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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 1 year ago

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Birth of Dragons Pt.2

Pairing(s): Aegon i Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader, Aegon i Targaryen x Rhaenys Targaryen, Aegon i Targaryen x Visenya Targaryen, Rhaenys Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: canon Targcest, rivalry, jealousy, targaryen kid ocs

Words: 7167

Summary: Aegon the Conqueror’s family has grown to a substantial size. But with so many young and cocky dragons, someone is bound to be burned.

Part 1

*Also it’s raining like a motherfucker in CA rn

The birth of your twins had been a joyous occasion for the Targaryen king. You’d given him two heirs who were strong and robust babes.

The seed of the dragon would prove to be resilient. Two years later, you gave birth to another son. A beautiful boy named Rhaelor. He reminded you of your Renoxa for he possessed the pale lashes and resplendent crimson irises. When Visemarys and Baelyx first met their baby brother, they were terrified of Rhaelor’s eyes and burst into tears.

Another year passed before Rhaenys would be round with Aegon’s third child. Everyone expected her to be the next one to bear the dragon king another heir. The third son of Aegon was named Aenys. He, unfortunately, had not been blessed like his older brothers in health. Aenys was a sickly baby. Small and his limbs unbelievably stick thin. It was a wonder how he survived through infancy. You and Rhaenys would stay up so many nights watching vigil over the babe. She was beside herself and for the first time you were her pillar of strength. Fiercely supporting her, you treated Aenys as your own and did your best to care for him when you forced Rhaenys to rest. By the grace of the gods, he thrived.

Visenya however took longer to produce a child. Not until the year your twins turned seven did she finally conceive. Even then, she absolutely hated the entirety of being pregnant. Loathed the restrictions it put on her body. While Rhaenys hadn’t been too thrilled about the rounding of her body, you had absolutely adored your pregnant belly for it housed your boys who were the greatest joys of your life. At the same time she was pregnant with her first child, you were already showing symptoms of your fourth pregnancy. Visenya gave birth to a large boy she named Maegor. His screams into the world shook the glass in the windowpanes and had Aegon flinging his hands up to his ears in a vain attempt to block out the ear piercing wail.

A few months later your only daughter Aella was born. The first contractions hit you when you were flying in the air alongside Visemarys’ small dragon, teaching him how to direct Rahu to where he desired to go. Neither Renoxa or Rahu were too far off the ground in case an emergency landing was needed. A good thing considering you would have to land quickly to alert your family who had been watching from the ground. Aegon was quick to get to you with Rhaenys and Visenya (little Maegor was back at the High Hill with plenty of nannies since he was to young to be out and about) running after him. Baelyx watched with wide eyes but also kept vigil over his smaller brother Rhaelor and half-brother Aenys. You were hauled back to Aegonfort.

To your surprise, Aegon was absolutely thrilled to FINALLY have a daughter. Sons were revered above all in both Valyrian culture and Westeros. For him to be so joyous over having a daughter to call his own was heartwarming.

“I have enough sons to hold up the Targaryen legacy.” He earnestly told you. “Five to be exact. I want to gift Westeros with another you though. A Targaryen princess will be much loved indeed.”

You and your family learned early on though that beneath her sweet and innocent countenance, there lay a headstrong and spirited personality that was as delightful as it was unpredictable. Aella was a remarkable blend of her family's qualities: tenacious like Aegon, valiant like Visenya, playful like Rhaenys and. . .

Aegon had put his hand to your chest. “She has your heart.”

A mighty heart.

As much as you were scolding the boys, you had to discipline Aella just as much. She happily got the skirts of her dress dirty when playing outside with her brothers. Little spitfire would even lick at any scrapes she got and carried on her merry way as if nothing happened. Falls did not phase, not even as a baby when she was first learning how to walk on stumbling feet. Visemarys and the younger twin Baelyx thought it was the funniest thing to teach their sister how to be an absolute gremlin. And she adored her older brothers for it. They were the ones to teach her words that were not something a lady should say (although you and your sisters said plenty of the same words). Aella got herself into many brawls with the young sons of different lords who dare say a harmful thing toward Rhaelor’s odd eyes or Aenys’ weak constitution. She would always be there to rouse them up and offer her support in any way possible.

Then there was Aella and Maegor. . . Gods help anyone who fell upon their mischief. They were especially close having been born but months apart. If you were being honest, you did not particularly like Maegor’s influence over Aella. You loved your sister, but her son was another story. He was made of grittier material than the other children of Aegon. You knew if the throne ever fell into the hands of Maegor, well, that would be a dark day for the seven realms. Maegor would not be a kind or virtuous ruler. Thankfully, Maegor’s way to the iron throne would be a long way. Something terrible would have to happen to Visemarys first and as he grew, it was becoming unlikely that anyone besides his own father could defeat him in a sword fight. He was tall with broad shoulders and lithe limbs. You’d seen your son unarm many men who were twice his age and more seasoned a warrior. Motherly pride made you glow every time you watch him train with the others. For being the youngest son though, Maegor grew like a weed. Resilient like one too. When sparring against Rhaelor or Aenys, Maegor was the usual victor. Rhaelor despite his adventurous heart was not much of a fighter. Instead of honing his skill at the blade, Rhaelor would take off on his dragon Imorth. The dragon’s serpentine body, sinewy and elegant, stretches to an impressive length across the sky. Imorth shimmered with a myriad of greens, from deep emerald to a vibrant jade green. Many times, there would be sightings of your son and his dragon all over Westeros when he became an independent young man. He was your diplomat in spite of his odd appearance. His fair complexion and red eyes tend to spook people on the first meeting but he had quite the charming personality and managed to win over even the biggest skeptic. And Aenys, poor Aenys would never be the swordsmen the twins were or even young Maegor. Not even like Aella who had been loudly vocal on her desire to learn whatever her brothers were learning. But he was a kind boy and a scholar and had the sweetest voice when he sang. Even not being a warrior like his brothers, he still managed to receive his own female admirers.

Perhaps it was for the best she learned. Both you and your sisters were trained with a blade and fought alongside Aegon when he called upon you for assistance. Aella would be able to protect herself if the occasion called for it. She wouldn’t have to rely on any man and could fight atop of her mount, Yldri. Yldri boasted a mesmerizing appearance, scales shimmered with the softest lilac hue, like the petals of the most exquisite flowers in the kingdom. If anything, at least Aella would have a traditional Valyrian dragon rider death like her aunt Rhaenys. Rhaenys died in the war with Dorne when Aenys was just three years old. Both her and her silver dragon Meraxes. You kept yourself together for her son. You were the closest thing he’d have to his mother even though you ached for the loss of your beloved sister.

There were moments in your grieving when you would momentarily forget her death and turn to say something to her, only to be painfully reminded that she was no longer there. Neither Visenya nor Aegon knew how to console you when you’d grow quiet in realization at your own blunder. The tears that would prick at your eyes fell without Rhaenys there to wipe them away as she always did. It was considered an honor though for one to die atop of their dragon. A fate that you and the remainder of your siblings desired.

Your grief for Rhaenys lasts for years as you’re slow to come to terms to her no longer being by your side. Late at night you longed for her arms and her kisses. The way she completely molded to your body. She was the one you always turned to as both your sister and lover. Constantly your bedmate whether it be in a sexual way or just to sleep and protect one another. Aegon’s presence was a comfort but by no means a substitute or replacement. No one could take Rhaenys’ spot in your heart.

After the Dornish War, there was a long time of peace where the children grew and prospered under its influence. The skies were filled with dragons as was the High Hill.

Two dragons fly side by side with ease. The beautiful, sleek body of Imorth is larger than that of the younger Yldri. Even so, both dragons boast the most magnificent scales among the Targaryen’s seven dragons.

Atop of the lilac mount Yldri rode the only Targaryen princess, Aella. Her silver hair grew tangled among the beating of the wind but her smile was ever prominent and cheeks bright pink. Yldri felt her joy and released a happy crowing noise as her wings beat against the open air. In response, Imorth shrieks out his own noise of enjoyment. He dives underneath the she-dragon, giving Aella a perfect glance of the top of Rhaelor’s snow white head. His emerald robes billow behind him, almost fusing with Imorth’s color. The two dragons spiraled around one another, a beautiful dance of dragonkind, their wings brushing against each other in a show of camaraderie. All the while, their riders laugh in a carefree spirit. Their responsibilities were not like those of their elder twin brothers: Visemarys and Baelyx. They were freer to goof off and spend their days in the skies with their dragons. They were not bound by the constraints of the world below. Roars reverberated across the open horizon, not in aggression but in exuberance.

An ear piercing dragon’s cry has their laughter dying down and turning in their saddles to see the larger form of Zypheros, Baelyx’s smoke gray dragon, advancing on them. Stilling their dragons into a steady gliding in place, Zypheros easily catches up with them.

