#laena velaryon x y/n

[valleyof-goldenlilies]

A Trek Under The Stars - Modern! Laena Velaryon x Reader

Summary: Laena brings you on a hike for a quest for something special.

Pairing: Modern! Laena Velaryon x Fem! Reader

Warnings: profanity, fluff

Word Count: 594 words

A/N: hoe hoe hoe! a very merry late Christmas and Happy New Year in advance from me to you :) for all dem Laena girlies out there, this is for you 💜 I hope you enjoy!

lovely dividers credited to @firefly-graphics !

“Laena, I swear to the fucking Seven,” you swore viciously, the little makeup you had put on before your hike to look good for the photos had by now been melted away thanks to the snow, and your former cautiously enthusiastic attitude when Laena had told you of her plans to go hiking wiped out within an instant. 

To be fair, you had been climbing for ages now, in the dark too, mind you. You had counted that you had been smacked by a stray branch laden with snow at least twenty times, tripped over a rock into the snow at least five times, and got spooked because the snow reflected the light of your headlamp back into the dense thicket of trees, making you think that you were in danger of being mauled by some wild animal within seconds, along with your girlfriend. 

“Gah!” Laena had suddenly materialised beside you, making you drop your walking stick with alarm. She laughed, lighthearted as always, bending down to help you pick it up. How can someone stay so perfect in the outdoors after this bloody hike? 

“We’re almost there, come on.” Laena tugged you forward, brushing away the heavy branches like they were nothing. “The view is so worth it, I’m telling you. And didn’t you always want to check seeing the Northern Lights off your bucket list?” 

“That was before I realised the extent of effort involved,” you grumbled, sighing. “And you said that we were almost there about ten times, Laena. I’m not inclined to-” 

“We’re here!” Laena’s exclamation tore you from grumpily directing your head downwards at all times so you could see where you’re stepping, and the resulting scene took your breath away. 

Laena helped you switch off your headlamp and hers as you both took in the view in the huge, snowy field you were in. Vivid swirls of green mixed with purple streaks created one huge, messy, yet ethereal painting. It was like the Gods had called upon all the artists of the known and unknown world and commanded them to release their creativity on the canvas known as the midnight sky, and the resulting imagery was otherworldly. Utterly magnificent. 

Stars twinkled faintly in the night, and the sky was thankfully devoid of any clouds, allowing you and Laena to fully absorb in the beauty of the Northern Lights. The hike up here suddenly didn’t seem so gruelling after all. If it culminated in all this, then it was worth it. A thousand times over. 

“Hey, love,” Laena turned her head to you at the sound of your soft voice. “Yes, angel?” 

“Thanks for bringing me up here,” you looked entranced at the view before you, and Laena smiled to herself. Beautiful. “I know I complained a lot, but now that I’m seeing it, it’s worth it. It’s like heaven on earth.” 

Laena leaned in closer, still staring at you with a tender expression. “Yeah…but lucky for me, I always have my heaven on earth.” Your brows furrowed, finally tearing your eyes from the view to look at your girlfriend. “Huh-” Laena kissed you, sweetly, deeply, and you fully faced her to return her kiss, putting your hands on her hips as you embraced each other, while the glow of the Northern Lights pulsed in the sky behind you, shining. It was like there were only the two of you in the world, and you wished time would just stop here. 

You finally pulled away from each, resting your forehead on hers. 

“Merry Christmas, angel.” 

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

let me know if you wish to be added to a general taglist for laena related works, or just my works in general in the comments or through this form! :) 

thank you for reading! if you liked it, likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! merry late xmas guys 😘🎄

[novaursa]

hi!! could i request a targaryen! reader x jacaerys velaryon.

reader is daemon and laena velaryon daughter, she’s the epitome of daemon when he was in his prime (crazy daemon) but got her mothers looks. she’s betrothed to jace not baela. the scene when the dragonseeds meet jace and ulf blatantly disrespects jace, she enters the room and steps in. she looks down on him like someone below her to remind him his place, both jace and her do. especially threatens that her dragon (maybe oc dragon of balerion or cannibal) has a particular diet of eating his own kind, she’ll turn a blind eye when her dragon starts eating silverwing, leaving ulf back being a dragonseed in the slums where he belongs. then the dinner scene too!, not to forget hugh too, even though he doesn’t do anything just a mere threat. not addam though loves her uncle 🫶🫶

you can choose however you want it story to be structure you have full autonomy🫶🫶

Wayward Daughter

- Summary: When Ulf disrespects Jacaerys, you remind him of his place.

- Pairing: cousin!reader/Jacaerys Velaryon

- Note: The reader is Daemon's and Laena's oldest daughter, she is bonded with Cannibal.

- Rating: Mature 16+ (just to be safe)

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The wind howls as you stand with Jacaerys atop the rocky outcrop of Dragonstone, your gaze drawn toward the towering peaks of Dragonmont where the dragons circle high above. The skies are turbulent today, a reflection of the tension that hangs in the air. Jacaerys stands beside you, his posture straight, though there’s a flicker of unease in his dark eyes. You feel it, too. The Dragonseeds—those commoners and bastards who claim Targaryen blood and now seek the right to mount dragons—have arrived. And with them, comes trouble.

The Cannibal stirs behind you, a deep rumble vibrating through his massive chest, his black scales blending with the stormy sky. The others might flinch in his presence, but you’ve known him all your life. He’s wild and uncontrollable to anyone else, but you’ve forged a bond with him like no other. His dark and dangerous energy is a mirror of your own, a reflection of what it means to be Daemon Targaryen’s eldest daughter. Where Jacaerys holds the warmth of his mother’s love, the steadfastness of duty, you are a flame lit by a different fire—wild, unpredictable, fierce.

Ahead, the Dragonseeds approach, two of them standing out from the rest: Ulf the White and Hugh Hammer. Ulf’s silver hair shines under the fading light, but it is his swagger that grates on you. There’s something in the way he carries himself, a man too confident for someone who spent most of his life in the slums of King’s Landing, now reaching for power he has never earned. Hugh, on the other hand, stands a little to the side, his dark eyes flicking between you, Jace, and Ulf, as if he knows trouble is brewing.

"Your Grace," Ulf greets Jacaerys with a smirk that barely conceals his contempt. He steps closer to Jacaerys, reaching out as if to touch him, to invade his space. "Such fine hair you have, my prince," Ulf says, his voice dripping with false admiration as his fingers graze the edges of Jacaerys’s dark locks.

The brazenness of his gesture sparks a fury within you. Jace’s jaw clenches, but he remains still, trying to hold his composure. You, however, are not one to allow such disrespect to go unanswered.

Without a word, you step between them, placing your body protectively in front of Jacaerys. The look in your eyes is one of warning, as sharp as the point of a sword. Ulf’s smirk falters when he meets your gaze. He may think himself bold, but he hasn’t yet faced the fury of a Targaryen woman with the blood of Old Valyria running hot in her veins.

“If you ever touch him like that again, Ulf, I will feed Silverwing to Cannibal piece by piece,” you say, your voice low and venomous, yet steady as steel. “And when there’s nothing left but bone, you will be sent crawling back to the slums of King’s Landing where you belong.”

The threat hangs in the air like the scent of wildfire. Ulf blinks, his smirk wiped away, replaced by something like fear as he glances at the looming shadow of Cannibal behind you. You don’t move, holding his gaze until he looks away, defeated. He shifts uncomfortably, taking a step back, the bravado drained from his face.

You spare a glance at Hugh Hammer, his hands open in a gesture of appeasement. Unlike Ulf, Hugh is no fool. His eyes meet yours, and he inclines his head in a small nod, acknowledging your warning without the need for words. He knows Ulf was out of line, and he has no desire to provoke you or Jacaerys further.

“I meant no harm,” Ulf mumbles, his arrogance melting under the weight of your stare. He steps back again, his hands raised as if to show he’s harmless. “Just a jest.”

“There is no jest in disrespect,” you snap, still holding your ground. “Jacaerys is your prince, and you will show him the respect he deserves, or you’ll answer to me.”

Jace’s hand brushes yours lightly, a silent gesture of gratitude. His eyes flick to you with a look that says more than words ever could. Though he could stand up for himself—and does, more often than not—there is something deeply satisfying about the way you step into the fray for him. He is your betrothed, your equal, but in this moment, you are the one with fire in your blood, unafraid to burn those who dare disrespect what is yours.

“Enough,” Jacaerys says at last, his voice firm as he steps forward, reclaiming his space. He doesn’t need to say more; the point has been made. Ulf and Hugh both bow their heads, though it is Hugh who seems more genuine in his respect.

As the Dragonseeds shuffle away, Jacaerys turns to you, his expression softening. “You didn’t have to do that,” he murmurs, though there’s a hint of amusement in his tone.

You shrug, a smirk pulling at your lips. “Maybe not,” you admit. “But I wanted to.”

He chuckles, the anomasity of the moment easing. “I’m beginning to think I should fear you more than I fear Cannibal.”

“Good,” you say, your smile widening. “You’re learning.”

The two of you stand in the fading light of Dragonstone, the storm clouds swirling above. 

And anyone who dares to come between you will face your wrath.

The hall of Dragonstone is filled with the low hum of conversation as you enter, your eyes scanning the room where the Dragonseeds have gathered. The flickering light of the hearth casts shadows across the ancient walls, the scent of roasted meats and spiced wine lingering in the air. At the head of the table, Jacaerys sits beside you, his gaze steady, though you can sense the tension in his posture. This dinner is meant to solidify alliances, but with men like Ulf the White at the table, it feels more like a test of wills.

You take your seat beside Jace, your attention briefly drawn to Addam of Hull, who sits across from you. His eyes are sharp, observant, but there’s an easy manner about him that sets him apart from the others. Addam is different. He carries himself with a quiet dignity, a reflection of his true lineage—though unspoken, you know well enough that he’s Corlys Velaryon’s son, a secret that sits heavy in the air between you, though neither of you have ever addressed it.

Ulf sits a few chairs down, his posture languid, as if he believes himself the lord of this table. His pale eyes flick toward you, and you can see the resentment simmering beneath the surface. It’s no secret that Ulf has never forgiven you for the way you put him in his place earlier. Good. You have no intention of letting him forget it.

The conversation is polite, if a bit strained. Rhaenyra, seated further down, makes an effort to engage the Dragonseeds, offering words of gratitude and hope for the future. But your focus shifts when Ulf, with that insufferable grin of his, leans back in his chair, his goblet of wine raised as if he’s already claimed a victory.

