrace, the roundness of her stomach pressed against him.

"I know, my love," he murmured, his voice a gentle reassurance amidst the turmoil that surrounded them. "But together, we will conquer our fears. Together, we will rise above the chaos that has plagued our family for many years"

Daella clung to him, her heart aching with the hope that his words might hold some shred of truth, that the man she loved might still be buried somewhere beneath the layers of ambition and madness.

"But how, Aemond?" she whispered, her voice filled with uncertainty. "How can we find our way back from this darkness?"

Aemond's grip tightened around her, his fingers digging into her back.

"Once Rhaenyra and her last remaining child are dead," declared Aemond, his voice low and menacing, "Then together, we will rule the Seven Kingdoms as King and Queen. Our wastrel of a brother wasn't fit to rule, and neither is Rhaenyra."

"What of those who supported Rhaenyra?" asked Daella, her words barely audible above the hushed whispers of the shadows that surrounded them.

Aemond's gaze hardened at the question, his jaw set in a grim line as he met her gaze with a chilling resolve. "They will have a choice," he replied, his voice cold and unforgiving. "They will either bow to me and acknowledge me as their King, or they will face the consequences."

Daella recoiled at the cruelty in his words, the brutality that lurked behind his steely exterior. "But Aemond-" she protested, her voice tinged with desperation, "-Surely there must be another way. The realm cannot be subjected to another war-Vhagar and Vermithor are the only remaining dragons that have riders, and I am due to birth our child very soon”.

Aemond's grip tightened around her, his eye blazing with a fervour that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Every single one who opposes me will suffer," he declared, his voice echoing through the chamber with a chilling finality. "There can be no mercy for those who dare to stand against the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms."

Daella's heart sank at his words, the weight of his ruthless ambition pressing down upon her like a leaden weight.

In that moment, she knew that the man she had once loved was gone, replaced by a tyrant consumed by his own thirst for power.

Daella's voice trembled with resolve as she drew back from Aemond's embrace, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and determination. "I'll have no part in your anger and lust for power," she declared, her words ringing with a quiet strength that belied the fear that gnawed at her heart.

Aemond's expression darkened at her defiance, his features contorted with rage as he reached out to grasp her arm, his grip like iron.

"You cannot walk away from this, Daella," growled Aemond, his voice a low warning that sent a shiver down her spine. "You are MY wife, and you will stand by my side."

But Daella stood her ground, her gaze unwavering as she met his with a steely resolve of her own. "I cannot stand by while you destroy everything-” she insisted, her voice firm despite the tremor that betrayed her inner turmoil. "I will not be complicit in your madness."

Aemond's grip tightened around Daella's arm as she attempted to pull away, his fingers digging into her skin with a bruising intensity.

"You will not leave me," hissed Aemond, his voice a low, menacing growl that reverberated through the chamber. "You belong to me, Daella. YOU ARE MINE!!."

Daella recoiled at the possessiveness in his tone, the fear that clawed at her heart as she stared into his eyes, now darkened by the depths of his rage and desperation.

"Let me go, Aemond," pleaded Daella, her voice trembling with a mixture of defiance and fear. "I cannot stay here with you, not like this."

But Aemond's grip only tightened further, his eyes ablaze with a fervour that bordered on madness. "If you dare leave me," he snarled, his voice laced with a chilling threat, "I will rip the world apart until I find you. There will be no place you can hide, no sanctuary you can seek, that will protect you from me-"

“Stop-“ begged Daella.

“I will kill you before I let you leave me” snarled Aemond.

Daella looked at her husband and knew he was serious, never before had he threatened her in such a manner and now as she stood before him, there was only one option left to her-

Despite the fear coursing through her veins, Daella leaned forward and pressed her lips against Aemond's, her kiss filled with a mixture of desperation and determination.

For a fleeting moment, she lost herself in the embrace, her mind racing with the knowledge that this might be her only chance to escape the darkness that threatened to consume them both, to do what she must in order to protect her child.

As Aemond's lips met hers, his grip on her arm momentarily loosened, allowing her to discreetly withdraw the dagger from his belt.

With a surge of adrenaline, she plunged the blade into his chest, her hand steady despite the tremors that shook her to the core.

Aemond pulled away from the kiss, his eye widening in shock as he looked down at the dagger embedded in his chest, the hilt stained crimson with his own blood.

For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the sound of Daella's ragged breaths as she watched him with a mixture of horror and relief.

With a choked gasp, Aemond stumbled backward, landing on the stone floor with a heavy thud, his hand clutching at the dagger protruding from his chest.

Blood seeped through his fingers, staining his green doublet, his gaze fixed on Daella with a mixture of betrayal and disbelief.

With tears streaming down her face, Daella knelt beside Aemond, wrapping her arms around him as he gasped for breath, his life slipping away with each ragged breath.

"I'm sorry," she whispered through choked sobs, her voice breaking with the weight of her anguish. "I can't let you hurt anyone else. The realm cannot be ruled by a tyrant."

Aemond's eye met hers, filled with a mixture of pain and regret, as he struggled to speak. "Daella," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper, "Forgive me-"

Daella leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead, her heart breaking as she felt the warmth of his life fading beneath her touch. "I forgive you," she whispered, her voice filled with sorrow and love.

As Aemond's breaths grew shallower, his eye fluttered closed, his body growing limp in her arms.

With a heavy heart, Daella held him close, cradling him as his life slipped away, leaving behind only the echoes of a once great and powerful man.

And as she laid him gently on the cold stone floor, the black crown of the Conqueror resting beside his lifeless form, Daella knew that she had done what was necessary to save the realm from the darkness that had threatened to consume it.

Suddenly, a shuffling sound behind her caught her attention, and she turned to see her mother, bending down to pick up the Conqueror's crown from where it lay beside Aemond's body.

Daella watched in silence, her heart heavy with uncertainty, as her mother approached her, the weight of their shared loss hanging heavy in the air between them.

"M-Mother"

"It was necessary-you did what you had too" muttered Alicent softly as she stared at the lifeless body of her second son.

Her darks eyes lingering on the dagger still buried in Aemond's chest, an odd mixture of sorrow and relied etched upon her face.

"What are we going to do now?" Daella whispered, her voice barely above a whisper, as Alicent turned away from Aemond and held out her hand to her daughter, her last remaining child.

Alicent's expression softened as she took Daella's hand in hers, her touch gentle yet firm as she helped her daughter to stand.

With a solemn grace, she placed the crown of the Conqueror upon Daella's head, the weight of its significance settling upon her.

"Now-" Alicent said, her voice steady and reassuring, "-You will rule".

The End.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #aemond x oc #hotd fic #aemond one eye #aemond x original female character #aemond #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #kcktfics

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kckt88 · 4 days ago

Text

Scorched Hearts XXI - Sneek Peek!

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

Jaehaerys is plagued by guilt and fears for his life when he encounters Aemond.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Violence, Guilt, Remorse, Fear, Uncle/Niece Incest,

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: TBA

A.N - Used Young Aemond as Face Claim for Rhaegar..

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx

They wouldn’t understand.

His mother—his dear, sweet mother—would never forgive him for what he had done.

And his sister, his beautiful sister-gods she would surely turn from him.

The shame, the disgust, would surely consume them all.

What if I have ruined everything?

The thought kept swirling in his mind, heavy and suffocating. He couldn’t even look at his family, let alone face Valaena after what he had done.

He had defiled her—the future Queen—and now he would be cast out.

I could run, he thought suddenly. I could take Shrykos and disappear. Fly across the Narrow Sea, never to be seen again.

But then another thought came to him: Or I could face the consequences. Be a man and accept whatever punishment comes my way.

The bile rose in his throat again as he took a few unsteady steps into the corridor.

He couldn’t shake the fear—his heart hammered in his chest.

Suddenly, his worst nightmare stepped into the corridor.

Aemond.

Jaehaerys froze. His blood ran cold, and panic gripped his chest like a vice.

This is it. I’m dead. He’s going to kill me.

His feet stumbled back, his body pressing against the cold stone wall, trying to retreat from his uncle’s approach.

Aemond’s presence felt like an unrelenting storm, and Jaehaerys could do nothing but tremble, his entire body shaking as he slowly slid down the wall, landing with a thud on the floor.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but wait for Aemond to strike.

His heart raced, and the terror that had already been bubbling in his chest exploded in a wave of panic.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #hotd fic #aemond one eye #aemond x oc #aemond #kcktfics

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kckt88 · 8 months ago

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The Lost Dragon Part 2

I - Unity, II - War, III - Grief , IV - Enraptured, V - All Together, VI - Gifted, VII - Younger I & Younger II , VII - Zaldrīzes se zokla

Special Chapter - Letters

Special Chapter - I'll Never Let You Go

Special CHapter - Tourney

Special CHapter - Vhalarr

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kckt88 · 10 months ago

Text

Don't Mess With My Mind.

Don't Mess With My Mind I

Don't Mess With My Mind II

Promises

I Just Can't Help Falling In Love With You

Alternate Ending.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #hotd fic #hotd smut #hotd #aemond #aemond smut #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #aegon targaryen x reader #hotd aegon #aegon ii targaryen #aegon x reader #kcktfics

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kckt88 · 1 year ago

Text

Drowning Inside You.

Drowning Inside You I

Drowning Inside You II

Drowning Inside You III

Drowning Inside You IV

Drowning Inside you V

Drowning Inside You VI

Drowning Inside You - Aemon & Ryn

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kckt88 · 3 months ago

Text

Green With Envy. (A Dragons Heart)

Summary:

Viserra feeling neglected by her husband, decides to make him jealous. But Aemond is no fool, he knows what his wife is doing and decides to play her at her own game.

Who will crack first?

Warning(s): Drama, Fluff, Angst, Alcohol, Swearing, Jealousy, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Smut, Fingering,Biting, Oral Sex, Rough P in V, Breeding Kink.

AEMOND x O.C

Word Count: 11440 (Sorry).

A.N - Companion Piece to A Dragons Heart.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole @toodlesxcuddles @mamawiggers1980 @minttea07 @nommingonfood

Viserra sat up in bed, her naked body draped under a thin sheet, watching Aemond as he dressed in his armour and gold cloak.

Frustration gnawed at her as she observed his meticulous preparation, her brow furrowing with each buckle he secured.

"You were late last night," she said, her voice edged with irritation. "And now you're leaving early again?”

Aemond paused, adjusting the fastenings of his cloak, and glanced over at her. "The Queen’s name day celebrations are nearly upon us, Viserra. Lords and ladies from across the Seven Kingdoms will be arriving in King’s Landing. It’s my duty to make sure the city is safe." His tone was calm, patient, but there was a firmness to it that hinted at the weight of his responsibilities.

"Duty" Viserra scoffed bitterly, rolling her eyes. "That’s all you care about, isn’t it?"

Aemond sighed, knowing her frustration had been building for days. "I’ll make it up to you tonight, I swear."

Viserra turned her head away from him, her lips tight in a line of anger. "Tonight" she mocked, her voice heavy with disbelief. "I’ve heard that before."

After he finished dressing, Aemond leaned down, attempting to press a kiss to her lips, but she pulled back, denying him.

Her movement was swift as she threw off the sheet and rose from the bed, her naked form catching his eye. He couldn’t help but watch as she strode across the room.

She picked up her robe and slipped it on before walking to the door to summon the maids to prepare her bath.

Aemond watched as Viserra sat at her vanity, brushing through her long silver hair with brisk strokes, her eyes not meeting his in the reflection of the mirror. He walked up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders and lowering his lips to her neck, nuzzling her soft skin.

His hands slipped beneath the thin fabric of her robe, his fingers brushing against the softness of her skin before moving to cup her breasts, his fingers playing with her nipples. She closed her eyes at the familiar touch, but remained quiet, biting her lip.

"Tonight, my love," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear, trying to stir some warmth between them again. He kissed her cheek softly, lingering there for a moment, hoping she might soften. But Viserra stayed silent, her expression unreadable.

With a heavy heart, Aemond withdrew. He stepped away from her, strapping his sword to his waist as he prepared to leave.

A glance back at her revealed that she had not moved, her posture stiff, her frustration tangible in the air between them.

Aemond’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing more as he turned and left their chambers. A few moments later, the maids entered to prepare her bath, bustling around quietly as they sensed the tension lingering in the room.

Viserra sat at the vanity, staring at her reflection, her mind turning with a thousand unspoken words.

After her bath, Viserra declined breakfast and instead made her way to the nursery, where Rhaegar, Aerys, and Aerea were already in the company of their nanny, Elinda.

As soon as she entered the room, she was met with a joyful chorus of "Mama!" Her heart lifted at the sight of her children’s eager faces, and she couldn’t help but laugh as she bent down to hug them in turn, pressing kisses to their cheeks as they giggled and squirmed in delight.

"Right," she said, beaming. "Who wants to go and play in the gardens with their cousins?"

A flurry of "Me! Me! Me!" followed, as the children’s hands shot up in excitement. Viserra chuckled and asked Elinda to help dress them.

Once ready, they all walked hand in hand through the Red Keep's winding halls, making their way to the gardens where Helaena was already waiting with Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor.

Rhaegar and his younger siblings quickly joined Helaena’s children, their laughter filling the air as they played together. Viserra lingered, watching them with a soft smile, until her gaze shifted toward Aegon, who had just entered the gardens, squinting and rubbing his face as though he were still shaking off sleep.

Helaena leaned in slightly and whispered with a small smile, "He’s trying to be better."

Viserra smiled at the remark. He approached, greeting them with a groggy "Good morning," before Aerea called out, "Uncy Egg! Come play!"

Aegon groaned theatrically but obliged, soon finding himself surrounded by all the children, clamouring for his attention.

With a grin, he took off, and the children gave chase, their laughter ringing through the air as they ran after him.

Jaehaera paused suddenly, her small voice carrying through the gardens. "Mother, look, an orange spider!" Helaena, ever the insect enthusiast, excused herself with a murmur of delight and hurried over to examine the creature.

Viserra, on the other hand, shuddered visibly as she watched her good sister pick up the spider with no hesitation.

Aegon, having escaped the children for the moment, flopped down next to Viserra with an exaggerated sigh. He noticed her reaction and grinned. "Not a fan of spiders, I take it?"

"Hell no," Viserra replied with a shiver.

Aegon laughed before his expression shifted to one of concern. "Is everything alright?" he asked, lowering his voice.

Viserra hesitated for a moment before shaking her head. "Not really," she admitted.

Aegon raised an eyebrow. "What’s my twat of a brother done now?"

"It’s not what he’s done," Viserra sighed, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "It’s what he hasn't done. I miss how we used to be, he couldn’t keep his hands off me”

Aegon smirked, leaning back with a mock groan. "Yeah, don’t I know it? The number of times I caught you two going at it—ugh, no thanks"

Viserra rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a laugh. "I just want him to take me, you know? To give me-"

Aegon quickly stuck his fingers in his ears. "-La-la-la, I can’t hear you!"

Viserra scoffed and yanked his hands down. "Since when are you shy about such things?"

"I’m not-” Aegon replied, his voice tinged with amusement. "-But you're my brother’s wife, and I’d like to keep my head on my shoulders. He’ll kill me if he finds out we had this conversation."

Viserra sighed, exasperated. "There’s no one else I can talk to about this, Aegon."

Seeing her genuine frustration, Aegon’s expression softened. He took her hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You know how Aemond is," he said. "Duty is like a second skin to him, but he needs to remember there are other things—other duties—that require his attention. It’s a balance, one shouldn’t be neglected in favour of the other."

Viserra gave him a curious look. "You’re making entirely too much sense right now. Who are you, and what have you done with the real Aegon?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I make sense most of the time, people just don’t listen."

Viserra smiled. "I know that feeling."

Aegon grinned. "Look, if you want to regain his attention, tempt him. Do little things that’ll drive him mad."

Viserra tilted her head. "Like what?"

Aegon leaned in conspiratorially. "Wear low-cut dresses—show off those breasts that he loves"

Viserra scowled, but there was a glint of amusement in her eyes. "How do you know that?"

Aegon shrugged. "He’s my brother. I know what he likes. Trust me, he’s always loved a good pair of pillowy breasts that he can snuggle into-”

"Anything else?" Viserra asked, intrigued now.

Aegon grinned mischievously. "Eat peaches or cherries. The juicier, the better. But make sure you're not on his blindside. He has to see you eating them."

Viserra raised an eyebrow. "And why exactly?"

"Trust me," Aegon said, winking. "It works. Oh, and one more thing—flirt with another man. It’ll drive him insane."

Viserra scoffed. "And who am I supposed to flirt with?"

Aegon grinned. "Well, it has to be someone of note. Someone Aemond would see as a threat."

Viserra studied him for a moment before smirking. "What about you?”

Aegon laughed loudly. "Only if you promise to protect me from Aemond’s wrath, then I could help stir things up slightly”.

Viserra chuckled. "You have my protection."

Aegon looked far too pleased with the arrangement. "This is going to be fun," he said with a grin.

Viserra couldn’t help but laugh. "You’re enjoying this way too much."

"How could I not?" Aegon replied, still grinning. "We’re about to stir things up, and nothing’s better than that."

Aemond walked through the quiet corridors of the Red Keep, his boots echoing faintly on the stone floor.

His duties had stretched longer than he had anticipated, consuming hours he had meant to spend with Viserra. There had been endless complications in the city—thieves caught red-handed, a market dispute over inflated prices, and even an unfortunate incident involving a baker's daughter.

By the time he had finished dealing with it all, night had fully descended upon the capital, and the promise he'd made to his wife that morning had long slipped away.

His steps slowed as he approached the door to their chambers. He paused, bracing himself for the anger he knew Viserra would unleash upon him.

He had missed more than just time with her recently; their once frequent and passionate moments together had dwindled into rare encounters. Duty, ever-present and suffocating, had drawn him away from her, and Aemond knew she was frustrated. He could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice.

Taking a deep breath, Aemond pushed open the door, expecting to find Viserra awake, waiting, perhaps furious. But to his surprise, she was already asleep.

The sight of her lying on her side, her back turned to him, stirred a mix of emotions within him—regret, longing, and something deeper, something he couldn't quite name. He sighed softly, feeling the ache in his chest grow heavier.

Moving quietly, he began removing his armour, taking care to unbuckle each piece with as little noise as possible.

Once the cold steel had been set aside, he stood nude by the fire, quickly washing away the grime of the day with a cloth and warm water from a basin. The warm water felt soothing on his skin, but it did little to ease the knot of tension that had formed within him.

As he dressed in loose cotton sleep trousers, his eyes caught sight of something on the desk—a letter. He picked it up and scowled. The letter was from Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell.

Its contents were mundane enough, discussing the northern lord’s plans to arrive in King’s Landing for Rhaenyra’s name day celebration. But one detail gnawed at Aemond—the way Cregan addressed Viserra.

"My Princess."

Aemond's jaw tightened. The possessiveness surged within him, a familiar fire burning in his chest. She’s mine, he thought, his mind flaring with jealousy.

His grip on the letter tightened before he set it back down on the desk, trying to control the frustration building within him.

He crossed the room and climbed into bed beside her. Normally, Viserra would seek him out once he joined her—slipping her arms around him, resting her head on his chest as if she could never get close enough.

But tonight, she remained still, her back still turned to him. There was no warmth from her side, no soft murmur of his name.

Aemond removed his eyepatch and lay back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. He could feel the distance between them, as though the bed itself was wider than the narrow sea.

His hand itched to reach out and pull her closer, to bridge the gap that had grown between them. But he didn’t. Something about the silence in the room, the way she had fallen asleep without waiting for him, made him hesitate.

The jealousy and regret gnawed at him as he lay there, his mind flickering back to the letter from Cregan. A part of him wanted to wake her, to talk to her, to tell her how much he missed her, how sorry he was for all the missed moments. But the words wouldn’t come.

He lay there in the darkness, the sinking feeling in his chest growing heavier with each passing moment.

The morning sun filtered through the windows of their chambers as Viserra stood before her wardrobe, Aegon's words from the day before echoing in her mind.

"Tempt him," he had said. She frowned slightly, unsure if this strategy would work, but she missed Aemond's attention—his touch, his gaze lingering on her like it used to.

As the princess and heir to the Iron Throne, her wardrobe was filled with elegant gowns befitting her status, most of them conservative in nature.

Yet, buried in the back of her wardrobe was a dress she had almost forgotten about. It was a gift from a Lord of Pentos who had taken a liking to her during a visit to King’s Landing a year ago.

The dress was scandalous by Westerosi standards—a light, flowing summer gown with a low neckline that revealed more of her than she was used to showing.

Aemond had made his displeasure clear when the lord had offered it, staking his claim by wrapping his arm possessively around her waist, a silent warning to anyone who thought to get too close.

Still, Viserra had graciously accepted the gift, tucking it away and never giving it much thought after that.

Until now.

As her fingers glided over the soft silk, a small smile played on her lips. This would do.

She slipped the dress on, marvelling at the way it clung to her body in all the right places, the neckline just low enough to show a hint more of her breasts than her usual gowns.

She had her maids comb her silver hair, leaving it loose as Aemond preferred. The sapphire pendant he had gifted her the previous year glistened around her neck, drawing attention to her cleavage.

She took a deep breath, staring at her reflection in the mirror, momentarily doubting whether this was the right approach.

But as she left her chambers and made her way through the Red Keep, she noticed the subtle glances from passersby. Men and women alike couldn't help but steal quick looks at her.

That doubt began to fade, especially when an older lady stopped her, offering a kind smile.

"My Princess, you are the very embodiment of Targaryen beauty today," the woman said.

Viserra thanked her, feeling emboldened. She resumed her walk to the training grounds, where she knew Aemond would be.

The sound of clashing swords and grunts of exertion greeted her ears as she approached, and sure enough, there he was, locked in an intense sparring session with Ser Erryk. A small crowd of onlookers had gathered, watching the prince's graceful yet deadly movements.

For a moment, Viserra simply watched him. Gods, he was a marvel—lean and strong, moving with a fluidity that belied his size. His long silver hair swayed with each lunge, his sword spinning effortlessly in his hand.

The sight of him always sent a thrill through her, but today, she wasn’t here just to admire him. She had a plan.

Ser Erryk called for a break, and Aemond nodded, stepping to the side to grab a drink of water. As he lifted the cup to his lips, his gaze landed on Viserra.

Aemond nearly choked on the water, promptly spitting it out as his eye widened in disbelief.

She stood there, her long, loose silver hair catching in the breeze, her dress clinging to her form in a way that was both alluring and regal.

The swell of her breasts was tantalizingly visible, enhanced by the sapphire pendant around her neck. His blood ran hot at the sight of her, desire flaring through him so suddenly that it left him almost lightheaded.

His breeches tightened uncomfortably as he struggled to regain his composure.

She had always been beautiful to him—gods, she was his wife, his heart—but seeing her like this, so tempting, made his heart race in a way that it hadn’t in months.

He had been so consumed with his duties that he had forgotten what it felt like to truly crave her.

His feet moved to approach her, eager to close the distance between them, to take her in his arms right then and there.

But before he could even utter her name, Viserra turned from him without a word, her head held high, as she made her way back into the Red Keep.

Aemond stood there, mouth slightly agape, watching her retreating form with a mixture of awe and frustration. The onlookers who had gathered for his training session exchanged curious glances, but Aemond paid them no mind.

His blood still ran hot, and his body still throbbed with desire, but she had left him standing there speechless and wanting.

Throughout the day, Aemond had been on edge. His desire for Viserra lingered at the back of his mind, growing stronger with each passing hour.

He couldn't focus properly when handling the affairs of the City Watch. Every moment was filled with the distracting memory of her in that dress, the way her body had looked, the way she had turned away without a word.

It drove him mad.

He longed to find her, take her to their chambers, and reclaim the intimacy they had neglected for far too long.

When he did have a rare spare moment, and went in search of his wife, the sight that greeted him was enough to make his blood boil.

There, in the gardens, sat Viserra and his brother, Aegon, far too close for Aemond’s liking. Their children were playing nearby with Aegon’s brood, laughing and chasing each other through the garden.

But Aemond’s focus was fixed entirely on the way Aegon ogled Viserra’s breasts, his gaze lingering far too long.

Aemond clenched his fists, his knuckles going white as he watched Aegon reach forward and pluck a leaf from Viserra’s silver hair.

She smiled at him—a smile Aemond knew far too well. His smile. The one that made his heart race.

No one else gets that smile, he thought darkly, fury rising within him.

Before he could storm over, Viserra called her children to her. Rhaegar, Aerys, and Aerea ran over, their faces alight with excitement.

Viserra bid farewell to Aegon and his children, her tone light and cheerful. Aemond quickly hid in an alcove, his anger barely contained as he watched them pass by. His children were chattering away, their small hands clinging to Viserra’s as she led them back inside.

Once they had disappeared from view, Aemond emerged from his hiding place, storming into the garden like a force of nature. He reached Aegon in a matter of strides, seizing him by the collar and pulling him to his feet, his eye burning with fury.

"What in the seven hells do you think you're playing at, brother?" Aemond snarled.

Aegon blinked, surprised but not frightened. Instead, he laughed, his voice dripping with amusement. " Only what Viserra asked of me" he said.

Aemond’s brows furrowed. "What?"