Baelyx’s bangs whip around his face, his long ponytail like a ribbon behind him. When he smiles at his younger siblings, the indentation of dimples grace his face. “Both of you are requested by mother.” He calls over to them. Speaking so high up in the air tend to be difficult, especially on blustery days. “Aunt Visenya and Maegor will be arriving soon.”

Really, all Baelyx had to do was mention Maegor to get Aella’s attention. She can’t help but perk up at the prospect of seeing her other half-brother. Maegor lived on Dragonstone with his mother Visenya. Unlike herself and her other brothers, Maegor had no dragon. For as long as she could remember, Maegor always said the only dragon worthy of him was Balerion. Maybe it was true, maybe not for Balerion was a fine mount; the largest in the continent.

Rhaelor knew his sister better than he knew anyone else. He rolls his scarlet eyes at her obvious excitement to see him though he was not as keen to see his aunt and half-brother.

Her face plastered with a wide grin, Aella urges Yldri to land just outside of the newly constructed capital of Westeros: King’s Landing. The populace still jumped at the cry of dragons above but were slowly getting used to being around them. Aella tries to squint her eye in an attempt to see across Blackwater Bay to Dragonstone in hopes of catching sight Maegor atop of Vhagar with his mother.

Getting closer to the Red Keep, the other dragons of her family rouse their heads as Yldri screeches her greetings. She glides by the training yard where she spots Visemarys, Aenys and Aegon the Conqueror. Their father was the picture of masculinity and authority. Already Visemarys stood at the same height as his father and only required a few more years before his muscles matched Aegon’s. Compared to them, Aenys could be a waif. Not as skinny as he used to be, he still lacks the bulk of his brothers and father. That was okay. Aenys made it up with his kind nature, smarts, and singing voice. Aella appreciated each brother for who he was. She didn’t think any less of Aenys for the fact that he was never going to be a great fighter.

Aegon lifts his head up first to catch his daughter’s lilac dragon pierce through the sky like an arrow. He smiles to himself. She shined brightly, just like Rhaenys and (y/n). Catching even Visemarys gazing up with an expression of pure softness and affection. He’d been seeing it for some time now since Aella came of age. Visemarys AND Baelyx.

(y/n) had noticed it as well and concern flashed on her face when she took note of her twins squaring the other up when Aella was between them. She didn’t want there to be strife among her children. Especially fighting over another sibling. Something like this would certainly prove to be a problem when Aella decides when she is ready to marry for even her mother was loathe to have her marry. After all, the mother and daughter duo was always close. As a babe (y/n) would strap Aella to her chest and take her on flights with Renoxa. Aella would be full of giggles the entire time, loving the open air and wind brushing against her fat cheeks. Her family’s pride and joy despite how often she’d be naughty.

Taking into consideration both of his son’s interest in Aella, Aegon had thought about the perfect match for her. A union between her and Visemarys would be beneficial. She’d be queen once Visemarys was crowned king. She wouldn’t have to face any major life changes. The Red Keep would still be her home and she’d still be near (y/n) and Aegon. But he took into consideration Baelyx’s feelings as well. He was second son, youngest of the twins and the closest in line to the iron throne. An excellent marksmen with a bow and a well phrased in politics. The perfect weapon in the Targaryen belt. Baelyx even wield an assassin’s marked blade. Visemarys was brawny in strength but Baelyx was sleek like a predatory cat. Each movement he made was calculated.

Neither parent had an idea if Aella was aware of the twins’ affections for her. They’d try to support their daughter any way they could though. Whoever she chooses. Similar to his wife, one thing Aegon would never be able to get behind was Aella with Maegor. Thinking of it didn’t sit well with him. Maegor would never hurt Aella, that was not what concerned the conqueror. She’d sooner have his head on a spear if he tried to force himself onto her. His youngest son’s ambitions worried him. He saw the hunger in those eyes, the hunger of another conqueror. Westeros didn’t need one anymore. They needed a king who could continue to keep the peace and balance of the land. He’d be an amazing general were he able to be satisfied with just that. No, Maegor longed for the pinnacle of authority. Aegon didn’t want to scare Visemarys with the potential of an assassination by his own blood. That was the reality. He hoped he would be wrong in the end and perhaps Visemarys and Maegor could work things out civilly.

A few miles away, Yldri finally lands her feet firmly upon the earth. Easily sliding off her back, Aella dusts off her skirts and pats her she-dragon on the neck. They walk the rest of the way to the mouth of what would become the Dragon Pit, a place where her family’s dragons could call home after long hours of being with their rider. Workers were still buzzing around, building the walls higher and higher to especially accommodate Belarion’s great size.

She inhales deeply, happily. Her home was a beautiful one. Her kingdom even grander all thanks to the efforts of her father and his sisters. Aella felt immense pride in being a Targaryen, even more for being the daughter of the conqueror himself.

Yldri playfully shakes her neck, bumping the girl in the back with her large snout. Her giggles are light as she watches her she-dragon make her leisurely way to the entrance of the Dragon Pit, already knowing that as her home. Workers scramble immediately at the sight of her and make way.

Aella scampers down the hill where the pits were situated to the outer walls of the Red Keep itself. The iron portcullis groans and lifts up from it’s stationary position in the ground. She waits patiently, waving to the guards on duty who greet her cheerfully. Above she hears the screech of Imorth and Zephyros gradually catching up to the trail she’d blazed with Yldri.

“Welcome back, princess.” A knight smiles at her. His own eyes glance up to the smoke gray and jade green dragons twirling in the sky.

“Did you hear Maegor’s coming?” She excitedly replies. The reminder makes the knight grimace in response. There was little love for Maegor in the Keep.

She doesn’t pay attention to the disgruntled grunt he gives her. Aella moves right past him but not to the front door of the castle. Walking around the outer bailey leads her to the training grounds where knights and soldiers alike practiced the dance of swords. The shrieking sound of steel against steel rings in her eardrums like the beginning of a song. That’s how she felt whenever she held a sword and trained with her brothers. It was all so much like dancing except more fun. There was a thrilling element to it. The dance of swords was also the fine line between life and death. One balanced on the razor’s edge when performing the intricate steps that were required to assure your life was safe.

Men from either side of her stop what they do to give her the briefest of bows or acknowledgment. Not many men in Westeros approved of a woman taking up a weapon. But she wasn’t any woman. She would be like her mother and aunts, who didn’t need a man to protect them from danger. They could very well take danger by the horns and force them into submission. Although Aella had only seen her mother use a sword once in front of her it made a lasting impression. She became a different person when there was a sword in her hand. In that moment, (y/n) had resembled her eldest sister Visenya.

Aenys’ hair, with pieces of hay sticking out of it, looked like a porcupine when he noticed Aella happily wandering on the training grounds. His watery hyacinth gaze crinkles as he smiles. “What has you all smiles, jorrāelagon mandia (dear sister)?”

Chipper as a bird, Aella grabs his hands and twirls him around now drawing the attention of her father and Visemarys. “Maegor and Aunt Visenya are coming! Mother sent word out to me and Rhaelor. Isn’t it exciting!”

He shared the sentiment of everyone else as his own smile dimmed. Forcing his mouth to keep the shape of a smile, Aenys attempts to sound as lighthearted as his sister. “Is that so?”

At that moment, (y/n) Targaryen appears. Normally when she went to watch her husband and sons train, she’d shed her lovely gowns and dawn her leather trousers and tunic. Not that day. She was dressed in a gown of the softest green, perhaps thinking to match her son Baelyx. This was something endearing (y/n) did. Often she wore colors that matched those of her children’s dragons. Yesterday had been burgundy, taking after Rahu’s dark red hue.

Immediately Aegon catches the emergence of his youngest sister-wife. If possible, there were hearts in his eyes when he gazed upon her like it was the first time. Every edge of his face softens and he pats Visemarys’ back before sprinting to the stone steps that led up to the door. (y/n)’s grin is wide as she lets him sweep her up in his arms. The affection they showed to one another publicly tend to make the boys uncomfortable but Aella loves seeing her parents still enamored with one another after so many years. That was the kind of love she wanted. One to last a lifetime. Visemarys turned his face away when Aegon captures (y/n)’s lips in a passionate kiss. When he spots Aella giggling, he pretends to gag. Aenys chuckled at his family. While his mother was no longer alive, (y/n) became his surrogate mother. She cared for him the same as with her four other children. In Aenys was the last piece of her beloved sister Rhaenys left to the world.

(y/n) whispers something to her husband that has him drawing away partially. “So Visenya is finally returning.”

His sister nods enthusiastically but her smile was stiff and Aella, from the shapes her lips moved in, knew her mother was talking about Maegor being with her as well. Aegon’s long silver-blonde hair had been tied into a braid for sword training, courtesy of (y/n)’s skilled fingers. It trailed down his back, almost to his rear. Swaying as he steps back and holds (y/n)’s hand as they both descend the stairs.

Periwinkle eyes take in her daughter who bounds up to her. She chuckles and smooths the hair on Aella’s head even though the girl was almost the same height as her. “I see the news has reached everyone.”