"Seems the prince and his lovely bride-to-be have more fire in them than I thought," Ulf says, his voice carrying just enough weight to draw attention. His eyes flick to you, lingering just a little too long, the implication behind his words hanging in the air. "Targaryens always were a fiery bunch."

You feel Jace stiffen beside you, but you remain calm, a slow smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You relish moments like this—when men like Ulf think they have the upper hand, only for you to remind them who they’re truly dealing with.

“Oh, Ulf,” you say, your tone light, almost playful, “it’s not just fire we have in our blood. It’s power, something you seem to misunderstand.” You pause, letting the words sink in, then take a sip of your wine. “But perhaps that’s why Silverwing tolerates you. She must sense the need for something stronger in your bloodline.”

The remark lands as intended, and you see the flicker of irritation flash in Ulf’s eyes. His hand tightens around the goblet, but he doesn’t respond right away, perhaps knowing better than to provoke you any further in front of the gathered company. Instead, he shoots a sidelong glance at Hugh, who remains silent but clearly uncomfortable with the rising tension.

“Careful, Y/N,” Ulf says, trying to keep his voice steady, though you can hear the edge to it. “Not everyone at this table shares your sense of humor.”

“Good,” you reply, raising your goblet in mock toast. “I wouldn’t want to be misunderstood. And let me make myself perfectly clear, Ulf, if you think for one moment you can match me in wit, let alone in power, you’ll find yourself sorely disappointed.”

There’s a low murmur from those seated nearby, eyes flicking between you and Ulf. But before the tension can escalate, Addam speaks up from across the table, his voice calm, cutting through the growing unease.

“Ulf,” he says, his tone firm but not unkind, “let’s not forget why we’re here. This war requires unity, not division.” He glances at you briefly, a knowing look in his eyes. There’s no fear or contempt in his gaze, only understanding. Addam is smart enough to recognize what’s at stake, and perhaps that’s why you find it easy to respect him, unlike Ulf.

You give Addam a small nod, acknowledging his attempt to smooth things over. There’s something about him that you can’t help but admire—his steady demeanor, his quiet strength. It’s no wonder Corlys holds him in such regard, bastard or not.

“Of course,” you say, your voice softening as you turn your attention to Addam. “We’re all here for the same cause, after all. It’s not every day one has the chance to fight for a true queen.” You smile at him, the warmth in your tone genuine. Unlike Ulf, Addam has earned his place here.

Addam returns the smile, though his eyes remain sharp, ever watchful. “A true queen indeed,” he replies, lifting his goblet in a respectful toast. “To Rhaenyra.”

The tension at the table eases somewhat, the air growing lighter as the others follow Addam’s lead and raise their goblets in agreement. But even as you join in the toast, your eyes linger on Ulf, watching him closely, waiting for any sign that he might try to push you further. He says nothing, his gaze fixed on the table in front of him, though you can still feel the undercurrent of his resentment.

The rest of the dinner passes without incident, the conversation flowing more easily now, but you keep your focus sharp. Ulf may be cowed for now, but men like him don’t forget slights easily. You’ll be ready when he tries again.

As the meal winds down, you lean closer to Jacaerys, your hand resting lightly on his arm. “We’re surrounded by would-be dragons, but not all of them are worthy,” you murmur quietly, your gaze shifting toward Ulf, who is still sulking in his seat.

Jace follows your gaze, his lips curving into a small, wry smile. “I trust you to remind them of that,” he says, his voice low, only for your ears.

You smile in return, feeling the weight of the moment lift slightly. If the Dragonseeds—or anyone else—wants to challenge you, they’ll find themselves facing not just one dragon, but two.

[maidragoste]

The One He Really Wanted

Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader

The scene I left out of chapter 5 of "The Sea Dragon, the clubfoot and the green queen". Laena deserves a better husband 😔

Sorry, I was supposed to upload this yesterday but I came back tired from university

Comments, reblogs, likes are always greatly appreciated 🥰💖💖

My inbox is open so I'm always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions 💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

It was strange to see Daemon so calm. You never thought you would see him holding your son so carefully or see the softness in his eyes. You never saw him interested in Jacaerys or any of his nephews so you thought he would be just as indifferent to your children. Well, Alyn didn't seem to be of Daemon's interest but Aethan was another story. Whenever Daemon came to see you, he preferred to hold him in his arms instead of Alyn. You have the feeling that it has to do with your youngest child having different colored eyes. One purple, like you, and one blue, like Larys. You knew that Daemon's mother also had different colored eyes but unlike your son, her other eye was green instead of blue.

“Does he remind you of her?” you asked, drawing the prince's attention and making him take his eyes off the baby to look at you. “Your mother,” you clarified just in case before he decided to play dumb.

“I've long forgotten what her face looks like,” Daemon confessed and you didn't even think about it when you took his hand and squeezed it. You felt sorry for him. Your mother was one of the most important people in your life, you wouldn't know what you would do without her. You couldn't imagine growing up without her.” When Viserys saw Aethan he said that he reminded him of our mother. I thought that maybe if I looked closely at it at some point I would remember her. I know, it's something stupid” a bitter laugh escaped his lips.

“I don't think it's something stupid,” you said firmly as you caressed his hand with your thumb. "You shouldn't feel ashamed for thinking about your mother. But you can stay calm. I won't tell anyone that the great Daemon Targaryen has feelings" you said in the last part with fake exasperation making the prince smile. It didn't take you long to mirror his smile. You liked this Daemon better, not the idiot who had spent months being a damn bother with his comments about Jacaerys' true paternity. If Larys were with you he would tell you not to be stupid, that the prince would probably return to his old attitude when Rhaenyra's other bastard was born.

Aethan complained seeing that he was no longer the center of attention making you laugh.

“He's demanding like you,” Daemon said, reluctantly letting go of your hand only to rock the baby again, quickly calming his whining.

“You're good to him, you know?” The softness in your eyes didn't have to mean anything to Daemon but everything about you matters to him. Again he wondered what things would be like now if he had shown up to your wedding with Harwin Strong, if he had let you know that it was an option, that he wanted you. Maybe it would be your child and his that he held in his arms, maybe Aethan would have a green eye like his mother. “You and Laena should give Aethan and Alyn cousins to play with.” At the mention of your sister brought Daemon back to reality.

“Maybe in a long time from now” you couldn't help but be disappointed when you saw her non-existent excitement at the idea of starting a family with your sister, you knew that Laena longed to have her own family. You and Laenor had noticed how loving she was with your children and how she would stare longingly every time Daemon picked up one of the twins.

“Aethan would be angry if we took the focus off of him,” the prince excused himself as he saw the disappointment in your eyes. “He can barely share my attention with you, imagine with another baby.”

Before you could tell him that he was talking shit the doors opened revealing your mother. You watched in confusion as she narrowed her eyes in the prince's direction. What did Daemon do to upset your mother? Had he fought with your sister?

“What did you do?” you whispered.

“Your mother is only bothered by my simple existence” he replied although he knew why Rhaenys was looking at him like that. His cousin always knew that the one he really wanted was you. Laena could pretend to have never seen him look at you but Rhaenys didn't so she was always aware of his interactions with you.

Taglist: @chaotic-fangirl-blog @joliettes @sweethoneyblossom1 @fudge13 @crystal-faith @tita004 @ichanelvxgue @snowprincesa1 @rosey1981  @alastorhazbin

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If you want to be part of my taglist

[legitalicat]

Keeping Up With the Targaryens (social media AU) - Series Masterlist

AN: This is in collaboration with Lana ( @zaldritzosrose ) (and of course special shout outs to @lady-phasma @anjelicawrites and @alexagirlie) and we are so so excited! All posts related to this universe will be tagged in this Masterlist for y'all to easily browse! I hope you like it!! As always pairings and TW will be updated as the series progresses. Dividers used on this Masterlist and any future posts I make for this are done by Lana. header is also done by her :)

Summary: Inspired by Keeping Up With the Kardashians, a look into the insane lives of Westeros' most elite family. It all started years ago, when Rhaenyra Targaryen and Criston Cole were young and in love. Their actions changed the course for this family forever, good or bad. Now the world belongs to Rhaenyra, and the rest are just living in it.

Characters Featured: Rhaenyra Targaryen, Criston Cole, Otto Hightower, Viserys Targaryen, Alicent Hightower, Jacaerys Velaryon, Harwin Strong, Lucerys Velaryon, Daemon Targaryen, Laena Velaryon, Sara Snow, Helaena Targaryen, Aegon Targaryen ii, Aemond Targaryen, YN/Reader insert, Daeron Targaryen, Laenor Velaryon

TW: Obvious but unconfirmed relationship, reality TV, Alicent will be great in this (minus one really bad incident), Otto Hightower is not shitty in this, will have time jumps, cursing, suggestive language, Viserys Targaryen (I feel like he should always be his own TW), men simping for their women, sexual conversations, women simping for their men

GEN 1 Pairings: PAST Rhaenyra Targaryen x Criston Cole, Laena Velaryon x Daemon Targaryen, Alicent Hightower x Viserys Targaryen, platonic spouses Rhaenyra Targaryen x Laenor Velaryon, Rhaenyra Targaryen x Harwin Strong

GEN 2 Pairings: Jacaerys Velaryon x Sara Snow, Aegon Targaryen ii x YN, Helaena Targaryen x Cregan Stark

The Road So Far....

Meet the Family (Gen 1) (Lana)

Meet the Family (Gen 2) (Lana)

Intro 1 Intro 2

Rhaenyra Through the Years

Alicent Through the Years 1, Alicent 2 (Lana)

Laena Through the Years, Laena 2 (Lana)

Age list!!

Season 1

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode 3

Episode 4

Episode 5

Episode 6

Episode 7

Episode 8

Episode 9

Episode 10

Episode 11

Episode 12

Episode 13

Episode 14

Episode 15

Episode 16

Episode 17

Episode 18

Episode 19

Episode 20

Season 2

Episode 21

Episode 22

Episode 23

Episode 24

Episode 25

Episode 26

Episode 27

[k-nayee]

CHAPTER 1. Ἀφροδίτη

❝From the sea we came. To the sea we shall return❞

Tamed M.List

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ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

The storm had raged through the night, shaking the shores of Driftmark with unrelenting force.

Skies had been painted black and the winds howled as if the sea itself were crying out.

While lightning split the heavens with deafening cracks of thunder, waves crashed violently against the rocks as if trying to tear the island from its roots.

With the passing storm came the morning sun. The sea, once wild and unforgiving, lay still—too still.

Rhaenys Targaryen stood on the shore for a moment. She took in the view of sunlight breaking through the clouds, letting the salty winds calmly brush over her.