Aegon grinned, unbothered by Aemond’s seething expression. "You’re so engrossed in your duties as Lord Commander of the City Watch that you've been neglecting your other duties-”

Aemond's grip tightened on Aegon’s collar, his free hand balling into a fist. He was seconds away from punching his brother in the face, but he hesitated.

The words sank in slowly, like a puzzle falling into place.

"Wait," he said, his tone softer but still full of confusion. "Is she trying to provoke me?"

Aegon, who had already scrunched his face in preparation for a punch, cautiously opened one eye. Seeing that no blow was coming, he exhaled with relief.

"Yes, brother," he answered with a smirk.

Aemond released his grip on Aegon, a sly grin creeping across his face.

"So," he muttered, his tone suddenly lighter, "she thinks she can play me, does she? Well, we shall see about that."

Aegon looked at him in disbelief, rubbing his neck where Aemond’s hand had been. "Are you kidding me?" he asked, incredulous. "Gods, you’re both driving me insane, just take her back to your chambers and fuck her into the mattress and put an end to this madness."

Aemond scoffed, crossing his arms. "I will not be the first to give in. She will."

Aegon groaned, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, right. You’re as stubborn as she is, and twice as prideful."

"Don’t tell her that I know what she’s up to," Aemond said firmly, ignoring his brother’s exasperation.

Shaking his head, Aegon muttered under his breath, "You’re both as bad as each other, you know that?"

Aemond shrugged, unaffected by his brother’s frustration, and turned to leave the garden, a plan forming in his mind.

His wife wanted to provoke him? Well, two could play that game.

Aemond walked into his chambers, only to stop dead in his tracks as his eye fell upon Viserra in the bath.

The sight of her, submerged in water, her skin glistening under the dim glow of the chamber’s light, sent a wave of heat rushing through him.

Her silver hair piled in a messy bun, and her hands moved leisurely over her body as she washed herself, utterly unaware of the fire she stoked within him. His pulse quickened, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

He stood frozen, transfixed by the scene before him. It took every ounce of his willpower not to march over to her, strip off his clothes, and climb into the bath. His blood was growing hotter with each passing second, his desire threatening to overtake him.

Viserra looked up, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she caught sight of him. A knowing smile played at her lips. "Would you like to join me?" she asked, her voice like warm honey, sending shivers down his spine.

Gods, yes, he did. He wanted to, more than anything. His mouth was dry, his body aching to answer her call.

But Aemond cleared his throat, steeling himself against the temptation. He wouldn’t give in so easily. No. He had resolved that he wouldn’t be the first to break.

“No,” he said, forcing a disinterested tone, though it came out rougher than intended. “I’ve got better things to do than lounge around in the bath."

Viserra nodded slightly, but the knowing glint in her eye remained. She rose from the water, the droplets clinging to her skin, sliding down her body in tantalizing trails.

Aemond’s breath hitched as his gaze followed the motion, his body betraying him. The sight of her bare skin was making his cock grow hard.

"Could you pass me a towel?" she asked sweetly, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

Without a word, Aemond stepped forward, struggling not to look directly at her. He handed her a warm towel, his fingers brushing against her skin ever so slightly, sending a jolt through him.

She stepped out of the bath, wrapping the towel around her, but not before he caught another glimpse of her body. He clenched his jaw, stifling a groan as she moved past him.

Viserra walked to the bed and, with deliberate grace, let the towel fall away. She sat there, her gaze locking onto his as she cocked her head to the side, her lips curling into a playful smirk.

"Is there something you want, valzȳrys?" she asked, her voice laced with challenge, the Valyrian rolling off her tongue like silk. (Husband).

Aemond almost caved in, his restraint crumbling under the weight of his desire. She was making it so difficult, sitting there, looking at him like that—knowing exactly what she was doing to him.

The way she spoke in their ancestral tongue, the way her body moved—it was all deliberate, a calculated attempt to break him.

But no. He would not be the one to surrender. If she wanted him, truly wanted him, she would have to ask—no, beg for it.

Aemond closed his eye, taking a deep breath to steady himself. His voice was strained, but resolute as he replied, "Daor ābrazȳrys, emā daorun jaelan" (No wife, you have nothing I want).

With that, he turned on his heel, leaving the chamber before he could change his mind, the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Later that evening, Aemond settled down next to Aegon at the weekly family dinner, a tradition Rhaenyra insisted upon, ensuring they all gathered at least once to dine together.

The children, already fed, bathed, and tucked into bed, left the adults to enjoy a more relaxed meal. Rhaenyra was engaged in conversation with Alicent and Helaena, while Daemon sipped his wine, a sharp-eyed observer as always.

Aemond was mid-sip of his wine when the doors opened, and Viserra walked in. He nearly choked on the liquid.

Gods, she looked breathtaking. Her long silver hair, styled in elegant braids, accentuating her high cheekbones and the regal slope of her neck. And that dress—another revealing one. His pulse quickened as he stared at her, the deep neckline leaving little to the imagination. His eye followed her every movement as she took her seat directly across from him.

Aegon, always quick to notice, leaned in with a chuckle, whispering, “Steady, brother.”

Aemond's response was swift, an elbow jab to Aegon's side, but his gaze never wavered from Viserra.

Helaena, ever observant in her own gentle way, noticed the change in Viserra’s attire. “Is your dress new?” she asked with genuine curiosity.

Viserra smiled warmly. “Not exactly. I just cut away some of the fabric from an older one and sewed a new neckline.”

Helaena nodded, her eyes lighting up. “That’s a good idea—repurposing older dresses.”

Viserra hummed in agreement, casting a knowing smile at Aemond as she lifted her goblet to her lips and took a delicate sip of wine.

The glint in her eyes was unmistakable—she was playing the game, and playing it well.

Throughout the meal, the conversation ebbed and flowed. Rhaenyra and Alicent spoke of Luke and Rhaena’s stay in the Vale, while Daemon added his thoughts on Daeron aiding Jace and Baela’s progress at Driftmark with Corlys.

Inevitably, the discussion turned to Rhaenyra’s upcoming name day celebration, and Daemon’s voice grew serious as he spoke.

“The streets of King’s Landing must be safe for the guests who will be arriving in the coming days,” he said, his eyes drifting toward Aemond.

“It is well in hand, uncle-” Aemond replied coolly, a hint of pride in his tone.

Daemon nodded, seeming satisfied for now, and the conversation drifted on. But Aemond’s focus was elsewhere.

Dessert had been served, and across from him, Viserra was eating cherries. His throat went dry as he watched her pick up the fruit, her fingers delicate but deliberate.

She bit into the cherry, and the juice ran down her fingers. Slowly, she brought each one to her mouth, sucking the juice away, her eyes meeting his as her tongue moved over her fingers.

Aemond closed his eye and exhaled deeply, fighting to keep his composure. He would never admit it, not aloud at least, but his wife was better at this game than he was.

As she continued, he could feel his self-control slipping, his body betraying him with every flick of her tongue. His hands gripped the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white, the tension coiling within him.

Viserra, ever the temptress, finally dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin. Her smile, sweet but knowing, only added to his torment. And just as he thought he might lose the game, the doors opened, and a maid entered, speaking softly.

“Princess Viserra, the young Princess Aerea has awakened and is crying for her mother.”

Viserra gave a small nod and excused herself from the table. But not before she made her way to Aemond.

Bending down, she pressed a soft kiss to the scarred side of his cheek, her lips lingering just long enough to send a shiver down his spine. He inhaled sharply, his fingers digging into the wood of the chair as he fought against his own desire.

As she left the room, the tension still thick in the air, Aegon couldn’t hold back his laughter. “She’s got you good, brother.”

Aemond didn’t respond immediately, but the fire in his eye burned. Yes, Viserra was playing the game well—but the game wasn’t over yet.

Aemond knew he had to act. Viserra had come dangerously close to making him surrender to her seduction game, and he wouldn’t allow it.

Last night, he had planned for her to walk in on him, as he pleasured himself with his hand.

But as fate would have it, she hadn’t returned to their chambers at all. Instead, she spent the night comforting Aerea, their daughter, who had been plagued by a nightmare.

Viserra had chosen to sleep in Aerea’s bed, leaving Aemond to stew in their chambers alone after fucking his own fist.

Now, as he made his way to the training grounds, his thoughts were consumed with how to regain control.

If he wanted to win this game, he needed to up the ante. No more sitting idle while his wife toyed with him. After all, two could play at provocation.

After a few rounds of sword training, the warm air had caused him to work up quite the sweat. As expected, Viserra was there, silently observing him along with the other spectators who had gathered to watch.

Aemond had timed it perfectly. He glanced at her briefly, noticing her presence before he began pulling off his leather tunic. Then, with deliberate slowness, he peeled off his cotton shirt, leaving his chest bare.

His lithe, muscled form glistened under the sun, the sheen of sweat accentuating every defined muscle of his torso and abdomen.

Aemond picked up two swords and faced his opponent, giving Viserra an unobstructed view of him in motion.

His muscles rippled with each swift strike, his silver hair swaying with his fluid movements. He was a vision of raw strength, focused precision, and masculine grace.

He fought as if the battle was nothing but a dance, each lunge and parry intentional, his every move meant to draw her gaze.

When he emerged victorious, Aemond took in the sight of Viserra, and the satisfaction of the moment swelled within him. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Her cheeks were flushed a delicate pink, and she was nervously nibbling on her lower lip. He could see the effect his performance had on her, and it thrilled him.

He smirked, twirling the swords in his hands for added effect before kneeling and digging the blades into the dirt.

"Water," he called, and as a servant rushed to fetch a drink, Aemond was pleased to notice that Viserra’s attention had turned toward two older noblewomen who were fawning over him.

He could almost see the jealousy flaring in her eyes, the way her fists clenched at her sides.

Aemond took the opportunity to wind her up a little more. He ignored her and instead flashed a charming nod toward the older women, acknowledging their presence with a suave, “Ladies.”

The women blushed, flustered by his attention, but Aemond’s focus was on Viserra. Her scowl deepened, her jaw tightening as she seethed. Without missing a beat, she strode forward, eyes blazing with irritation.

“Don’t stop on my account,” she spat, her voice sharp with annoyance. “I seem to recall that you used to indulge yourself with old lady cunny.”

With that biting comment, she grabbed his discarded shirt and threw it at him before storming off, her gown billowing behind her as she made her way back into the Red Keep.

Aemond caught the shirt, his eye following her retreating form, a mix of amusement and uncertainty swirling within him.

He stood there for a moment, unsure whether this could be counted as a victory or not. He had successfully riled her up, but her fiery response left him wondering if he had miscalculated.

Still, he couldn’t deny the thrill that coursed through him at the sight of her frustration.

For the next couple of days, Viserra avoided Aemond like he was the plague. She was livid—so furious that she couldn’t even bear to look at him.

Her once bold attempts to provoke him vanished, and in their place was cold, silent avoidance. Viserra refused to share their bed, preferring instead to sleep in the nursery with their children.

She wouldn’t speak to him, not a word, and it drove Aemond mad. Her sudden withdrawal stung more than her previous attempts to tease him.

But once her temper cooled, Viserra began piecing it all together. She knew Aemond far too well—he wasn’t the type to indulge the attention of other women. His every move had a purpose, especially when it came to matters involving her.

Then, as she caught sight of Aegon staggering through the Red Keep, it clicked into place.

That gobshite had told Aemond everything. It was the only explanation for why Aemond had been resisting her for so long.

Normally, by now, he would have crumbled. But he hadn’t, and she had one person to blame.

Well, Aegon was about to regret that.

Fuming, Viserra followed Aegon to his chambers, her pace quick and purposeful. Once he opened the door, she shoved him hard, sending him stumbling forward and crashing onto the floor with a surprised yelp.

"What the—" Aegon managed to sputter, before Viserra launched herself at him, hands grabbing fistfuls of his messy silver hair.

"You told him, didn’t you?" she snarled, grappling with him as he giggled, far too drunk to properly defend himself.

“I didn’t tell him—well, not exactly!” Aegon stammered through laughter, struggling under her assault. “He sort of figured it out himself!”

Viserra yanked on his hair, scowling. "He only managed it because you can't keep your gods damned mouth shut!"

Aegon, still laughing, said, “Hey! I was on your side, you know!”

Viserra scoffed, finally releasing him as she stood. "Funny way of showing it."

Aegon stayed sprawled on the floor for a moment, chuckling as he rubbed his head before getting to his feet.

“Gods, you’re stronger than you look.” He staggered over to a nearby table and reached for the wine pitcher, pouring himself a generous cup.

Viserra watched in exasperation as he downed it in one gulp.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” she said, folding her arms. “You stink of wine and whores.”

Aegon scoffed, wiping his mouth. “I do not lay with my wife. I have needs. And before you get in my face about it, Helaena knows. It’s only one regular woman.”

Viserra raised a brow, unimpressed. “You expect me to believe that? I’ve heard about the orgies you once indulged in.”

Aegon laughed, shaking his head. “That was years ago. I don’t indulge in multiple women anymore—just the one.”

“And what about men?” Viserra asked pointedly.

Aegon’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed. “How do you know about that?”

Viserra smirked, “I’m neither blind nor deaf. But rest assured, I will keep it to myself.”

He let out a relieved breath, sinking back into a chair. “Thanks. I’m not ashamed or anything—it’s just, I can’t be arsed to listen to Mother lecture me.”

“I understand.” Viserra’s tone softened slightly. "-And I apologize for attacking you."

Aegon waved a dismissive hand, grinning. “Doesn’t matter. It was actually hot.”

Viserra let out a laugh. "Of course you’d think so."

Aegon leaned back, eyeing her with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Why don’t you just stop all this nonsense with Aemond and talk to him? This could all be solved with a simple conversation.”

Viserra tilted her head, smirking. "Where’s the fun in that?"

Aegon groaned, rubbing his face. “You two are as bad as each other. But I’ll say this—you play better than he does.”

"Thank you," Viserra said with a sly smile. "I had a good teacher when it comes to doing things underhanded."

"Daemon," Aegon muttered knowingly.

Viserra nodded. "My father has a certain talent for such things."

Aegon chuckled, pouring himself another drink. “So, what’s next in your grand plan?”

Viserra scoffed, folding her arms. “You think I’m going to tell you? How do I know you won’t go running to Aemond and tell him?”

Feigning offense, Aegon gasped. “I’m offended by the insinuation.”

Viserra laughed again, shaking her head. “The one good thing is that Aemond doesn’t know, that I know that he knows.”

Aegon flopped back onto his bed, groaning. “Why did I ever get involved in this?”

Viserra shot him a grin as she made her way to the door. "Because you can’t resist causing trouble. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of it."

As she left, Aegon muttered to himself, “I need more wine-”

The day of Rhaenyra’s name day had dawned in a blaze of celebration.

All of King's Landing was alive with the sound of bells ringing in the air, and the smallfolk cheered for their Queen as they crowded the streets in jubilation.

The Red Keep was no different; the throne room had been transformed into a vision of elegance, with rich tapestries and gleaming banners draped across the walls.

Everywhere, candles flickered in golden candelabras, casting a warm glow on the gathered nobles, whose voices buzzed with excitement.

At the centre of it all sat Queen Rhaenyra, her golden crown shimmering atop her silver hair, the very same crown once worn by her father Viserys and her great grandsire, Jaehaerys. She looked radiant, regal, and every inch the ruler she had become.

At the high table beside her, her husband Daemon rose, his goblet raised high, the room quieting as his voice cut through the air.

“Let us all raise our cups,” Daemon called out, his voice carrying through the hall, “-in celebration of Queen Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm!”

The crowd echoed his toast, goblets lifted high, the sound of clinking cups filling the room.

Rhaenyra stood, smiling warmly, and placed a hand on Daemon’s shoulder as he kissed her cheek in an affectionate gesture. She raised her hand for silence, and the hall stilled, all eyes turning toward her.

“My lords, my ladies,” she began, her voice strong but filled with warmth, “I thank you all for your presence here today, for your gifts, and for your well wishes. It truly warms my heart to see all of you gathered in celebration.” She paused, her eyes sweeping across the room, taking in the assembled lords and ladies who bowed their heads in respect. “Today, however, is also an occasion for something far greater.”

Her gaze shifted to the side, motioning for Viserra and Rhaegar to join her.

Aemond, watching from his seat at the high table, couldn't take his eye off Viserra as she approached the dais with their son.

Despite the tension still lingering between them, he couldn’t deny how stunning she looked. Her gown, a striking combination of red and black, flowed around her like liquid flame, the shoulders decorated in a delicate pattern of dragon scales.

Her hair, braided elegantly, framed her face, and atop her head sat the silver crown gifted to her by her mother and father, gleaming in the soft light.

Beside her, Rhaegar was dressed in his finest clothes, a small crown adorning his messy silver curls. He looked every bit a prince, though Aemond could see the slight tremble in his son’s hand as he held onto his mother’s.

Rhaenyra smiled warmly as Viserra approached and kissed her on the cheek before turning back to the room.

“As Queen’s Law, I am proud to formally recognize the succession of the Iron Throne,” Rhaenyra declared, her voice commanding attention. “Today, before all of you, I present Viserra Targaryen, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and her son, Rhaegar Targaryen, the future King of the Seven Kingdoms.”

There was a collective murmur of approval, and then, as one, all those in the throne room lowered themselves to one knee, their heads bowed in a gesture of loyalty to the future rulers.

Aemond watched as Viserra stood tall beside their son, her presence commanding respect and admiration. Rhaegar, though clearly nervous, stood firm, his little hand gripping Viserra's tightly, his chin held high in an effort to appear brave.

A surge of pride filled Aemond’s chest as he watched his son hold his ground, not allowing his fear to show, he would make a fine King one day.

As the assembly rose to their feet and lifted their cups, the cheers of “ Princess Viserra! Prince Rhaegar!” filled the throne room, echoing off the grand stone walls.

Once the announcement was complete, she leaned down and whispered words of encouragement to Rhaegar, who looked up at her with wide eyes, a mix of relief and pride shining on his young face.

She kissed his forehead softly before letting him run off to rejoin his cousins and siblings, who were playing together in the corner of the throne room under the care of Elinda.

As Viserra returned to her seat, Aemond’s gaze lingered on her. The sight of her standing there, regal and resplendent, stirred something deep inside him.

Despite the silent battle of wills between them, he felt an undeniable surge of admiration for his wife.

Today, she had shown not only her strength but also the grace that made her a true Targaryen queen.

And though the tension between them simmered just beneath the surface, for now, he could only marvel at the future that awaited them.

The night was alive with celebration, music filling the air as the guests moved across the throne room in time to the lively tunes played by the minstrels.

Viserra, found herself barely able to sit for more than a moment before she was swept away into another dance.

First, her father Daemon had taken her hand, spinning her gracefully across the floor with a grin on his lips as they danced.

Then her brothers, Jace and Luke, each had their turn, their eyes bright with joy as they shared the floor with their sister.

She laughed with them, her earlier tension fading into the background of the night's festivities. But when Aegon took her hand, his devilish grin was all too telling.

As they moved together, Aegon’s hands wandered lower than they should have, resting just on the edge of propriety. Viserra, too accustomed to his antics, smirked through it, though she could practically feel Aemond’s gaze burning into her from across the room.

Aegon, clearly delighting in his brother’s seething reaction, whispered something lewd, and Viserra rolled her eyes, though she still grinned as they finished their dance.

Finally, Daeron, with his shy smile, had asked her for a dance, which she granted with warmth. His steps were tentative, but Viserra guided him gently, encouraging him.

Once the song ended, Daeron offered her a small bow before retreating. Viserra, finally thinking she’d have a moment of respite, sat down and subtly turned her back to Aemond.

The tension between them simmered as she felt his presence beside her. His voice cut through the music, low and harsh, “When are you going to stop acting like this?”

Viserra turned slightly, her expression sharp. “Why don’t you go entertain those old ladies over there?” She nodded in their direction, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure they’ll be glad for your affections.”

Aemond’s lips twitched into a cold smile, his eye narrowing. “You know what? That’s a good idea, maybe they’ll let me fuck them both into the mattress-” He stood abruptly, making his way over to the two older women, who blushed and immediately engaged him in conversation, giggling like maidens half their age.

Viserra watched, her stomach twisting with frustration. She reached for her cup, taking a long gulp of wine, trying to calm the heat building inside her as she watched one of the women put a hand on Aemond’s arm.

She had decided to leave the hall when a shadow fell over her. She glanced up to see Lord Cregan Stark standing before her, his expression warm, his hand extended.

“May I have this dance, Princess?” he asked with a charming smile.

Viserra smiled back, grateful for the distraction. “Of course,” she replied, placing her hand in his and allowing him to lead her back to the centre of the throne room.

The room felt alive around her as they began to dance. The northern lord moved with surprising grace, his steps sure and strong as they twirled together.

As they danced, she couldn’t help but notice Aemond watching her from across the room, his jaw clenched tightly, fury simmering behind his cool facade.

“You look beautiful tonight, Princess,” he said. “The North pledges its loyalty to you, as the future Queen”.

Viserra smiled warmly at him. “And you have my loyalty and support in return, Lord Stark”

As the song ended, another began, and Cregan asked for yet another dance, which she agreed to without hesitation.

They moved together gracefully, speaking of lighter things—his son, Rickon, who had just taken up archery, and her own son, Rhaegar.

“He’s eager to begin training with the sword, though he’s only four name days,” Viserra said, a fond smile touching her lips.

“Like his father, no doubt,” Cregan observed with a knowing smile. “I caught sight of Aemond training this morning. He is very skilled.”

Viserra’s smile faltered for a moment, the subtle shift in her demeanour not lost on Cregan. As far as the realm was concerned, her children were still thought to be the children of her late husband, Borros Baratheon.

Yet here was Cregan, with his sharp northern mind, correctly acknowledging the truth—that Rhaegar was, in fact, Aemond’s son.

Cregan noticed the shift and quickly added, “You have nothing to worry about, Princess. I know the importance of discretion. My loyalty extends to your son, as well.”

Viserra exhaled softly, her relief palpable. “You are very honourable, my lord.”

Cregan’s smile was gentle, understanding. “Sometimes we find ourselves in marriages we do not wish for. And in turn, we find our happiness elsewhere. Love will find a way”

The weight of his words settled over Viserra, bringing a rush of emotion she hadn’t expected. She thought of Aemond, of everything they had endured to be together, and a tear slipped down her cheek.

Cregan, ever the gentleman, reached up and gently wiped the tear away with his thumb, his touch soft and kind.

Before she could react, however, she felt a firm hand grip her arm. She was suddenly yanked away from Cregan, her body spinning to face an enraged Aemond. His face was a mask of barely contained fury as he stood between her and Cregan.

“Pardon me, Lord Stark,” Aemond said through gritted teeth, his voice tight with anger. “I need words with my wife.”

Cregan, ever composed, bowed his head slightly. “Of course, Prince Aemond.”

Aemond’s grip on Viserra’s hand tightened as he all but dragged her out of the throne room, his body radiating fury as they left the festivities behind.

Aemond stormed through the darkened corridors of the Red Keep, his grip like iron around Viserra’s wrist as he dragged her behind him.

She struggled against him, but he didn’t let go. Fury burned in his veins, hot and volatile, as they moved deeper into the quiet, shadowed parts of the castle.

“Aemond, let go!” she hissed, trying to pull away, but his grip was unyielding.

He didn’t stop until they reached a secluded alcove, shrouded in darkness and far from prying eyes. Without a word, he shoved her against the cold stone wall, his body caging hers in.

His breath came fast, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his anger as he loomed over her, his single eye blazing.

“What the hell are you playing at?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Letting Stark touch you like that—”

Viserra scoffed, her own eyes flashing with defiance. “Like that old bag who had her hand on your arm? Don’t be a hypocrite, Aemond.”

She moved to push past him, but Aemond was quicker. He slammed his hand against the wall beside her head, blocking her escape.

His face was close to hers, the heat of his breath mingling with hers as he stared down at her, livid.

“You are my wife,” he spat, his voice shaking with the force of his rage, “and yet you flaunt yourself before other men—Stark, of all people—”

“And what about you?” Viserra snapped back, her voice sharp and cutting. “Entertaining those women like they had a chance—like I didn’t see the way they looked at you”

His lips curled into a bitter smile, his anger deepening, but there was something else underneath it. A tension, a desire, bubbling to the surface. Without warning, he leaned in and kissed her.

It wasn’t gentle, nor tender. His lips crushed against hers with the force of his frustration, his hand gripping the back of her neck. For a heartbeat, she froze, her body going rigid beneath him.

Then, with a snarl, she shoved him back, her hands pushing against his chest, her eyes burning into his.

They stood there for a moment, their chests heaving, eyes locked in a battle of wills. The air between them was thick with tension, the anger from moments ago mixing with something far more dangerous. For a long, taut second, neither of them moved.

Then, as if a dam had broken, they both launched at one another at the same time. Their mouths met again, this time with a fierce hunger, teeth clashing, tongues tangling.

Viserra’s hands gripped his tunic, pulling him closer, while Aemond pressed her harder against the wall, his hands roaming over her waist.

Her fingers then tangled in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan against her mouth, but it only spurred him on.

Aemond growled as he spun Viserra around and pressed her face against the wall, with one hand on the back of her neck and the other quickly unlacing and pushing down his breeches, along with his small clothes just enough to free his hard leaking cock.

“You’re mine-” rasped Aemond as he nudged her ankle with his foot, signalling for her to open her legs wider.