“Baelyx is an efficient messenger.” Aella happily nods and holds her mom’s hands in her warm grasp. “I’m happy that Aunt Visenya and Maegor are coming after being away for so long, but is there a specific reason?”

The males of her family pay even more attention. This was something they had all been wondering. Four years ago, Aegon cut off contact with Visenya and subsequently Maegor. A big fight tore the elder Targaryen siblings apart. To begin with, Aegon held almost no romantic feelings towards Visenya. That was well known. Evidence being that (y/n) gave birth to four of Aegon’s children while Visenya only conceived one son. (y/n) however still kept in contact with her last sister.

“It has been too long since I’ve seen my dear sister.” (y/n) confesses. By then Baelyx and Rhaelor were now entering the grounds and caught the last words of what their mother had said.

“How long until they get here?” Rhaelor asks after giving his mother a kiss on the cheek which always delighted her.

In return she pats Rhaelor on the cheek. “I can’t imagine it will take them long. Possibly within the hour. All of you are to wash and dress in your best. And boys, please, try your best to get along with Maegor.”

All of the Targaryen boys, even Aegon, look down at their feet. All having been guilty (except for Aenys) of antagonistic tendencies toward Visenya’s only child.

Their maids were already waiting for them each to assist in anything they needed as all five of them were already young adults. Aella would require actual help for putting on her dress as it was many layered with ties that needed to be secured.

They obey their mother’s instructions, but for Visemarys and Baelyx, they in particular were unhappy with Maegor’s arrival.

Aegon was always handsome, whether streaked with dirt and blood or cleaned up like he was now he was exquisite.

Reclined on the chaise lounge in his dressing room, you watch the strong muscles of his shoulders as he puts his arms through the sleeves of his clean tunic. Your eyes helplessly rove to the tapering of his waist and down to the perfect lift of his rear.

Later. You tell yourself as you’re already imagining wrapping your legs around that delicious waist as he pounds into you, perhaps pump another child into.

For now, you had to remind your husband. “Do try to be gentler with Maegor. He already knows that he is not the favorite son. You don’t have to rub it in.”

He pauses before shoving his other arm into the corresponding sleeve. “He’s different than our boys (y/n).”

Pursing your lips, you acknowledge what he says as the truth. Maegor was definitely not like your four boys. Something unhinged about Maegor that made even you wary of him. “Regardless, you are his father.”

Turning around, his mauve eyes turn soft in regard to you. You’d voiced this before, the anticipation of discourse between the sons of the dragon dangled above your head the more Maegor was isolated. Aegon kneels in front of you, pressing your knuckles against his silky lips. “I’ll be as gentle as a lamb.”

A laugh bursts out of your chest. “Yes, gentle as a lamb coming from the dragon king himself.”

His grin curls to show off his sharp canine. “I can be gentle.”

Yes, he was capable of being sweet and gentle to you and the rest of the kids but that was the extent. Visenya and Maegor were not granted the same kindness. He still wouldn’t tell you what exactly he and Visenya had argued about before she relocated to Dragonstone, but it must have been big. The two of them never got along, not as much as he got along with you and Rhaenys. Childhood had been no different. The eldest of the Targaryen children bickered nonstop and would even be reduced to brawling out in the courtyard.

Lightly, you drag your lips down the bridge of his straight nose that seemed to have been sculpted by the most talented artist before placing a tender kiss on the tip of his nose. He’s practically purring at all the affection you lavish on him. Sometimes it goes to your head how he immediately becomes pudding in your hands. No one else would ever see Aegon like this. Only you. An incredible power that you alone possessed.

The shrieking of dragons that pierce from outside alert your family that Vhagar was here.

Before allowing any of your children out into the yard to greet her, you double check their attire and move a few stray strands of silver hair that was hanging in Baelyx’s face and to tamper down Rhaelor’s naturally wild hair. A brooch on Aenys’ cloak was askew and you promptly fixed that too. He smiles down at you and you can’t help but lovingly pinch his cheek. He’d been born the weakest, but nearly towered over Aegon now.

Prim and proper, you nod to yourself. Your wildlings, Aella and Rhaelor, could clean up nicely when they actually put their minds to it and weren’t on their dragons. Aella especially was radiant in her cream gown. Maybe too radiant. The twins were gazing adoringly at her, you could practically read the lovesick thoughts going through their head in that moment. If everyone got through today without any bloodshed, you would count it as a success. You just had to get through it then hopefully it would be smooth sailing from there once Visenya and Maegor settled in.

In the distance you could make out Vhagar’s mighty size descending to the entrance of the Dragon Pit. They’d be here shortly.

Aegon laces his fingers with your’s. “Breathe my love. You’re making the children nervous.”

So many things could go wrong. Tragedies of all sorts pierce you so that you listlessly pace in the courtyard. You miss Visenya, but you were ultimately scared of what her arrival would bring.

You give Aegon’s hand a vice-like squeeze. “Good. Maybe they’ll be on their best behavior then.” Particularly Baelyx. He had the shortest temper of all your children. His surliness could match Maegor’s which led the two to constantly butting heads when they were smaller. It didn’t take much to set off either boy.

Shouts from guards atop of the guard tower shout the arrival of your sister and nephew. You press yourself closer to Aegon in both excitement and nerves.

The gate rises and there stood the firm figure of your sister Visenya and the young man beside her. His hair and eyes scream Targaryen. Maegor. Unlike his brothers and father, Maegor wore his silver-blonde locks short. Suits the harsh features of his face much better in all honesty.

They stride past the threshold, movements in perfect synchronicity that you wonder if they intended for that or if mother and son were just that much alike.

Regardless of the bruised feelings among your elder siblings, you smile and open your arms wide to embrace Visenya. Usually she detested physical contact. She didn’t even like holding or carrying Maegor around when he was an infant. For you though. . .

A rare and beautiful smile makes her regular stoney face crumble as she enters your arms, her own arms encircling around you. She presses you close to her body and you could practically hear her sigh in relief. “Ñuha prūmia (my heart).” She nuzzles her face against your hair. “Skorkydoso eman bōsa naejot ūndegon aōha laehurlion (How I have longed to see your face).”

Tears burn behind your eyes but you’re still smiling, even more now after her words. “Ao kesīr leghagon nyke (You here completes me).”

Before she could completely break in front of everyone, Visenya tears herself away first and rapidly blinks her eyes clear. Her stoic expression returns when she glances at the rest of the family behind you. Specifically at the King of the Seven Kingdoms himself.

“Aegon.” Her voice is frosty.

Your husband returns the sentiment in kind. “Visenya. You and Maegor appear to be doing well.” For Aegon, that was as friendly as he could be with her right now. Looks like he hadn’t forgotten nor forgiven whatever transpired between them.

To break the iciness, you beckon your children forward. Happily, Aella is the first to greet Visenya and Maegor. Her aunt pleasantly hums and pats her on the head. “How grown you are.”

“Welcome home.” Aella tells her earnestly. Then she turns to Maegor who already has a cocky smirk plastered on his mouth. You chew on the inside of your cheek at the look he gives her. “Hello, Maegor.” She tilts her chin up to dazzle him with a smile.

His voice is a deep rumble. “Aella.”

The other boys politely greet them in turn. You bid everyone to retire inside so that your sister and nephew could relax from their dragon ride although Visenya didn’t know the first thing about relaxing, always alert and ready for battle. War time was over but the way Visenya was, you’d think conflict was still array in the land. Rhaelor worked well as a diplomat and was constantly going to visit all of Westeros’ wardens. Not even a whisper of friction. A few bandits here and there but nothing dire.

In the private sitting room of the Red Keep is where your get together was reconvened. Refreshments and sweets were offered as mainly you and Aella kept up conversation. Aenys helps as much as he could as does Rhaelor so that tensions may be eased but it’s difficult when the twins and Maegor are having a staring contest. Visenya and Aegon were no better. You felt the chill coming off of them.

“Your children are of proper marrying age.” Visenya brings up randomly as the conversation lulls to just you and your older sister. “When will you be arranging prospective partners?”

You’re caught off guard back her sudden question. You glance at the five of them. Visemarys and Baelyx will be four and twenty come the next season while Aella had just turned seven and ten two months ago.

“We’re in no rush.” You tell her tentatively. Visenya had certain ideals that you didn’t share with her. She always thought you and Aegon coddled your children and that they grew up spoiled.

Her eyes narrow. “What about Visemarys? He should get a start on producing future heirs.”

He stiffens next to you in his seat, uncomfortable with his aunt’s scrutiny landing fully on him. Vis was not one to be easily intimidated though, especially not by an aunt he hadn’t seen in years. She held no sway or authority here. Not like you did as the official Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

“I have already decided on my bride.”

That stuns everyone and Visenya’s eyes visibly round at him. He keeps his face cool and collected with a slight smirk curling at the corner of his lips. You and Aegon wordlessly gape at each other before addressing Visemarys.

“You have?”

“Who is it?”

“Have we met her?”