It wasn't until the impatient steamed snort of Meleys did the Princess break out of her trance. Adjusting her leather riding gear with a sigh, she mounts the Dragon.

The Red Queen stretch her wings wide, casting a long shadow over the ground before launching into the air.

A daily routine of theirs, their ritual—a morning flight to clear Rhaenys' mind and stretch Meleys' wings after a long night of rest.

The air was thick with the scent of salt and rain and the island was damp from the storm's wrath.

They soared high above the coast, the wind whipping through Rhaenys' hair as she held the reins loosely, trusting Meleys to guide them.

Usually they flew a familiar route: circling Driftmark before venturing out over the sea where the horizon became a thin line, the shore a mere speck in the distance.

But today something felt off. There was an unease in the air that Rhaenys couldn't quite shake.

Meleys' flight was smooth at first, her powerful wings cutting through the remnants of the storm clouds.

But as they neared the point where Rhaenys would typically turn back, the Dragon did not obey. Rhaenys furrowed her brow, pulling on the reins gently.

"Meleys enough," she firmly but calmy called. It was a command the Dragon had always followed without question.

Meleys ignored her.

The Dragon's massive body continued forward, wings beating steadily as if drawn to something far out at sea.

Rhaenys felt her heart beginning to race, a flicker of worry igniting in her chest. She tightened her grip on the reins as her voice rose with a note of warning.

"Meleys turn back!" she demanded.

Still the Red Queen flew on, her head tilted slightly downward, her keen eyes focused on something in the distance.

Rhaenys leaned forward as her pulse quickened with a growing sense of unease. She rarely had to assert her authority over Meleys and this defiance was troubling.

The princess's voice rang out again, sharper this time.

"Meleys! Turn back!"

Finally, with a low rumbling growl that vibrated through Rhaenys' entire body, Meleys abruptly halted mid-flight.

Rhaenys lurch forward in her saddle. Quickly gathering her bearings, irritation flared up in the Targaryen Princess chest.

She opens her mouth ready to scold the Dragon for the insubordination when something catches her eye.

Seagulls. Dozens of them hovering around in a chaotic flurry.

Their sharp cries pierced the air, unnerving as they circled and landed on something floating in the water.

Squinting, Rhaenys leaned over to peer down at the source of their strange behavior. Through the ripples and foam of the sea, something brown and unnatural stood out against the waves.

"Meleys lower us down," she commanded, voice quieter now. This time the Dragon obeyed, descending smoothly toward the floating object.

As they neared the surface of the water, the seagulls scattered, taking to the skies once more and revealing the mystery.

Rhaenys narrowed her eyes. "What in the Gods' names..." she muttered under her breath.

A basket?

It was brown and tattered, half tangled in a bed of seaweed and foam. The sea gently rocked it back and forth as if cradling it.

She glanced around for any sign of a wreckage or debris that could explain where the basket had come from, but the horizon was barren.

Nothing but the basket. Adrift in the vast open sea. 

Rhaenys' mind raced, wondering where it could have come from—what it could hold.

She glance back at the distant speck of Driftmark on the horizon. She couldn't retrieve it herself. The distance was too great and the basket too far into the water.

Her decision was swift.

"I'm afraid I cannot reach it old girl," she murmured, patting Meleys' neck. "We'll send Lord Husband for this."

With a firm nudge of her heel and sharp command, Meleys was urged upward. The Dragon flapped her mighty wings and the two took off, racing back toward Driftmark.

As they flew, the seagulls returned to the basket below, their cries filling the air once more as if reclaiming their mysterious vigil.

The wind whipped against Rhaenys' face, but her thoughts were elsewhere—her mind unable to shake the image of the basket bobbing alone in the endless sea.

Whatever lay within, it was something meant to be found.

*･:*:★༓★:*:･*

Corlys Velaryon stood at the helm of his smaller ship. His grip on the wheel was steady, though his mind turned over the odd request Rhaenys had made earlier. 

He wasn't sure why they were searching for a basket—only that Rhaenys had come back from her flight with an urgency that left no room for questioning.

"Lord Corlys," one of the crewmen finally spoke. "Beg pardon, but where are we bound?"

It was rare for Lord Corlys to take such a small crew out with no explanation, and the crewman's curiosity was palpable.

Corlys grunted, his eyes scanning the skies ahead. He knew his men were expecting answers but he didn't have one to give.

"As if I know," He muttered. His tone was dry, the kind of humor that had always made his men both nervous and amused. "Follow Lady Rhaenys—she's the one with wings."

He gestured to the skies far ahead where the unmistakable silhouette of Meleys could be seen soaring through the clouds.

Red enormous wings beat rhythmically as she flew low, gliding gracefully over the water as if guiding them.

The crew obeyed without further question and set course to follow the Dragon.

Corlys cast one last look at the endless expanse of the sea before turning to the task at hand.

If Rhaenys had insisted he venture out into the open water, there was a reason, and he trusted her instincts without question.

Even if he couldn't help but wonder what in the Seven Hells she'd seen in that basket to require him personally to retrieve it.

Minutes passed in relative silence, save for the flapping of the sails and the soft murmurs among the crew.

Suddenly, Meleys begin to slow. The Dragon hovered in place for a moment before letting out a low roar as her wings steadily beat above the water.

Corlys squint into the distance, following the area the Dragon stopped at until he finally saw it—a small object bobbing on the surface.

It was almost insignificant in the vastness of the ocean, but there it was, right where Rhaenys said it would be.

"Set the sail," The Sea Snake ordered sharply. The crewmen responded instantly, slowing the ship to a stop.

He gestures for a rowboat to be lowered into the water, watching as it was quickly prepared before motioning a nearby cabin boy to board.

"Row out and fetch it," he commanded. The boy, no older than thirteen, looked up at Corlys with wide eyes before scrambling into the boat.

His hands shook slightly as he grasped the oars and gave a determined nod, not wanting to show his nerves in front of his lord.

As the lanky kid slowly made his way to the floating basket, the crew watched with bated breaths. He reached the spot quickly, his movements hesitant as he drew closer to the basket.

Shoving the seagulls aside with a quick swipe of his hand, he leaned over the side, cautiously reaching toward the tangle of seaweed and wicker.

Corlys watched with a set jaw, arms crossed over his chest. There was something unsettling about the whole affair.

The longer he stared at it the more his skin prickled with a strange sensation. He didn't like not knowing.

He glanced up one more time at Meleys who circled above as if she too were watching over the scene.

Finally managing to grab hold of the basket, the boy grips the edge and pull it into the rowboat.

 Corlys noted the tension in the boy's movements as he peeked inside. He didn't move after that, frozen in place.

The Lord of the Tides' patience wears thin. "Boy!"

The cabin boy jerked at the bark of his voice, nearly dropping the oars as he fumbled to cover the basket back up.

His face was pale as he began to row back to the ship with hurried strokes, his eyes wide and darting, but he said nothing.

Bumping against the side of the ship, the crewmen quickly hauls it aboard eagerly.

The lad climbs out the rowboat, basket clutched tightly in his hands. Several of the men stepped forward in attempt to get a glimpse of what lay inside.

The boy didn't answer any of their questions, his face still frozen in a look of shock. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came.

Corlys stepped forward, his expression sharp. "Well?"

The boy, still seeming to be in his flabbergasted trance, straightened up before simply turning the basket around and peeling the soaked cloth that covered it.

For a moment Corlys saw nothing but a bundle of fabri—

Golden eyes.

Wide golden eyes were staring right back at him.

Corlys blinked. You blink back.

"...A baby?"

════════════════*･:*:★༓★:*:･*═════════════════.

Rhaenys sat on the edge of their bed, the room dimly lit by the candles on the walls.

Her arms cradled the small, swaddled form of the child they had found—a child she couldn't tear her eyes from.

Behind her Corlys paced the length of the chamber. His footsteps echoed on the stone floor as he tried to make sense of it all.

He had seen many strange things in his life, conquered treacherous seas, and faced storms that could swallow ships whole—but this?

This defied reason.

"Found at sea...a child—an infant in the aftermath of a storm that tore apart ships hundred times her size," Corlys muttered. His thoughts circled endlessly as he continued pacing.

"We've faced storms like that before Rhaenys. Men—seasoned sailors, men who have lived their whole lives at sea—they don't survive it. And yet she did. This babe did. She survived."

Rhaenys didn't respond. He stopped his pacing and turned to look.

His wife's gaze was still fixed on you, lips pressed into a thin line as her fingers brushed tenderly against your tiny cheek.

You blinked up at her with wide golden eyes, your little body still as though the world around you did not exist.

"Rhaenys," Corlys tried again, his voice breaking through her reverie. "Are you even hearing me?"

"She's beautiful isn't she?" Rhaenys said softly, finally tearing her gaze from you to look up at Corlys.

Her voice was calm, almost wistful—as if none of the strangeness of the situation fazed her.

Corlys couldn't help but smile despite himself. There was something familiar in the way she held you, something that stirred memories of years long gone.

"You're already taken with her," he teased gently with a shake of his head. "Just like you were when Laenor and Laena were babes."

"How could I not?" Rhaenys murmured, voice thick with emotion as her shinning eyes looked back down to study you. "Laenor is soon to get married and become Lord of Driftmark, and Laena...soon she'll be married as well..."

Her voice faltered, expression darkening at the thought of it. The Lord didn't miss the shift in her mood but said nothing.

He knew well enough not to stoke the flames when it came to her feelings about their daughter's betrothal.

Violet gaze quickly returning to you, the tension leaves. Her voice is firm as she turn back to her husband. "There must be a reason we found her Corlys. The storm...it should have claimed her. But it didn't. She survived. Even Meleys ignored my commands, she wouldn't stop until she was found."

Corlys' gaze softened as he watched the two of you. He hadn't felt the same pull immediately—his mind too clouded with the impossibility of it all.

But now, seeing how Rhaenys looked at you, he felt it.

"A babe from the sea," Corlys mused, almost to himself. Rhaenys smiled, a wistful almost serene look crossing her face as she gazed down at you.

Corlys reached out and gently placed his hand on Rhaenys' arm. "We shall raise her as our own. She was meant for us." His voice was firm, words final.

This child—you—was now theirs.

*･:*:★༓★:*:･*

In the throne room King Viserys sat slumped on the Iron Throne.

His body showed slow signs of decay, his health deteriorating for months from the burden of ruling, wearing on him in more ways than one.

Young Queen Alicent sat beside him.

She was perched gracefully in the smaller chair, her expression distant and melancholy, eyes barely focused as she watched young Aegon playing with a wooden horse at her feet.

A small council of lords had gathered, discussing the damage from the previous night's storm.