His body covered hers as he sucked and licked the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Viserra moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth digging into her skin.

Not having the patience to properly prepare her, Aemond spat into his hand reaching down to run it up and down the hard length of himself, eyeing Viserra with an animalistic hunger, a smirk on his lips as she bent forward for him.

He rucked up the dress she was wearing and pulled aside her small clothes guiding himself to her entrance, she barely has a moment to adjust before he is pressing his cock forcefully inside and stretching her brutally, causing her to cry out.

“FUCKING TAKE IT!” spits Aemond.

Viserra can’t think of anything but the intense pounding thrusts that greet her, causing her to wail and moan, causing the tears form in her eyes, before running down her cheeks, her crown falling to the floor and landing with a loud clatter.

Aemond sets a brutal pace, his hips crashing into hers, his fingers digging into her hips as he pushes and pulls her against him.

His cock reaching deep inside her, the sting of being stretched by him now giving way to a pleasurable ache.

Then he withdraws from her and spins her around, lifting her into his arms, his mouth pressed against hers as he quickly thrusts back inside her.

“YES! YES! AEMOND!” screams Viserra.

“FUCK!” shouts Aemond as he feels her cunny clenching around his cock.

“P-Please. Oh Please. Yes-yes” babbled Viserra ignoring the pain in her back as the force of Aemond’s thrusts kept slamming her into the wall.

“That’s it-” encouraged Aemond his gaze rooted to the place where they were joined, transfixed by the sight of her cunt stretched around his cock.

“Oooh-please-please” muttered Viserra.

But then, his thrust begin to slow, and he withdraws from her, making her whimper in frustration.

But Aemond ignores her as he lays her on the floor and falls to his knees.

Sliding his hands up her legs, bunching the fabric of her small clothes in his hand before he rips them from her body.

“Aemond” shrieked Viserra as he takes hold of her legs and hooks them over his shoulders, his mouth quickly descending on her cunny.

Ravenously, he pressed into Viserra’s core with his tongue, in and out, much faster than his cock ever could.

Still gasping, Viserra clutches at his head with one hand, her other digging into the fabric of her dress.

Aemond withdrew from her soaking wet core and lashed hard at her clitoris with his tongue, pulling on it with his lips. He was hard, fast and brutal, alternating between her assaulted bundle of nerves and drinking deep from her cunt.

Viserra ground down on Aemond, hard; his tongue speared deeper inside her, and she felt the warm curl of her peak approach.

Aemond growled, deep in his throat. The vibration of his vocal cords rippled through to his tongue and Viserra gasped; she felt every vibration keenly. Her body tensed for her peak– But Aemond pulled away from her and smirked, his chin shining with her slick.

“A-Aemond” gasped Viserra, the tears of frustration spilling down her cheeks.

“Be a good little girl and take what I give you” said Aemond as he reached for the tie’s on the front of her dress before he grew impatient and tore it open, leaving her breasts bared.

A loud moan erupted from the back of his throat at the sight of Viserra’s perfect breasts, he leaned forward and took one of her rosy nipples into his mouth, sucking on the stiffened peak before he bit her.

“Ooooh Aemond-“ whined Viserra as she writhed against him, he smirked as he released her nipple and moved across lavishing the other one with the same attention.

“P-Please-” sobbed Viserra as she felt his hard cock sliding against her folds.

“Hmmm” growled Aemond as he sheathed himself inside her.

“God. Yes. Aemond” moaned Viserra.

He began to thrust in and out of her in a series of deep achingly slow thrusts.

“Your cunt is dripping, it's so beautiful” sighed Aemond.

Slowly thrusting back and forth. Over and over, withdrawing further each time, until his cock entirely withdrew from her warm wet entrance.

“Tell me you want me-“ growled Aemond as he ran the head of his cock through her wet folds.

“I want you” exclaimed Viserra.

“Tell me you need me” whispered Aemond as he sheathed himself back inside her.

“I need you-“ muttered Viserra as one of Aemond’s hands slid up her body and wrapped around her throat.

Aemond smiled and then began to fuck her in earnest, his fingers digging into the flesh of her throat, using her as leverage as he repeatedly plunged his cock into her cunny, over, thrilled to hear Viserra’s loud moans of need echoing around the alcove.

His thrusts, brutal and unrelenting, the stone floor harsh against her back.

“Come for me-” breathed Aemond.

Viserra screamed as her desperately needed peak exploded from her body, making every limb tremble as her body bucked around Aemond’s cock.

Gods, he needed to spill his seed, but not like this.

So, with his cock still nestled inside her, Aemond manoeuvred himself into a sitting position, resting against the wall with Viserra on his lap.

“Give me another-I want you to come on my cock again” growled Aemond.

Viserra quickly unclasped the silver fastenings on Aemond’s leather tunic and ripped open his cotton shirt.

She ran her hands over the defined muscles of his chest, her nails digging into his pale skin.

“That’s it-mark me fucking harder” growled Aemond, his eye rolling into the back of his head as Viserra ran her nails across his skin.

“Oh” gasped Viserra as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it baby, take it. Take all of me-good girl”.

Aemond placed his hands on Viserra’s hips and marvelled as she as she bounced on top of him.

“S-so good-Aemond-“ whimpered Viserra.

“I-I’m never leaving this sweet cunt-” moaned Aemond.

Viserra slid her hands around the back of his neck and coiled her fingers into his silver hair as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Viserra as he moved his hand to her breasts and once again took one of her nipples into his mouth, his teeth gently grazing the rosy bud.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond, as he moved to the other breast.

Viserra’s thighs began to burn, and her knees were grazed as she felt her second peak approach.

“AEMOND” screamed Viserra her vision going white as she came around his cock.

“I’m going to fill you with my seed-see you swell with my child again-FUCK”

“Y-yessss Aemond, I want it-I want you-please put another babe in me” babbled Viserra.

“Let everyone know who you belong to-who’s babe you carry” moaned Aemond his fingers digging into Viserra’s waist as he moved her faster upon his cock.

“Yes-yes-oh please” wailed Viserra.

“FUUUCCCKKK” roared Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed inside her, collapsing against the sofa, breathing hard.

It took a good while for Aemond to regain his senses. Meanwhile Viserra had collapsed against him, her face pressed into his neck.

Viserra sat curled up in Aemond’s lap, her breath steadying as she rested her face against the crook of his neck, her body still trembling from their encounter.

Her dress, hung in tattered ruins around her, barely clinging to her skin. Her fingers lightly traced over the sharp angles of his collarbone, savouring the closeness between them in the aftermath.

When she shifted slightly, Aemond’s eyes roved over her body, catching sight of the angry red marks his teeth had left along the delicate skin of her neck and shoulders.

A wave of worry surged through him, his chest tightening with guilt. He gently cupped her face, lifting her chin so she met his gaze. His thumb brushed over her cheek.

“Are you alright?” His voice was softer now, a stark contrast to the intensity from before.

Viserra’s lips curved into a small, breathless smile, her eyes heavy-lidded. “I’m fine”

His gaze flickered back to the marks he’d left. “I-I’m sorry for biting you. I didn’t mean to—”

She silenced him with a quick shake of her head, her fingers lightly touching the spot on her neck where a bite mark lay.

“Don’t apologize. I liked it.” Her voice held no hint of hesitation, only warmth and satisfaction.

Aemond exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing. She shifted to move off him, and he groaned slightly as his softened cock slipped from her warmth.

Viserra sat down on the cold stone floor, adjusting her ruined gown, and Aemond stood, pulling up his small clothes as he relaced his breeches. It was then that he noticed something—blood on her knees, faint but unmistakable.

He crouched down immediately, his eye wide with concern. “Viserra-” His voice cracked slightly. “I hurt you.”

She glanced down at her knees, then back at him, brushing it off with a wave of her hand. “It’s nothing, Aemond. I’m fine.”

But Aemond wasn’t convinced. His brow furrowed deeply, shame flickering across his face. “I should’ve waited. We should’ve gone back to our chambers. I—” He cut himself off, the words getting stuck in his throat.

Viserra stared at him for a moment before her hand shot out, smacking him lightly across the cheek—not hard, but enough to startle him into silence.

“I’ll have none of that from you, thank you very much,” she said sternly, her tone leaving no room for his self-pity. She held out her hand to him, a subtle command for help. “Now, help me up.”

Aemond, still reeling from the sudden slap, obeyed immediately, reaching down to gently pull her to her feet.

She wobbled slightly, her legs still shaky, but she leaned into him, pressing her face against his bare chest. His arm slid around her waist, holding her steady as she rested against him, taking a moment to recover.

After a beat of silence, Viserra tilted her head back to look up at him, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “I enjoyed that side of you, Aemond,” she said quietly, her lips brushing against his skin as she spoke. “I wish to experience it again.”

Aemond’s lips quirked into a small smile, his earlier guilt melting away at her words. He bent down, picked up her fallen crown from the floor, and placed it back into her hands. “Another time, perhaps,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

He then swept her off her feet, lifting her effortlessly into his arms. “But for now, I want to take you back to our chambers and take care of you.”

Viserra smiled as she settled into his arms, resting her head against his shoulder, her fingers lightly trailing over his arm. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Aemond glanced down at her, a mix of fondness and amusement in his eye, before carrying her back toward their chambers.

Viserra sat naked on the edge of the bed, her ruined dress discarded in a heap on the floor.

Aemond had helped her out of it with great care, his gentle hands guiding her as the tattered fabric slipped from her body.

Her silver crown now rested on the vanity, forgotten, while the soft glow of the nearby fire flickered across the room.

Aemond knelt before her, equally bare, his fingers delicately dabbing at the grazes on her knees with a damp cloth. The blood had stopped flowing, but the skin was still raw and tender.

As he worked, he pressed a series of featherlight kisses to her reddened skin, his lips lingering there longer each time, as though trying to kiss away her pain.

Once he was satisfied that her knees were cleaned, Aemond rose slightly, moving behind her on the bed. His long fingers carefully undid the intricate braids in her hair, allowing the silver locks to tumble free. He combed through her hair gently, feeling the silkiness between his fingers.

But as he worked, he felt her body shaking, and then came the sound that stilled his heart—a soft, broken sob.

Alarmed, he froze for a moment before leaning forward. “Viserra,” he whispered, his voice filled with concern, “what’s wrong?”

Viserra buried her face in her hands, her shoulders trembling as she cried softly. “I love you so much, Aemond,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “These last few weeks without you-they’ve been horrible. I should’ve just spoken to you. Instead, I provoked you-pushed you away. After everything we went through to be together. I—” Her voice cracked as she kept repeating, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Aemond’s heart clenched, and without hesitation, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest. He stroked her hair, his lips pressed to her temple as he gently hushed her.

“Shhh, my love. It’s all right,” he murmured. “Don’t apologize. I should’ve been there for you, Viserra. I let my duties take over, and if I hadn’t been so focused on my role as Lord Commander… none of this would have happened.”

She sniffled against him, her tears wetting his skin as she clung to him. “But—”

“No,” Aemond cut her off softly, his voice firm but tender. He gently tipped her chin up so she could look at him, his eye soft with affection. “I promise you, from now on, I’ll cut back on my duties. I’ll make time for you and the children. I won’t let this happen again.”

Viserra smiled through her tears, her heart swelling with relief and love for him. She cupped his face in her hands, nodding. “Speaking of children-” she began, her voice a bit lighter now. “Were you serious about what you said earlier? About getting me with child again?”

Aemond paused, a bit taken aback, before giving her a small smile. “I was,” he said quietly, his fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her face.

Viserra’s eyes sparkled. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I want to have another. I want to give you as many children as I can. I love being full of you.”

Aemond groaned softly at her words, desire sparking to life in his chest. His eye darkened with need, but there was a gentleness there too, a tenderness that only she ever saw.

Viserra smiled at the effect her words had on him, then slowly leaned back on the bed, her body laid out before him like an invitation.

“We need to make sure your seed takes root,” she teased, her voice soft but sultry.

Aemond gazed down at her, his lips curving into a slow, wicked smile. “As you wish, my sweet.”

He crawled over her, his hands sliding down her sides, feeling the heat of her skin beneath his fingertips.

As Aemond leaned in to kiss her, Viserra smirked, her voice a breathy whisper against his lips. “I win,” she muttered, her tone teasing. “You gave in first.”

Aemond chuckled, his deep laugh sending a shiver down her spine. “Perhaps,” he conceded, his lips brushing against hers. “But there are other ways to secure my own victory.”

Viserra arched a brow, curious. “How?”

Without another word, Aemond began descending down her body, his lips trailing soft, deliberate kisses along her skin, igniting fire with every touch.

He paused just below her navel, his eye gleaming wickedly as he glanced up at her. “I wonder,” he mused, his voice low, “How long it will be before I have you begging me to let you peak-” His fingers danced along the curve of her hips. “-That is, of course, if I am merciful enough to grant you what you wish.”

Viserra’s breath hitched, but she held her ground, narrowing her eyes playfully. “You wouldn’t.”

Aemond grinned darkly as he pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, his breath warm against her skin. “Care to try me, ābrazȳrys?” he whispered, his voice heavy with challenge. (Wife).

Viserra bit her lip, her heart racing at his words. “Daor valzȳrys,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, a hint of defiance in her tone. (No, Husband).

Aemond’s lips brushed dangerously close to where she craved him most, sending waves of anticipation through her.

He smiled against her skin and looked up at her. “Skoros gaomagon jaelā ñuha dōna?” he asked, his voice a mix of heat and amusement. (What do you want, my sweet)

Viserra’s breath trembled as her resolve weakened. Her hands found their way to his hair, her fingers curling into the silver strands.

“Jaelan ao,” she whispered, the words slipping from her lips like a confession. (I want you)

Aemond’s smirk widened at her admission, and he pressed a lingering kiss to her thigh before pulling back slightly.

“Ñuha zaldrīzes,” she added, her voice softer now, full of affection. (My dragon)

Aemond’s eye gleamed with satisfaction, his own victory now within reach. “Then I suppose,” he whispered, moving closer, “I shall have to grant you what you desire, ñuha jorrāelagon.” (My love)

And as he descended further, his lips and touch sending her mind spiralling, and she knew that in this game of theirs, they had both won.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #hotd fic #aemond one eye #aemond x oc #aemond #aemond smut #prince aemond #aemond targaryen smut #prince aemond targaryen #kcktfics

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kckt88 · 4 months ago

Text

Stake My Claim.

Summary:

Aemond knows his older brother lusts after his wife, so he decides to show Aegon what he will never have.

Warning(s): Angst, Jealousy, Possessive Behaviour, Dark Aemond, Uncle/Niece Incest, Begging, Smut, Kissing, Oral Sex, Fingering, P in V, Mutliple Orgasms, Multiple Positions, Squirting, Spit Kink, Breeding Kink, Slight Dom/Sub Aemond, Forced Voyeurism, Threat Of Murder.

AEMOND x O.C NIECE

Word Count: 8972

FILTHY/BASICALLY PORN WITH A SPRINKLE OF PLOT!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

Prince Aemond Targaryen stood in the grand hall of the Red Keep, his violet eye sharp and brooding as he observed his older brother, Aegon.

The grand hall was filled with courtiers and lords, but Aemond’s attention was focused solely on one thing — the way Aegon’s gaze lingered far too long on his wife Vaelynn.

Aemond’s fingers clenched around the hilt of his sword, his jaw tightening as he watched Aegon, who was supposed to be speaking with one of the bannermen, glance surreptitiously in Vaelynn's direction.

It boiled Aemond’s blood. Aegon had his own wife, Helaena, yet he was letting his gaze drift hungrily toward Vaelynn as it often did.

It was as though Aegon saw everything in the world as his for the taking, as though he had some divine right to whatever he desired, including what belonged to Aemond.

He felt a surge of possessiveness, hot and fierce, rise within him.

Vaelynn was Aemond's — his wife, his partner. Originally their union had been one of family politics, and a desperate attempt to prevent the Targaryen bloodline from splintering into civil war.

It had been his father's final command, a last, dying plea for peace before Viserys had taken his final breath. Queen Rhaenyra, after dispatching those who conspired against her ascent had honoured her father's will and married her eldest daughter to Aemond.

A marriage that had finally united the two warring sides.

But Aemond’s devotion to his wife went far beyond a mere duty to his father’s wishes. Vaelynn was more than just a symbol of peace or a political pawn.

She was his wife, his future Queen, his precious jewel. Her long silver hair shimmered in the light of the torches, her Targaryen features regal and fierce, and every time Aemond looked at her, he was reminded that for once, he had something Aegon did not.

The thought of it thrilled him. Aegon, the first son from their father’s second marriage, had the ease of a life that required no true effort. Aegon, who had never needed to fight for anything.

Aegon, who had never known the pain of loss the way Aemond had when he'd claimed Vhagar and lost an eye in the process. Aegon, who still had the audacity to cast those lecherous glances at Vaelynn, as though he had any right to her.

Aemond’s eye darkened as he watched Aegon sip wine from his goblet, his lips curling into a lazy smirk as his gaze flickered yet again toward Vaelynn.

The possessiveness inside Aemond coiled tighter. He had trained with the sword, studied history and philosophy, and sacrificed his eye to gain his dragon.

But Vaelynn? He would not share her, not with anyone. Least of all with Aegon.

He stood straighter, squaring his shoulders as his gaze flicked to his wife. Vaelynn, graceful and poised, was speaking with a noble woman oblivious to the attention she was drawing from Aegon.

But Aemond saw it. He saw everything. And as his eye shifted back to Aegon, a small, dangerous smile curled on his lips.

The idea came to Aemond like a sudden spark of wildfire in his mind—filthy, depraved, but burning with a savage clarity that made his heart race.

He stood, still as stone, the sounds of the bustling court fading into the background as his thoughts darkened. The more he watched Aegon’s gaze track Vaelynn’s every movement, the more he fed that flame.

Aegon, who had always believed everything was his. Aegon, who likely thought that, with a few charming words and a lecherous smile, he could steal Vaelynn's affection. Aegon, who needed to be reminded—no, taught—a lesson. She belongs to me.

The thought festered inside him, twisting his possessiveness into something more potent, more vicious.

Aemond wanted Aegon to know exactly who Vaelynn belonged to, wanted him to feel the crushing weight of desire and envy as he watched her give herself to someone else—to Aemond. Her husband. Her lover. The one man who could claim her in ways Aegon could only dream of.

The wicked idea solidified; his mind drawn deeper into its shadows. He would make Aegon watch. It was brutal, vile, and the thrill of it surged through him like dragon fire.

He imagined it now, the moment clear as if it were unfolding before him—the two of them, Vaelynn and Aemond, wrapped in the heat of their bedchamber. He would touch her, undress her, claim her with a fervour that left no doubt of his dominion over her.

He would make sure Aegon could see it all—the soft, intimate whispers, the way Vaelynn would arch under his touch, the way she would moan his name as he fucked her. Not Aegon’s. Never Aegon’s.

Aemond’s lips twitched into a dark smile as he imagined the shock, the rage, the helpless hunger on Aegon’s face, forced to bear witness to what he could never have. He would see Vaelynn’s devotion, her loyalty, her desire—all directed at Aemond.

Aegon’s lustful glances, his smug arrogance, would be met with the bitter truth: Vaelynn was Aemond’s wife, bound to him by the law of gods and men, by their bodies entwined in the deepest of intimacies.

Aegon would learn, in the cruellest way, that some things—the most precious things—were beyond his reach.

The thought of it fuelled Aemond’s jealousy and his hunger, both fierce and untameable. Aegon would watch and suffer.

He would see with his own eyes the very thing he coveted most, knowing he could never touch it, never have it, never know the closeness that Aemond shared with her.

Aemond’s pulse quickened. He could already imagine how Vaelynn would react. She was no fool; she understood the tension between the brothers, though she had always carried herself with grace, with a quiet loyalty that was never in question.

And while Aemond had never spoken his suspicions about Aegon’s lecherous stares to her, he knew she was aware of the way her uncle lingered a little too long in her presence.

And so, when the time came, he would make sure Vaelynn knew what he intended. He would guide her through it, speaking to her in that commanding, silken tone that always stirred a reaction from her. And Aegon? Aegon would be forced to sit and watch, powerless, as Aemond claimed what was his.

The very thought was intoxicating. Aegon had always been handed the world without lifting a finger, always had what Aemond had worked so hard to achieve. But not this. Not Vaelynn.

Aemond would ensure that this one thing—his wife, his love, his life—would never be his brother’s, not in any way.

And Aegon would suffer for it.

Aemond moved across the hall with a quiet, purposeful grace, his singular violet eye locked onto Vaelynn. She was standing by the hearth, still speaking softly with one of the noblewomen.

The sight of her, regal and poised in her red and black gown, her long, platinum hair cascading down her back, made his chest tighten. She was so beautiful it hurt, and the more he watched, the more his need for her grew, sharp and insistent.

He reached her side, slipping in behind her with a smoothness that belied the dark thoughts racing through his mind.

His hand, warm and possessive, slid up her arm in a slow, deliberate motion, causing her to shiver beneath his touch. Her skin, soft like silk, prickled with goosebumps as his fingers caressed her, and he could hear her breath catch in her throat.

Bending forward, Aemond let his lips brush the delicate shell of her ear, his voice low, barely a whisper. “You look so beautiful tonight, my love,” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. “I cannot wait until we can make our excuses and leave this place. I want you. Desperately.”

His words were laced with hunger, with a barely contained desire that made her cheeks flush, her posture shift as she pressed ever so slightly back into him.

He saw the way her lips parted, her breath quickening at the feel of his hand against her, and it thrilled him. She was his. Every part of her.

Aemond’s lips grazed her cheek, a soft kiss that sent a shiver down her spine, and he delighted in her reaction—the way her body responded to him without hesitation, the quiet whisper of his name that left her lips, breathless and needy.

“Aemond-” she whispered, her voice low enough that only he could hear it.

They had been married for six moons now, and though their marriage had started with tentative touches and gentle care—her innocence as a maiden requiring patience—it had not taken long for the fire between them to ignite.

Their nights together had grown wild, untamed, as they allowed themselves to give in to the passion that simmered beneath the surface.

Aemond had learned her body as well as he knew his own—how to make her tremble, how to draw moans from her lips as he devoured her sweet cunny, or how to leave her breathless and begging for him as he sheathed his cock inside her and fucked her into their mattress.

And he never tired of her. His appetite for Vaelynn was insatiable, ravenous.

No matter the time of day, he found himself craving her, stealing moments when they could slip away, taking her in their bed or wherever else they found themselves.

It wasn’t unusual for him to claim her multiple times in a single night, each time more intense than the last. And she gave herself to him completely, their bodies entwined in a way that left no doubt of their mutual desire.

He pressed another kiss to her cheek, slower this time, savouring the way her body softened under his touch. But as he kissed her, his eye drifted across the room, locking onto Aegon.

His brother stood near the dais, a goblet in hand, his lips curled into a faint sneer as his gaze flicked toward them. Aegon’s face betrayed his jealousy, the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes darkened with frustration.

Aemond smirked.

Without breaking eye contact with Aegon, he slid his hand to Vaelynn’s chin, tilting her head ever so slightly toward him. He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a slow, lingering kiss.

It was tender at first, but there was an underlying heat, a possessiveness that seeped into every movement. He kissed her with intention, with purpose, making sure Aegon could see every moment of it.

When he finally pulled away, Vaelynn’s eyes fluttered open, her cheeks flushed from the kiss, her breath uneven. Aemond’s smirk widened as he looked back at Aegon, whose face had twisted into a seething mask of jealousy.

Let him watch, Aemond thought. Let him burn with desire for what he will never have.

Vaelynn was his, and he would make sure Aegon knew it.

Aemond's grip tightened on Vaelynn’s waist as he whispered against her lips.

“Soon, my love-soon.”

Later that night, after Vaelynn had bid her goodnight to her mother Rhaenyra and her father Daemon, Aemond took her hand with a sense of urgency that made her heart race.

His grip was firm, and the fire in his eye was unmistakable as he led her through the quiet, winding halls of the Red Keep, back to their chambers.

The night air was cool, but the heat between them was undeniable, simmering just beneath the surface.

When they reached the door to their chambers, Aemond paused. He turned to her, his gaze intense, filled with desire.

Before she could speak, he pressed her against the stone wall, his hands moving over her body with a hunger that made her gasp. His lips captured hers in a kiss so passionate it left her breathless, the force of it consuming them both.

She felt his hands roam her curves, caressing her waist, her hips, the press of his body hard and unrelenting against hers.

Aemond’s arousal surged through him, a fierce, insatiable need that had built throughout the evening. Gods, this woman was something else entirely.

Never had Aemond felt so excited. Vaelynn wasn’t just his wife—she was his equal, his match in every way, and the very thought of her, of what they shared, sent waves of desire crashing through him.

When he finally pulled away, his breath ragged, he rested his forehead against hers. They stood there, panting in the dim corridor, the space between them crackling with unspoken intensity.

“I have a plan,” he murmured, his voice rough with need. His fingers brushed her cheek, tender despite the raw desire coursing through him. “I want Aegon to watch.”

Vaelynn’s breath caught, her body still humming from the kiss. She looked up at him, confused at first, but she didn’t speak. Aemond continued, his tone low and dark, as he traced the line of her jaw with his thumb.