Dozens of questions flew from you and your husband. You should have known though. There was only one girl he’d ever wanted to take for himself as a wife.

“Aella.”

Baelyx jumps to his feet and growls at his twin. “You can’t just claim her as your’s.” He gestures to their sister who sat completely perplexed that Visemarys had named her his bride. Without even discussing it in her. Her face grew red with both embarrassment and discontent.

You put a soothing hand on Baelyx’s arm but it’s too late. He’s furious and you fear that Maegor will feed off of this negative energy as well. But he’s still sitting, perfectly restrained and smirking at his half-brothers in an arrogant way that had you wondering what he was thinking. Or plotting.

Aegon leans to breathe something into Visemarys’ ear. Father and son stand. “Excuse us.” Without another word, they leave with Baelyx right behind them still fuming and yelling at his brother who seemingly became deaf to his irate brother.

Heaviness still hung in the air though as the rest of you flounder for something to say. Aella angrily trembled as Aenys consoles her. He knows when a battle has been lost though as Aella, just as quickly as her father and brothers, storms out of the room.

The vile audacity to claim her in front of everyone. He’d never even mentioned any sort of feelings that would hint that Visemarys felt something more for her other than brotherly love. Aella would be a fool not to notice how Baelyx and Visemarys looked her way. She knew but she wanted to hear them say it to her directly, not be sneaky but abruptly bringing it up with the rest of the family. Baelyx wasn’t really mad on her behalf. He was mad because he hadn’t been the one to publicly claim her first.

Rage boiled her from the inside and heats up her checks with the fires of all the Seven Hells. When she got ahold of them, Aella would throttle both brothers into the ground. Didn’t matter that they were stronger and older than her. She would find a way to bring them down to their knees and BEG for her mercy. If only they weren’t so consumed with their alpha male bullshit to even asked her who she favored more. Were she to be faster to leave the sitting room, maybe Aella could have followed them to wherever they went off to. This involved her after all. Who she chose as her husband was her decision. Her parents promised her that she could choose whoever she wants to take as a partner. They said they would support her. This was a discussion that required her presence as well. She’d smother the flames of her fury in order to put up her petition to remind Aegon that she was in charge of choosing.

First she went to the chambers of the king and queen. Empty.

Stalking through the halls of the Keep, Aella realized that they weren’t in the main dwellings of the family. Aegon must have took them where he carries out all important duties. The throne room that housed the infamous iron throne, built by her father the conqueror. He was always wary when the young ones were too close to it. The swords were still sharp like they were freshly pulled from their owner’s hands. Swords of his fallen enemies. It wasn’t uncommon to receive small cuts from it. Aegon was never maimed when he sat on the throne since it was made for him. Not even his own chair would harm him.

This forces her to leave the Keep and cross through the outer yard to get to the throne room which also housed a granary and a kitchen. Each step she took, Aella let out another curse toward her brothers. She’d give them the tongue lashing of the century. It will be ringing in their ears even as they lay on their deathbed. The never ending presence of soldiers milling about didn’t garner a second glance at them though even they noticed her wrath filled strut. Their princess rarely grew as impassioned as she was in that moment. Whatever argument was had in the Keep was enough to stoke her fire.

The soldiers standing at the front bow at her presence and let her easily pass through. Aegon had been in the middle of saying something until the clacking of her heels hit against the ground. Visemarys smiles as if nothing of interest was going on while Baelyx’s seething lightened up. She walks straight up to Visemarys and shoves him with a house.

“What kind of power trip are you on?” Teeth grit down hard as she goes to push him again despite her father calling her name.

Her anger toward Vis and not Baelyx as his glare turning into a self-righteous sneer. “See! I was only speaking up in Aella’s interest.”

Wrong thing to say.

She whips around and smacks Baelyx across the face. “You’re no better! You caused a scene.”

“Aella.” That stern command has Aella balling her hands into fists but obeys to face her father. She knew when to pick her fights and she would not win a fight with her father no matter how much Aegon loved his daughter. When he used that tone with her there was little choice but for her to simmer down. But her rage was still heavy in her mouth. She couldn’t even look at either brother who are positioned on either side of her. Baelyx, though his cheek was turning red, he sadly glances at his sister before pressing his lips firmly together.

Aegon sighed, lines running across his face in the light of the throne room. A blessing he thought his children were. They behaved with the common childish mischief that arose with many kids in proximity. Never really caused him any real problems. But this was very much a problem that Aegon dreaded addressing.

“Is it true you didn’t even speak this over with Aella, Visemarys?” He knows the answer.

Visemarys being the eldest tend to let that go to his head. Crown Prince of Westeros and Heir to the Iron Throne, he thought whatever he said would be law. At least he has the common sense to shift his eyes away from Aegon with shame. “Yes, your grace. I figure it was inevitable though. Who better for me to take as wife and queen?”

His sister scoffs in disgust but keeps quiet under Aegon’s intimidating glare.

“You do not have immediate claim of Aella just because you are first born.” Aegon sternly informs his son. In response his heir flinches. He’d been hoping his father would be on his side. Really, who would Aegon rather Aella marry? Visemarys would make her a queen. “She was promised she could choose her own husband. You’d be wise to respect that.”

Newfound admiration blossoms for her father. She hadn’t expected him to take her side in all of this. But she realized she would not be exempt from being scolded as well.

“Baelyx may have deserved your words but he didn’t deserve your abuse.” Aegon gazes from one pair of lilac eyes to another. Their father cast quite the shadow. “All of you are to go to your rooms for the rest of the night. Your dinner will be brought to you. You’re to reflect on how your actions may have harmed the other. Put yourself into their body and empathize. We’re family first and foremost. The house of the dragon cannot survive if we’re squabbling amongst one another.” He appeared to catch his own words. Momentarily he hangs back to gather his thoughts. “Tomorrow morning report straight to the throne room. No breakfast.”

They bow to their illustrious father. His final words were law and even his offspring must bend the knee to their sovereign.

Guards were sent along with them to make sure the trio went to their respective rooms.

In her room, Aella seeks out a distraction in the form of embroidery, to darts, hells she even tried to practice the lute but even boredom couldn’t help her enjoy that monstrous instrument that her teachers insist her learn to play. By the second hour, Aella was near ready to smash her lute into a thousand pieces against her bedpost. Were it not for the playful knock at her door, she may have gone through with her destructive impulse. A quizzically arched brow, Aella stares at the door.

“Who is it?” She called out.

“Jaesa (Goddess).” That fine serpent’s voice has her heart fluttering.

“Maegor. Unfortunately I have been banished to my room for the night.” She chuckled and tents her fingers on the door. “I don’t think father intended for me to have any visitors.”

His laugh is a low baritone that has Aella smiling fondly at the door. “Open the door, Jaesa.”

She doesn’t bother to think about the consequences and pulls on the handle of her door. Maegor is by himself, and easily manages to squeeze his way through the slim opening she offered him. Four years didn’t change Maegor’s personality, but it certainly transformed his body into swelled muscles and a proud stance.

Still furious with her brothers, Aella eyes him up and down with a coy grin that mirrored her half-brother’s. He read her mind easily, always had. He’s already lifting her up by her rear as she grabs for his face to kiss him.

Only she could say who were husband would be.

#game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #Game of Thrones fandom #A Song of Ice and Fire #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #a song of ice and fire fanfic #A Song of Ice and Fire fandom #ASoIaF #asoiaf fandom #asoiaf fanfiction #asoiaf fic #asoiaf fanfic #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon the conqueror #aegon i targaryen x reader #aegon i targaryen

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4veslil · 2 months ago

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Oneshot | Talons and Thorns | Daemon Targaryen

A/N: This is an old one shot that I also have posted on Wattpad and Ao3. But, I thought I would also share it over here because why not, my work, my say. I hope you enjoy and I wish you Happy Halloween!

SUMMARY: (Female) Reader is the only unwed daughter of House Tyrell and catches Daemon's eye at her sister's wedding.

★ MASTER LIST HERE ★

WORD COUNT: 1,265

<95 AC>

The tourney was taking place in Highgarden, celebrating your younger sister's marriage to a vassal of your house. Marrying to House Florent, your father hoped, would dispel the tension born after Aegon the Conquer's victory.

He said he could feel their vengeful eyes every time they looked upon him, unable to shake the notion of betrayal. A marriage ensured peace for however long it lasted, a peace he prayed would trickle down from King Jeahaerys I's reign. The realm had never been more stable than under the present Targaryen King. Your father said there was no better time to sheath the swords pointed at each other, not when unity came so easily.

House Florent tried to reject the marriage offer, what could the youngest child offer? What did they gain but a loss in the eyes of the other vassals? But once Heinrich Florent and your sister set eyes upon each other, nothing could stop the marriage.

You sat beside your sister, holding her hand delicately in your own, your excitement was as palpable as hers. The tourney had yet to start and despite her status, your father cherished you all. She was honoured just as the eldest would be.

"Are you pleased?" You asked lowly, careful not to catch anyone's ears.