"Reports indicate considerable damage to the southern lands Your Grace," one of the lords spoke. "Fields destroyed, homes flooded, and many men lost at sea. It will take time to restore the lands and account for the losses."

Viserys was about to speak when the heavy doors of the throne room opened with a sudden bang.

A breathless messenger boy stumble into the room, his eyes wide with panic. He flushed and quickly dropped to his knees once realizing the error of his interruption.

"F-forgive me Your Grace," he stammered. "But...but the Red Queen—Princess Rhaenys' Dragon—has been spotted arriving to the Dragonpit."

The room fell into hushed whispers of confusion and curiosity amongst the gathered lords. Even Alicent raised her head with interest within her eyes.

Rhaenys was not expected in King's Landing.

Before anyone could question the boy further the doors opened once more, revealing Rhaenys Targaryen herself standing tall and proud at the entrance.

Head held high, she made her way down the pathway toward the Iron Throne, her eyes fixed on Viserys.

The usual sea green and silver Velaryon colors she wore were unmistakable, but it was the white garb secured around her chest that seemed to glow vividly in the candlelight.

Long black hair—streaked with a growing silver by the day—cascaded down her shoulders, partially obscuring what she carried.

She did not offer a full bow to Viserys, instead a light bow of her head in greeting before straightening.

Her expression was unreadable, but the sharpness in her gaze suggested she had no time for pleasantries.

"Your Grace," Her voice clear was she stood before the throne. "I request an audience with you."

Lilac eyes flicker briefly to where Alicent and Otto Hightower stood. "Preferably private. What I have to discuss is of the utmost importance."

The tension in the room thickened. Otto's lips twitched, thinly veiled suspicion in his features.

Sensing the seriousness in his cousin's gaze and tone, Viserys raise a hand before the Hand of the King could interject. 

"Very well," he rasps, leaving no room for objection. "The council is dismissed for now."

Turning to the Hightower, Viserys added, "See that the lords are provided lodgings. We can speak of their concerns in more detail tomorrow."

Otto's smile was tight as he cast a lingering glance at Rhaenys before nodding.

"As you wish Your Grace," he replied, though his displeasure was clear. With a stiff bow he turned to usher the lords out.

Alicent rose gracefully from her chair, smoothing the fabric of her gown over her swollen bump with practiced ease. "I shall attend to Helaena," she murmured softly. "She is due for her nap."

She took Aegon's hand, ignoring the toddler's tugging at her hand as he whine and protested to stay, but Alicent led him out.

When the doors closed and room emptied, the silence hung heavily between them.

Viserys shifted slightly on his throne. "Now cousin," his brow raised. "What is it that could not wait?"

Without a word, Rhaenys stepped forward. Her hand came up to pull her long semi-black hair over her shoulder, a deliberate movement to reveal more of the cloth tied to her.

"Meleys disobeyed me yesterday," she began, "Corlys and I...we discovered something."

Her hand reach behind her to untie the cloth that was wrapped around her chest. 

She made it look effortless—the way she loosened the knots with one hand, supporting the weight of the small bundle behind her with the other. 

The cloth fell away in soft folds as she brought the lump forward to rest against her chest.

Viserys watched, his curiosity deepening as he leaned forward slightly.

Rhaenys adjusted the weight one more time before gently unwrapping the cloth to reveal your small, sleeping face.

The King of the Realm blinked in shock, stunned by the sight of the child in her arms.

He looked up at Rhaenys whose expression remained serious, her eyes watching him closely. 

 "A...child?"

Gently, Rhaenys stepped forward, her arms still cradling you as she drew nearer to the throne.

"We found her at sea Viserys," she said softly, words almost reverent. "The storm should have claimed her and yet she survived. I ask for your favor..."

Seeing her offer to him, his arms hesitantly extend out to allow Rhaenys to carefully place you into his hands.

"...Corlys and I—we wish to adopt her. To name her as our own."

Viserys stared down at you in disbelief. You felt impossibly small in his arms, your chubby face peaceful in sleep.

He hadn't held a newborn in years—not even his own children with Alicent.

His focus had always been on maintaining peace in the realm, on ensuring Rhaenyra's succession.

But now, as he gazed at your sleeping face, a strange warmth flooded through him.

He hadn't expected to feel this—this odd stirring of affection for a child that was not his own. His breath caught as you stirred in your sleep, tiny fingers flexing in the air.

"By the Gods..." Viserys whispered, unable to tear his sight away from you.

Almost as if hearing him, your eyes fluttered open. Golden irises, wide and curious, blinked up at him.

Viserys was taken aback. He stared down at you in silence, the rich hue of your eyes catching the light.

Then as if sensing his surprise, you let out a soft coo, your little mouth curling into a soft gummy smile.

Viserys chuckled softly. He glanced up at Rhaenys, who was watching you with a tender love-filled gaze.

"You and Corlys...you wish to name her as your own, yes?" Viserys asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Rhaenys nodded immediately, her eyes misting. "Yes Your Grace. We believe she was meant for us. She survived the impossible. Even Meleys sought her out. I...I can't help but feel that she was meant to find us."

The King continued to watch you as she spoke, his heart softening with each passing moment. He knew what she was asking. He knew what it meant.

And for Rhaenys, for his cousin, whom he had long felt should have been queen...he couldn't deny her this.

"A-and I understand the weight of such a request, but —"

"I'll do it," Viserys interrupted softly.

Rhaenys' breath caught. "...What?"

He huffs lightly before glancing back down at you, his fingers brushing against your small hand.

When your tiny fingers wrapped around one of his, he felt a strange sense of calm. "I'll legitimize her."

Tears welled in Rhaenys' eyes, a rare show of emotion from the normally stoic princess. "I...I don't know what to say Viserys. I—"

"I demand a trail!" The door to the throne room burst open with a loud clatter as Corlys Velaryon stumbled inside, his steps unsteady and clothes slightly disheveled.

A light sheen of sweat is visible on his brow and he looked a little worse for wear. Nearby servants hurry after him in attempt to help keep him steady, but the Velaryon Lord waves them off.

It wasn't until he decided to take a breather did he realize there was only two people in there, his eyes darting between the two Targaryens who were now staring at him in amusement.

Corlys straightens his tunic. His usually composed demeanor returned slowly as he tries to recover from his disheveled entrance.

"I..." He glanced at Rhaenys and then at you still in Viserys' arms. "I came to voice...s-support the legitimization...?" His words were a little breathless but the intention was clear.

Humor danced in Viserys eyes as he gently passed you back to Rhaenys. "It seems you have taken to the skies as well, and here I was told you get airsick."

He grimace, stepping closer to wrap an arm around Rhaenys as she cradled you in her arms. His gaze softened as he looked down at you.

"For her," he muttered, casting a fond look at you, "it's worth it."

Viserys chuckled again. "Well there is no need. It's settled. I've already given my blessing."

Corlys blinked in surprise before his expression broke into a rare genuine smile. He glanced down at Rhaenys, tightening his hold around her as pride swelled in his chest.

The Fifth King of the Targaryen Dynasty of Westeros smiled watching the three of you, his voice warm as he spoke the words that sealed your fate.

"____ Velaryon, First of Her Name."

[lady-targaryens-world]

The only Daughter: Prolog

Note: It is my first story and i hope you like the Prolog….. ik it is very short!

English is not my native language!

Pairing: ? x Fem! Targaryen reader

Please like, comment and share 🫶

******************

You're the first born child of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon

You are the only child of Rhaenyra who has Valyrian silver hair and purple eyes or better said, you have a purple eye and a green eye like Alyssa Targaryen, the mother of your grandfather Viserys and his brother Daemon the rogue prince.

Your eyes were also the reason why your grandfather cried when he held you in his arms for the first time, because after all those years he saw his mother in your beautiful eyes again.

You were the only grandchild of Viserys where he wanted to choose the name too.

Rhaenyra and Viserys thought about to name you after the late Queen Aemma or after Viserys mother Alyssa. But your father Laenor wanted a name for you which no Targaryen or Velaryon had yet.

Rhaenyra and Viserys agreed that you need an exceptional name, one that nobody will ever forget. And so they decided to name you

y/n Velaryon.

A few weeks after your birth, there were many rumors about you and your mother. Many believed you were the true-born daughter to Prince Daemon Targaryen with Princess Rhaenyra. Viserys didn’t want to hear any of these rumours, for him you were his true-born granddaughter.

After you were born in King’s Landing, your parents made a big feast in celebration. Many lords and ladies from everywhere of the realm have arrived to see you and to be able to be there at your feast.

Your mother and father received many congratulations for your birth and many gifts were brought for you. You also received a gift from your aunt Lady Laena. After she heard about your birth, she went to the nest of her she-dragon Vhagar and chosed a black egg with red stripes for you.

That evening you were also named as the heiress of the iron throne. Both your mother and grandfather adhered to the tradition that the first-born child, whether boy or girl should inherit the throne.

But for many Lords of the realm and most of all for the Hightowers, it was bad enough that your mother Princess Rhaenyra was named as heiress of the iron throne.

But when you another princess were named as the next heiress, the protests among the lords became more, for them neither you or your mother were the rightful heirs but Aegon Targaryen your uncle and the firstborn son of the King.

[lilap20]

Chapter VII: The letter from King's Landing Part.1

@koobratzy

@beebeechaos

New chapter released, hope you like it

In the year 110, two news hit the Kingdom Princess Nymeria, Lady of Winterfell was expecting her first born. He would be the heir to Winterfell. The second, Prince Daemon Targaryen was finally the father of two magnificent young daughters, Princesses Beala in honor of Prince Baelon, and Rheana in honor of Princess Rhaenyra. However, the Kingdom was also holding its breath, although the King's second daughter had fulfilled her duty, the heir to the throne had not yet given birth to a child, two years after her marriage. Rhaenyra: 21 years old Nymeria: 19 years old

Adult image of Nymeria image below (she is inspired by Queen Rhaenys second wife of King Aegon the Conqueror)

-Husband, your men are waiting for you.

A smile trails across my face, Cregan's is against my abdomen, gently caressing the skin of my stomach. The bump that he keeps kissing and petting is not very round but visible enough for the news to reach Port Réal without my consent. I knew the Queen had left a spy, I hadn't found him yet but it wouldn't be long.

-Port Réal has been informed, I swear while stroking his hair, I wonder how.

Cregan only responds with a grunt, rubbing his beard against my stomach triggering my laughter. Three moons ago the Maester confirmed my pregnancy, Cregan's joy exceeded my expectations, he continued to cuddle and caress my belly, also allowing me to rest as long as I can.