“I want to show him that you belong to me, that you’re mine and mine alone. He thinks he can stare at you, desire you, but he will never have you. I want him to see it, Vaelynn,” he whispered, the possessiveness in his words unmistakable. “I want him to watch as I take you to bed, to see what he can never have. He needs to know.”

As he spoke, Vaelynn remained silent, her eyes wide but unreadable. For a brief moment, fear flickered inside Aemond’s chest.

Had he gone too far? Had his twisted desire to show his dominance over Aegon horrified her? He was prepared for her to push him away, for her to recoil at his suggestion, to tell him that this need, this dark urge, was too much.

But then, she surprised him.

Vaelynn surged forward, her lips crashing into his with a ferocity that caught him off guard. The kiss was wild, primal, filled with a heat that burned hotter than any flame.

She kissed him as if she could devour him, her hands pulling him closer, her body pressing against his with an intensity that left him breathless.

When she finally pulled away, her cheeks flushed and her breathing heavy, her eyes locked onto his, gleaming with the same fierce hunger he felt.

“I understand,” she whispered, her voice low, her lips brushing against his as she spoke. “I understand why you need this, Aemond. And I want it too.” Her words sent a flare of arousal through his body, her breath hot against his skin. “I want to show him that I belong to you. I want him to see what he can never have.”

Aemond’s heart pounded in his chest. They truly were a match made in heaven, each feeding off the other’s desire, each willing to push the boundaries to claim what was theirs.

His possessiveness was met with her fiery loyalty, and he had never felt so connected to anyone in his life. She understood him—his demand to be in control, his hunger for dominance, his need to be loved—and she shared it.

Vaelynn’s lips curved into a smirk, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “But how, Aemond? How do you plan to get Aegon to our chambers?”

Aemond’s own smirk deepened as he stepped back, his hand reaching for the door.

Vaelynn’s brow furrowed in confusion as she stepped into their chambers, the door creaking open.

The room was dimly lit by the flickering glow of candlelight, casting long shadows across the floor. Her breath hitched when her eyes fell on the chair facing their bed.

Aegon sat bound to it, his arms tied to the wooden frame with thick rope, his face twisted in a mix of anger and frustration. His mouth opened in a snarl as he saw them, his eyes wild with disbelief.

“Let me go, Aemond!” Aegon barked, his voice filled with rage as he struggled against the restraints. “This is madness!”

But Aemond only smiled, stepping inside the room and closing the door behind him with a heavy click of the lock.

“No, brother,” he said, his voice calm and dark as he moved closer to Vaelynn, his hand resting possessively on her waist.

Vaelynn’s eyes met Aegon’s, and she could see the mix of desire and fury in his gaze.

But all she felt was excitement, her body pulsing with the same hunger Aemond had stirred in her earlier.

She looked back at her husband, her heart pounding, and whispered, “Show him.”

Aemond’s lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile as he turned her toward the bed. "With pleasure."

Aemond’s grip tightened around Vaelynn’s waist as he guided her toward the bed, positioning her directly in front of Aegon.

The soft flicker of candlelight cast shadows along her figure, making her pale skin glow in the dim room. Aemond’s eye never left his brother, his gaze sharp and filled with cruel satisfaction as he reached for the delicate laces of Vaelynn’s gown, his fingers working methodically to undo each knot.

Aegon, bound to the chair, turned his gaze to the floor, his jaw clenched, refusing to look. The tension in the room was thick, a palpable mixture of desire, jealousy, and anger.

Aemond noticed his brother’s reluctance and snarled, his voice cold and commanding.

“You’ve had no problem gazing upon my wife before,” Aemond said, his tone laced with venom as his fingers slipped the final lace free, the gown hanging loosely from Vaelynn’s shoulders. “So, you will watch now.”

Aegon hesitated, his body still for a moment, the weight of Aemond’s words sinking in. Slowly, reluctantly, his eyes lifted, dark and stormy, settling on Vaelynn.

Aemond smirked in satisfaction, feeling the power of his control over his older brother. With a gentle tug, the silken material of Vaelynn’s gown slid off her shoulders, falling in a soft pool at her feet, leaving her in nothing but a sheer shift that clung to the curves of her body.

Aegon bit his lip, hard, as his eyes betrayed him, taking in the sight of her. The translucent fabric left little to the imagination—the curve of her breasts, the soft swell of her hips, the slender lines of her waist.

She was breathtaking, every inch of her a testament to the beauty of their Valyrian blood. Aegon’s chest rose and fell, his breathing uneven as he fought to control the surge of arousal that rushed through him.

A barely audible groan slipped past his lips as he stared at her, helpless to look away.

Aemond’s lips curled into a smile as he stood behind Vaelynn, his hands sliding up her sides, possessive and deliberate. He leaned in close to her ear, his voice soft, but loud enough for Aegon to hear every word.

“Isn’t she beautiful, brother?”

Aegon remained silent, his jaw clenched, struggling to maintain some semblance of control as he watched Vaelynn’s bare form through the thin shift. His eyes flickered, a brief spark of rebellion in them, but Aemond wasn’t having it. His patience wore thin, his fingers gripping Vaelynn’s waist a little tighter as his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.

“I asked you a question,” Aemond growled, his eye blazing with anger as he met Aegon’s defiant stare. “Isn’t. She. Beautiful?”

Aegon swallowed hard, his pride battling against the situation he found himself in. Finally, his voice, rough and barely more than a strained whisper, broke the silence.

“Yes,” he muttered, his eyes flicking briefly to Aemond before falling back to Vaelynn. “She’s beautiful.”

Aemond’s smile returned, smug and triumphant, as he ran his hands over Vaelynn’s body, slowly peeling the sheer shift away from her, leaving her completely bare.

The cool air kissed her skin, but it was Aemond’s touch that made her shiver. He stood back, admiring her for a moment, before his gaze flicked once again to Aegon.

“Good,” Aemond murmured, his voice dangerously calm. “I want you to remember this, brother.”

Without taking his eyes off Aegon, Aemond reached down and undid the belt that held his sword and dagger, letting it fall to the floor with a loud clang.

As the weapons hit the stone floor, Aemond’s hands moved to the rest of his clothes, removing them one by one with deliberate slowness, savouring the moment. His tunic fell to the floor first, followed by his trousers and small clothes, leaving him just as bare as Vaelynn.

His body, lean and strong, was a testament to the hours he spent training, every scar a reminder of his victories.

He stood tall, his presence commanding, as he turned to Vaelynn, his gaze softening when it landed on her.

She looked up at him, her eyes dark with desire, the tension between them electric. Aemond’s lips quirked into a small, possessive smile as he cupped her chin, tilting her face up toward him.

“This-” he whispered, his voice low and intimate, “-is what he will never have.”

And with that, Aemond kissed her, slow and deep, his hand tangling in her hair as he claimed her in front of his brother.

It was a kiss filled with all the passion, possession, and love that had been building since the moment they wed, a reminder of who she belonged to, now and forever.

Aemond circled Vaelynn slowly, his steps measured and deliberate, his eye tracing every curve of her bare body like a predator stalking its prey.

There was an intensity in the way he moved, his gaze devouring her from every angle as if he were committing every inch of her to memory. His breath was heavy with arousal,

Aemond’s gaze darkened with satisfaction, his eye flickering between Vaelynn and Aegon. The sight of his brother, bound and helpless, his face twisted in frustration and arousal, was everything Aemond had hoped for.

It fuelled the possessive fire burning within him, and he was eager to remind Aegon just how much power he held.

With a commanding presence, he stepped back from Vaelynn, his voice low and authoritative as he spoke.

"Kneel" he ordered, his words cutting through the thick air of the room.

Without hesitation, Vaelynn obeyed. She sank gracefully to her knees, her eyes never leaving Aemond's as she positioned herself in front of him, her posture submissive yet confident, entirely at his mercy.

The trust between them was palpable, a silent understanding that neither needed to voice.

Aegon whimpered from his chair, his restraint becoming more unbearable with each passing moment. He struggled against the ropes binding his arms, his face contorting with a mix of desperation and desire.

The sight of Vaelynn kneeling, so willing and obedient to Aemond’s command, only added to his frustration. A low groan escaped his lips, but he was powerless to look away, no matter how much he wanted to.

Aemond’s lips curved into a smug smirk, his eye gleaming with satisfaction as he watched his brother squirm.

Slowly, he reached down and caressed Vaelynn’s cheek, his touch gentle and reverent despite the raw desire simmering beneath the surface.

His thumb brushed over her soft skin, tracing the line of her jaw before he brought it to her plump lower lip, pressing against it with a possessive tenderness.

“Open your mouth,” he murmured, his tone commanding yet intimate, a whisper meant only for her.

Vaelynn, always eager to please him, parted her lips without hesitation, her breath warm against his thumb as she obeyed his command.

Aemond smirked and then spat into her mouth.

“Swallow” he ordered.

Vaelynn closed her mouth and smiled as she swallowed.

Aegon’s strained breaths filled the room, his frustration palpable as he watched, his eyes wide and dark with envy.

He bit his lip hard, trying to stifle the sounds of his helpless arousal, but it was clear that the sight of Vaelynn submitting so completely to Aemond was almost too much for him to bear.

Every twitch of his muscles, every laboured breath, was a testament to the agony of witnessing something he would never experience for himself.

Aemond’s smirk grew as he glanced back at Aegon, watching his brother's pitiful struggle. "You see, brother," Aemond purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction, "She belongs to me-and you will watch."

Aemond extended his hand to Vaelynn, his grip firm yet gentle as he helped her to stand. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt the pull of his intensity in every movement, in every glance.

He guided her to the bed, his eye never leaving her, a predator ensuring that his prize remained within reach.

Vaelynn sat gracefully on the edge of the bed, her bare form glowing in the candlelight, a vision of ethereal beauty.

She stole a glance at Aegon, bound and seething in the chair across the room, his cheeks flushed a deep pink, his gaze locked helplessly on her body.

Despite himself, Aegon couldn't tear his eyes away, watching her with a mixture of shame and longing. The sight only fuelled the dark satisfaction building inside Aemond.

Vaelynn's attention returned to Aemond, her hands slowly moving up his lean body, fingers tracing the contours of his muscles with delicate but purposeful intent.

She felt the tremble in his body as her nails scraped lightly across his skin, and he groaned low in his throat, the sound primal, raw with desire.

Her touch held him captive, and as her hands continued their slow, torturous path, she whispered to him, her voice soft but commanding. “Take off your eyepatch, I wish to gaze upon your beauty in its entirety”

Aemond hesitated for only a moment, his lips parting in a quiet whimper, the sound so rare for him, so vulnerable.

She knew what her words, her praise, did to him—how they disarmed him in ways no one else could.

His heart raced in his chest, and the possessiveness in him faltered for just a second, replaced by something deeper, more intimate.

Without a word, Aemond reached up and pulled the eyepatch from his face, the black leather slipping from his fingers to fall carelessly to the floor.

He stood before her, exposed in a way few had ever seen him, the sapphire in place of his left eye glinting coldly in the dim light. It was a mark of his strength, his pain, his triumph—a reminder of what he had lost and what he had gained in return.

Vaelynn gazed up at him, a soft smile curving her lips as her eyes traced over his face.

The sapphire, so stark and striking, only added to the beauty that was uniquely his. He stood before her, raw and powerful, and her heart swelled with affection and desire.

“Ñuha gevie zaldrīzes” whispered Vaelynn, her voice laced with adoration (My beautiful dragon).

Aemond’s breath hitched at her words, his body responding to the warmth of her gaze and the tenderness in her voice. She saw all of him—the scars, the vulnerabilities—and still, she called him beautiful.

It was a power she wielded over him that no one else could ever claim. His hands trembled slightly as they came to rest on her shoulders, his thumb tracing soft circles on her skin as he gazed down at her with something that went beyond possession.

Vaelynn leaned forward and pressed a series of tender kisses to his bare stomach, her lips brushing against his pale skin.

Aemond closed his eye and let out a low groan as he felt her teeth grazing against him.

Aegon’s gaze was transfixed, no longer able to look away as Vaelynn leaned forward, her bare form moving with graceful, deliberate intent.

She pressed her soft lips to Aemond’s stomach, her touch feather-light, trailing kisses along the ridges of his taut muscles. Each kiss sent a ripple of pleasure through Aemond, his body responding to her affection with a barely contained hunger.

Aegon’s insides twisted in a storm of jealousy and desire, watching helplessly from his bound position as his younger brother stood in a state of near reverence before Vaelynn.

Aemond’s hands instinctively moved to her hair, his fingers weaving through the silver strands as he tilted his head back, his chest rising and falling with laboured breaths.

His voice, deep and rough with need, cut through the silence like a blade, the words slipping from his lips in their mother tongue, soft and intimate.

“kostilus, ñuha gevie ābrazȳrys,” he rasped, his voice a low growl, urging her on with each kiss. (Please, my beautiful wife).

Aegon’s jaw clenched at the sound of Aemond’s voice, rasping and raw with devotion for Vaelynn. There was something different in it—a passion that Aegon had never heard before.

The language of Old Valyria, spoken between them with such intimacy, felt like a knife twisting in Aegon’s gut. It was as if he were not only excluded from the moment but from a bond that ran deeper than flesh—a connection forged in fire and blood, something he could never possess.

As Vaelynn continued her trail of kisses, Aemond’s grip on her hair tightened, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His eye was half-lidded, his focus entirely on the woman before him.

Then Vaelynn moved back to lay on the bed, her bare body on display, as she reached out for Aemond and pulled him on the bed with her.

“Let me show Aegon how I take care of you” muttered Vaelynn as she placed kisses along Aemond’s sharp jaw and then down his neck, making sure to gently nip and suck his skin as she went.

She carried on moving down, pausing as she reached his chest, she grinned as she looked up at Aegon before taking one of Aemond’s nipples into her mouth, her tongue teasing it before she bit down gently.

“FUCK” moaned Aemond.

“Does ñuha dārys like that?” asked Vaelynn as she moved across and gave his other nipple the same attention, (My King).

“Oh. Gods” whimpered Aemond as she moved further down his body, her tongue and teeth grazing his pale skin.

Aemond’s gaze moved to Aegon who was watching intently.

Aegon’s body tensed, his heart racing as the jealousy burned hotter, more potent with each passing moment. His gaze flicked between the two of them, torn between wanting to look away and the torturous need to watch.

When Vaelynn reached the trail of hair from his belly button down to his cock, she pressed her nose against him and giggled when she felt the hair tickle her skin.

“Kostilus ñuha jorrāelagon” begged Aemond (Please my love).

“Ao līs umbagon ñuha zaldrīzes” replied Vaelynn (You must wait, my dragon).

Aemond stared down at his naughty wife, his mouth hanging open as Vaelynn’s warm, wet mouth wrapped around the head of his cock.

Her tongue gently moving around the tip – tracing the ridges and licking off that drops of pre-cum that had started to leak out.

“Fuck, Vaelynn” groaned Aemond as he threaded his fingers through his wife’s silver hair.

Vaelynn ran the flat of her tongue along Aemond’s length, tracing every hard inch of him.

Aemond’s heart almost stopped when she sucked his stones into her mouth, one at a time.

Her hand moving slowly over the hard length of him.

When Vaelynn moved and engulfed Aemond’s cock in her mouth again, he squeezed his eye shut.

But Aemond forced himself to open his eye, he needed to watch as his wife sucked his cock.

“Your taking me so well. Such a good girl” moaned Aemond.

Aemond knew it would push the limits of his control, but he did not care. He just had to watch his cock disappear into Vaelynn’s mouth and see it come back out, shining with her spit.

Her head moving back and forth, her perfect pink lips stretched around him.

“I’m not going to last if you carry on” Aemond admitted.

Vaelynn smiled slightly and began moving faster, also using one of her hands in rhythm with her mouth.

Then she moved her other hand over his stones, caressing them before she slid one of her fingers towards his hole.

“F-Fuck” moaned Aemond as she gently massaged over the tight ring of muscle.

“Do you like that ñuha raqiarzy?” asked Vaelynn (My beloved).

“Y-Yes” exclaimed Aemond.

“What about this?” asked Vaelynn as she put a finger into her mouth and then returned it to his hole before she gently slid the tip of her finger in.

“It feels so good-that’s it” groaned Aemond.

“More?”

“Y-Yes. P-Please. M-More” groaned Aemond.

Vaelynn responded to his statement by relaxing the back of her throat, and swallowing as much of her husband’s cock as she could, whilst her finger slowly moved inside him.

“Another-p-put another inside me” begged Aemond his body rocking against her.

Vaelynn smiled and gently added another and Aemond began to whimper as she curled her fingers inside him.

Aegon’s fingers clawed at the wooden arms of the chair, his nails digging into the grain as if he could tear himself free by sheer force of will.

Watching them—watching Vaelynn touch Aemond so intimately and seeing the way his brother unravelled under her hands—was pure agony.

Aegon bit his lip hard, hard enough to draw blood, the coppery taste filling his mouth as he tried to stifle the sound that threatened to escape him.

“Shit-Vaelynn I’m going to come. Oh, fuck, I’m coming!” shouted Aemond as he exploded.

Not hearing Aegon’s moaned gasp of “Fuck”

His wife took every last drop, swallowing his warm seed and licking him clean.

Aegon whimpered slightly at the sound of his brother’s climax, the sound of his voice—so vulnerable, so exposed—made something tighten in Aegon’s chest.

He had never seen Aemond like this, never imagined that his unyielding brother could be reduced to such a state, trembling and begging at the hands of a woman. And yet, here he was, utterly undone by her.

When Aemond recovered, he saw Vaelynn’s self-satisfied smile.

“Was that to your liking husband?” asked Vaelynn.

“Y-Yes. Now get up here and ride my face until I’m ready again” gasped Aemond as Y.N removed her fingers from him and wiped them on the sheets.

“Are you sure” asked Vaelynn

“Sit on my fucking face” ordered Aemond, ignoring his brother’s small whimper.

Vaelynn hovered above Aemond’s face; her knees splayed on either side of his head.

“Such a pretty cock sleeve" breathed Aemond as he ran the flat of his tongue along Vaelynn’s soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Vaelynn her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it ñuha dōna. Let me hear you” (My sweet).

“YES. It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please” begged Vaelynn.

“FUCK” growled Aemond.

Aegon’s breath came in shallow gasps, his heart pounding furiously in his chest as the sight of Vaelynn rolling her hips as his brother devoured her, he was painfully aroused, his body aching with desire.

His mouth was dry, his throat tight, and despite his best efforts, tears of frustration welled in his eyes, blurring his vision.

He blinked rapidly, trying to force them back, but the feeling of helplessness was overwhelming.

“Ooooh A-Aemond” shrieked Vaelynn.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Vaelynn, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Vaelynn "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh" whimpered Vaelynn; her chest heaving as she began to gently roll her hips against him.

“That’s it baby, ride my fucking face” groaned Aemond, his cock was so hard that it was boarding on painful.

Vaelynn was giving off a slew of whispered swear words, moans, and pleas.

Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat, then he grasped her thigh with his other hand and rolled her onto the bed, her back colliding with the soft mattress with a dull thud.

“Ohhh Aemond” whined Vaelynn at the sudden movement.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, come for me baby,” moaned Aemond, his face pressed between her shaking thighs.

Finally, he felt Vaelynn’s inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Vaelynn’s back arched taut as a bow and she screamed her release.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at his wife’s centre as she squirted all over his face.

Aegon’s eyes widened, his pulse quickening as realization dawned on him. Gods, no-did she really just squirt?

He had heard about it before, whispered in courtly gossip and salacious tales shared over wine, but never had he witnessed it himself. He had always imagined, fantasized, but no woman had ever done this for him.

The sight was overwhelming, mesmerizing in its erotic intensity. Aegon’s chest tightened, his arousal spiking to an almost painful level.

A low groan escaped his throat before he could stop it and he felt his cock throb as he spilled his seed.

The look of pure, tortured desire on Aegon’s face did not escape Aemond.

"Did you just spill in your breeches?" Aemond drawled, his voice low.

The words hit Aegon like a blow, and his entire body tensed, his face flushing an even deeper shade of red. He tried to avert his gaze, his lips parting as if to protest, but no words came out.

Aemond’s smirk deepened, his eye glittering with dark amusement as he watched his brother’s reaction.

"-I thought so." Aemond mused, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Aegon’s humiliation was written all over his face. He could feel the sticky warmth in his breeches, the evidence of his disgrace.

His stomach twisted with shame as he realized he had been so consumed by the sight of Vaelynn and Aemond that he had lost control of himself entirely.

“Hmm” muttered Aemond as he returned his attention to Vaelynn and pressed a series of kisses to her inner thighs, his teeth nipping at her skin.

“P-Please A-Aemond. Need you” begged Vaelynn.

Aemond rose to his knees, his chin shining with her slick, he smirked as he swiped his fingers over his chin and then placed them in his mouth savouring the delicious taste of his wife.

Aemond moved up Vaelynn’s body pausing to grasp hold of her left breast as he ran his tongue over the rosy nipple, his teeth grazing the stiffened peak.

“Oh-yes“ gasped Vaelynn, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention.

“Issa jorrāelagon-Issa glaeson-ñuhon” growled Aemond as he seized his wife’s lips in a ferocious kiss, his hard cock throbbing against her thigh (My love-my life-mine).

Aemond wrapped a hand around his cock and slowly ran it over Vaelynn’s wet entrance, she began squirming impatiently against him as he continued to tease her.

“P-Please, I want you” exclaimed Vaelynn desperately.

“Hmm” rasped Aemond as he slid inside her with a singular thrust. His hips coming to a stop against hers.

Aemond started to thrust slowly, trying to prolong the feel of his wife squeezing his cock.

"Faster, Aemond" begged Vaelynn.

"Patience, ñuha dōna" chided Aemond as he ran his nose up his wife’s neck (My sweet).

“Yes, Aemond, just like that-" panted Vaelynn.

Her hands ran over his arms, over his shoulders. Her fingernails raking down his back.

“Fucking mark me harder-“ growled Aemond.

Vaelynn dug her nails into his skin and clawed at his back deep enough to draw blood.

Aegon shifted uncomfortably in his seat, still reeling from the humiliation of Aemond’s mocking words, but he couldn’t stop the stirring deep inside him as Vaelynn and Aemond began again.

The fire between them was unmistakable, an unrestrained passion that filled the room with heat and tension so thick it was almost suffocating. He watched, helpless, as they moved together in a rhythm that was both primal and intimate, their bodies completely in sync.

“Gods-" grunted Aemond, speeding up slightly, revelling in the pain.

"Fuck me, Aemond. Fuck me with that big, cock of yours. You feel so good inside me”.

Aemond groaned loudly, knew exactly what his wife was doing, but he couldn’t help himself. She wanted faster, he was going much faster now.

His pace had increased with every filthy word that dropped from his wife’s luscious lips. Now he was quickly thrusting in and out, shaking the bed, the headboard banging loudly against the wall.

Aemond lifted Vaelynn’s legs onto his shoulders, and wrapped his arms around her thighs, squeezing them together as he thrust his cock into her soaking wet cunny.

His wife folded her arms above her head as she moved her hips, meeting Aemond thrust for thrust.

“Aemond! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Vaelynn.

“That’s it baby-come for me” exclaimed Aemond as he felt her clenching on his cock.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen, but he didn’t want to come. Not yet.

Not even waiting for her orgasm to fully subside, Aemond moved Vaelynn’s legs off his shoulders and quickly manoeuvred her onto all fours, she whimpered as his cock slipped out, but he bent forward to press a series of kisses to her glorious arse, his large hands kneading the soft pale flesh, before he sunk his teeth into her.

“AEMOND” squealed Vaelynn.

“Hmmm”

“P-Please Aemond” whispered Vaelynn, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her face into the mattress.

Aemond stuck his finger in his mouth before he ran it over her puckered hole.

“Is this alight?” breathed Aemond.

“Y-Yes. Put it inside me. I can take it” whimpered Vaelynn.

“Tell me-Tell me if it’s too much” replied Aemond as he slowly pressed his finger inside her.

“Ooh Aemond, yes. Please. More” babbled Vaelynn as he moved his finger in and out before adding a second.

“Your doing so well-my darling” moaned Aemond as he moved his fingers inside his wife, his other hand slowly stroking his cock.

“I want you-please Aemond”

Aemond moved into position and sheathed himself inside Vaelynn once again, his eye rolling into the back of his head.

“FUCK-” groaned Aemond,

“God. Yes. Aemond” moaned Vaelynn, his fingers in her arse and his cock deep in her cunt was so good.

Aemond began to thrust in and out of her in deep achingly slow thrusts, his fingers moving in rhythm with his cock.

“Harder-more-please ñuha raqiarzy” wailed Vaelynn (My beloved).

“Issa vaogenka hāedar” growled Aemond, his fingers moving faster (My dirty girl).

“Valzȳrys-” whimpered Vaelynn (Husband).

“That’s it-take it-take all of me” muttered Aemond as he removed his fingers, and grabbed hold of Vaelynn’s hips and increased the pace of his thrusts.

Vaelynn took one of Aemonds hands that was on her hip and brought it to the back of her head.

Knowing what his wife wanted, Aemond placed his hand on the back of her head and pushed her face into the mattress, her back arching.

His cock reaching deep inside her as he moved with such ferocity it could rival an animal, his long silver hair unbound and sticking to his sweaty back.