Your sister, Aella, replied with a soft smile, "I fear too much"

"There is nothing wrong with that" you chuckled.

"What if I disappoint him?"

You held her hand tighter, "I do not know a more beautiful and strong woman"

"That is because you do not see yourself. Not as we do"

"Perhaps one day someone... someone will acknowledge me for it"

You were but the middle sister, with your oldest and youngest sisters, married it was finally your time. Your father wanted you all ready for the fate to come, and with two of three daughters wed, it was about time so should you be.

"Of course they will sister, a tourney like this is perfect!", Lord Florent flickered his eye sideways, his wife's excitement a new expression. "Have you made a favour?"

The favour sat on your lap, a ring of perfectly intertwined white roses with accents of leaves and berries.

"It is not much" you quirked a smile.

"It is better than mine would be. Remember at Elyn's wedding tourney? Mine was falling apart before you pieced it back together"

"We are all born for something" you sighed, only thinking that marriage was not for you. Never had you caught the eye of a Lord or any man for that matter. Already old enough to wed and no union had taken place. You would like to say you were made for more than marriage, but all that was done was done under the name of a man.

"You are born for greatness-" she held your hand tighter, "I just know it"

"And what greatness would that be?"

"Maybe he's riding right before you"

And before you could acknowledge what she meant, a man approached you upon his horse. But this wasn't just any man. From under his helmet, you could already catch wisps of white hair escaping and purple eyes fixed upon you. It was none other than Prince Daemon.

"Would the lady do me the honour of giving her favour" he spoke in a regal, crisp voice.

The perfect way to describe that moment was starstruck. In absolute awe that the Prince had approached you of all people. He had to request a favour from someone, you knew that for certain. But from you, it made your whole body buzz with anticipation.

"Of course, my Prince" you smiled, the words finally leaving your lips. You could feel your sister's grinning and the proud look of your father.

When you placed your ring of roses over the lance, you felt an armoured hand reach for your own. You were still beside yourself at how he held your fingers, gently pulling them to his lips. They were thin but soft, light as a feather's touch. You couldn't help but blush, the heat rising to your cheeks only widened the smirk adorning the Prince's face.

"I believe this will bid me a victory, don't you, My Lady?"

"May the strongest man win" You nodded in agreement.

"Good I am not a man, I am a dragon" he seemed to tease, it only made you blush further. You came to find that was his intention. To see you turn such a red.

"May the dragon conquer then" you smiled teasingly. You would not say it took the Prince aback but there was a glimmer in his eyes.

"As in my blood, My Lady"

Your sister sat with the groom, her smile wide and full of mirth. You could see her giggling and having the wedding of her dreams. She was happy and that's all you could hope for.

"You love your family" Prince Daemon approached from behind, a cup of wine extended to you.

"Hard to find someone who does not" you replied as you accepted the cup.

He stepped beside you and took the free chair at your right, settling in well enough. Like he belonged there. He was the Prince, everything he touched could belong to him. After all, dragons took what they wanted and never relented.

"She is a beautiful woman but it seems to be you who outshines the bride" he smirked, and you blushed as you watched his lips curl at the flirtation.

"I would have to disagree, My Prince"

"You would disagree with a Prince?"

"When it is proper to do so" you nodded as your fingers ran across the engravings decorating the gold cup. Secretly praying he would not notice your nervous disposition.

"What is interesting about being proper" he japed, you could see why women fell at his feet.

He was beautiful, the epitome of a Targaryen dragon rider. Prince Daemon was Confident, charming, and impulsive. He was everything that drove you mad with envy.

"Nothing My Prince, if I am, to be honest"

He then leaned in closer, you could feel his breath fan across your face, feel the minuscule space between his lips and your ear.

"Then why don't we do something fun"

You huffed out a breath, "I suppose your degree of 'fun' is not the same as mine"

"And how would we know that?", his words escaped him like a warm breeze upon your skin. So delicate and enticing- free.

"I know not to give into my desires so heartily", 'as was expected of a Lady' you internally damned.

"And my presence- your 'fun', would make you lose control? Perhaps that is something I want to witness"

"Perhaps it is something to entertain you in the night before you bore in the morning"

"So My Lady's claws do scratch, or are they thorns?"

"Thorns or claws, they'll surely ward off charming princes" Your eyes finally turned to your peripheral and there you captured his handsome face. It was disgustingly beautiful and held many secrets. You felt you could pluck them apart, like threads in a tapestry, unravelling those amethyst eyes.

"You think me charming? Well, is my charm working?"

You felt Daemon's hand land on your knee, his fingers massaging the joint through your dress. He surely was forward and all you could do was entertain his attempts at flattery. But, you supposed, it bore an opportunity- one you tested with ease.

"Do you wish it to?" You prompted.

"I wish to see you fall apart before me, drowning under it"

He was too forward, perhaps never been told no in his life. You thought you could change that. It was practice, that's all it was. To pick him apart piece by piece. Power for a woman only trickled from the man into her desperate hands, but this was a chance, 'your' chance

"Do you like the chase, My Prince?"

Daemon pulled back slightly, his eyebrows drawing together. It was a new expression that amused you.

"I am accustomed to it" he drawled confidently. His supple lips then pulled apart to allow his tongue to run across them, begging to draw your eyes down but you knew better. He was a dragon, he commanded you to bend, but nature could never bow. Men and women alike were victims of its whims. How could a dragon be any different?

"Then-" you stood, his hand left your body with a shiver, "May the chase begin. I hope you catch me soon Prince Daemon"

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adarkandmagicalforest · 7 months ago

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An Irritation part 4

ship: Otto Hightower/Original Female Character (twin to Daemon Targaryen)

warnings: hurt/comfort, mood swings, none

next: Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight, Part Nine, Epilogue

"Must you?" Queen Aemma had asked, aghast, as she came into her chambers, still garbed in her riding clothes and wearing her silver tresses in beads and braids which kept them out of the way of the whipping winds.

"When my Queen makes a command of me, is it not my duty to attend to them straight away?" Aella countered, reaching down to wrap an arm around Princess Rhaenyra's tiny waist to lift and scooch her along so she might seat herself beside her, causing her young niece to giggle with delight, as she was naught but eight years old.

"It was an invitation to lunch, hardly a command warranting such - hastened travels from Dragonstone." Her cousin replied, a light of amusement gracing her deep purple eyes as the Princess settled herself at their table.

Dragonstone was a refuge for her house, but especially for her and her Cannibal. He much preferred the heat and black rock of the island than Kings Landing, which was not nearly rough enough terrain for the dragon to enjoy. He was not even allowed near the dragonpit, as Dreamfyre had always so hated him creeping nearer to her eggs, his tastes well-known enough that the rest of the dragons always were wary around him. Well, all but Caraxes and Balerion had been at least, but now Balerion was gone, and Caraxes was -

"Is Daemon with you?" Rhaenyra asked innocently, too obvious to be truly skilled just yet. Her niece then followed it up by serving her with a scoopful of steamed eggs from a clay pot.

"No, hatchling, he isn't." Aella replied airily, keeping it plain for now. It wasn't the first time that Daemon had stormed away from their brother's court, but it was one of the first times he had run from her too. And though horrid he could sometimes be - it had made her feel so restless. Like something inside was wrong.

"Bread, Aella?" The Queen asked, holding up the basket of breads to her. She took a flat piece, the kind with flecked seeds, and dipped it into the garlic olive spread that was on the table.

Thankfully, it was then that Viserys finally arrived, looking slightly bedraggled and patting away marble dust from his clothes.

"Sister." He greeted her pleasantly, walking around to kiss her on her cheek.

"Mason Viserys." Aella retorted, making him snort as he circled the table to sit at the head.

"The plans are looking so well - it's starting to look just like I imagined they did." He began to ramble, which his wife had more patience for than his sister and daughter.

Her lunch wasn't looking as appealing anymore.

The eggs had lost their flavor and the wine stopped being refreshing.

She was starting to fall, she realized. Her fires were drifting low.

" - that right, Aella?"

"Hm?" The princess hummed, not even trying to pretend she was listening.

"You seemed to have becoming closer to finding a proper suitor as of late." Aemma repeated herself, twitching a brow at her with interest.

"Is that true?" Viserys immediately inquired, looking to her with an eagerness that she wasn't in the mood to go along with.

"She's been entertaining Ser Gwayne Hightower of late."

Untrue.

She hadn't seen Gwayne Hightower since she'd used him to rouse his Father's anger some weeks ago.

Oh sure, the poor sap had sent her letters (a lot of them actually, some of them accompanying pressed flowers or once even a box of crystalized marizpan) from Kings Landing and then from Oldtown when he returned there, but the princess rarely responded except when it amused her. The knight had little in him to fan her flames.

"Rhaenyra how fares little Alicent?" Aella diverted mildly, glancing down to her niece.

The hatchling rose a tampered brow at her, but went along with the change, her little face showing clearly that she would need to stuff her pockets with sweets later.