-You should stay and rest today. Cregan hums against my stomach

I gently push him away laughing at his frustrated moan before standing up pulling the sheet over my body. With a smirk he pulls twice on the furry sheet which warms us and throws himself on me once my bare chest is revealed.

-Cregan, that’s enough! I burst out laughing when he climbs on top of me

My laughter chokes in my throat as he eagerly sucks on my nipple, my throat tensing as he smiles at his handiwork. The servants are likely to blush at this big mark which surrounds my halo.

-Proud of your work? I ask, stroking his hair.

His mischievous look is brilliant when he shows it to me and his smile is sly. He raises his chest towards mine so that our noses brush and our smiles synchronize.

-More than proud, you will make some people blush with this mark. Laughs Cregan

-Oh husband, don't you know that this can embarrass your wife? I reply, rolling my eyes.

-You are a married woman, he replies, kissing my forehead, and you are also pregnant. It's completely normal that you are marked.

I roll my eyes again and he punishes me by biting my chin and I burst out laughing as i pushes him away. Winterfell is slowly waking up, the sun shining on our skin. It won't be long before Cregan will have to get up to get ready for the day and so will I.

-Talyssa will come pick me up soon.

My voice is calm and well rested and Cregan sighs at my determination; he knows he can't stop me because I won't allow it. He kisses me one last time pressing my lips sensually trying one last time to make me give in. But I resist, a hand on the back of his neck, I kiss him gently before slowly removing my lips, a smile sliding across my face.

-I can never refuse you, woman, and that’s dangerous.

-You can refuse me certain things, but you don't want to. I reply smiling

Before he even answers a sound on the door takes us out of our bubble, it's time for Cregan to leave. He sighs before going down to kiss my stomach several times giving me butterflies in my lower stomach.

-Goodbye little puppy, take care of your mother, please, his gaze rises to mine, don’t tire her too much.

I blush furiously when he kisses my lower stomach, he knows exactly the effect he has on me so when he gets up he is more smiling than ever.

-It’s probably a little dragon. I reply as he puts on a coat to head towards the baths.

-It’s a little puppy, princess. He smiled as he closed the door.

I sigh with a smirk getting out of bed to put on my nightgown, the purple stain on my nipple is very present, thanks to Cregan, and the ones on my stomach and my collarbone have not yet faded. Poor servants, and poor me when Talyssa sees it.

-Three, two, one. I count with my fingers

-Stand up my Lady!

-Talyssa. I smile as the door opens

My best friend walks into the room, her hair growing long with each year with perfect red, her big light-colored eyes greet me and her smile is more and more beautiful.

-How is my little princess? Talyssa smiled as she walked towards me

Behind her, the servants bring hot bath water and towels to the back room. Talyssa hugs me and I do the same, smiling while kissing her cheek.

-How are you ? And the baby?

-We are fine, I caress my stomach, everything is calm for now.

-Praise the Gods. Okay, it's time to take your bath.

The cool wind blows across Winterfell Town, beside me Talyssa and a few ladies of the chambers look at the gray landscape of the day. The day had started so well, with beautiful sunshine, but the clouds quickly came to cover the sky bringing the North wind with them.

I tighten my blue cape a little around me while everyone's eyes are on us. Some greet me warmly, others look at me with a distant eye. This is probably because today I am not wearing the colors of my House but those of my mother, the Arryns. My blue dress with the gold handle doesn't fit into the Stark color frames at all, but on this day, I wanted to wear my mother's colors.

-My Lady, calls out a lady of the chamber, this store sells beautiful fabric for baby clothes.

-Thank you Palma.

I offer her a sweet smile before entering the store, the agitation fades a little and again looks fall on me, sideways glances, smiles and grimaces. I smile respectfully collecting greetings with a smile when I feel a hand pulling my dress.

-My Lady Stark. Call a little voice

I squat down under Talyssa's protests, my body is a little sore and the feeling of my little stomach bending a little, despite this I smile at the little girl in front of me.

-Hello little pumpkin, what’s your name?

The little girl blushed at the nickname I gave her then smiled with all her teeth and red cheekbones.

-My name is Marah my Lady. I wanted to tell you that you are very beautiful, a real Princess. Your hair and eyes are so beautiful.

Her hands quiver with the urge to stroke my hair, I allow her and she caresses with a hesitant fingertip before sighing at their softness.

-So ? How do you find them? I ask with a big smile

Her eyes light up as she responds with fists clenched in excitement.

-They are soft like Princess wool!

I laughed happily as I got up, my maids and Talyssa surrounding me to support me in case I fell. I stroke the brown hair of the little girl who runs in her mother's skirts as she smiles at me.

-She is so cute. I whisper, stroking the bump on my stomach

Talyssa follows my movement and smiles while nodding her head, she is impatiently waiting for this child just like me, I know that he will be pampered by her and she will be completely under his spell.

As I look at the fabrics betting on a boy while my best friend is desperate for a girl, a guard enters the store heading towards us.

After quickly bowing, I found a letter rolled up and sealed with the red and black Targaryen sign. I quickly look at Talyssa before thanking the guard and walking out with him, leaving my companions in the store.

Once outside, I break the seal to read the message, and my hands tremble, it is an official decree, written by the Hand of the King itself. Almost panicked, I sent the guard to look for my companions, as he passed the door I was already striding towards the castle under the questioning gaze of the inhabitants.

-This letter must be important for you to start the journey without us, growls Talyssa, on your two foot and pregnant! almost screamed Talyssa

I roll my eyes at her comment, my head being completely elsewhere, I rub my stomach thinking about the letter I read. My anxiety only increases and as soon as the carriage stops I don't wait for it to be opened and I quickly get out, lifting my dress to walk faster.

-Nymeria! Screamed Talyssa

I don't listen to her and rush into the castle, I apologize when I push certain people, my steps speeding up as I advance towards the main room of the castle.

Thank God, the room is empty, Cregan and his Maester putting away the papers to head towards his apartments, I move forward, slowing down a little, observing him with my heart swelling with love, if time was not running out I would have stopped to contemplate it. But unfortunately my steps alert the Maester and he bows when he sees me.

-Lady Stark. He bowed slightly

Cregan turns to me, a smile tugging at his lips as he excuses himself to the Maester to come down and see me. He unlocks this habit of stroking my belly as soon as he is in my presence with this proud little smile on his face.

-How are my wife and my little puppy? he asks and I can't answer trying to catch my breath

He realizes this and when his gaze finds my face, worry immediately appears there.

-Nymeria, he says worriedly, you are all red. He places his hand on my cheek, What happened? You feel bad ?

-No, no, I answer placing a hand on his which covers my stomach, I walked before the carriage then I almost ran towards the room and…

-By the Gods, breathe Nymeria, and how did you walk in front of the carriage? Cregan asks bemusedly

-May the Gods keep us. Whisper the Maester

-Everything is fine, I am fine, only I received a crow from Port Réal.

My voice still trembles from the effort and Cregan's gaze darkens slightly when I hand him the letter in my hands. Silence falls on the room and the Maester slowly descends to approach us, still leaving some distance between us.

-We are expected at the Red Keep for an update on the succession. What does that mean ? Whisper Cregan

My gaze meets that of the Maester and he bows, subsequently leaving the room, no doubt informing the people on his way not to disturb us. Once out and the doors are closed I catch my breath completely ready to respond.

-I don't know what that means, but I don't feel it. Everything that concerns the succession and the throne makes me nauseous. I respond by playing with my rings

-But our presence is requested within a fairly tight deadline Nymeria, remarks Cregan, it will be impossible to make the trip so quickly by boat.

-On the back of Dragon we will be there quickly, and he turns pale, but my anxiety is not focused on the delay, but on what will happen. Does he count, I lower my voice, do you think, I swallow, do you think he will change the succession?

My worry is evident in my voice, and Cregan tries to reassure me by stroking my stomach and my arm. I can't imagine my half-brother on the throne, Rhaenyra is built for the role, but Aegon is a spoiled brat and completely overwhelmed, him on the throne is unthinkable.

-My princess, Cregan whispers, taking me in his arms, everything will be fine, okay. We will see what they expect from us.

-Your father swearing for Rhaenyra, imagine mine asking you to swear for Aegon?

Cregan tenses against me, his hand stroking my hair and stopping emitting pressure on the back of my neck.

-Princess, look at me. Cregan whispers, catching my eye, Whatever happens over there, I'm sure your father won't disown you. He says

I nod slowly, his hands encircle my face and his lips touch mine with respect and love. I respond to his kiss with my hands on his.

-We will leave on Dragon's back, I inform him, hugging him, our luggage will be with him.

-I don't know if I like the idea. Sighs Cregan making us dance

-If Nightmares was going to eat you, she would have already done so. I laugh at him

-Without a doubt. Responds Cregan still hesitant

My Lord, on the back of a Dragon you say?

The Maester who examines me in our bedroom remains stunned by the speech of Cregan who holds my hand.

-Yes, we will not stay more than 3 nights in Port Réal, so you will be my representative with my sister Sara. Continue Cregan looking at him

Feeling my stomach one last time, the Maester gets up, reassuring me with a smile as he walks towards his tray.

-Well, I must say that this is the first time that a Lord of the North has ridden a Dragon.

-A start to everything, isn’t it, Maester Gideon. I respond a little teasingly

-No doubt my Lady. Responds the Maester bowing with a little smile, I have prepared a strengthening tea for you for your trip Princess, as far as the baby and you are concerned, everything is going well. Be sure.

-Thank you Maester Gideon, rest assured, I will take care of your Lord, he will not fall.

-I hope so. Cregan responds dramatically, getting up to accompany the Maester

Once he closes the door he helps me up, handing me the tea so I can drink it, I wince as I smell it.

-Are you sure it’s not poison? I ask, grimacing at the taste.

Cregan bursts out into a hoarse laugh clutching his chest.

-If it was poison you wouldn't have said that, poison is attractive and has no scent.

-Do you know anything about it? I ask a mocking smile on my lips

-No, he sits next to me on the bed, but there must be a reason why it's so easy for targets to fall in.

His thinking is quite logical so I end up buying the filthy tea. Our trip to Port Réal is in the final stages of preparation, we will leave tomorrow morning and I am excited to see my dear sister again. Coming back to King's Landing, on the other hand, doesn't excite me that much, the noise and the smell of the capital, the presence of the court in the Keep, the rumors and the looks, are very different from the North and Winterfell. Here, people are not adorned with gold and expensive jewelry, everything is quite simple, the smell of animals, fresh wind and pine trees, the sounds in the courtyards outside and Winterfell Town is much nicer than the capital .