Aemond then grasped both of Vaelynn’s arms and held them behind her back as he pounded into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed around the room.

Each movement was filled with a raw, unrestrained hunger that Aegon had never witnessed before.

Vaelynn’s cries of pleasure were muffled by the mattress, her face buried in the soft fabric.

Her body arched in response to Aemond’s relentless rhythm, each cry escaping her lips in a series of desperate moans that reverberated through the room.

Aemond’s grip on Vaelynn was fierce, his movements relentless. He drove into her with a force that seemed almost brutal, but Vaelynn took every thrust with an almost frantic eagerness.

Her body trembled under him, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she surrendered completely to the intensity of their coupling.

“Fuck-that’s it” moaned Aemond.

He released Vaelynn’s arms and then took hold of her long hair, twisting his fingers into the messy braid before he pulled her backwards, her sweaty back colliding with his chest.

Aemond held his wife tight too him as he fucked her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

One hand grasped her hip, his blunt fingers digging into her flesh. Whilst his other released her hair and moved to her throat, squeezing gently.

“Give it to me please” pleaded Vaelynn her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder, her arm reaching behind her to tangle in his hair as their lips connected in a messy, passionate kiss.

“Look at her, brother,” rasped Aemond, his voice laced with dark satisfaction and dominance. “See who she belongs to.”

The words were a taunt, a challenge, and Aegon’s heart pounded with a mixture of torment and desire as he heard them. His eyes were locked on Aemond, unable to look away from the intense display of ownership and passion.

Aegon’s moans escaped his lips before he could stifle them, a sound of frustrated longing and tortured arousal. His body ached with the need for release as he watched the scene unfold, every movement of Aemond and Vaelynn driving him further into madness.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen again, as he thrust his cock inside Vaelynn.

“I want you to come on my cock again, but not like this-” muttered Aemond as he once again withdrew from his wife’s wet heat and laid across the bed.

“-Aemond” exclaimed Vaelynn breathlessly.

“Ride me-” replied Aemond as he pulled her on top of him. His hand moving to his cock, rubbing it along her folds before she sunk down and completely engulfed him.

“Ooooh” gasped Vaelynn as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it baby, take it. Take all of me”.

Aemond placed his hands on her hips and marvelled at his wife as she rode him.

Vaelynn dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“See how well she takes me, brother,” Aemond rasped, his voice dripping with satisfaction and dominance. “She feels divine, wrapped around me, her body made to fit perfectly.”

His words were a taunt, a declaration of his complete claim over Vaelynn.

Aemond’s gaze never wavered from Aegon, the intensity of his stare a clear challenge. “I’m going to get her with child,” he said, his voice filled with a dark promise. “You’ll see her all round and full of me, carrying the future King-my heir, my legacy upon the Iron Throne”

The declaration was meant to wound, to make Aegon feel the full weight of his helplessness. But it was Vaelynn’s response that drove Aegon to the edge of sanity.

Her voice, desperate and breathless, cut through the room. “Yes-yes. I’ll give you a son-please put a babe in me” she pleaded, her words sending a shiver down Aegon’s spine.

Aegon’s breathing became ragged, his body straining against the ropes that bound him, his face flushed with a combination of desire and frustration.

“A-Aemond” moaned Vaelynn as he suddenly sat up, moving his hand to her breast again and taking her nipple into his mouth, his teeth biting down on the rosy bud.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention.

“AEMOND” screamed Vaelynn her vision going white as she came around his cock.

Her husband pulled her closer and then rolled her back onto the bed his cock never leaving her warmth as he pounded into her with a series of deep penetrating thrusts, her legs wrapped around his waist, trapping his body against hers as he chased his own end.

Aemond’s grip on Vaelynn tightened as he neared his own climax, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more forceful.

The noises he made were almost otherworldly, a mix of guttural growls and breathless moans.

“I love you-I love you-I love you” groaned Aemond as he exploded.

The sight of Aemond’s utter surrender, the way he tensed and then finally collapsed onto Vaelynn, left Aegon unable to control himself any longer.

His own release came suddenly, a hot, throbbing wave that he could do nothing to stop. He spilled in his breeches once more, the sharp pleasure of his climax mixing with his lingering frustration and shame.

The noise of Aemond’s climax was a final, excruciatingly beautiful sound that Aegon could barely tolerate.

His brother’s ragged breathing, the way he clung to Vaelynn, the sheer force of his release—it all combined into a potent reminder of his own helplessness.

Aemond’s body tensed against Vaelynn’s, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he rode out his orgasm. Then, as his pleasure subsided, he collapsed onto her, his chest heaving as he relaxed against her.

Vaelynn’s body shifted slightly beneath him, her own breath coming in soft, satisfied sighs as she remained still, embracing the weight of her husband.

She looked up at Aemond with a tender, loving gaze, her hands caressing his back as he rested against her, his breathing gradually slowing.

Aegon watched, his body trembling and his mind reeling, as Aemond leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Vaelynn’s lips.

The tenderness of the moment was a stark contrast to the primal intensity that had preceded it. Aemond slowly withdrew from her, the sheen of sweat on his skin catching the light as he moved gracefully off the bed.

His softened cock shining with the combination of Vaelynn's slick and his spend.

Aemond bent down to retrieve his dagger from where it lay on the floor. The metal glinted in the dim light as he unsheathed it.

His gaze, sharp and knowing, flicked toward Aegon, who was still bound to the chair. Aegon’s face was flushed, tears streaking down his cheeks, his breaths coming in ragged, uneven gasps.

The sight was one of raw humiliation, and Aemond’s smirk widened with a mixture of satisfaction and dominance.

With deliberate slowness, Aemond approached his brother. The blade in his hand catching the light as it moved.

He leaned in close, the tip of the dagger brushing against Aegon’s wet crotch.

Aemond’s voice was a low growl, laced with a dangerous edge. “If I ever catch you looking at my wife again, I’ll cut you from cock to throat” he said, his tone leaving no room for misunderstanding. “Do you understand?”

Aegon nodded quickly, his eyes wide with fear and desperation. The sight of the dagger’s point so close to him, coupled with Aemond’s menacing promise, left him feeling more vulnerable than ever.

“Good,” Aemond said, his smirk growing colder. “Now get the fuck out.”

With shaking limbs, Aegon stood up, his movements unsteady as he hurried toward the door, slamming it shut behind him with a force that echoed through the corridor.

Aemond dropped the dagger onto the floor with a casual flick of his wrist. The metal clattered loudly, breaking the silence that had settled over the room. He turned back to the bed, his expression softening as he returned to Vaelynn.

He climbed onto the bed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. Her body fit perfectly against his, and she sighed contentedly, her voice a soft whisper as she said his name.

“Rest now, my love,” Aemond murmured into her hair, his tone tender and protective.

As Aemond lay wrapped around Vaelynn, his heart still thrumming with the aftermath of their passion, a sense of deep, primal satisfaction settled over him.

The confrontation with Aegon had been brutal, but it was necessary.

The lesson he had imparted to his brother had been harsh, but it was a declaration of his dominance, a claim he needed to establish.

Aemond’s gaze, now soft and contemplative, drifted over to where Aegon had previously been bound. The sight of his brother’s humiliation, the way Aegon had been forced to witness something so deeply personal and intimate, filled Aemond with a grim sense of triumph.

Vaelynn belonged to him, and he had made it unmistakably clear that no other man would ever be allowed to infringe upon that bond.

Aemond’s mind replayed through the events that has transpired—Each moment was a reaffirmation of his claim, a way to mark his territory and ensure that his position was unassailable. The lesson had been as much about asserting his dominance as it had been about protecting what was rightfully his.

He looked down at Vaelynn, her face peaceful as she nestled against him, her breaths slow and steady.

She was his wife, his partner, and the thought of anyone else daring to come between them was unthinkable.

The possessiveness that surged through him was a deep, almost primal need to ensure that she was safe, cherished, and unequivocally his.

Aemond’s lips curved into a satisfied smile as he pressed a gentle kiss to Vaelynn’s forehead. The warmth of her body against his, the sense of completeness he felt in her presence, reinforced his conviction.

The message to Aegon had been clear, and Aemond took a dark pleasure in knowing that his brother had been forced to witness the depth of his commitment and possessiveness.

In the quiet aftermath, Aemond allowed himself a moment of triumph. He had secured his place, solidified his claim, and made it painfully clear that Vaelynn was his and his alone.

The lesson had been harsh, but it was necessary to protect what he valued most.

As he held Vaelynn close, the sense of satisfaction filled him, a reminder of the lengths he would go to ensure that no one could ever challenge his claim.

Perhaps her bastard Strong brother Jacaerys needed teaching the exact same lesson, as his gaze would often linger upon Vaelynn far to long for Aemond's liking and it made his blood boil.

Yes-he would teach him who she belonged too and he would enjoy doing it, for she was his and his alone.

No one would take her from him.

NO ONE.

A.N - Is Aemond bat shit crazy? Let me know your thoughts......

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #hotd fic #aemond one eye #aemond x oc #aemond #prince aemond #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #prince aemond targaryen #kcktfics

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kckt88 · 4 months ago

Text

Fracture.

Summary:

After taking Harrenhal, Aemond is haunted by his past sins.

Warning(s): Angst, Swearing, Drama, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Smut, Oral Sex, (F Recieving), Loss of Virginity, P in V, Visions, Torment, Despair, Aemond POV, BAMF Alys Rivers, Ending Open to Interpretation/Ambiguous.

AEMOND x O.C

Word Count: 9870

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

Prince Aemond Targaryen lay in a dilapidated bed within the blackened ruins of Harrenhal, the once-mighty castle now a testament to fire and war.

The room around him was in disrepair, with crumbling stone walls, broken windows that allowed the cold, damp air to seep in, and a ceiling that leaked, letting the rain pour in rhythmically.

Aemond's one good eye stared up at the ceiling, his mind replaying the events that recently transpired.

He and his men, including Ser Criston Cole, had ridden into Harrenhal with expectations of battle, ready to face his uncle Daemon.

But the castle had been deserted, save for a few trembling inhabitants too frightened to flee.

Initially, they had celebrated their bloodless victory, mocking Daemon as a coward who had fled before the might of the Greens.

But the victory was hollow.

News had soon arrived that King's Landing had fallen to the Blacks, and Rhaenyra now sat on the Iron Throne, his mother and sweet sister taken as hostages.

Daemon, far from being a coward, had outmanoeuvred him, drawing Aemond to Harrenhal while the real prize slipped away.

The realization had been a bitter one, and now Aemond lay in the ruins of a castle that was as broken as his plans.

The rain poured harder, as if the gods themselves were mocking him. Every drop that struck the stone was a reminder of his failure, of how his uncle had outsmarted him.

Anger seethed within him, a fire that threatened to consume him from the inside. He was trapped in Harrenhal, far from King's Landing, with little choice but to regroup and try to salvage what remained of the Greens' cause.

Aemond clenched his fists, the anger fuelling his resolve. He would not be beaten, not by Daemon, not by anyone.

As the rain continued to pour, Aemond began to form new plans, his mind racing with possibilities.

But for now, all he could do was listen to the rain and wait.

Aemond tossed and turned in the tattered bed, sleep evading him as his mind churned with anger and frustration.

The rain outside had grown heavier, its pounding relentless against the ruined walls of Harrenhal.

Suddenly, in the midst of his restlessness, Aemond noticed a shadow pass by the closed door of his chamber.

Who could be prowling the halls of Harrenhal at this hour? He rose from the bed and reached for his sword, unsheathing it silently.

Moving with the stealth of a hunter, he approached the door and slowly pushed it open, peering into the dimly lit corridor.

The hallway was empty, but he could hear the faint sound of footsteps echoing through the stone passages.

Determined to uncover the source, Aemond stepped out, following the elusive sound. The rain hammered against the castle even harder now.

The flickering torches cast long, wavering shadows as he crept forward, every muscle coiled and ready to strike.

He turned a corner and saw a shadowy figure slip into a room at the end of the hall. With a narrowed eye, Aemond quickened his pace, his grip on the sword tightening.

He reached the door, hesitating only for a moment before pushing it open and stepping inside.

The room was small and dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of herbs and something faintly metallic.

Before him stood a woman, the very one he had spared when he first took Harrenhal. She moved calmly, busying herself with adding ingredients into a bowl as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

"It's a touch late to be stalking about a strange castle putting its people to the sword," she said, not even looking up from her work.

Aemond’s sword flashed as he pointed it at her, his voice cold and sharp. "You—"

She turned to face him, a faint smile playing on her lips. "I'm Alys."

Aemond's eye narrowed as he assessed her. "Strong?" he demanded.

"No. Rivers," she replied evenly.

His sneer was immediate. "A bastard."

Alys only smiled wider, her gaze steady and unperturbed. "Once you get to know me, you'll find that I'm not so bad."

Aemond scoffed at her audacity. "What are you, a maester?"

She smiled again, a sly, knowing expression. "In a manner of speaking. I took on the duties after the last one fled."

Aemond circled the room slowly, his sword still held at the ready. "Why?"

Alys shrugged lightly, still focused on her task. "He just never settled in."

Aemond watched her intently, the tension in the room thickening as the rain drummed louder against the stone.

He was caught off guard by her calm demeanour, her unflinching presence in the face of his hostility.

There was something about her that unsettled him, though he couldn’t place what it was.

"How are you settling in, my Prince?" Alys asked suddenly, her voice smooth and knowing. "I've come to know the face of tortured rest well enough. Sleep can be thin in this place." She began mixing the ingredients in the bowl, the sound of the pestle grinding against the mortar echoing in the small room.

Aemond bristled at her observation. "What would you know of my sleep?"

Without missing a beat, Alys took a lumpy red substance and tossed it into the bowl. "Harrenhal has been cursed since its first stone was laid," she said, her voice taking on a slightly ominous tone.

She licked the red substance from her fingers, her eyes never leaving Aemond's. "Black Harren felled a grove of weirwood trees that grew on these lands, with heart trees imbued with the spirits of those who lived long before he came. It’s said their whispers can still be heard sometimes."

Aemond scoffed, his scepticism clear. "Ridiculous."

Alys only smiled, her expression inscrutable as she continued her work, the eerie atmosphere in the room growing thicker with every passing moment.

Alys looked up from her work, her gaze steady as she spoke. "The very bed you sleep in was made from such a heart tree; you know. Its whispers are likely what keep you from finding rest."

Aemond frowned, his eye narrowing. "You are a very strange kind of woman."

Alys giggled softly, a sound that echoed eerily in the small room. "I’m no woman at all, my Prince. I’m a barn owl cursed to live in human form."

Aemond curled his lips in disdain at her strange words, turning to leave the room.

But before he could step out, Alys’s voice cut through the air, stopping him in his tracks.

"Your hands will never be clean of the blood you’ve spilled, all for the sake of a debt that you once claimed was worth the eye you lost when you gained your dragon."

Aemond froze, his heart skipping a beat. "What did you say?"

Alys turned her eyes on him, her expression grave. "It was not your niece’s debt to pay, yet you claimed it so and took her maidenhead. Your thirst for vengeance then claimed its next victim in the skies above Storm's End—a nephew's life taken in rage. And that, in turn, led to the loss of your other nephew, a son for a son. And then there was your brother, burned and maimed for life by your command."

Aemond's face twisted in anger, his voice low and dangerous. "Do not try me with your insolence, witch."

Alys didn’t flinch, continuing as if she hadn’t heard his threat. "You don’t realize what you’ve lost. Things could have been so different."

He scoffed, turning his back on her, but her next words hit their mark.

"Even now, you think of her—of what might have been had you not been so cruel."

Aemond paused, his breath catching in his throat. The truth of her words unsettled him, stirring memories he had tried to bury.

He turned to see Alys pouring the contents of the bowl into a cup, the mixture dark and steaming. She held it out to him, her expression calm and knowing.

"Here, drink this," she said softly. "You’ll need your sleep if you are to right the wrongs you have committed."

Aemond hesitated, his pride warring with the growing sense of unease she had planted in his heart.

But something in her gaze—something ancient and wise—compelled him to reach out and take the cup. He brought it to his lips and drank deeply, the liquid bitter on his tongue.

Aemond found himself adrift in a dreamlike state, his surroundings shifting and warping until he was no longer in the ruins of Harrenhal but back within the familiar walls of the Red Keep.

He was disoriented, as if he were both present and not, a ghost in his own memories. The hallways of the castle were dimly lit by flickering torches, and the echoes of distant footsteps reverberated through the stone corridors.

As he walked, his body moved with a purpose that was not entirely his own, as if some unseen force was guiding him.

He knew where he was going, even before the door appeared before him, the door to the chambers Lucella had been given during her stay at the Red Keep.

After the fight at the dinner, he had followed her that night, unable to banish her image from his thoughts.

She had been so beautiful, so enchanting, and yet he had convinced himself that she was nothing more than an opportunity—a chance to exact a twisted form of vengeance for what her bastard brother had done to him.

As he approached the door, he felt the weight of his own guilt and desire pressing down on him, but he had pushed those feelings aside at the time, replacing them with cold calculation.

The door creaked open as he stepped inside, and there she was, just as he remembered.

Lucella stood by the window, her back to him. She had turned when she heard him enter, her eyes wide with surprise and something else—hope, perhaps? He had seen it then, but he had refused to acknowledge it.

In this strange, almost out-of-body experience, Aemond watched himself move toward her, watched the way his younger self’s eyes had lingered on her, drinking in every detail.

She was so vulnerable, so trusting, and he had taken advantage of that.

"You shouldn’t be here, Uncle" she had whispered, her voice trembling.

He had ignored her words, stepping closer until he was right in front of her.

His hand had reached out, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear, and he had marvelled at how soft it was, how perfect she was.

Even when he was a child, he had always thought she was beautiful.

But he had steeled himself, reminding himself of why he was there.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, the kiss searing and insistent.

Lucella pulled away, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and desire. But the intensity of his kiss, had been too much to resist.

With a soft moan, she looped her arms around his neck and kissed him back passionately.

Aemond’s hands slid down her back, pulling her closer, his kisses growing more fervent.

His hands roaming over Lucella’s back as he slowly backed them towards the bed.

Their lips never parting; each kiss more heated than the last. Lucella breath hitched as she felt his long fingers deftly begin to untie the laces of her dress.

As the laces came undone, Aemond's hands brushed against her bare skin. Lucella shivered at his touch, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

Aemond smiled, a rare, genuine smile that softened his usual intensity.

His hands moved with purpose, sliding the dress from her shoulders and down her body, exposing her skin to the cool air.

Lucella’s hands found their way to Aemond’s own clothing, eager to remove the barriers between them.

Once she had removed the out layers of his clothing, her fingers explored the hard planes of his chest and abdomen.

Aemond groaned softly at her touch, his lips trailing down her neck as he laid her back against the soft sheets.

Aemond positioned himself above her, his expression a mixture of desire and determination.

Lucella’s breath caught in her throat as she gently cupped his face with her hands. Her fingers brushed against the rough texture of his scar.

Slowly, she slipped off his eyepatch, revealing the sapphire he had placed where his eye once was.

With tenderness, Lucella leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his scarred cheek.

She felt Aemond’s sharp intake of breath, a moment of pure vulnerability passing between them.

Her fingers moved to the tie that bound his long, silver hair. With a gentle tug, she undid it, and his hair cascaded down, framing his chiselled face.

“So beautiful,” whispered Lucella, her voice filled with affection.

Aemond’s gaze softened, the fierce intensity giving way to something more tender, more real.

“My sweetest-” whispered Aemond as he pulled away and descended down her body, kissing and nipping at her skin as he went.

A strange feeling of familiarity lingered within his mind. Almost like they'd done this dance a thousand times before.

“W-What are you doing?” asked Lucella shyly.

“I want to kiss you-here” replied Aemond as he pressed forward and ran his tongue over her warm wet folds.

She bit the back of her hand to keep herself from screaming as Aemond began using his long fingers to slowly tease her entrance.

“None of that. I want to hear how good I make you feel” growled Aemond as he began moving his tongue against her, in rhythm with his fingers.

“A-Aemond. Oh god. Please” moaned Lucella, as she writhed against the sheets.

“That’s it-such a good girl for me” growled Aemond.

“OH-” whimpered Lucella, as Aemond continued to move his tongue and fingers over her centre.

“I know your almost there. Let it happen. Come for me” whispered Aemond, his tongue moving across her pearl.

Lucella arched her back and let out a scream as her pleasure erupted.

Aemond slowly crawled up her body, placing gentle kisses on her skin as he moved higher and higher.

Lucella blushed furiously when she saw that Aemond’s chin was shining with her slick.

“Calm yourself issa zaldrīzes” muttered Aemond, as he swiped his fingers over his chin and then placed them in his mouth, sucking off her slick. (My dragon).

“W-What are you doing?” asked Lucella as Aemond’s hand slid down her body and began teasing her folds.

“I-I need to prepare you a little more” whispered Aemond.

“P-prepare me?” whispered Lucella.

“You are a maiden-” replied Aemond.

“Aemond” exclaimed Lucella as he slowly slipped a finger inside her, the slick from her first peak easing the way.

Aemond buried his face in Lucella’s neck as he began peppering kisses along her smooth skin as he added another finger, moving them in and out slowly.

“So warm-so wet for me” rasped Aemond, his hot breath tickling her skin.

“I-I think I’m ready” whispered Lucella.

Aemond removed his fingers and then moved between her open legs, supporting his weight on his left arm as he reached down and took his hard cock in his hand and placed the tip of it against her slick entrance.

Lucella shut her eyes tight, taking a deep breath as Aemond sheathed himself within her.

Aemond leaned down and pressed gentle kisses to her cheeks, his tongue catching her fallen tears.

Aemond’s cock twitched and throbbed with need, and he released a shuddered breath while Lucella sighed in relief.

“Are you ok?” asked Aemond.

“I-I think you can move now” whispered Lucella her hands running along the smooth plans of Aemond’s back.

Slowly Aemond withdrew and then moved forward, his cock reaching deep inside her.

“Are you ok?” repeated Aemond as he thrust inside her.

“Y-yes-I think you can move faster”

Aemond rested his head in the crook of her neck as he thrusts faster, his moans muffled against her skin.

“Ooh Aemond-that feels good” whined Lucella.

“Your perfect-” whispered Aemond.

“P-please Aemond. F-faster. H-harder” exclaimed Lucella.

“Lucy-my Lucy” moaned Aemond as he began to pound into her, his hips slapping against hers.

“-I-I f-feel-” whimpered Lucella.

“-Let it happen-my sweetest, peak for me” exclaimed Aemond.

“ OH- ”

“Fuck-that’s it-that’s it” muttered Aemond as he slipped his hand between their bodies and slowly began rubbing her pearl.

“ AEMOND ” screamed Lucella’s her peak exploded, making her entire body shake.

“Fuck-” groaned Aemond as he felt the heat shooting across his abdomen.

“-Aemond” whimpered Lucella.

“Lucy-” moaned Aemond pushed into the hilt for one last time, his cock throbbing as he spilled rope after rope of his seed.

Aemond watched the scene, the bile rising in his throat, he knew what was coming.

He would pull his softened cock from her and redress himself with all the haste he could muster.

The sound of her sweet shaky voice asking him to stay was like a knife to the heart.

He watched himself hesitate, that inner conflict, he remembered it well.

Torn between staying or following through on his plan.

In the end, he chose the latter.

He convinced himself that this was justice, that she was nothing to him.

But the truth had been far more complicated. He had wanted her—truly wanted her. The fire that had burned within him that night was not born of anger or revenge, but of a deep, undeniable desire.

Even as he took her, he knew that she meant more to him than he could admit.

But he had buried those feelings, locking them away beneath layers of pride and pain.

He had told her she meant nothing, that she was just a means to an end, that he had taken her maidens blood in exchange for the eye he lost, but even now, in this strange half-dream, half-memory, he knew he had lied.

Then he had left her there, discarded her with her maidens blood and his seed between her thighs.

Her sobs had haunted him as he walked away, the weight of what he had done pressing down on him like a physical burden.

Aemond watched as his younger self walked out of the room, leaving Lucella behind. He wanted to scream, to reach out and stop himself, to tell her the truth—that she had meant something to him, that she had always meant something.

But he was trapped in this memory, unable to change what had already been done.

The memory began to fade, the walls of the Red Keep dissolving around him as the darkness closed in.

Aemond was left with the echo of his own voice in his mind, the cruel, cold words he had spoken, and the knowledge that he had lost something precious that night—something he could never get back.

Aemond sat at the head of the table, the once-grand hall of Harrenhal a shadow of its former self, much like his own fraying composure.

Ser Criston Cole spoke with authority, laying out plans for their next move. His voice was calm, confident, as he detailed a potential assault on the small town of Drarry.

The town’s levies could bolster their dwindling forces, he reasoned. It was a sound strategy, one that should have commanded Aemond's full attention.

But Aemond wasn’t listening. His mind drifted, the words swirling around him like the incessant rain outside, distant and meaningless.

His attention was instead captured by the young boy serving wine, a boy who shouldn’t—couldn’t—be there. It was Lucerys.

Aemond's heart pounded as he stared, unblinking, at the boy. The youthful, innocent face he had once known approached him, but something was horribly wrong.