Soon enough she was strolling through the halls, attempting to combat her lowness. A few servants passed, lords and ladies too, peeping some greeting of some kind to her, all of which she ignored. There was one lord, one of her Baratheon cousins perhaps, who ignored her just as thoroughly as she crossed the courtyard to the Great Hall, but he too, did not garner her more than a passing moment of interest. She needed... she needed.

The hall was empty, save the Iron Throne.

So Aella went to it.

A thousand blades fell to her ancestors when they forged the Iron Throne with Balerion's fire. She could still remember the ancient dragon, larger than life and made of rocky flesh. His body had burned hotter than theirs, like a hot stone, just barely cool enough to touch with a bare hand. He'd seemed so - unlike Viserys, who'd been the last to claim the Dread. He rode him for only the better part of a year, but was never as stable on dragon back as she or Daemon were.

The dragon princess reached for one of the swords, sliding her finger along the flat end of one of the blades, which was still as sharp as the day it was forged. This one was close to the throne, just sticking out, half melted from the folded layers of molten metal that made it's steps. Intimidating, carnal, ruthless, ugly old thing. Somehow, she did not think it proper for Aegon either, who'd always preferred the black throne of Dragonstone. No - this seat far suited his sister-wife Visenya. Rhaenys, Aella had always mildly assumed, was always to be seated on either of her siblings laps, an equally deadly connection between the two depending which seat she was staying at the time.

But then Rhaenys was dead and gone - and her siblings had been left floundering without her.

She didn't know how long she had been sitting - it may have been hours or it may have been minutes. But soon enough, she was no longer alone.

"What do you think you're doing, Princess?" The voice came from well across the empty hall, the sound dancing against the marble.

"I had a bout of lightheadedness, Lord Hand." Aella lied mildly as the older man began his walk towards where she flagrantly sat upon the Iron Throne. "I had to sit at once, you see."

"That is not your seat to rest upon." He informed her once he was climbing up over the melted and bent swords that made up the gruesome steps up to the Conquerors seat.

"It's more my seat than yours." The dragon princess drawled smartly, leaning her head back against the throne when he stopped. His boots were stopped within her extended legs.

"You are fourth in line." Otto corrected. Then, surprisingly bold despite being in such an open space, he reached down for her cheek. It was a tender touch, even affectionate, brushing his thumb against her face in a way that her Father had once done, many years ago.

Aella attempted to banish that thought from her mind, almost as soon as it arrived - but it wouldn't go.

It was Daemon who was at fault. He was gone, her wall, her very own carved from fire and blood, and without him the gates had been allowed to open. And it made her... vulnerable, weaker than she'd like. She wanted to mount Cannibal and return back to Dragonstone, where there she could at least rot in peace.

"Princess." Otto's voice was stern, but instead of relishing in it, Aella felt herself flinch at the sound.

And to her horror (she couldn't stand to look at his face, of whatever might exist there, whether it be rage or worse off, some sort of foolish concern) the Hand shifted, clearly about to do or say something she wouldn't be able to take. So, the dragon princess did what she could stand. She grabbed at his doublet and pulled him down, pressing her lips against his. It was softer than she meant it to be, and actually brought her an inch closer to tears than she had been. The - weakness, the blood - welling up inside her like a dam about to erupt.

"You, Aella, are you - unwell?" She hated that he'd pulled away to ask after her wellbeing, and she hated still when he cupped at her cheek so he could look upon her face.

He was just as plain as ever. After their last tryst, she'd told him how she hated his scraggly looking beard, and he'd promptly trimmed it to look far neater by the next time she'd seen him at court, all the while refusing to ever meet her eye after she'd mirthfully noticed it.

"No, I was faint as I've just told you, Otto. Issi ao qopsa hen rȳbagon sir?" Are you hard of hearing now?

But it wasn't working. Even her use of high valyrian, which usually always rose the Hand's blood, fell on deaf ears. But she didn't know how else to fill herself up, how to become her again. She was falling.

"You must return to your chambers. A maester will attend to you." Her sometimes lover stated, already reaching for her elbow, as if to pull her away from the Throne, but at least the Conquerors chair was real. It was there, still warm as if it still felt Balerion's fire. And if he was only blood, it was fire she needed now, didn't he understand?

Aella was speaking some of this, she realized too late, to Otto's ear. Some in valyrian, but most in the common tongue as he maneuvered her away as she resisted.

"Fire, you command of me? Very well, you will have it." The Hand finally barked, finally bothered properly at her flinching and squirming. "Very well." He decided sternly, before doing what he could to lift her small frame up into his arms, taking her away.

Otto Hightower could not carry her far - there were not many places to go in short travel from the Throne room, but there were the twin doors just behind, which led out to a seating room that hid one of Maegor's tunnels out of the city.

This one, she remembered as she was carried into the more contained room, led out to a walkway up through the Street of Swords.

The seating room was as empty as the Throne was, and thankfully contained by a single (now very locked) door, so the Lord Hand could more easily handle and jostle her about until she was laying back on one of the plush settees.

But he didn't touch her any further,

The settee he'd chosen was also one that was closest to the fireplace, for now unlit, but not for much longer with the way Otto was throwing in fresh logs. They were cast aflame soon after, with a rough match struck against the floor, but somehow instead of being warmed, she was shivering.

"Burn the chair I'm in too." Aella ordered, her hands feeling especially cold to her, even when she held them out to the yellow flames.

The leg of the settee was taken in hand, and Otto dragged her forward with a short grunt of effort as he brought her now within inches of the fire, sending heat against her face and her trembling white fingers.

"You will stay here."

The heat dropped away at the cold pit that suddenly made its way into her guts. "Leaving so soon Otto? Is there another meeting you're needed to slander me in?"

"I will return with a maester and something warm you can drink. You're overcome, you require the healing talents - "

"No. No maesters, I'll not have your grey rats dripping poison in my tea." Aella argued, becoming stiffer under the idea of a third person, of the dour old Grand Maester poking in his head and declaring her mad as her Aunt was.

"And what alternative would you suggest?" Otto countered sharply, to which she had no good answer for him.

The only answer she had - was an honest one. "Daemon. I need - I need Daemon, I need Viserys, I need my Father and my Mother. I need them here, that is what will fix me, not - fucking maesters poking at me and trying to feed me milk of the poppy..." Her words were wetter than she'd like, her upset returning with more vigor than she'd like. So Aella did what she could and pressed her face against the settee, shutting her eyes tight to ignore the smell of the old fabric and familiar burning of wood in hopes that if she kept them closed tight enough the world would all fall away.

For a short time, the princess thought that she might have succeeded. For there was no noise, no further arguments - just the sound of crackling fire and perhaps the wind outside, howling with protest against the Red Keeps high walls.

And then a hand fell upon her ankle, a gentle one. His hand was warm.

"Prince Baelon was a fine man. A good spirit. Princess Alyssa was the fire that let him move and breath. They are well missed, Princess. But just because they are missed, does not mean they are gone from the world. The very existence of you... Of Viserys. Of Daemon, prove that to all to see that their love will never be forgotten."

His hand was tightening about her, squeezing just slightly, at the sound of Daemons name coming from his mouth. Even now, he could barely stand to speak her twin's name - though it was notable, at least, that it was said with only a fraction of the disdain it typically held for him.

"I want to lay here, Otto." Aella murmured out, her eyes watching the fire as it caught on the wonky looking log that the Hand had thrown in there. It split it, cracking the wood with a sharp noise and a flurry of dancing sparks.

"Very well. You will stay." He stated plainly. "And I will wait here until you are ready for a healer to look over you."

"Ao'll sagon umbagon va moriot, pār." You'll be waiting forever, then.

#house of the dragon fanfiction #Otto hightower fanfiction #Otto hightower #aella Targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #team green #team black #Daemon Targaryen #an irritation #Otto hightower x oc

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asumofwords · 2 years ago

Text

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: This is my first time ever writing fanfic. I have been reading fanfic on this godforsaken app since I was 12, and have been encouraged blindly by my best friend to post this. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 2: Steam

The walk back to your chambers was a quick journey. The hair on your arms stood up, as the ever present feeling of being watched surrounded you. The soft sound of your footfall echoed in the mostly empty wing of the Red Keep where your chambers resided.

The art on the walls of the Keep had been changed to Queen Alicent’s tastes. Bland colours and entirely not Targaryen, replaced the once brightly decorated halls and walls of your old home. You followed the torches until you reached the heavy oak of your doors, having them opened by a Knight of the Kings Guard; his white cloak standing stark against the dark corners of the corridor.

As he pushed open your door you asked him to summon your maids.

“Could you please fetch Aella and Saria for me? Have them prepare some water for a bath.”

He bowed his head, “Yes, my Lady”, pulling your doors shut.

Your chambers were the same as the ones you had as a child, most of the furnishing and decor had not changed, though some things had. The room, however you could tell, had been unused since your departure many years before.