It took me a while to get used to Winterfell, to how it works, I dress more simply and above all more warmly, my dresses with fine fabrics are in my wardrobe, not seeing the light of day because the weather is not is never warm enough to wear them. I will be able to dig them out of my wardrobe for the trip to King's Landing, although I have dresses waiting for me at the Dungeon.

-What are you thinking about ? my husband asks while caressing my belly

-To our trip, the capital and all its problems, to my sister and the Queen. My head thinks too much. I respond by handing him the cup

Nodding, he placed it on the small table, sitting on the bed to pick me up. Surprised, I let out a little cry before holding on to him once I sat against his hips. His two hands come to encircle my stomach and his lips come to kiss my forehead.

-I have the feeling that this trip will not be catastrophic, woman, Cregan replies, his eyes fixed on my stomach, thinking too much will not do you any good.

I roll my eyes which catches his attention, he pinches my chin to scold me and I try to pull away from him, but his grip is too strong.

I risk missing my fencing lessons if I leave for a long time. I argue with a hand on his shoulder

-Did you plan to continue classes, asks Cregan in amazement, despite your situation?

It is true that with my pregnancy continuing the fencing lessons would have been difficult, but I planned to make the most of it before having to stop.

-You still think. Accused Cregan

-I can't stop thinking, it's human.

-I thought the Targaryens were closer to the Gods than to humans. Cregan responds with a smirk on his lips.

-Well our thoughts are the only things that keep us grounded. I respond by pushing him away, a smile emerging

Finally he releases me from his arms following me towards our trunks which the servants finish preparing.

-You can put back on all your Southern dresses that your family sent you. Cregan's voice vibrates the walls

-I'm pretty happy my belly won't stretch the fabric too much.

Automatically Cregan runs a hand over my stomach attracting the attention of eyes in the room. The servants smile among themselves while I scold Cregan who wears his proud smile.

-Lord Stark?

We both turn around when a guard calls out to Cregan, his face takes on a serious crease on his face, he kisses my forehead one last time before leaving the room. I watch him leave the room, looking at the room where the bags close showing that the trip is coming soon. And my questions and anxiety continue to grow.

It’s departure day and everyone is running to surround us as Cregan and I head outside. Sara is jumping around holding my arm, she loves watching Nightmares so much that she can't sit still since she found out that her brother will be traveling on my dragon.

-I'm so excited, Sara whispers in my ear

-Ah yes, I laugh, your brother is sweating all over because he is so scared.

-I do not care, laughs Sara

-I hear you, Cregan growls making us laugh, and I'm not afraid. He defend himself with gritted teeth

-Of course husband, I'm starting out sneaky, you're just terrified.

Sara bursts out laughing followed by me while Cregan speaks under his breath, finally we arrive outside and I smile as I see the residents gathering in the courtyard. Everyone bows their heads when they see us, the Maester of the House and the stewards, the soldiers in line bow waiting for Cregan's orders.

With a wave of his hand, Cregan asks them to get up and they all do so.

-In the absence of the Lady of Winterfell and myself, my sister Sara will take care of Winterfell. Orders Cregan in a loud voice

I can't stop hearing him give orders, my body vibrates every time. I turn to Sara smiling, taking her hands in mine before hugging her tightly, she holds me forcefully in her arms, before breaking away from me to jump on her brother.

Once the farewells are done, Cregan and I head to my dragon, sealed since the cockcrow, Nightmares eagerly awaits us near his cave in the Northern Garden. Seeing me, Nightmares immediately roared, shaking its long, spiny neck and flapping its wings.

Cregan stops short, refusing to take another step, I take his hand with a smiling face and happy to be able to go up, my husband tenses at my side, his eyes fixed on my dragon with white-gray scales, his gaze is worried and I can't help but laugh at this.

-Stop laughing woman, scolds Cregan, I didn't make fun of you when you met my Werewolf.

Offended by his lie, I turn to him to tap him on the shoulder, which earns him a grunt.

-You are a liar my Lord husband, I was cold and livid in front of the beast and you played on my fate throughout the meeting, laughing and making fun of me in the evening in our room.

Cregan furrows his eyebrows but can't help the mocking smile that stretches his cheeks and deepens his dimples. Seeing that he is still laughing at me I decide to abandon him to head towards my dragon, he immediately panics.

-Nymeria!

-Stay there, I’m coming!

I stand in front of Nightmares, his crystal gaze holding mine, excited to see me, the dragon growls, his pupils dilating before nudging me with his snout. I can't help but giggle when he runs his nose over my barely round stomach again, probably sensing a being who didn't own my body before.

-It’s mine, I explain to Nightmares, my husband and I are expecting a baby, you know Cregan.

I jerk my thumb at Cregan behind a mocking smile and my dragon lifts its head to look at him before giving me its attention.

-He's going to travel with us today, I'm stroking his crest, we shouldn't eat him, okay?

I laugh at Nightmares' incomprehension which makes the dragon growl, while passing my hand along his neck I move towards the seal ready to mount on his back. My dragon lowers itself to the ground, allowing me to lean on its strong wings to mount my seal and position myself properly.

Barely seated, the dragon roars, unfolding its wings, raising dust from the ground and strongly fanning Cregan who is ready to flee towards the castle. I'm struggling to control Nightmares when he rushes towards Cregan with great strides, my husband standing still waiting for death.

To his great astonishment, Nightmares stops in front of him, looking into his gaze, his fangs bared and growling menacingly. I gently pet my Dragon who is trying to intimidate Cregan, showing him that he lays down the law when he rides on his back.

-Caress him, I encourage and Cregan looks at me as if I have reached madness.

Hesitating and never taking his eyes off Nightmares, Cregan removes his glove and approaches his hand to my dragon, his entire body shudders under the power of Nightmares' hot breath, and his eyes widen when he finally caresses its scales. Cregan's breathing calms as he performs the second stroke, his mouth slightly open as Nightmares hisses happily as Cregan massages his neck.

-He is, Cregan searches for words, warm.

I laugh from atop my dragon, reaching out for my husband to join me.

-He's kind and adorable, but he likes speed, and yes, he's warm.

Cregan smiles at me a little more confidently now that he sees how Nightmares reacts to his caresses, grabbing my hand he manages to lean to climb behind me on the seat placed on the dragon's back. His entire body tenses as Nightmares roars as he stands on two legs, his wings unfurl in the air and dust rises from the ground.

I let out a cry of joy when I feel my dragon running towards the end of the cliff, Nightmares' footsteps make the ground shake, his cry of happiness scares the surrounding animals, Cregan holds firmly to me, probably closing his eyes when we finally arrive at the end of the cliff.

My dragon's wings unfold and its legs fold, the cool wind hits my skin and my hairs stand up as we fall and then glide through the air. Cregan's hands grip my waist so tightly that I laugh, asking him to open his eyes to admire the view.

-Cregan, you won't be able to stay with your eyes closed forever, the landscape is so beautiful. I mock while clinging to Nightmares

-Nymeria…

-Trust me husband. I insist

I don't know when he opened them, but his breathing has eased in my neck and a "wow" escapes from him, he is definitely looking at the landscape enjoying the view around.

-That's wonderful. Cregan marvels

A radiant smile appears on my face upon hearing it, and I quickly pet my dragon which picks up speed, heading towards King's Landing.

[dahliarosebud]

- Love Is A War Series - Aemond x Reader

• Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

• HOTD-MASTER-LIST

• FANDOMS-MASTERLIST

Warnings: mentioned war, grief, mentioned death, major character death, digging nails into palm, mentions of scars, mentions of wounds, mourning, mentioned conflict, conflict

Synopsis: Corlys finally arrives at Dragonstone. Plots, healing and chaos ensues. (Please read A/n at the bottom)

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It was early when I was awoken. A flurry of maids rushed through, I could hear hot water thump against the bottom of the brass tub, the smell of sweet soaps of perfumes permeated the humid air. "Good morning," they all stopped and dipped their heads at the sight head that peaked from beneath the covers. Hair no doubt wild. "Your presence is required in the war room."  

I groaned and fell back onto my pillows. 

------------  

The room was loud as I walked in, guards and council members who walked past bowed their heads. I looked around the room noticing Jace and Luke stood at the head of the table where my father usually was. Rhaenyra sat off to the side watching all the men chatter with war plans and what nots.  

I took quick steps to stand beside Jace, who smiled at me graciously before his eyes moved once again to look at the table then to his mother. It was crowded. Suffocating. The fire was hot in my throat and sweat prickled on my skin, my dress sat tight, my hair dropped down my back as it tickled softly. 

"The Lord of The Tides," everyone stopped simultaneously turning to look at the entrance way, "Lord Corlys Velaryon..." I jumped as his cane hit the floor with emphasis. I looked at him and Rhaenys, both wore grim expressions. "...and his wife the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen." Baela and Rhaena followed behind. I nodded to Baela who nodded back, shortly and stiff. 

No one spoke, just like yesterday an unsettling silence reared its head. Not even breath was heard. Corlys and Rhaenys stopped infant of Rhaenyra as my sisters walked towards us. I moved aside to let Baela stand next to her betrothed to which she smiled happily. Rhaena stopped to squeeze my hand as she stood next to Luke. A small buzz of excitement washed over me at the sight of my grand-sire, but it stung seeing him injured as such.  

"My Lords." 

"Lord Corlys," Rhaenyrs called out to him. "It brings much relief to see you hale and healthy again." 

"I'm very sorry about your father, Princess," no one dared to correct him, "He was a good man." Corlys turned and surveyed the room careful not to keep his eyes on one person for too long. I dipped my head slightly when his eyes shifted to me. "Where is Daemon?' 

"There were other concerns which demanded the prince's attention. Rhaenyra stared forward as Corlys 'hummed' in a disapproving manner before he began to shuffle forward, cane slamming on the ground, echoing in the too full room.  

"Your declared allies?" He stared at the war table before him. His brow was creased at the lack of houses. His fingers brush gently across his chin as he thought. 

"Yes." Rhaenyra's words were sharp as she moved to stand next to him. Only to fall short as he turned to stare at her. 

'Too few to win a war for the throne." 

"Well, we would also hope to have the support of Houses Arryn, Baratheon and Stark," she looked around the room before turning back to the injured man. 

"Hope...is the fool's ally." 

Rhaenyra looked taken aback. She blinked one too few shifting her weight, "Both Arryn and Baratheon share blood with my House. But all of them swore oaths to me." 

"As did House Hightower...if I remember.'" He was pushing for something. Perhaps testing weaknesses. He's waiting for her to crack. 