Luke’s visage began to warp and twist, the fresh, unmarred skin turning a sickly grey, decaying before Aemond’s eyes. His eyes bulged grotesquely from their sockets; his flesh rotted away to reveal bone.

Deep, jagged gashes crisscrossed his body, and parts of him were simply missing—his left arm gone, his torso a ghastly open wound.

"Wine, Your Grace?" Luke rasped, his voice a nightmarish croak as water and bile spilled from his mouth.

Aemond lurched from his seat. The occupants of the table stared at him, confusion and alarm evident in their expressions.

Ser Criston Cole’s voice cut through the sudden silence, sharp with concern.

"Are you all right, Your Grace?"

Aemond’s breathing was ragged, his eye wild as he pointed toward the abomination before him. "Can’t you see him?"

Criston exchanged worried glances with the other men at the table. "See who?"

Aemond’s words died in his throat as he turned back to where the twisted figure of Luke had stood.

But instead of the grotesque apparition, there was now only an older, grey-haired woman, her movements slow and deliberate as she poured the wine.

Her face was lined with age, her expression calm, as if nothing had happened. The room around Aemond felt suddenly too small, the air thick and suffocating.

His breath hitched as he glanced back at Ser Criston, who was watching him with deepening concern.

"Are you all right, Your Grace?" Criston repeated, his voice softer this time, as though speaking to a man on the edge.

Aemond forced himself to nod, swallowing hard against the bile that rose in his throat. He tried to focus on the words still being spoken around the table, tried to ground himself in the reality of their situation, but his mind was spinning, unable to shake what he had just seen.

He reached for the cup in front of him, his hand trembling slightly as he brought it to his lips. The bitter taste of the wine lingered on his tongue, sharp and acrid, but it did little to steady his nerves.

His thoughts were a tangled web of anger, fear, and something else—something he couldn’t quite name.

Aemond sat slumped in a chair before the fire, the flames casting flickering shadows across the worn stone walls of Harrenhal.

His head hung low, cradled in his hands, the weight of the past days pressing heavily upon him.

He felt disconnected, as though the world around him had become a blur, the edges of reality fraying like the tattered banners that hung in the desolate castle.

With a sigh, he pulled off his eyepatch, exposing the sapphire that gleamed coldly in the firelight. The socket where his eye had once been throbbed with a dull ache.

He took a slow sip of wine, hoping the liquid might numb the gnawing unease that had settled in his chest.

But then, a sound pierced through the haze that enveloped him—a soft, mournful weeping.

The sound was faint, distant, but unmistakable. He set the cup down, the echo of its base clinking against the table, and reached for his sword.

The cold steel felt reassuring in his grip as he rose from the chair, the fire at his back now casting long, dancing shadows along the walls.

He moved through the darkened corridors of Harrenhal, the sound of weeping guiding him like a beacon through the gloom.

The castle was silent save for the rain still pounding against the stones outside, but the weeping cut through it all, a sorrowful melody that pulled him deeper into the bowels of the keep.

Aemond paused in front of a closed door, the source of the weeping just beyond. He hesitated for a moment, his pulse thrumming in his ears, before pushing the door open with a slow creak.

Suddenly, the world around him shifted, the cold, crumbling walls of Harrenhal melting away to be replaced by something entirely different.

He blinked, disoriented, as he found himself standing in a chamber unfamiliar yet unmistakable. The walls were adorned with carved dragons, their serpentine forms etched into the stone, and the distant roars of dragons echoed through the air.

The air here was warm, heavy with the scent of salt and ash. It dawned on him with a start—this was Dragonstone.

The weeping grew louder, more desperate, and Aemond’s breath hitched as he moved further into the room.

On the bed, shrouded in shadow and sorrow, was Lucella. She was huddled against her mother, Rhaenyra, who held her tightly, stroking her hair in a futile attempt to soothe her daughter’s anguish.

Lucella’s sobs were gut-wrenching, her small frame shaking with the force of her grief. Aemond’s breath caught in his throat, a mix of confusion and dread rising within him.

He took a step forward, the sword in his hand now feeling alien, almost wrong, in this place.

His gaze locked onto Lucella, her face buried in Rhaenyra’s shoulder, her tears soaking her gown.

Aemond’s grip tightened on his sword, his knuckles white, but he felt powerless, a mere spectator in this twisted dream. His mouth opened to speak, to say something—anything—but no words came.

He was paralyzed by the weight of his own guilt, the sight of Lucella’s broken form etched into his mind

Aemond stood at the foot of the bed, his presence unnoticed by the two women.

The air was thick with tension, the only sounds in the room the soft crackling of the fire and Lucella’s quiet sobs.

"On the night of the petition for Driftmark-" Lucella whispered, her voice trembling as she confessed the truth that weighed so heavily on her. "Aemond, came to my chambers, and he took my maidenhead-"

Rhaenyra's grip on her daughter tightened, her knuckles white as she struggled to contain the fury simmering just beneath the surface. "Did he force himself on you?"

Lucella shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "No, Mother, he didn’t force me. He whispered sweet words and when he touched me, it was unlike anything I'd ever felt before. He was gentle, he made me feel good" Her voice faltered, a wistful note creeping in as she remembered that night, her words tinged with a sadness that pierced through Aemond like a dagger.

“Lucella-” whispered Rhaenyra softly.

"But when it was over," Lucella continued, her voice breaking, "He discarded me. Like I was nothing. He said that I was a means to an end, that my maidens blood was an exchange for the eye he lost"

Rhaenyra's expression darkened, her eyes burning with cold, calculated fury. "He took advantage of you and he will pay for it," she swore, her voice low and dangerous. "For what he has done to you, for what he did to Lucerys. I swear it. He will pay”

Aemond felt the weight of her words like a noose tightening around his neck. This was his fault—he had done this.

He had shattered Lucella’s trust, her innocence, and now, as he stood there, he was faced with the unbearable consequences of his cruelty. He had thought himself in control, convinced that this was justice, but now, watching the devastation he had wrought, he realized how terribly wrong he had been.

But then, Lucella spoke again, her voice trembling with something deeper, something that sent a cold chill down Aemond’s spine.

“Mother-forgive me” she began, her breath hitching, “His seed, it took root. I carry his child inside me.”

The room fell deathly silent, the air thick with the weight of her words. Aemond’s heart stopped, his mind reeling as he stared at Lucella, unable to process what she had just said.

A child. His child.

Rhaenyra’s reaction was immediate. Horror and disbelief flashed across her face as she pulled Lucella even closer, as if trying to shield her from the harsh reality of the situation.

"No-" she whispered, her voice breaking.

Lucella nodded, her tears flowing freely. “It’s true, Mother. I carry his child.”

Aemond’s knees felt weak, his body trembling as the full weight of his actions crashed down upon him.

He had not only destroyed Lucella’s innocence but had also left her with a child—a child that would bear the burden of his sins.

"Do you wish to keep the child?" Rhaenyra's voice was soft, but there was an undercurrent of urgency, of desperate concern.

Lucella hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "The child is innocent of their father's sins," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I cannot condemn them for what he has done. This is my child, Mother”

Rhaenyra’s heart ached with a mixture of pride and sorrow. She held Lucella close, pressing a kiss to her forehead, her mind already racing to find a way to protect her daughter and the innocent life she now carried.

"You are strong, my sweet girl," she murmured. "But for your safety, and that of the child, we must keep the identity of the father a secret—at least for now. No one can know that the child belongs to Aemond”

Lucella nodded again, understanding the gravity of her mother's words.

The war had already torn their family apart, and the truth of her child's lineage could ignite a blaze that would consume them all.

"You will go to the Vale along with Aegon and Viserys, to stay with Lady Jeyne Arryn” said Rhaenyra, her voice firm with determination

Lucella's eyes widened slightly at the mention of her younger brothers. "Aegon and Viserys?"

Rhaenyra nodded. "Yes, they will go with you as will your dragon Silverwing. You will be well cared for in the Vale, but you must remain far from this war. Jacaerys has informed me that Lord Cregan Stark has agreed to take your hand in marriage, of course you being with child does complicate things, and I understand if you do not wish to follow through with the marriage-”

“What man would take a woman as his wife whilst she carries another man’s child” asked Lucella quietly.

“An honourable one-but it’s your choice my sweet girl, I will not force you” said Rhaenyra.

“I support my Queen, and I will consider the marriage”

Rhaenyra hugged her daughter tightly, as if trying to imprint this moment into her memory. "You are so brave, my love, I was truly blessed the day you were born"

As the embrace lingered, Aemond, still standing at the foot of the bed, felt an overwhelming urge to reach out to Lucella, to tell her that he had not meant for things to turn out this way.

But when he extended his hand, it was as if an invisible barrier prevented him from touching her.

He tried to call out to her, but his voice was lost in the void, drowned out by the increasing darkness that surrounded him.

The room, Rhaenyra, and Lucella began to fade, their voices becoming distant, muffled.

Panic surged through Aemond as he fought against the encroaching blackness, desperate to hold onto the last vestiges of the vision.

And then, in an instant, everything vanished.

Aemond jolted awake, gasping for breath. He was back in his bed at Harrenhal, the remnants of the dream clinging to him like a cold sweat.

His heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with the revelation that Lucella was carrying his child. The weight of what he had seen, what he had heard, bore down on him like a leaden shroud.

This was no ordinary dream—it was a vision, a cruel reminder of the consequences of his actions.

Lucella, far away in the Vale, hidden from the war and from him, was carrying his child. A child he might never see.

Aemond sat there, staring into the darkness of his chamber, his mind a maelstrom of conflicting emotions.

The morning sun barely touched the horizon when Aemond stormed through the corridors of Harrenhal, his mind set with a singular purpose.

The events of the previous night, the vision of Lucella and the revelation of his child, had ignited a fierce determination within him. He could no longer afford to remain idle, bound by the chains of his own mistakes.

Ser Criston Cole, deep in discussion over battle plans, was abruptly interrupted as Aemond barrelled past him, disregarding his shocked protests.

The plans for an assault on Drarry, once deemed crucial, now seemed inconsequential in the face of the personal turmoil Aemond faced.

As he descended the stone steps toward Vhagar’s resting place, the sound of his hurried footsteps was interrupted by a familiar, unsettling voice.

“It’s too late,” Alys said softly, her tone almost too calm for the gravity of her words.

Aemond stopped abruptly, turning to face her. “What do you mean, it’s too late?”

Alys’ lips curled into a smile that held no warmth. “Lucella is no longer in the Vale.”

Aemond’s heart pounded as he demanded, “Where is she?”

Alys’ smile widened, her eyes glinting with a cruel delight. “Lucella now resides at Winterfell, as the soon to be wife of Lord Cregan Stark.”

The words hit Aemond like a physical blow. “What?”

Alys tilted her head, her gaze unwavering. “To secure the North for her mother, Lucella has agreed to wed the Warden of the North. It was a strategic marriage, one that consolidates power and allies. Your child will be raised in the North, under the protection of House Stark.”

Aemond’s face twisted in rage. “She carries my child! She belongs with me!”

Alys merely smiled again, her expression unchanging. “Aye, she carries your child. But Lord Stark is an honourable man. He has pledged to protect both Lucella and the child. Tell me, kinslayer, how does it feel knowing that your son will be raised by a wolf? That he will grow up calling another man father?

“You dare-” snarled Aemond, freezing as he felt something soft move across the back of he clenched hand.

He looked down and for the briefest of seconds a saw a flash of ribbon, gold and white.

“Your arrogance and pride have cost you the one thing you have sought your entire life. Lucella would have been a good wife; she would have loved you, given you many children. You would’ve had everything you ever wanted, but now, such things are lost to you.”

Aemond’s breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled to comprehend the enormity of what Alys was saying.

The world seemed to spin around him, the walls of Harrenhal pressing in on him as if mocking his loss.

Alys turned to leave, her form slipping back into the shadows as she offered no further comfort or explanation.

Her parting words lingered in the air, a cruel reminder of the choices that had led him to this point.

Aemond was left standing alone, his thoughts a storm of anger, regret, and despair. The realization that Lucella, the woman he had wronged, would soon belong to another, and that his child would grow up under another man’s name, crushed him under a weight he could barely endure.

As Alys disappeared from view, Aemond sank to his knees, the full impact of his actions crashing down upon him.

Days blurred into an unrelenting haze for Aemond, each one melding into the next as the weight of his actions and their consequences pressed down on him.

The war continued, relentless and unforgiving. Strategies were drawn and redrawn, plans for battles and sieges were made and executed with grim efficiency.

Patrols scoured the countryside, small settlements loyal to Rhaenyra were attacked and burned, their inhabitants driven from their homes or slaughtered.

The brutality of the conflict seemed endless, a grim reflection of the turmoil within Aemond’s own mind.

Yet, despite the relentless pace of war, the nights were far worse.

In the darkness, where shadows danced and the silence of Harrenhal was punctuated only by the occasional crackle of the hearth or the distant rumble of thunder, Aemond was haunted by nightmares that left him waking in a cold sweat, his heart racing.

Lucerys appeared to him in his dreams. Sometimes, he came as a sweet-faced child, his eyes wide and innocent, his smile unblemished by the cruelty of their world.

Other times, Lucerys was a grotesque, rotting mass of flesh and bone, his once-pristine features now distorted by decay and violence.

His body was marred by deep wounds, the sight of him a horrific testament to the fatal consequences of Aemond's vendetta.

As if the visions of Lucerys were not torment enough, Aemond was plagued by the weeping sounds of Lucella.

Her voice, broken and plaintive, filled the nights with a sorrowful lament. She would ask, over and over, "Why?"—a question that cut through Aemond’s soul with a sharpness that left him gasping for breath.

He could not answer her, could not explain why he had allowed the rage and hatred within him to consume his compassion, why he had been driven to such cruelty.

And then came the visions of his brother Aegon, a spectre of burnt and charred blackened flesh.

Aegon’s form was twisted and unrecognizable, his once-familiar features now a nightmare of burns and disfigurements.

His ghostly voice would accuse Aemond of betrayal, of causing his suffering and letting him fall.

"We are brothers," Aegon would rasp in the dreamscape, the anguish in his voice palpable. "How could you do this to me? Do you truly hate me that much?"

These nightly horrors, each one a reflection of his deepest fears and regrets, eroded Aemond’s sense of self.

The lines between dream and reality grew increasingly blurred. He would wake up trembling, the echo of his nightmares clinging to him like a shroud.

The faces of Lucerys and Aegon, the sound of Lucella’s weeping, all of it haunted him with an intensity that made the waking hours a desperate attempt to outrun the demons that plagued his sleep.

In the harsh light of day, he would rise, draw his sword, and return to the cycle of war and violence, but the burden of his actions weighed heavily on him.

The faces of the people he had wronged, the blood on his hands, the dreams that taunted him with their cruel reminders, all mingled together in a relentless torment that made him question if there was any escape from the darkness that had now consumed him.

Aemond stood alone in the ruined courtyard of Harrenhal, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow over the desolate stone.

He had taken to spending his time in solitude, seeking solace in the cold embrace of the night sky and the silence that now enveloped the once-majestic castle.

His thoughts, tangled in regrets and what-ifs, churned restlessly as he gazed at the distant, indifferent moon.

The serenity of his isolation was suddenly pierced by the soft, unmistakable sound of a newborn baby's cry.

The sound was so incongruous with the emptiness of Harrenhal that it jolted Aemond from his reverie.

He followed the sound with a mix of confusion and desperation, his heart pounding with a sense of urgency that he could not explain.

He came to a stop before a set of weathered wooden doors, their surface marred by time and neglect.

With a deep breath, he pushed them open and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, and his eyes were drawn to Lucella, who sat on the edge of a bed, gently rocking a small bundle in her arms.

Aemond’s heart ached as he saw himself sitting on the bed beside her, taking the bundle into his own arms with a tenderness that seemed foreign and distant.

He watched as this other version of himself whispered softly, “ēdrugon ñuha zaldrītsos” (sleep my little dragon).

The warmth in his voice was palpable, and Aemond felt a pang of longing for a peace and connection he had never fully embraced.

Before he could process the depth of the moment, the room began to fade, plunging into darkness.

The sound of a child’s giggle echoed around him, drawing his attention.

Aemond turned to see a silver-haired boy, no older than six, standing proudly in the training grounds of the Red Keep.

The boy swung a wooden sword with a determined grin, his laughter ringing out as he called, “Watch me, Kepa! Watch me!” (Father).

Aemond’s heart warmed as he observed this tender scene, the boy’s eager energy a reflection of his own youthful enthusiasm.

He watched himself teaching the boy the skills of the sword with patience and affection.

The bond between father and son was evident in their shared joy and the way they moved together in a dance of instruction and play.

In an instant, the scene shifted again. Aemond found himself standing beside Lucella as she gave birth to a baby girl.

The sight of the child being placed into her arms, Lucella’s exhausted yet elated expression, was accompanied by the sound of his own cries as he held their daughter.

The raw emotion on his face was a testament to the profound love and vulnerability he felt.

The vision continued to shift, and he saw another version of himself taking his children flying on Vhagar, with Lucella flying beside them on Silverwing.

The thrill of the flight was unmistakable, the sky filled with the sound of their laughter and the roars of their own hatchling dragons soaring alongside them.

The scene was a vivid portrayal of a life filled with joy and familial bonding, a life that seemed so out of reach, but at the same time it seemed like a memory, one that he couldn't place.

Aemond felt an intense pressure in his chest, as if the weight of the vision was physically constricting his breath.

The laughter of his children, so vibrant and full of life, became a haunting reminder of what he had lost. The scenes began to dissolve, and the joy that had filled them faded into the encroaching darkness.

Gasping for air, Aemond reeled backwards, clutching his chest as if trying to hold onto the remnants of the dream.

He stumbled and found himself back in his chamber at Harrenhal, the oppressive darkness of the room pressing in on him. He slumped into the corner, his back against the cold stone wall, and the tears that had long been pent up finally broke free.

As Aemond cried, the sound of his children’s laughter seemed to be swallowed by the void, leaving him alone with the heavy, crushing weight of his regrets and the unbearable knowledge of what might have been.

Aemond sat in the cold, dark corner of his chamber, his body trembling as he sobbed uncontrollably.

The overwhelming flood of grief, regret, and torment seemed to crush him from all sides. He could barely breathe through the anguish that wracked his entire being.

He cried out into the emptiness of the room, his voice hoarse and pleading. "Leave me alone! Please, just leave me alone! I can't take it anymore-"

The silence that followed was heavy, almost oppressive, until Aemond felt a subtle movement in front of him.

He looked up, his tear-blurred vision struggling to focus, and saw Alys kneeling before him.

She reached out, her fingers gentle as they brushed through his dishevelled hair, an unexpected comfort in the midst of his despair.

Aemond, driven by an instinctive need for solace, moved forward and wrapped his arms around her, his grip desperate and tight. He buried his face in her shoulder, his cries muffled against her. "Please, stop tormenting me-to show me the chidren its cruel"

Alys remained still for a moment, her voice soft and almost serene. "Your only freedom is within the eye of the gods."

The words struck Aemond like a blow to the chest. He remembered his sister Helaena’s words, the chilling premonition she had uttered when he had begged her to come with him to Harrenhal and she had refused.

"Aegon will be king again," she had said, "he's yet to see victory, he sits on a wooden throne, and you'll be dead, swallowed up in the gods' eye, you were never seen again."

The memory was like a dagger twisting in his heart, amplifying the sense of doom that had followed him.

He pulled away from Alys, his face a mask of anguish and realization. "Leave me," he said, his voice breaking. "I wish to be alone, just as I always have been."

Alys’s hand reached out to him, a gesture of compassion, but he snatched it away with a harsh movement. His anger and sorrow surged together, mingling with a desperate need for solitude.

"I said leave!" he shouted, his voice echoing off the stone walls.

Alys stood, her expression unreadable, and then she slowly walked away, her footsteps fading into the distance.

As the last echoes of Alys’s departure faded, Aemond slumped back against the cold stone wall, the chill seeping into his bones.

He closed his eye, trying to shut out the overwhelming sense of loss and failure.

With a whisper barely audible even to himself, he repeated the one name that seemed to encapsulate his pain, his regret, and his longing: “Lucella.”

As the days dragged on, Aemond’s mind grew increasingly fragile, the weight of his regrets and visions pressing down upon him with relentless intensity.

The once-proud prince who had thrived on determination and strength now found himself teetering on the edge of madness.

Each night, the visions that plagued his sleep became more vivid, more insistent. Lucerys haunted him with that same blend of innocence and grotesque horror, Lucella’s weeping echoed in the corridors of his mind, and Aegon’s charred, accusing form lingered at the corners of his consciousness, sniping and hurling insults at him.

'Coward, treasonous dog and vile cunt' were some of the one's his brother favoured.

When word reached Harrenhal of Helaena’s death, Aemond’s fragile grip on reality began to unravel entirely.

The news that his gentle sister had thrown herself from the window of Maegor’s Holdfast struck him like a dagger to the heart.

Helaena, who had seen visions of the future in her dreams, had become yet another victim of the war that had torn their family apart. The shock of her death sent Aemond spiralling deeper into the abyss of his own despair.

He withdrew further from the world around him, preferring the cold comfort of solitude over the company of others.

He stopped attending the war councils, even as Ser Criston Cole and the remaining host of thirty-six hundred Greens prepared to march south from Harrenhal to meet the Hightower forces.

Aemond refused to join them, claiming he would follow later, though deep down he knew he had no intention of doing so.

Instead, he lingered in the empty halls of Harrenhal, haunted by the ghosts of his past and the weight of his failures.

He ate alone, trained alone, and slept fitfully in a chamber that seemed to grow darker and more oppressive with each passing day.

After Criston and the men had left, the silence in Harrenhal became deafening. The once-mighty fortress, now nearly empty, seemed to breathe with the echoes of lost battles and the whispers of curses long forgotten.

Aemond’s thoughts turned inward, his despair and grief consuming him whole.

There was no longer a way forward, no victory that could redeem the losses he had suffered. His mind circled around the same grim conclusion: there was but one way out now.

With a heavy heart, Aemond sat at a table in his chamber, a quill in hand. He stared at the blank parchment before him, the candlelight casting flickering shadows across his face. He hesitated for a moment, then began to write. finality, each stroke of the quill marking a step closer to his inevitable end. The letter was addressed to his uncle, Daemon.

"Daemon," the letter began, the words sharp and direct, "The time has come for us to settle this war as it should have been settled from the start—between you and me. I challenge you to meet me in the skies above the Gods Eye. Let this war end in fire and blood"

Aemond set the quill down, his hands shaking. He folded the letter carefully and sealed it with wax, pressing his sigil into the hot, red wax.

The task completed, he sat back in his chair, feeling the weight of the decision he had made settle heavily on his shoulders.

The room seemed to grow colder, the shadows lengthening as the candle flickered and sputtered. Aemond closed his eye, the sounds of Lucella’s weeping and the laughter of his lost children echoing in his mind.

The visions that had haunted him were not gone, but now, they seemed distant, as if they were preparing to leave him for good.

The next day, he would send the letter. And then, he would wait for the response that would seal his fate.

Two long weeks passed before Daemon finally arrived at Harrenhal.

Aemond spent those days in a fevered state of anticipation, his mind torn between dread and the fierce desire to end this war, to end himself.

When the day finally came, Aemond watched from the crumbling ramparts as Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm, descended from the skies, his crimson scales glistening like blood in the fading sunlight.

The sight of his uncle astride the fearsome dragon filled Aemond with a cold resolve. This was it. The end.

He made his way to Vhagar, and with practiced ease, Aemond ascended the rope ladder and secured himself into the saddle.

He could feel Vhagar’s own anticipation, the bond between rider and dragon thrumming with shared purpose. With a roar that shook the very stones of Harrenhal, Vhagar took to the sky.

The two dragons met in the air, their roars echoing across the sky.

They circled each other, two titanic forces of nature, before clashing in a fiery, savage battle. Vhagar and Caraxes locked talons, their wings beating furiously as they tore at each other with teeth and claws.

The sky above the Gods Eye was filled with the sound of snapping jaws, the ripping of flesh, and the heat of dragon fire.

Caraxes was the first to find purchase, his long, serpentine body coiling around Vhagar’s neck. With a vicious twist, Caraxes latched onto Vhagar’s throat, his fangs sinking deep into the thick scales.

Blood, hot and dark, poured from the wound, raining down upon the waters below. Vhagar let out a deafening roar of pain and fury, her massive wings beating frantically as she tried to shake the smaller dragon off.

In a final, desperate act, Vhagar managed to tear into Caraxes’ belly with her claws.

The Blood Wyrm’s entrails spilled out, steaming in the cold air. But Caraxes did not release his grip on Vhagar’s throat. The two dragons were locked in a death embrace, neither willing to yield.

As Aemond struggled to keep control, he looked up in time to see Daemon leaping from the back of Caraxes, his sword, Dark Sister, gleaming in his hand.

The older man’s face was a mask of grim determination as he hurtled through the air, landing with catlike grace in front of Aemond on Vhagar’s back.

There was no time to react as Daemon moved with the speed of a man possessed, thrusting Dark Sister into Aemond’s remaining eye.

The blade pierced through flesh and bone, driving deep until it burst through the back of Aemond’s throat. The young prince gasped, a final, choking breath escaping him as the world went dark.

Below them, the two dying dragons plummeted toward the Gods Eye. The impact sent a gargantuan splash of water into the air, the surface boiling with the mingled blood of the two beasts.