The windows looked out towards the sea, the moon softly reflecting on the water, flickering with the waves. A shadow could be seen above, a great beast flapping its wings to push itself and its rider higher into the sky. Its looming shadow slipped between the clouds rolling in, and you prayed a storm would blow in from the sea and knock Aemond off of Vhagar and into the ocean below him.

Vhagar was the largest dragon in the world, fitting for your uncle as he had the largest ego in the world. You often joked to your brothers that he was most likely compensating for his manhood. Unlike his brother, you had not heard of his conquests with any women, or men. He was entirely elusive, a man with little or nothing to say, that many knew naught about except for his anger.

Lost in your thoughts, Aella and Saria knocked on your chambers and you bid them to enter. Aella was young, no older than two-and-twenty. She had bright curly red hair that was always tightly pulled away from her face in braids that formed a low bun at the nape of her neck. Her eyes were a deep brown and she had a dusting of freckles upon her nose and cheeks.

Saria was the opposite. A few years older than you, her hair was as black as night, and silky smooth, worn in a similar style to Aella, but with flowing bangs that framed her face. Her eyes were a bright blue and her skin was a deep olive.

Aella and Saria came with you from Dragonstone and had served you for many years. Both were kind and trustworthy, and you would sometimes dare to call them your friends.

The girls carried two large metal buckets each; steam rising high out of them. The two maids walked across the stone floors and placed them against the far wall. More maids walked in, carrying more steaming buckets of water and a large metal tub, placing it next to the burning fireplace, and began to fill it.

“Will you be joining the King for dinner, My Lady?” Aella asked, lifting one of the buckets letting the water carefully fall in as to not splash upon her or the ground.

“I will,” You replied, “I have not seen my Grandsire the King for many years. I’ve missed him,” You paused and thought, “and Prince Aemond extended a very warm invitation for me to join.” You looked up to see Aella and Saria give you a knowing look.

They had both witnessed the one-eyed Prince torment you since your recent arrival, and have listened to your younger selves stories of his sudden random bullying before the loss of his eye. Such a sudden shift in him which had surprised you both.

Some days it was as though he had forgotten that he hated you then, talking to you excitedly about something he had learnt in the library, before realising his mistake and scowling, stalking off away from you.

You had never truly understood the shift, but it was only ever in the open, before the eyes of court that he did it. If you were tucked away in private, he would speak to you kindly as he always had. You had shrugged it off as a child, but as you had gotten older, you realised that perhaps Alicent had been the reason for it.

“I wish to look my best this evening. It has been a long time since I have been in the presence of my family, and I want to make sure they know of how I have grown.”

Saria came behind you and began to unlace your dress, pulling it softly over your head.

Your slip was loosened by a tie at the front and it dropped down, pooling at your feet. The large copper tub had steam rising over the top, the light from the fire reflecting off of its side created a beautiful light that danced upon the wall.

Lifting your foot you stepped over and into the water, letting the stress and anxiety of the day melt away as you sank deeper into the tub. Leaning up against the high lip of the back, Aella lifted your braids from your neck and over the top, slowly untangling your hair and brushing out the strands.

Saria walked across the room and over to a large wooden wardrobe, which sat beside the bed. Dancing dragons were carved into the doors, with the faint remnants of paint covering them, with soft gold leaf detailing lining the trim of the wardrobe.

It was one of the last things left in this room that was yours, making you think that perhaps Queen Alicent did have a heart after all. Opening the two doors, Saria reached in and began pulling out gowns to present to you.

“What about this dress Princess?” She held a deep red gown with a high neck. The shoulders pointed upwards and held the sleeves of the gown together with gold chains. The long sleeves were inwardly lined with a golden silk and there were black embroidered Godswood branches reaching along the hem and bust of the gown.

“Beautiful but no, I am wanting black for this evening.”

Aella continued to braid your hair back, whilst you rested in the tub.

Saria went back to the wardrobe and brought forth another dress. This time it was a black, short sleeved one. Gold embroidered flames licked at the bottom of the gown, which split at the front up towards the fitted corset of the waist. A golden skirt peeked through the split, which shimmered like the fireplace.

The neckline was modest and although it was one of your favourites to wear back home in Dragonstone, you felt that the dress was more of a summer gown, and the coolness of the night that nipped at you made you think this dress would be too thin.

“I think I want something more mature. They haven't seen me since I was young, I am older now and wish to show it.”

You closed your eyes sinking further into the water to think for a moment, Aella pouring oils into the bath to soak your skin.

“Are any of the new dresses from Dorne?” You inquired, opening one eye to look at Saria.

The dark haired girl paused in thought, then hurriedly walked back to the wardrobe.

The next time she stood before you, she held a new gown you had not worn nor seen before.

“This is new from Marba, the tailor in Dorne.”

It was a dark black, sweeping gown. Its neckline plunged sharply into a deep V, dark black leather wrapped tightly around the waist and was embroidered with black vines that looked like dragons tails. The sleeves were long and open, that hung off by the shoulders that were lined with drooping gold chains. The inner lining was a deep blood red.

It was unlike any gown you had seen before.

Slowly you stood, Aella holding out her hand for you to take to help you out of the tub. Steam slowly rising off of your body as she pressed a warm towel to dry you, softly pushing your undergarment over your head to wear. You walked towards Saria, who held out the dress for you to inspect.

Up close, the black embroidery shimmered like threads made of Onyx, and the leather was finely stitched together to pull the waist into a tighter shape. The chains on the sleeves were thin and wound together like long chainmail braids, so delicate it draped softly and weightlessly as to not misshape the gown.

The plunging neckline was like most dresses witnessed in Dorne, but not nearly as often in King's Landing.

“It is beautiful, thank you Saria.” You smiled, “Help dress me, I’m sure they are expecting me soon.”

Saria held the gown and helped you into it, lifting it over your head and pulling it down. The inner lining was soft on your skin and the leathered waist was a new but not unwelcome weight against you. Slipping your arms through the sleeves you heard the soft jingling of the chain detailing, they looked similar to a warriors chainmail, and you thought for a second that you looked as if you were dressed to go to war.

Though this thought was not entirely unsubstantiated. Queen Alicent, your two uncles and aunt all still to this day wore green, were referred to as the Greens and were still waging a silent war against your mother and you all.

You thought of how your uncle Aemond would react to seeing you in a dress like this, but that thought was short lived as Saria began to tighten your gown, pulling in your waist which then lifted your breasts. You giggled at the prospect of irritating the prudish Queen Alicent, as Aella began to fuss with the finishings of your hair.

The dress fit you perfectly, and your hair was swept back in small intricate braids which were held together by golden charms, the rest of your hair sat softly down your back.

“You look beautiful Princess,” Aella spoke breaking the silence, “they are sure to see how you have matured with your years away from the Keep.”

She and Saria smiled softly and dabbed small drops of perfumed oils behind your ears and upon your wrists.

Ensuring that you were ready, Saria and Aella began to clean your chambers as you walked to your door, having the Knight open them for you.

Taking a deep breath you stepped out and began to walk behind the Knight. His white cape swayed behind him as you walked down the corridor to feast with your family again after many years apart.

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disneyanddisneyships · 2 years ago

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What is their dirty name for their partner?

All.

Your.

Ocs.

No specification. But only the ones in a relationship tho

HAHAHAHHAHA

I'm gonna go insane.

Aella:

I've made it to where she is now I am relationship with striker. She calls him cowboy. Not as dirty on the surface but when they're alone-

Aponi:

We all know she calls alastor "deer boy"

Cordelia:

She definitely calls Chaz "daddy" I don't take criticism. Roxxie:

Calls verosika "baby girl"

Ella:

Definitely calls Elias "daddy" or "baby boy" she uses the second one a lot more. *cough* top *cough*

Eli:

Calls ella "mommy" or "good girl" I won't elaborate.

Mia:

She definitely calls Loreley "goddess" in bed. Not so innocent now, is it?

Loreley:

Calls Mia "mommy"

Alistar:

All my ocs have mommy issues ig cause Alistar also calls Rosa that. He also uses "baby girl"

Rosalyn:

She definitely calls him a "big boy" in bed when she's on top.but if she's bottom? "My king", and "daddy".

Clare:

This woman calls her husband "my king" a lot. Like... a LOT. doesnt even matter that she's a top. And it works.

Jacob:

"Pirate queen", "my queen", and "mommy".

Carol:

Oh she's the bottom. Definitely calls eathan "daddy" but we won't get into that.

Eathan:

Calls her his "vixen" and "my queen"

Hope:

"Daddy", "baby boy", "good boy"

Isaac:

"Mommy", "princess", "bad girl"

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teamivankaye · 1 year ago

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Beyond awesome Season 2 King Aelle fan art by @martindaveyartist on IG based on a shot never used for fan art before, with many thanks for the permission to repost! 🙏👑😊 There are more #Vikings characters, check the page ➡️ https://www.instagram.com/p/Cvg5JgIIzyp/!