"As did you, Lord Corlys." He was quiet. Everything was quiet as Corlys once again looked around the room. I could hear the soft unnerved movement of Luke and the crackle of fire behind us. 

My ears rang. I wasn’t used to the silence of the War room more or less. Not like this 

Voices.  

Voice after voice after voice. They all spoke and crashed over one another. Bustling and moving around the room as if it was small, mice cramped together in a small hole hiding away from the rat-catchers. Huddles and hordes of Lords lurked around every corner you moved.  

That is what I was used to. 

“Your father’s reign was one of justice and honour,” My grandsire’s voice cut through the rest, “Our houses are bound by common blood and common cause. The Hightower’s treason cannot stand.” 

I looked to Baela, anyone this up close could see the nervous hitch she gave as Corlys shifted his body weight, cane moving with him, slamming down of the floor. Echoing dramatically.  

“You have the full support of our fleet and House. Your Grace.” Corlys bowed his head. My eyes caught Rhaenys’ as she lifted her head in approval and pride. Both her and Corlys dripped in power of tidal waved fire and still war lapped at their heels ready to consume whole-y. My eyes quickly moved back to gaze of Rhaenyra, softly checking for a reaction – her mouth only slightly ajar as she thought of what to say. Words conjured up with fast blinks of what only one could assume was surprise.  

“You honour me, Lord Corlys.” She turned to look at Rhaenys who wore a gentle smile, warmth radiating from her skin. “Princess Rhaenys,” she turned back, “But, as I said to my bannermen, I made a promise to my father to hold the realm strong and united. If war’s first stroke is to fall, it will not be done by my hand.” 

I straightened my back in mild surprise. I would have hit first, quietly somewhere that you’d know would shock and cut them deep. I would want the advantage, to have all of the power my side leaving them with scraps to lift them back up. Nothing can take someone longer to heal like grief. You never truly do. 

“You do not mean to act?” Corlys questioned.  

The room was still dead silent. Even the crackling flames seemed to be holding their breath. 

“Taking caution does not mean standing fast. I wish to know who my allies are...before I send them to war.” Rhaenyra’s eyes floated across the room as she swayed gently on her feet. 

Corlys walked towards her, “The consequence of my...near-demise in the Stepstones ...is that we now control them. I took care to fully garrison the territory this time. A total blockade of the shipping lanes will be in place in days, if not already. The Triarchy have been routed. The Narrow Sea is ours.” 

Rhaenyra startled as everyone began to look around the room before fixing their eyes back onto her. Corlys turned his attention the table. His hand hovered over where Driftmark was labelled. “If we...can further seal off the Gullet we can cut off all seaborne travel and trade to King’s Landing.” His hand moved to hover over the mass.  

“I shall take Meleys and patrol the Gullet myself.” Rhaenys joined Rhaenyra’s side, facing the table, eyes heavy on where her Lord husband’s hand hovers.  

“When we drain the Narrow Sea,” Lord Bartimos began, “we can surround King’s Landing, lay siege to the Red Keep, and force the Greens’ surrender.” 

Rhaenyra placed her hands on the table, leaning forward as she stared at the map infront of her before looking up, “If we are to have enough swords to surround King’s Landing, we must first secure the support of Winterfell, the Eyrie and Storm’s End.’ 

“I’ll prepare the ravens, Your Grace.”  

“We should bear those messages,” Jacaerys spoke from where he stood, tall and proud. I felt the thrum in my veins and subtle throb in my head. Everyone was staring at Jace and yet, his voice did not waver. “Dragons can fly faster than ravens...and they’re more convincing. Send us.” 

“The prince is right, Your Grace.” Corlys nodded softly to Rhaenyra.  

“Very well.” Luke looked down at his mother’s words. “Prince Jacaerys will fly north. First to the Eyrie to see my mother’s cousin, the Lady Jeyne Arryn, and then to Winterfell to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the North. Prince Lucerys will fly south to Storm’s End and treat with Lord Borros Baratheon. We must remind these lords of the oaths they swore. And... the cost of breaking them.” 

------------ 

I stood on the peak, where I was stood not long ago. Clouds were overhead in the distance ready to crown Dragonstone. For now, the sky before me is clear grey-shaded-blues with orange overlapping at the bottom. I tossed pebbles from the edge too far to see the drop and still I could feel it sink. Something is wrong. It haunts the horizon and sinks into my bones. A chill down the spine or a cold hand on a warm shoulder.  

I jumped my fingertips brushing against the handle of my dagger, the crunch of rock under shoes topped just beside me. The red of Baela’s dress polished the rock as the wind blew. Rhaena stood beside me. Neither one of them turned to look at me or each other. We all just stood, staring ahead. 

“They left hours ago sister, why are you still out here?” Baela questioned. 

“The wind calms me, something is wrong.” My own voice sounds far away, lost. 

“Something is wrong?” Rhaena repeated. I chewed the inside of my cheek. It was strange, I feel like I’ve only just really met my sisters. We were close in our childhood, mere children running around and still we weren’t terribly close then. Bore from the same womb and yet, here we are stood next to each other miles apart.  

I remember when Rhaena broke a vase chasing Baela and I cleaned it before father found it – although he probably wouldn't have cared. I remember how there were splinters of glass in my hand that Rhaena had sobbed about as she took my hand in hers and how Baela had to then tell mother what had happened so she could have the splinters removed. I had laughed and comforted them. They had later fallen asleep in my bed that night curled up either side of me. 

That night I had vowed to always take care of my sisters. 

“You’re going to be in black and red soon,” I spoke quietly. 

“What?” Rhaena asked finally turning to look at me. 

“You’re going to have to wear red and black. We’re apart of House Targaryen, we serve our Queen Rhaenyra. You’re going to wear red to represent the House whether you like it or not,” I spoke carefully as I watched her pick at the sleeves of her blue dress. 

“I wanted to represent her and her House one last time. I want her and everyone else to know I, we had not forgotten her.”  

I nodded looking down feeling the dryness of my throat and burn in my eyes and still there are no more tears I can cry. I licked my lips and swallowed thickly before looking back towards the sea. “I’m happy you’re not in green for what it’s worth.” Baela spoke her eyes meeting mine as I turned my head.  

I gaped slightly before smiling. She smiled softly grabbing my hand, Rhaena grabbed my other. And we stood there watching the sun set, one last time bathed in blue.  

------------ 

Heavy footsteps began to crunch as they walked fast, toward us. A haste that tells me something has happened. Something has gone wrong. We let go of each other’s hands turning to look at the intruder. My father stood, chest heaving ever so slightly as he stared at us his children. His eyes were soft as he looked at us, like how he used to looked at us when we were children, racing around halls and eating and just simply living. 

“Girls,” he started, I could see the hesitation and crease in his brow as his eyes looked to the floor and then back to us, “there has been news.” I held my breath. “Prince Lucerys has been killed along with Arrax on his way back to Dragonstone.” 

I felt sick. I couldn't even begin to believe it. I could see the anger on my father’s face as he struggled to spit out the words. And still my heart hammered and lungs fluttered in disbelief. I continued to stare at my father, nails pressing into my palms and knuckles white. I refuse to believe.  

Until.  

A sob, shaky and pained rattled beside me. Rhaena stood, hunched slightly. Her hand was over her mouth and her white-silvery hair covered her face as she looked to the floor. I rubbed my hand on her back as Baela moved around us to her right. My eyes met Baela’s over Rhaena’s still hunched over form, her eyes were glossy with tearful woe. I tongued at my cheek. My stomach sinking further and further and further. 

“Who did it?” I whispered. 

“What?” My father’s harsh voice rang in my head. 

“Who did it? Who killed Lucerys!” My words were rushed and loud. I felt Rhaena’s body jolt beneath my hand as it fell from her back. I took a step toward my father who watched my every move, every breath I took. Every single shaky one.  

“Aemond. He was there with Vhagar treating with Lord Baratheon.” I nodded as I looked up. The moon peering down at us from where it has nestled in the sky. I squeezed my eyes shut praying for relief, for all of this to be over and to be some bad dream. But still, here I am, stood next to my grieving sisters, one who’s lost her betrothed and another a friend.  

My heart squeezed, finally stopping its incessant beating, ceasing its desire to once again mellow to beat with his. My skin finally giving up the burn beneath it, cooling, no longer itching to feel his skin on mine.  

I hate him and it hurts to know how much I love loved him. 

I hated him. 

I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. 

Still the necklace remains sunken, welded into my skin. A golden sun embedded into my skin. A scar that will truly never fade. 

A/n -

Hello everyone!! That concludes Season 1 of HOTD, Love Is A War - Fire and Blood. I know there's been lack of consistently in my writing let alone updates, but I'm trying to catch up as of right now so expect a new one to be posted soon, Love Is A War - The Dancing Crowns, which will of course be the long awaited season 2. Links to the next set of works can be found by using the HOTD-MASTER-LIST at the top or just wait to be notified when I post it. Also let me know if you'd like me to do a short piece of where Y/n goes and confronts Aemond about killing Luke or not. All comments, re-bloggs and notes are greatly appreciated and if you'd like to be tagged in the next one just leave a comment under mine. Lots of love D.R.B

THANK YOU FOR READING

[sugarprincessbitch]

When I wrote Aegon's part i couldn't stop thinking about this mitski song...

And the part that always stays with me is "I cannot bear you a son, but I will try. For if I'm not yours, what am I?"

(if you want I could write a sort of epilogue, mainly from rhaenyra's point of view, because what is most tragic than to loose your only daughter as you had lost your mother).

Targaryen men x Targ! Wife Reader

(Reader suffers the same death as Laena)

Warning ⚠️ (Angst).

Maegor Targaryen x reader, Aegon Targaryen x reader, Aegon II Targaryen x reader, and Aemond Targaryen x reader

Aegon II

The king's council was pressuring you and Aegon to give the throne a heir, despite being pregnant three times none of each were a boy, instead you had three beautiful daughters.

Now you were in your fourth pregnancy. Wanting to be near your mother, princess Rhaenyra, in your labor, your little family decided to move to Dragon stone.

The labor started early than expected, but that wasn't saw as a problem because the pregnancy developed normally.

Your mother and the maester were inside the room with you, meanwhile Aegon was walking impatiently outside your birthing chambers with the fear of something going wrong. Daemon and the boys tried to calm him down, reassuring him that you were at the hands of the best maester and midwife's they could found and you where going to be fine.

Hours passed and you were still fighting in that room to bring your child to the world, wrenching screams could be heard in all Dragon stone, but none of a child, only yours.

Suddenly the door open, and the pale face of the master came into view, he told Aegon that the baby was stuck inside of you and the only way of get it out was to cut you open.