As Caraxes, his strength failing, clawed his way onto the bank, he let out a final, rattling breath before collapsing, dead.

Vhagar, her throat torn out and her life slipping away, sank beneath the surface of the lake, her massive form dragging Aemond’s lifeless body with her.

The weight of the ancient dragon pulled them both down into the cold, dark depths.

Aemond jolted awake, his hand instinctively pressing against his remaining eye, his heart pounding with the intensity of a nightmare that lingered as a grim reality.

The sensation of the sword piercing through him still felt vividly real, the ghost of pain haunting him as he tried to calm his racing breath.

The room around him seemed to spin, the shadows from his nightmare clinging to the edges of his vision.

He felt a gentle hand on his arm and turned sharply to see Lucella gazing at him with concern.

For a split second, he was paralyzed by fear, convinced that this was yet another vision sent to torment him.

He gasped, moving backwards and falling out of bed with a heavy thud that echoed in the quiet room.

Aemond scrambled to his feet, the words of the witch, telling him that his freedom lay in the eye of the gods, seemed to mock him from the depths of his confusion.

He began pacing the room, muttering to himself about the unreality of it all. “It’s not real- another vision-sent to torment me-why must you keep tormenting me” His mind was a tumultuous storm, and he could barely grasp the threads of sanity slipping through his fingers.

Lucella got out of bed and moved to his side, taking his hand and pressing it gently to her cheek.

“I’m real, ñuha jorrāelagon” she said softly, her eyes filled with a tenderness that cut through his panic (my love).

But then Aemond’s voice wavered as he asked about the war. “The Greens repudiated the succession-crowned Aegon as King. Lucerys-he died in the skies above Storm’s End. Jaehaerys was murdered in retribution. A son for a son-” His babbling grew frantic, but Lucella’s calm presence seemed to anchor him, if only slightly.

Lucella placed her hands on his face and shushed him gently. “All is well,” she assured him. “Your grandsire had the intent to crown Aegon, but he lost his head for it, along with those who conspired against my mother. But it was our marriage that truly united the family.”

Aemond blinked, stunned and stammering. “M-marriage? What about your marriage to Lord Cregan Stark?”

Lucella grimaced slightly. “Cregan? He’s married to Alysanne Blackwood.”

Aemond’s eyes widened in confusion. “He is?”

Lucella sighed, a hint of exasperation in her voice. “What in the hell was in that wine you were drinking with Aegon?”

Aemond paused at the mention of is brother.

"A-Aegon. How is he?"

“Other than being deep in his cups, he was fine the last time I saw him.” replied Lucella.

“What about Helaena?” Aemond pressed.

“She’s recovering well” said Lucella.

“F-From what?” asked Aemond.

“From birthing another child—a son named Maelor. That’s why you were drinking with Aegon; you were celebrating the news of his son.”

“S-Son? But he and Helaena, t-they d-don’t-” muttered Aemond.

“Things aren’t perfect between them, but in recent years they have found comfort with one another-Aegon is trying and that’s all we can hope for” said Lucella softly.

The revelations were disorienting, but the most startling came next.

Lucella glanced towards a corner of the room, where a soft babble could be heard.

Aemond’s attention snapped to the cot, and he moved swiftly to see the babe inside. He stared down at the child, who reached up toward him with tiny, outstretched arms.

He picked up the baby, cradling them gently, and rocked them with a sense of deep, overwhelming affection.

Lucella’s smile was warm as she observed him. “You always were better at soothing our daughter than I was,” she said.

Aemond looked at her, his eye wide with astonishment. “D-daughter? What about our son?”

Lucella smiled softly. “Aerion is asleep in his nursery across the hall.”

The enormity of it all seemed to sink in. Aemond was overwhelmed by the flood of memories that quickly returned to him—the execution of his grandsire, the crowning of Rhaenyra, the wedding to Lucella, the birth of their son, Aerion, and the moments of being with his family.

He remembered reading to Aerion, singing to him in High Valyrian, helping him learn to walk and talk. He saw Lucella beside him once more, giving birth to their daughter, Daenys.

Stunned and teary-eyed, he whispered, “It’s real-all of this is real.”

Lucella’s expression softened, and she gave him a playful pinch. Aemond winced, and Lucella’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she said, “Is that real enough for you?”

Aemond furrowed his brow but then his eye caught sight of the gold and white ribbon, delicately wrapped around a book.

Lucella followed Aemond's gaze and smiled, "The ribbon that bound our hands on our wedding day-"

"Y-You kept it" muttered Aemond, remembering the feel of it on the back of his hand.

"Yes-I did" replied Lucella softly.

Aemond’s face broke into a genuine smile as he leaned in to kiss her lips. She then went on her tiptoes, whispering in his ear, “I’m with child again.”

Aemond’s joyous laughter sounded round the room, his arms holding their daughter even closer.

“T-Truly?”

“Yes-it seems that your seed really likes to take root inside me ” replied Lucella smirking.

As Aemond pressed another kiss to her lips, his attention was caught by the door as it creaked open softly.

Aemond looked to see their son, Aerion, standing in the doorway.

The little boy was sucking his thumb and clutching a stuffed dragon teddy to his chest, his silver hair tousled from sleep. His big, round eyes gazed at his parents, filled with the innocent worry only a child could have.

Lucella smiled warmly at the sight of their son. "What’s wrong, sweet boy?" she asked, her voice gentle.

Aerion shuffled into the room, his thumb still in his mouth as he mumbled, “No sleep, Mama.”

Lucella’s heart melted at the sight of him. She walked over and scooped him up in her arms, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "How about some snuggles with your father?" she suggested softly.

Aerion nodded, his thumb popping out of his mouth as he hugged his stuffed dragon tighter. Lucella carried him to the bed and placed him beside Aemond, who had just settled with Daenys resting on his chest.

Aemond smiled tenderly as Aerion snuggled up against his side, seeking comfort and warmth.

Aemond gently adjusted his position, leaning back against the pillows to support both children.

Daenys, nestled on his chest, made small, contented noises in her sleep, while Aerion curled up close to his father.

The boy's tiny fingers clung to Aemond's loose cotton shirt, his stuffed dragon tucked securely under his arm.

Lucella climbed into bed beside them, her eyes filled with love as she watched her family. She reached out, gently brushing her fingers through Aerion’s hair before leaning into place a soft kiss on Aemond’s cheek.

Aemond turned his head slightly, meeting her gaze, and smiled—an expression filled with deep contentment and peace.

In that moment, Aemond felt like he finally had everything he had ever wanted. The weight of his past, the burdens of a war that would never come to pass, and the haunting visions that had plagued him all seemed to dissipate, replaced by the warmth and love surrounding him.

His family was whole, safe, and with him—everything else faded away.

As they all settled into the quiet, Lucella lay her head on Aemond's shoulder, her hand resting lightly on Aerion's form.

The gentle rise and fall of their children’s breathing filled the room, a soothing rhythm that lulled them all into a sense of serene calm.

Aemond glanced down at the two small faces resting against him, then over at Lucella, who smiled up at him, her eyes shining with the same love he felt in his heart.

The world outside could wait.

For now, in the sanctuary of their bed, surrounded by those he loved most, Aemond was content.

He finally had his family, his children, his wife—the life he had longed for, and it was more beautiful than he had ever dared to dream.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #hotd fic #aemond one eye #aemond x oc #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #kcktfics

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kckt88 · 4 months ago

Text

A Dragon's Heart III

Summary:

As Aemond struggles cope in the wake of Viserra's departure he makes a confession to Alicent and Aegon confides in Rhaenyra.

Warning(s): Angst, Arranged/Unwanted Marriage, Swearing, Family Drama, Dragons, Infidelity, Uncle/Niece Incest, Smut, Oral Sex, Semi Public Sex, P in V, Revelations, Referenced Character Death.

AEMOND x O.C

Word Count: 8,600

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0

The atmosphere in Storm's End was thick with tension, the sombre weight of the funerals lingering like a storm cloud over the ancient castle.

The discussions regarding the succession had been heated, with various lords and ladies voicing their opinions on who should inherit Borros Baratheon’s seat.

The halls had echoed with disagreements—some advocating for Rhaegar, others for the unborn child Viserra carried, some for Cassandra or Maris. But none had found consensus, and the shadow of uncertainty loomed over the castle.

Rhaenyra and Daemon, their faces stern and resolute, had stayed behind after the ceremonies, not just to pay respects but to ensure that House Baratheon’s future was secured—and their own interests protected.

The arguments had been many, and Daemon’s temper had flared more than once, his hand often hovering dangerously close to the hilt of Dark Sister.

In a private chamber, away from the prying eyes and ears of the castle, Rhaenyra, Daemon, and Cassandra faced each other.

The tension in the room was palpable, a silent battle of wills playing out between the three of them.

Cassandra broke the silence first, her voice cold and biting. "I wonder what would the Lords of the realm think if they knew of Viserra's affair with the Queen's one-eyed brother? And that her children are really bastards?"

Daemon’s hand clenched around the hilt of Dark Sister, his knuckles whitening. The underlaying insult towards his daughter was almost more than he could bear, and it took all his restraint not to unsheathe his sword then and there.

Rhaenyra, sensing the rising tension, interjected calmly. "There is no need for anyone to know of anything, Lady Cassandra. We can keep this matter between us—if you agree to my terms."

Cassandra's eyes narrowed; suspicion etched into her features. "And what terms would those be?"

"In exchange for your continued silence, I will name you Lady of Storm’s End," Rhaenyra stated plainly, her tone leaving no room for doubt. "Furthermore, I will arrange a marriage between you and Lorian Tyrell and your firstborn child, regardless of their gender, shall be named the heir to Storm's End, plus I will lower your taxes for the next two years-"

Cassandra hesitated, the offer tempting but the bitterness of her loss still fresh. "And what of the murder of my father and sister? Am I to believe that justice will be served?”

Rhaenyra’s expression remained composed, though a flicker of annoyance crossed her eyes. "My council is investigating the incident, but as of yet, no conclusive evidence has been found."

Cassandra scoffed, her anger simmering beneath the surface. "It’s obvious who the culprit is—Aemond. He had more to gain than anyone with my father out of the way. He’s now free to marry Viserra, and by that marriage, he will be the future King Consort."

Daemon let out a harsh, mocking laugh, the absurdity of the accusation too much for him to contain. "Aemond? Do you truly believe he had the means or the opportunity? He was never been absent from his duties. There were countless witnesses who can attest to that."

Rhaenyra nodded in agreement. "The notion is ridiculous. Aemond wasn’t involved. His every movement is accounted for."

Cassandra opened her mouth to argue further, but Daemon, his patience finally worn thin, cut her off. "Enough. You will accept the Queen’s generous terms in exchange for your silence, or House Baratheon will burn."

As if on cue, the castle shook with the echoing roars of Caraxes and Syrax, their fury filling the air, a reminder of the power Daemon and Rhaenyra wielded.

Cassandra stiffened, her face paling as she realized the seriousness of the threat.

Glaring at Rhaenyra, Cassandra finally relented. "I accept your terms."

As Rhaenyra and Daemon turned to leave, Daemon paused, leaning in close to Cassandra, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. "Mind your tongue, Lady Cassandra. Speak ill of my daughter again, and you will regret it."

Cassandra swallowed hard, her defiance faltering under the weight of Daemon’s words. She watched silently as they left, the door closing behind them with a finality that left her feeling as though she had narrowly escaped a dragon’s maw.

Outside the chamber, Rhaenyra glanced at Daemon, her expression a mixture of relief and irritation. "Must you always resort to threats?"

Daemon smirked, unrepentant. "Only when it’s necessary, my love. Now can we leave this fucking castle"

"I think it best-" replied Rhaenyra.

"Do you think perhaps we could make a stop on our return journey to the Red Keep?" asked Daemon smirking.

"To what end valzȳrys?" questioned Rhaenyra, as she straightened the golden crown on her head (Husband).

"I find myself wanting my wife-come ñuha idaña perzys. I know of an inn we can make use of" replied Daemon as he took Rhaenyra's hand and practically skipped his way back to where Caraxes and Syrax were waiting (My twin flame).

Another week had passed, and Aemond’s mood remained dark and volatile. The confirmation of Cassandra’s acceptance of Rhaenyra’s terms had brought little comfort; if anything, it only deepened his frustration.

Despite the successful negotiations, Viserra was still kept away on Dragonstone, and the distance gnawed at him, a constant, unbearable ache.

His frustration boiled over during a training session in the courtyard, Ser Erryk Cargyll had been his sparring partner that day, and things descended into chaos pretty quickly and it took three guards to drag Aemond off Ser Erryk before he nearly beat the man to death, leaving the seasoned knight bruised and bloodied on the ground.

After hearing about the attack, Alicent could no longer ignore the feeling of uncertainty that swirled in the pit of her stomach, she had grown increasingly concerned by Aemond’s behaviour and she needed to speak to him.

She found him the dimly lit library; the heavy silence of the room was only broken by the crackling of the fire.

Alicent approached him, her expression a mix of worry and frustration. "Aemond, we need to talk," she began, her voice firm but tinged with concern.

“About what?”

“I’m worried about you” replied Alicent

"I'm fine, Mother-" said Aemond not looking from the book in his hands.

Alicent’s eyes narrowed, her patience wearing thin. "You are not fine. Your actions speak otherwise. Beating a knight nearly to death, avoiding your family—this is not you."

Aemond’s grip tightened on the book, his knuckles turning white. "I said I’m fine."

"Stop lying to me!" Alicent snapped, her voice rising with a mix of anger and desperation. "You're not fine, Aemond! You're falling apart, and I can see it as clearly as everyone else. You’ve always been the strong one, the composed one, but now-now you’re crumbling, and I don't understand why!"

Aemond’s control finally cracked, and he slammed the book shut, the sound echoing through the library. "I can’t cope with being separated from Viserra any longer!" he shouted, his voice raw with emotion. "I need to see her, to feel her and I want my son!"

The silence that followed was deafening. Alicent’s eyes widened in shock, her hand trembling slightly as she processed his words. "Your-what?"

Aemond scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Oh, come on, Mother. Don’t act so shocked. Deep down, you knew that Rhaegar is my son."

Alicent shook her head, her voice faltering. "No-no, that’s not true. He’s Borros’s son, you couldn’t—"

“I was the one who lost an eye; you have no excuse to be so blind!" Aemond interrupted, his voice cold and cutting.

Alicent’s shock quickly turned to anger, her voice trembling with emotion. "How could you be so foolish, Aemond? To get involved with a married woman, to father a bastard—"

"Because I love her!" Aemond’s voice was loud, filled with a mix of pain and defiance. "I’ve always loved her"

Alicent stared at him, her expression a mix of disbelief and horror. "How long has this been going on?"

Aemond’s eyes were dark, filled with a storm of emotions. "Since the night of the Driftmark petition," he admitted, his voice low.

Alicent gasped, her face paling as the words sunk in. "You-you’re lying," she whispered, unwilling to believe it.

"I’m not," Aemond insisted, his voice steady. "-After the fight with Jacaerys, I followed her to her chambers, and I took her maidenhead. Then at Storms End after she offered her hand in marriage to Borros, I went to her room and spent the night fucking her. Then on her wedding day I fucked her before the ceremony, she spread her legs for me and it felt so good-"

Alicent’s hand flew out before she even realized what she was doing, the sharp crack of her slap echoing through the library.

"How dare you be so vulgar!" she spat, her voice shaking with fury and disbelief. "What happened to my dutiful son? The one who was always so perfect, so obedient?"

Aemond’s eye hardened, a cold smile playing at his lips. "I grew up" he replied, his voice laced with bitterness. "I grew tired of being the perfect son who works for everything and receives nothing. So, I saw what I wanted, and I took it."

Alicent’s heart ached at his words, her mind reeling from the revelations. The son she thought she knew was slipping away from her, consumed by his love and obsession for Viserra.

"Aemond-" she began, her voice softer now, almost pleading. "This path you’re on, it will only lead to more pain. Please, think about what you’re doing."

Aemond’s expression didn’t waver. "I’ve thought about it more than you know, Mother. I will have Viserra and Rhaegar back, and no one will stand in my way."

With that, he turned and left the library, leaving Alicent standing there, her heart heavy with the weight of her son’s choices.

Aegon found Rhaenyra in her solar, the room lit softly by the afternoon sun streaming through the high windows. She was seated at a large wooden desk, a quill in hand, reviewing parchments with a furrowed brow.

He hesitated at the doorway, unsure of how to begin. Rhaenyra glanced up, noticing his presence, and offered a small, polite smile. "Aegon," she greeted him, setting the quill down. "What brings you here?"

Aegon stepped inside, his usual bravado replaced by an uncharacteristic seriousness. "I need to talk to you. It’s about Aemond."

Rhaenyra’s expression grew more concerned, her attention fully focused on him. "What about him?"

Aegon sighed, running a hand through his silver hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. "He’s not doing well. The separation from Viserra and Rhaegar-it’s tearing him apart."

Rhaenyra looked at him, her gaze searching. "Yes. I’ve noticed his temper has been worse lately”

"It’s more than that," Aegon replied, his voice strained. "Aemond’s losing his mind. Granted he’s always been intense, but this-this is different. He’s on the edge, and I’m afraid of what might happen if we don’t do something."

Rhaenyra leaned back in her chair, considering his words. "I sent Viserra and Rhaegar to Dragonstone for their safety and to quell the rumours”.

Aegon shook his head, his tone more urgent. "I understand that, but Aemond can’t cope without them. He’s never known what it’s like to be loved unconditionally. Our mother, for all her attempts to be a good mother, isn’t as loving or nurturing as she should’ve been-"

"Aegon" whispered Rhaenyra.

"-Aemond has spent his life trying to prove himself, to earn love that should have been freely given. Viserra-she’s the first person who made him feel like he was worth something, that he was deserving of love. She completes him in a way no one else can."

Rhaenyra’s eyes softened as she listened, her heart heavy with the truth in Aegon’s words. "I never realized-"

Aegon pressed on, his voice thick with emotion. "Aemond is falling apart without her. He’s been isolated and unloved for so long that when he finally found someone who loves him as deeply as Viserra does, it became everything to him. Without her, he’s lost."

Rhaenyra’s gaze dropped to the parchment in front of her, her fingers tracing the edges absently. "But the scandal—"

"Scandal be damned!" Aegon interrupted, his voice rising with frustration. "Aemond deserves to be happy! He deserves to have the love that’s been denied him his whole life. It’s too late for me—" He paused, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "—but not for Aemond. He has a chance to have what I’ll never have. Please I beg you sister, don’t take that away from him."

Rhaenyra’s heart clenched at his words, the raw emotion in his voice piercing through her own concerns.

She had seen Aemond’s growing instability, but hearing Aegon’s plea, the way he laid bare Aemond’s pain and longing, struck a chord within her.

She nodded slowly, her resolve softening. "I never wanted to hurt him, Aegon. I just wanted to protect them all"

"I know," Aegon replied quietly, stepping closer to her. "But keeping them apart is causing more harm than good. If Aemond is kept away from Viserra and Rhaegar any longer, he’s going to have some kind of breakdown. And when that happens-I’m not sure if anyone will be able to bring him back."

Rhaenyra let out a long breath, the weight of Aegon’s words settling heavily on her shoulders.

She looked up at him, seeing the earnestness in his eyes, the desperate hope that she would listen and act before it was too late.

"I’ll send for them," she finally said, her voice soft but firm. "Viserra and Rhaegar can return to the Red Keep”

Aegon’s expression softened with relief, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Thank you. You’re doing the right thing."

Rhaenyra nodded, her mind already racing with the arrangements that needed to be made. "I hope this will be enough to bring him back from the edge."

"It will," Aegon assured her. "Viserra’s love will be enough."

As Aegon left the solar, Rhaenyra sat quietly, the decision she had just made echoing in her mind. She hoped, for Aemond’s sake, that it would be the right one.

Aemond stormed into his chambers, his mood as dark as the night outside. The maid who had been tidying up startled at his entrance, quickly bowing her head.

Before she could offer any words of welcome, Aemond snapped, "Leave. NOW!" His tone left no room for argument.

The maid quickly gathered her things and hurried out of the room, the heavy door closing behind her with a muted thud.

Alone at last, Aemond began to strip off his armour, piece by piece.

The chest plate, the pauldrons, the vambraces, all discarded with little care, until he stood bare in the dim candlelight.

He wrenched off his eyepatch and moved to the basin where a bath had been drawn earlier, the water still warm. He sank into it, letting the heat seep into his tired bones.

For a moment, he closed his eye, trying to shut out the world, trying to wash away the frustration and anger that clung to him like a second skin.

After the bath, Aemond dried himself off and dressed in a loose cotton tunic and sleep pants. He glanced at the food tray the maid had left behind, his stomach growling faintly. He picked at the food, eating only enough to quiet the gnawing hunger before pushing the tray aside.

He tried to settle down with a book, one of the many he had collected over the years, hoping to lose himself in its pages.

But the words blurred before his eye, his thoughts too tangled to focus. The strain in his eye worsened, a dull headache forming at the base of his skull.

With a frustrated sigh, he snapped the book shut and tossed it aside.

He lay down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind racing despite his exhaustion. His thoughts inevitably drifted to Viserra and Rhaegar.

How he missed them. The emptiness in his chest was like a gaping wound, one that no amount of duty or distraction could heal. He felt foolish for being so consumed by it, for feeling so dependent on their presence, but he couldn’t help it. They were his world, and without them, he was lost.

He thought back to the older women he had bedded before Viserra and he realised that whilst they may have taught him how to pleasure a woman, he himself had never experienced true pleasure until he was with Viserra.

The sex with the women felt good at the time, but after it always left him feeling hollow and empty to the point where he thought something was wrong with him, seven knows Aegon offered bragged about his conquests and the delights of the women he bedded, or sometimes the men if his drunken ramblings were anything to go by.

Aemond never truly understood it until Viserra. Fucking her was euphoric, and it always left him wanting more, no matter how many times he sheathed himself inside her, it was this feral need inside of him to possess her at all times.

Daemon told him that Targaryen's would often call to their own, their dragon's blood singing for one another. Maybe that's what is was.

Was it the reason why Daemon was so insistant in his pursuit of Rhaenyra, and why they would often be seen sneaking off somehwere, but then why wasn't Aegon or any of the others like that?

Did it only affect certain Targaryen's or did finding their perfect mate awaken something inside of them?

As he lay there, his thoughts began to spiral. What if something happened to them? What if Viserra fell ill again on Dragonstone, and he wasn’t there to protect her? The thoughts gnawed at him, feeding his anxiety until finally, exhaustion began to pull him under.

His heavy eyelid drooped, and he surrendered to sleep, hoping it would bring him some peace.

But peace was not to be found. His dreams were vivid, almost cruel in their clarity. He dreamt of Viserra and Rhaegar, holding them close, feeling their warmth, their love. For a brief moment, he was content. But then, it twisted into something darker.

He saw Viserra, her face pale and frightened, Rhaegar crying in her arms. Aemond tried to reach them, but his feet were stuck, as if rooted to the ground. No matter how hard he strained, he couldn’t move.

And then Borros Baratheon appeared, his face twisted into a grotesque mockery of life, his dead eyes gleaming with malice.

He wrapped a hand around Viserra’s throat, squeezing as he dragged her into the darkness.

Rhaegar’s cries for his mother echoed in his ears, desperate and filled with fear. Aemond fought against his invisible restraints, but it was no use.

Just as the nightmare seemed to reach its peak, Aemond suddenly felt a soft touch on his cheek. His heart stuttered as he heard a sweet, familiar voice.

"ñuha jorrāelagon" (My love).

He opened his eye, the nightmare dissolving into nothingness. Before him, sitting on the edge of his bed, were Viserra and Rhaegar.

Viserra’s hand was still on his cheek, her touch warm and real.

Rhaegar, with his bright eyes and innocent smile, threw his little arms around Aemond’s neck, hugging him tightly.

“Kepa” exclaimed Rhaegar (Father).

Aemond sat up, shock and disbelief warring within him. "Am I dreaming?" he asked, his voice hoarse, afraid to believe what his senses were telling him.

Viserra smiled softly. "No, my love. We’re real and we’re home."

Aemond woke late in the morning, sunlight filtering through the thick curtains of his chamber.

He glanced down and saw Rhaegar, fast asleep, snuggled up to him with one hand curled against his chest.

A tender smile tugged at Aemond’s lips as he watched his son, peaceful and content in his slumber.

A faint rustling caught his attention, and he turned his head to see Viserra sitting at the table, absentmindedly picking at the breakfast foods that had been delivered while he was still asleep.

Her hand rested gently on the small swell of her stomach, a sight that made Aemond’s heart skip a beat. He couldn’t tear his eye away from her—Gods, how beautiful she was.

Even in the simplicity of the morning, with her silver hair loose and her expression relaxed, she was a vision of grace and love.

Noticing that he was awake, Viserra looked up and met his gaze. A soft smile spread across her face. “You looked like you needed sleep, so I didn’t want to wake you,” she said quietly, her voice laced with warmth.

Aemond carefully detached himself from Rhaegar, ensuring the boy remained undisturbed, and slipped out of bed.

He crossed the room in a few strides, his focus entirely on Viserra. When he reached her, he bent down and kissed her passionately, pouring all the longing and relief of the past weeks into that single, fervent embrace.