#IvanKaye #KingAelle #Vikings #fanart #artwork #Aelle #HistoryVikings #KingAella #HistoryChannelVikings #Aella #historyvikingsseason2 #KingÆlle #KingOfNorthumbria #Ælle #Saxon #king #Northumbria #KingÆlla #TVseries #perioddrama

#ivan kaye #king aelle #vikings #fan art #history vikings #rarely used pose #awesome artwork #painting #aelle #king aella #aella #ælla #king ælla #vikings season 2 #looking at ecbert like

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bibaybe · 2 years ago

Photo

OC Pride Challenge 2023 / Day Seventeen: Queer Artists - @drunk-on-writing

eight haikus for gilbert baker

taglist: @eddysocs @ocappreciationtag @foxesandmagic @wordspin-shares @veetlegeuse @raith-way

gif sources: x / x / x / x / x / x / x / x / x / x

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lesbiansimqueen · 17 days ago

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aella is a goddess of the wind, a warrior race that are raised to fight from birth. she was assigned to guard camilla as a very young child, raised beside her as her personal protector. she learns to fight as soon as she is able to walk, and by her teenage years is in charge of training the human army of amoura. at 21, she takes her vows to her ancestors, including never to "defile" her princess. aella struggles with this as they grow older and their attraction to each other becomes impossible to ignore.

i love aella. i looove aella. she's not my most attractive sim, but she is my beloved. she's so stoic and serious and grouchy, but totally soft for camilla. people think she's mean, and even the guardian king is afraid of her. she is utterly devoted to the princess in every way.

#sims #sims 4 #my sims #the sims #ts4 simblr #simblr #show us your sims #sims 4 screenshots #the sims community #ts4 #ts4 screenshots #the sims 4 #lgbt sims #lesbian sims

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paingoes · 16 hours ago

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what would delta's parents named him

i wish id thought of this before i wrote aegean seas because i want to name him andromeda but i forgot i already named his mom that 😔

the name delta just fits him so perfectly and at this point it is his chosen name so its the only one i think even matters

but in keeping w the greek mythology theme here id probably name him scylla, aella, or alcyone…

yes it has to be a girls name or at least androgynous. thats my gnc king ❤️‍🩹

#destroyer asks

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anadxanax · 5 months ago

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Daera I —

Some branches of the story get lost over the years, Daera Targaryen's name was one of the few to survive the historical erasure of women from Aella Targaryen's lineage and yet not all of her history was preserved by the citadel's maesters. Consider this my tribute to the golden dragon...

Previously — Index —

The air was as hot and dry as ever on the day of the tournament in the name of King Viserys and Queen Aemma's unborn child. Daera was excited for the day, she loved tournaments, well, at least she thought she loved them. That was her first official tournament. Of course, she had already witnessed competitions, silly fights organized by her mother's wards on Dragonstone to train and pass the time, but that was nothing compared to a tournament organized by the king.

On Dragonstone, swords were edgeless, armor was nothing more than boiled leather and menaced helmets that boys managed to convince blacksmiths to lend, but in King's Landing things were different. Each knight had his own bright and colorful armor, the symbols of their houses were emblazoned proudly on their shields and chest plates. The most daring one's, like Daemon, had helmets carved in the shape of the heads of the animals that represented their families. Everything was alive and rich, nothing like the simplicity of the island where Daera had grown up.

"I wish I could live like this every day" murmurs the young lady, admiring life outside the cabin. Lady's and lord's from different houses walked around happily, all richly dressed and fat due to the abundance that their lands provided them.

"What are you talking about?" asks Daemon waking Daera from her envious reverie.

She turns to him who was being prepared for the tournament, the rich armor hugged the prince's body with such grace that it seemed like a second skin. There were a dozen servants in the tent, some were busy cleaning the remaining pieces of Daemon's armor, others were cleaning and filling goblets, and there were those who were just there to be. Things were really different in King's Landing.

Not that they were condemned to poverty back in the island, but there were so few nobles living in Dragonstone that the number of servants was extremely small and already known to the family. Daera knew the names of all the people who worked for her family, but she was sure that if she asked Daemon he would barely know the name of his own squire.

"Nothing, I was just..." she clears her throat embarrassedly, trying to hide the way her eyes sparkle every time they land on the Dark Sister, Daemon's Valyrian steel sword that once belonged to Visenya, rider of Vhagar and sister-wife of Aegon the Conqueror. That sword was more Targaryen than Daera would ever be. "I was just thinking, uncle."

"About what?"

"About life. My life."

"Your life?" he laughs without making any effort to hide his mockery. "What can one have to think about at the age of twelve, Daera? You barely have a life of your own."

"Well, that's the problem" the young lady mutters, turning away from the tent door and walking towards the prince.

She was more than beautiful today, and had worked hard for it. The dress she was wearing was red with dragons embroidered all over the skirt in silver threads, she had asked the maids to apply pink powder to her cheekbones and crimson dye to her lips.

She wanted to look grown-up and beautiful, as beautiful as her sister naturally was. The highlight was to her dirty blonde hair that was held back by a silver circlet, a gift from sor Daren, one of her mother's wards. Daera had applied so much effort and still wasn't satisfied, Celaena had barely washed her face before attending the tournament and yet she was a thousand times more beautiful than her.

The gods were unfair, Daera thought, they had been born twins and somehow her sister had found a way to steal all the grace and beauty for herself, leaving for Daera only the misery of a mediocre face, with no silver hair and a strange pair of eyes, one blue and the other one violet. The lack of beauty was one of her sadnesses and the reason why she had immersed herself so much in books and stories about the Targaryen family, her mother's family. She had dreamed night and day about exploring the Red Keep of Maegor the cruel, wield a sword of true Valyrian steel and flying over the hill's of Rhaenys and Visenya, and now that she had everything within her reach, what she lacked was time and freedom.

"I would like to live here" says Daera looking around the tent.

"Your mother would hate to hear that."

"She doesn't understand, Daemon" complains the girl, crossing her arms. "She traps us in Dragonstone and surrounds us with Bastards as if we were nothing more than appendages of the royal family, as if my father hadn't been lord of the Vale and we weren't his heirs."

"You're being unfair, your mother went through a lot after your father and brother's death and-"

"And now she acts like we're little birds she needs to protect."

"Well..." Daemon says, a little stunned at the little girl, for someone so small she was actually quite self aware. "She's your mother."

"I know, and I love her with all my heart but... I want more than the shadows and rocks of Dragonstone."

Daemon's silence freezes the room, his eyes travel over every face, every servant that was there. Every worm that served him.

"You are dismissed. Everyone" he orders and so his will is done. It doesn't take seconds for them to be alone, uncle and niece, staring at each other so deeply that there's no word to be said. Daemon remembered little of his mother, but there was something that was marked in his memory: her unequal eyes, one bright green and the other violet, just like Daera. He wasn't a man attached to feelings, but he wasn't a rock either, he wanted to help the girl and if he had such power he would do so. "Your mother would never accept you staying in King's Landing, even if I were your protector."

"But you can convince her to send me somewhere else as a ward."

"Somewhere else? Like where?"

"The Vale" suggests Daera with such conviction that Daemon shocks her, he himself was running away from the Valley more than anything and his niece wants to go there. How ironic. "My father was lord of the Vale, Jeyne Arryn now reigns there just as he once did, she is my relative and could take me as her ward."

"What the hell would you want in that damn place? The Vale is like Dragonstone but without the dragons and with a lot more goats and wildlings."

"But there isn't my mother there. I could be free, Daemon. And the Vale is a place rich in culture, there are things to explore there, a side of my family that I don't know."

"You're a Targaryen, that's the only side you need to know."

"And yet I'm called Lady Daera Arryn, isn't it?"

Damn kid, she was smart.

The prince sighs and approaches the young lady cupping her cheeks, leaning his forehead against hers. He couldn't understand why in their right mind someone would decide to go to the Vale of their own free will, but she knows he surely understood the feeling of wanting to escape Aella's excessive protectiveness sometimes.

"Lady Jeyne Arryn may deny the offer, but I will make a... special effort because the request is yours, child" he kisses her forehead, trying to fake a gentle smile.

"That's a promise?"

"I swear in the name of my sword" says Daemon in a mocking tone, but there was truth in his words. Daera knew it very well. "Now go, the tournament is about to begin."

"Thanks, uncle" she says between giggles and then leaves the tent.

Outside, the sun was shining beautifully, music was spreading, and the sound of laughter and celebrations filled the courtyard. Daera was sure that no day would be happier than the heirs tournament.

A/N: I think this is one of the shortest chapters so far, but I'd rather publish it than nothing at all. I started reading A Clash of Kings today and omg I just love GRR's book's. Sansa's chapters are the best and I was very inspired by her first chapter to write Daera's, even though they don't have much to do with each other.

I didn't proofread this and I wrote it at 3am so... errors will be present and I may fix it along the week or not.

Anyway, thanks and kisses ✨🩷

#house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #hotd #fanfic #hotd daemon #original character #rhaenyra targaryen #westeros #hotd season 2 #hotd fandom #haelena targaryen

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