"I’ve missed you," he whispered against her lips, his hand cupping her cheek.

Viserra smiled, her hand coming up to rest over his. “I missed you too,” she murmured back.

Aemond’s gaze dropped to her stomach, his fingers following. He placed his hand gently over the small bump, his touch reverent.

“It’s only been a few weeks” muttered Aemond.

“I know-” replied Viserra softly.

“Mayhaps there’s more than one babe” whispered Aemond.

“Don’t even joke about that” said Viserra.

Aemond laughed softly before he leaned in and kissed her again, a tender kiss full of love and gratitude.

Then, an idea seemed to occur to him, and he looked at her with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Stand up for a moment,” he requested.

Viserra raised an eyebrow, curious but obliging. She stood, and Aemond took her place on the chair, patting his knee invitingly. “Come, sit,” he said, his tone serious despite the playful request.

Viserra let out a soft laugh, shaking her head slightly. “You can’t be serious,” she said, though her smile betrayed her amusement.

Aemond met her gaze with unwavering intensity. “I’m deadly serious.”

Still laughing softly, Viserra gave in and sat down in his lap. She felt his strong arms wrap around her, pulling her close as he pressed his nose into her hair, inhaling her scent deeply.

It was a sensation he had longed for, missed more than anything else in the world.

“Never leave me again,” he muttered against her ear, his voice rough with emotion.

Viserra turned her head slightly, resting it against his. “I won’t,” she promised softly.

Aemond held Viserra close, his arms wrapped securely around her as he pressed a flurry of soft kisses across her face—on her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose.

Each kiss was a whispered promise, a declaration of the depth of his longing. He breathed in her scent, letting it fill his senses, and leaned in to murmur in her ear, “What if I don’t attend to my duties today? What if we just stay here, shut away from the rest of the world?”

Viserra laughed, the sound warm and soothing, like a balm to his soul. “As tempting as that is,” she replied, her voice laced with affection, “I have matters to discuss with my mother, and I promised Rhaegar that he could play with Jaehaerys today.”

Aemond pouted slightly, the image of the two of them alone and undisturbed still lingering in his mind.

But Viserra placed a gentle hand on his cheek, her thumb brushing against his skin as she assured him, “We won’t be far from one another. And mayhaps tonight, Rhaegar can sleep in his own chambers, and we can have some time alone.”

He caught the mischievous glint in her eye, the subtle suggestion in her words, and his heart quickened. “I can’t wait,” he whispered, his voice low and thick with desire. “We have a lot of time to make up for.”

Viserra’s smile widened as she nodded in agreement. “It was torture without your touch,” she admitted, her voice soft. “I spent many nights longing for you-my fingers never satisfying me same way yours do”

Aemond’s lips found hers again, a deep, passionate kiss that sent a surge of arousal through him.

He was lost in the feel of her against him, until a knock at the door broke through the haze of their shared desire.

Aemond growled softly, annoyed at the interruption. “What is it?” he called out, his voice tinged with frustration.

Ser Erryk’s voice came through the door, cautious and formal. “My Prince, I was concerned as you are late to attend your duties as Commander of the City Watch.”

Aemond huffed, reluctantly pulling back from Viserra. “I’ll be there as soon as I’m able,” he replied, trying to keep the irritation from his voice. “I slept late.”

Viserra chuckled softly as she adjusted herself in his lap. “It’s just as well we were interrupted,” she teased, her fingers brushing his hair away from his face. “It wouldn’t do to indulge in our desires with Rhaegar still in the room.”

Aemond couldn’t help but smile at her words, leaning into whisper in her ear, “Tonight.”

Viserra nodded, her eyes sparkling with the promise of what was to come. “Tonight,” she echoed softly, sealing the agreement with a gentle kiss.

Alicent stood at the edge of the garden, her hands clasped before her as she watched the scene unfolding before her.

The sunbathed the Red Keep’s gardens in a warm, golden light, casting a soft glow on the vivid green of the grass and the delicate colours of the flowers in bloom.

Viserra was sat beside Helaena on a wooden bench, their heads close together as they spoke quietly, occasionally breaking into gentle laughter.

Nearby, Rhaegar was running across the lawn, his small legs carrying him after Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, their high-pitched giggles filling the air.

Maelor sat contentedly beside his mother, playing with his toys, his brow furrowed in concentration.

The sounds of children’s laughter echoed through the garden, mingling with the rustle of leaves and the distant hum of the city beyond the walls.

Alicent allowed herself a rare moment of peace, letting the joyful sounds wash over her. For a brief moment, it felt as though the weight she had carried for so many years had been lifted.

There had been a time when such a scene seemed impossible. The realm had been on the brink of war, sister against brother, a brutal fight for a crown that now rested on Rhaenyra’s head.

Her father Otto had been so certain that Rhaenyra’s reign would mean the end for them all. He had warned her that Rhaenyra would demand Aegon’s execution, that she would call for the blood of her children to secure her succession.

But Rhaenyra had proven him wrong. She had been merciful, more than Alicent had ever imagined possible. Aegon had been spared, and so had her other children. And now, there was a sort of unity among them—a fragile peace that had taken root, nourished by the passage of time.

Alicent’s gaze drifted to Rhaegar, who had just tackled Jaehaerys to the ground in a fit of laughter. The boy’s silvery hair gleamed in the sunlight, and Alicent’s heart clenched with a mixture of emotions.

Rhaegar was Aemond’s son—her grandson. How had she not seen it before? The resemblance was undeniable. The sharp features, the intense gaze, even at such a young age.

He was his father’s son in every way that mattered.

Aemond’s choices had pained her deeply. His involvement with Viserra had been a scandal, one that Alicent had struggled to accept.

The son she had raised to be dutiful and restrained had acted out of passion and desire, entangling himself in a web that could never truly be undone. But now, looking at Rhaegar, Alicent saw beyond the mistakes, beyond the scandal.

She saw a future, a legacy. Rhaegar was a bridge between two worlds—between the blacks and the greens, between her son and Rhaenyra’s daughter. He was proof that something good could come from the chaos, that there was hope for a future.

Alicent sighed softly, her heart heavy with the complexity of it all. She had been a fool not to see it sooner, to recognize the bond between Aemond and Viserra, to see Rhaegar for who he truly was.

A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she continued to watch, feeling a warmth in her chest that had been absent for far too long.

For now, she would hold on to this moment, to the sound of children’s laughter, and to the hope that the future might be kinder to them all.

Later that evening, Aemond sat tall on his horse, the reins held loosely in his gloved hands as he looked down at Viserra, who was standing beside him with a curious smile.

With one smooth motion, he reached down and offered his hand to her. She took it, and he effortlessly pulled her up into the saddle behind him.

As she settled into place, her arms instinctively wrapped around his waist, and she leaned forward, pressing her cheek against his back. “Where are we going?” she asked, her voice filled with playful curiosity.

Aemond glanced over his shoulder at her, a small, secretive smile playing on his lips. “You’ll see,” he replied, his tone teasingly mysterious.

With a gentle nudge, Aemond urged the horse into a trot. “Open the gates!” he called out, his voice commanding as they approached the main gates of the Red Keep.

The heavy iron gates creaked open, and the horse moved smoothly out onto the cobbled streets of King’s Landing.

As they left the bustling city behind, the sounds of the market and the chatter of the people faded away, replaced by the rhythmic clopping of the horse’s hooves on the ground.

Viserra tightened her hold on him, feeling the warmth of his body through his leathers. She closed her eyes briefly, savouring the moment—the freedom and the closeness.

The road soon gave way to a grassy meadow, Aemond guided the horse through the tall grass until they reached the centre of the meadow, where Vhagar and Vermithor were resting side by side, their eyes following the approaching pair.

Aemond brought the horse to a stop and dismounted first. He then turned and extended his hand to Viserra, helping her down from the saddle. Once her feet were on the ground, she looked up at him, her eyes filled with wonder.

“I thought we could use some time away,” Aemond said softly, his hand still holding hers as they stood before the dragons. “Just us. Somewhere we can be together without the world watching.”

Viserra smiled up at him, her heart swelling with love and gratitude. “It’s perfect,” she whispered, stepping closer to him.

“Helaena has agreed to watch Rhaegar for the night,” he said, his voice low and gentle.

“That was good of her-”replied Viserra, a smile spreading across her lips.

“Let’s get going, shall we?” said Aemond.

With a determined nod, Viserra turned toward Vermithor and began the familiar climb up the rope ladder to the dragon’s saddle.

She moved carefully, the small swell of her belly making the climb a bit more challenging than usual. Halfway up, she paused to catch her breath, her hand resting lightly on her stomach.

Aemond, standing at Vhagar’s side, noticed her hesitation. “Are you alright?” he called up to her, concern lacing his voice.

Viserra glanced down at him and gave a reassuring smile. “I’m fine,” she replied, determined to reach the saddle.

With renewed effort, she continued her climb until she finally settled into Vermithor’s saddle, securing herself with the straps.

Aemond watched her closely, only mounting Vhagar once he was sure she was safely seated. He climbed the ladder with the ease of long practice, settling into the saddle with a sense of anticipation.

Turning his head, he caught Viserra’s gaze and gave her a small nod. “Follow me,” he said, his voice carrying over the wind.

Viserra took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she felt Vermithor shift beneath her. The powerful dragon roared, his massive wings unfurling as he prepared to take flight.

Vhagar was already in the air, her enormous wings slicing through the sky as she ascended.

Not one to be outdone, Vermithor followed, launching himself into the air with a thunderous roar that echoed across the landscape.

The two dragons flew side by side, the sensation of flying together, of being so high above the world, sent a thrill through Viserra. She could feel the exhilaration in her veins, her dragon’s blood singing with delight as the wind whipped through her hair.

Beside her, Aemond was similarly enthralled, the tension of the past weeks momentarily forgotten as they soared through the skies.

After an hour of glorious flight, the dragons began to descend, circling a secluded spot near the river Wendwater. The area was serene, far from the prying eyes of court and the pressures of duty.

The dragons landed gracefully on the soft sand near the riverbank, their wings folding as they settled down.

Viserra carefully unfastened the straps and began her descent down Vermithor’s ladder. Once her feet touched the ground, she looked around, her eyes wide with curiosity.

The peacefulness of the river, combined with the rustling of leaves in the trees, created an atmosphere of calm that contrasted sharply with the bustling life of the Red Keep.

She didn’t have to wait long before Aemond joined her, landing beside her with a soft thud. He smiled as he took her hand, their fingers interlocking effortlessly.

Without a word, he led her toward a tent nestled among the trees, its entrance partially hidden by the thick canopy above. The tent was simple yet inviting, a small sanctuary away from the demands of their world.

Aemond held the tent flap open for Viserra, his eyes never leaving her as she stepped inside. The interior was cozy, with furs and blankets spread across the floor.

It was a space meant for them, a place where they could be themselves without the weight of crowns and expectations.

“Is this where you and Aegon disappeared off to earlier?” asked Viserra.

“Possibly” replied Aemond smiling.

“I think it’s wonderful”

Aemond gently pulled Viserra into his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Tonight, it’s just us,” he whispered, his voice full of promise and affection.

Viserra smiled up at him, her heart full as she leaned into his embrace. “Just us,” she echoed softly, feeling the tension of the past weeks melt away.

Aemond pressed a tender kiss to Viserra's lips, his touch filled with reverence and longing. "I want to make love to my wife amongst the stars," he whispered against her lips, his voice full of desire and affection.

Viserra's smile was radiant, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Then let's do just that," she replied softly, her heart fluttering in her chest.

Aemond nodded, brushing a stray strand of silver hair from her face before reluctantly pulling away.

“Wait here,” he said, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he turned and disappeared into the trees.

Viserra watched him go, her hands resting protectively on the small swell of her stomach, feeling the life that grew within her.

It wasn’t long before Aemond returned, his arms laden with wood for the fire. He dropped the bundle onto the ground not far from the tent’s entrance, his movements efficient yet filled with purpose.

Turning toward Vhagar, who watched them with keen eyes, he gave the command with a firm voice. “Dracarys.”

Vhagar, ever obedient, opened her massive maw and unleashed a stream of fire onto the wood.

The flames roared to life instantly, crackling and snapping as they devoured the dry branches. Aemond chuckled, waving his arms to ward off the intense heat.

"Little enthusiastic on the fire there, old girl," he commented, his voice light with amusement.

Viserra couldn’t help but giggle at the sight, her laughter filling the air with a melody that Aemond found irresistible.

There was no sweeter sound in the world than her laughter, a sound that resonated in his soul and made him feel more alive than he ever had.

As the fire settled into a warm, steady burn, Aemond turned his gaze back to Viserra. She stood near the tent, bathed in the soft glow of the firelight.

Her braided silver hair shimmered like moonlight against the backdrop of the darkening sky. She was dressed in her riding leathers, the familiar outfit clinging to her form, accentuating the slight swell of her stomach.

That small curve was a constant reminder that she carried his child, their second, and the knowledge filled him with a fierce, possessive pride, his blood growing hot under his skin.

Aemond’s breath hitched as he took in the sight of her, his pulse quickening with each step he took toward her. She was so beautiful, so utterly perfect in every way.

The firelight danced across her features, highlighting the softness of her expression, the curve of her lips, and the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. She was his—completely, undeniably his—and the arousal that surged within him was impossible to contain.

With a predator's grace, Aemond stalked toward her, his single eye dark with desire. Each step was deliberate, filled with purpose, as he closed the distance between them.

The fire crackled behind him, casting long shadows across the ground, but all he could see was her—his wife, his love, the mother of his children.

As he reached her, Aemond wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close against his chest. His hands were firm yet gentle as they slid down her back, feeling the warmth of her body through the leather of her riding clothes.

He pressed his lips to hers in a kiss that was both passionate and tender, pouring all his love and longing into the connection. He kissed her with an intensity that left them both breathless, his heart pounding in his chest as he felt the heat of her body against his.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Aemond whispered, his voice rough with need. “I want you, Viserra. I need you.” His hands moved to her hips, guiding her closer to him, their bodies pressed together in a way that made his desire almost unbearable.

Viserra’s breath hitched as she felt the heat of his arousal against her, her own body responding to his touch. She reached up, threading her fingers through his hair as she kissed him back with equal fervour, her heart racing with the anticipation of what was to come.

“Then take me, Aemond,” she whispered against his lips, her voice trembling with a mixture of love and desire.

Aemond backed Viserra towards the entrance of the tent, their hands pulling at each other’s riding leather’s, removing them as quickly as they could until they were a heaped mess on the floor.

“-Aemond” moaned Viserra as he placed his hands on her shoulders and encouraged her to lay on the heap of fur blankets.

He gently covered her body with his as he sucked and licked at the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Viserra moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

Ooo A-Aemond” exclaimed Viserra as he moved down her body, nibbling her at her skin as he went.

He paused at her breasts, his tongue taking turns to swirl around her rosy nipples.

“I can’t wait for these to fill with milk-” groaned Aemond as he pressed his face into the soft pillowy mounds.

“Me either” replied Viserra softly, she knew Aemond enjoyed tasting her mother’s milk, but she enjoyed the closeness and also the relief he would give her, as nursing often left her full and sore.

“So beautiful” whispered Aemond as he lowered himself and pressed a series of gentle kisses to the swell of her stomach.

“T-t-tickles” laughed Viserra as the ends of Aemond’s long silver hair swept across her skin.

“Hmmm”

“Aemond” gasped Viserra as she felt him move lower.

“Such a pretty cunny " breathed Aemond spitting on her before he ran the flat of his tongue up Viserra’s soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Viserra her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it my sweet. Let me hear you”.

“YES! It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please” begged Viserra.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Viserra, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Viserra. "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh, fuck" whimpered Viserra; her chest heaving.

Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, come for me” moaned Aemond.

Gods his cock was so hard, it was almost painful.

Finally, he felt Viserra’s inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Her back arched taut as a bow, and she screamed her release.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at his wife whilst she came.

Soon her tense body went slack and pliant, her chest heaving with every breath.

Aemond slowly moved up Viserra’s body, pressing kisses to her soft body as he went, until he reached his desired destination.

“Kostilus issa jorrāelagon” whispered Viserra as she writhed against him (Please my love).

Aemond couldn't wait any longer. He surged forward and sheathed his hard cock into Viserra’s soaked cunt causing her to shriek in surprise.

“That’s it, take all of me” moans Aemond as he begins to move.

Viserra can’t think of anything but the deep penetrating thrusts that greet her, causing her to wail and moan, causing tears form in her eyes, before running down her cheeks.

Aemond wanted to fuck her hard, but he knows he can’t, he doesn’t want to harm the babe.

But she’s testing his restraint as he feels her clenching around him.

“YES! YES! AEMOND! I CAN TAKE IT. HARDER. PLEASE” screams Viserra.

“FUCK!” shouts Aemond.

Aemond lifts Viserra’s legs onto his shoulders and wrapped his arms around her thighs, squeezing them together as he thrust his cock a little harder into her soaking wet cunny.

“Aemond! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Viserra.

“That’s it baby-come for me” exclaimed Aemond as he felt her clenching on his cock.

His wife always looked amazing when she came. Her head thrown back in pleasure, her eyes alive with lust, and her pale skin shining with sweat.

Aemond could feel the tension in his abdomen, but he didn’t want to come. Not yet.

“I love you-I fucking love you” groaned Aemond as he moved Viserra’s legs off his shoulders and manoeuvred her onto all fours, she whimpered as his cock slipped out, but he bent forward to press a series of kisses to her glorious arse, his hands kneading the soft flesh.

“P-Please Aemond” begged Viserra, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her face into the soft fur blankets.

Aemond stuck his finger in his mouth before he ran it over her puckered hole.

“Is this alight?” breathed Aemond.

“Y-Yes. Put it inside me. I can take it” whimpered Viserra.

“Tell me-Tell me if it’s too much” replied Aemond as he slowly pressed his finger inside her.

“Ooh Aemond, yes. Please. More” babbled Viserra as he moved his finger in and out before adding a second.

“Your doing so well-my darling” moaned Aemond as he moved his fingers inside his wife, his other hand taking his cock and sheathing himself inside her once again, his eye rolling into the back of his head.

Viserra arched her back and screamed as Aemond thrust into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed through the air.

“Fuck-that’s it” moaned Aemond, his fingers still curling inside her.

“P-Please. Valzȳrys” whimpered Viserra (Husband).

Aemond removed his fingers and grasped hold of her hips, thrusting a little faster then he was before, his stomach muscles tensing.

He then took hold of her hair, twisting his fingers in the messy braid before he slowly pulled her backwards, her back colliding with his sweaty chest.

Aemond held Viserra tight too him as he fucked her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

“Give it to me Issa zaldrīzes” pleaded Viserra her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder (My dragon).

“Give me another-come for me again” whispered Aemond as he slid his hand under the swell of her stomach and used his long fingers to stroke her pearl.

“Oh-yes-oh” moaned Viserra as her peak suddenly erupted, her hands tangling in Aemond’s hair as she pulled him in for a messy kiss.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen again, as he thrust his cock inside her.

“I want you to come on my cock again, but not like this-” muttered Aemond as he once again withdrew from her wet heat and laid on the blankets.

“-Aemond” exclaimed Viserra breathlessly.

“Ride me baby” replied Aemond as he manoeuvred Viserra on top of him.

His hand moving to his cock, rubbing it along her folds before she sunk down and completely engulfed him.

“Oh” gasped Viserra as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it ñuha nūmio, take it. Take all of me” (My pearl).

Aemond placed his hands on her hips and marvelled at his wife as she rode him.

Viserra dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Viserra as he moved his hands to her breasts, rolling her rosy nipples between his long fingers.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me again” exclaimed Aemond.

Viserra’s thighs began to burn, as she felt another climax approach.

“AEMOND” screamed Viserra.

“I’m going to fill you with my seed-”

“Y-yessss Aemond, I want it-I want you-” babbled Viserra as he moved her back onto the ground his cock never leaving her warmth as he moved inside her, chasing his own end.

“God. I love you- I love you-” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed.

The morning sun cast a soft, golden light over the quiet landscape as Viserra stirred from her slumber.

Her hand instinctively reached out to the space beside her, but instead of finding Aemond, she was met with the cool, empty fur blankets.

"Ñuha jorrāelagon" she murmured softly as she pulled a blanket around her naked body and rose from the warmth of their bed (My love).

Stepping out of the tent, she noticed that fresh wood had been added to the fire, the flames crackling merrily in the early morning chill.

"Aemond?" she called out, her voice carrying through the still air.

Viserra scanned the area, her eyes falling on the slumbering form of Vhagar, whose massive breaths disturbed the loose sand around her. Vermithor, however, was nowhere to be seen.

Just as she was about to call out again, a sudden shadow loomed over her. Viserra barely had time to react before a heavy thud echoed through the air, and the body of a dead stag dropped to the ground in front of her, its blood spraying across her face and chest.

She screamed in shock, stumbling back as she tried to wipe the blood from her face.

Vermithor landed gracefully beside Vhagar, trilling affectionately as he folded his wings. Viserra grimaced, still wiping the blood from her skin, and shot a glare at her dragon.

"Thanks for that," she muttered dryly, and Vermithor cooed in response, as if proud of his offering. Vhagar, unimpressed by the disturbance, opened one eye, huffed in annoyance, and promptly returned to her slumber.

Aemond emerged from the sea just as Viserra was recovering from the shock, his naked body glistening with seawater as he approached her with a carefree smile.

"Aren't you a sight," he teased, laughter dancing in his eye as he took in her blood-splattered appearance.

Viserra scoffed, still a little rattled. "I guess Vermithor thought we needed feeding,"

Aemond chuckled, nodding in agreement. "He's not wrong. It's not good for you or the babe to go without food for much longer," he remarked, glancing at the dead animal "A stag, how fitting."

Viserra nodded, her initial shock fading as she found herself smiling at the situation. With a playful shrug, she let the blanket slip from her shoulders, revealing her bare form to the morning light.

She couldn't help but laugh as she noticed the way Aemond suddenly stopped what he was doing, his gaze fixed on her, captivated by the sight.

She blew him a kiss, enjoying the effect she had on him, and turned toward the sea. The water was cold but refreshing as she waded in, washing away the blood and grime from her skin. The chill was invigorating, waking her senses and leaving her feeling renewed.

When she returned to the camp, Aemond had moved the stag a safe distance from the tent. A large slab of meat now hung over the fire, cooking slowly.

"I didn't know you could cook," Viserra remarked, her tone light as she joined him by the fire.

Aemond grinned, clearly pleased with himself as he offered her another blanket "What can I say? I'm a man of many talents," he replied, his voice laced with that familiar confidence.

"Indeed, you are," Viserra agreed, leaning in to kiss him gently.

After finishing their meal, Viserra and Aemond sat close together, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the comfort of each other’s presence.

Viserra rested her head on Aemond's shoulder, feeling utterly content.

But then, the tranquil atmosphere was interrupted by the first few drops of rain. They hit the ground softly at first, then more rapidly, until the rain began to pour down in earnest.

Viserra glanced up at the sky, expecting Aemond to suggest retreating to the tent, but instead, he stood and held out his hand.

“Dance in the rain with me,” he said, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

“There’s no music-”

“We can make our own” whispered Aemond.

Viserra hesitated for only a moment, the warmth of the blanket tempting her to stay put. But the look in Aemond’s eye was irresistible, and she found herself smiling as she abandoned the blanket and took his hand.

The rain drenched them both as they moved together, their naked bodies swaying in the downpour.

They giggled like children, spinning and twirling, water streaming down their faces and bodies.

The cool rain on their heated skin was exhilarating, and they pressed kisses to each other’s wet faces, tasting the sweetness of the rain mixed with their shared laughter.

Then, without warning, Aemond stopped. He slowly descended onto one knee; his eye full of emotion as he placed his forehead against Viserra's swollen stomach.

The rain continued to fall around them, but it seemed like time itself had paused.

“Marry me” Aemond whispered, his voice low and filled with longing.

Viserra’s heart skipped a beat. “We’re already married,” she replied softly, her hand resting gently on his head.

“Yes,” Aemond agreed, looking up at her with intensity. “In the ways of Old Valyria. But after our babe is born, I want to wed you in the eyes of the Seven. I want the realm to see that you are mine and I am yours.”

Viserra’s eyes filled with tears, though whether from the rain or emotion, she couldn’t tell. “Yes-I’ll marry you” she said, her voice trembling with happiness.

“Y-Yes?” questioned Aemond.

“Yes-yes-yes” exclaimed Viserra.

Aemond stood swiftly, pulling her into a passionate kiss as the rain continued to pour down on them, soaking them both.

The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in that perfect moment.

But then, the rain abruptly stopped.

They broke their kiss and looked up to see that Vhagar had extended her wing over them, shielding them from the rain.

The mighty beast huffed affectionately, her huge eyes watching them with a surprising gentleness.

“You big softie,” Aemond laughed, looking up at his dragon with affection.

“Just like her rider,” Viserra teased, her eyes sparkling with love.

Aemond smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I say we change that,” he said, taking Viserra’s hand and guiding it to his already half hard cock.

Viserra laughed, her voice a soft melody in the quiet of the night. “You’re insatiable,” she murmured, though her tone was full of affection.

“Only when it comes to you, my darling,” Aemond replied, his voice husky with desire.

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