Angered by the maester words he was ready to strangle him right there, but your anguished callings stop him before doing something.

You were bedridden, pale as a ghost and sweating a lot, the baby was slowly killing you each passing hour.

Rhaenyra was at one side of the bed, trying to calm you down by whispering sweet things in your ear, but by the look of her face she was also deeply worried by your state.

when he was finally at your side you told him to help you get up, and ignoring the pain you stubbornly start to walk outside the room despite the pleadings of the others.

Aegon start to follow you, calling and pleading that you will be fine and there will be another way. You still didn't want to listen to him and continue walking.

He found himself outside, inside the dragon pits he found you. You were in front of your dragon saying something that he couldn't comprehend, his panic calls were covered by a roar and you were engulf by flames.

Aegon started to scream horrified by the view as his legs gave out and he stumbles against the hard floor. He felt his heart tear apart. A river of tears run along his face at the sight of your body, your burnt body.

After that horrible night Aegon was not the same, he was a shell of the man he was with you. For his family pity, he returned to his old habits, ignoring all his responsabilities in court and as a father, neglecting your daughters.

His mother and grandfather force him into a new marriage, saying that he still needed a heir.

Poor the unlucky woman that married Aegon, because the shadow of your memory will be always there to haunt her.

Maegor I

You were the only wife that had given him children and pure blooded too, due to being his half sister. Because of that you were the most dear and important wife of Maegor, treating you with a fondness that was rare of him.

The maester had warn him to not try for more children, your health was fragile since having many children without repose, another pregnancy could cost you not only your life but also the one of the baby.

Maegor didn't listen to it and stated that his wife should do their duty to him as a woman without caring if she wanted or not. That was the end of the discussion.

The new pregnancy developed progressively worse as months passed, debilitating the mother day after day.

Visenya was the only one that had permission to attend the pregnancies of the queen, due to the fact that Maegor wasn't fond of maesters, believing them to be useless for caring correctly of her sister-wife.

In the middle of the night you went in labor, Visenya and the midwife's were the only ones present with you. Maegor was on one of his campaigns battling the faith, so he couldn't be present.

It passed a long time and the baby didn't wanna come out, there was blood everywhere and the women in the room shared with each other worried faces.

Due to the pain pleadings of the queen, Visenya decided to call a maester. The maester tried without effectiveness, stating that the only way the baby would come out is by cutting you open.

Knowing the end was near, you pleaded to Visenya that if you were going to die you wanted to do it at the hands of your dragon, not of the maester "From fire I was born, from fire I will die" you said.

When Maegor landed in kings landing the news of the torturous labor and death of his wife reach his ears.

He immediately saw red, mad with fury he grab his sword and went to search for the one or ones guilty of your death.

That day it was told that the fury of the dragon rain upon the people of kings landing, no one was saved from Maegor's want for blood.

He burned, tortured and killed everyone that was in charge of your well being. When no one was left to appease his Mad pain, innocents were also slay. But no killing or torture could fill the hole in his wrenching chest, the one you and your unborn child left behind.

Aegon I

They say that Aegon married his three sisters for different reasons. He married Visenya for duty, Rhaenys for love and you for devotion.

You were his twin, the half of his soul, the mother of his only daughter. His sweet Daenerys.

Your second pregnancy came as a glad surprise for the two of you and the kingdom, after the tragic death of your little sister at the hands of Dorne, in the castle there was only days for mourning or sadness. So the unexpected new was a ray of hope for everyone, specially Aegon who desperately needed a little hope to grab on to.

All different types of maesters were pestering you day and night all along the duration of the nine months, this was a direct order of their king and their queen, your older sister Visenya. The two of them worried about the fragile state you were in.

Because of you being a little pass your prime, the announce of you being pregnant was a miracle on itself, and the dangers of having a baby at your age was of their over protectivness.

You were now two days in labor, since your contractions starting in the early morning of the first day and continuing in the night of the second day, you haven't stop pushing.

Everyone was in distress and the tension was burdensome in the air, Aegon vigilant gaze and your sister angry commands were not helping at all.

That second night Visenya nor Aegon could be with you, an important meeting regarding the next attack to Dorne was held, and you found yourself all alone in a room full of strangers.

The pain was now unberable, each passing day with your baby stuck in you was agonizing, you knew death was in the horizon although Aegon didn't want to acknowledge it, extending your suffering.

In one of your moments of consciousness you got up of bed. Shoving the maester and servants aside, you got out of the room.

A terrified servant abruptly interrumpt the meeting and told them about your current disappearence. For a second Aegon was shock in place by the horrifying news, that hesitation was enough time for Visenya to start screaming commands to the guards to inmediatly find you.

They found you in the dragon pit, screaming to your dragon, pleading him for mercy. Aegon was the last one to get to there. Seeing you in just a dangerous situation send him on edge and without thinking it he tried to run to you, but the fire was quicker and reached you first.

A part of Aegon died that day in the fire with you, his hope was lost, everything was lost without you by his side. He attached himself to the only part of you that was left, your daughter.

Your loss was the final drop for the strain relationship between Visenya and Aegon to broke beyond repair. Dividing the family, creating resentment not only between the parents but also, between the children.

When Aegon's last days were near, he went in and out of feverish deviations, the only thing that calmed him was the milk of the poppy that the maesters gave him.

In his death bed his last words were pronounce again and again with a trembling and a voice full of anguish "My sweet y/n, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Until he finally took his last breath the prayers didn't stop.

Aemond I

Your family, specially your mother, wasn't fond of your sudden marriage with Aemond, she had other plans for her younger's. Being Haelena and Aegon the ones married as the Targaryen tradition dictates, she didn't needed more than one. But love seal by fire couldn't be stop.

For the first time Aemond felt joy, the gods heard his and his wife prayers and gift them with a child, the one that were dessesperately hoping for.

The pregnancy went normally without much of a fuss, the two of you were expecting with excitement the day your baby will come into the world. Aemond didn't care if it were to be a girl or a boy, as the second son, he didn't have the burden to produce a male heir.

During the later stages of your pregnancy the tensions between the blacks and the greens grew increasingly dangerous. When the high septon crowned your brother as king everything explode. Due to this, Aemond had to fly away to Storm's end as a negotiator for the greens, leaving his much pregnant wife at home.

An urgent letter from her mother came in the second day he was staying there, telling him to come home as soon as possible, his wife started labor hours ago.

Only one thing retain him for some time before going back to his dear sister, the bastard that took his eye, Lucerys.

When he arrived at the pit in Kings landing the storm had long passed. Without changing his wet clothes he inmediatly went to the birthing chambers, in the rush he didn't notice the commotion of the servants and guards of the castle.

Entering he found the room empty, except from his mother who was in the floor, with her hands covering her face, crying unconsolable. Ameond silently reach her, and with a pang of fear in his chest ask "Mother, were is y/n... Were is she?".

Alicent gasp and cried more, he grew desperate and ask in a more forceful tone this time "Mother, stop crying and answer me, were is y/n?" Finally she answered him "I'm sorry Aemond, I'm so sorry I couldn't stop her... Oh god how horrible!" For a moment everything went silent, the pang in his chest grew and stab him with more force this time.

His mother rose her head and look at him with tears in her puff eyes "Th-the pregnancy went wrong, the baby, the baby wouldn't come out"

She stop and shed more tears "She killed herself Aemond, she command her dragon to kill her..." Stoping for a moment she screamed "OH GOD HOW HORRIBLE!"

Upon hearing this Aemond block himself out of the room, unfocusing his gaze he hug his mother that continue to cry in his shoulders. His face was still as a rock, solid, without a feeling. Only a treacherous tear falling slowly from his good eye, showing the emotion behind the empty gaze.

[chloe-petrichors]

cradling constellations // jace x reader

when rhaenyra brings her family to court to celebrate the king's fiftieth name day, there was but one thing on your mind: getting to see jace, the boy you'd loved in secret, once more.

whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. —emily brontë

fandom; house of the dragon pairing; jacaerys velaryon x f!aunt!reader (no use of y/n) warnings; canon-typical incest, canon-au (it's viserys' birthday party baby), altered timeline (jace and reader are in their 20s) idiots in love, instant attraction/love at first (second) sight, childhood sweethearts (kinda?), soulmate vibes, love confessions, switching povs, smut (mdni !) including masturbation (m), p in v, fingering, oral (f receiving), implied loss of virginity, unprotected sex, mild marriage kink if that’s even a thing, body worship, dirty talk, praise kink, multiple orgasms, mild overstimulation, soft dom vibes, jace being a tits man. word count; 15k+ (oops) notes; me, obsessed with jace? more likely than u think. this whole fic spawned from the fact that i noticed jace's freckles on a gif and lost my gd mind. this was meant to be a quick smut fic. and then i took 11k+ words to get to the smut part. i'm sorry (i'm not). this is totally self-indulgent, soulmates, love at first sight kinda fluff-to-smut and i regret nothing. way too much time of writing this was me trawling through the asoiaf wiki pages to find details that are relevant for one whole sentence. why am i this way. valyrian is pulled straight from a translator i found online, pls let me know if you notice any errors! requests; are open !

the first time you laid eyes on jacaerys velaryon, you knew he was something special.

you had just been children, then, uncertain of each other due to the discontent between your families. but he had been kind to you, dark eyes warm, and it had been an easy thing to be kind in return. your brothers make it difficult, of course, as they seem to do with everything they get involved in. aegon had been the worst at first, spouting off the same vitriol your mother had always whispered into your ears, but aemond had not been far behind him.

after the events of laena’s funeral and the loss of aemond’s eye, the hostilities only grow and grow. helaena keeps herself apart from most of it by virtue of her typically distant manner, but your brothers insist on drawing you into the same arguments again and again. it's tedious, laborious, but they are your family.

jace and luke are too, of course, not that anyone else seems to want to admit it. for all that they are velaryon’s by name (and strong in heart, mayhaps, yes), they are your nephews. your brothers only seem interested in remembering this when it serves them, however — which is usually when they’re lording it over the dark-haired boys.

in truth, the velaryon’s are hardly innocent either. it seems like the two sets of boys bring out the absolute worse in each other without fail, and it’s usually left to you to try and be the voice of reason.

away from your brothers’ taunts, jace is like a different boy entirely. endlessly curious and ceaselessly kind, the brunette seems to always have time to talk and jape with you. your friendship grows surprisingly easy as children, and with early adulthood comes the bloom of a different kind of affection, too. you never say anything, knowing all too well that if your brothers catch even a whisper of your feelings that there will be no end of hells to pay.

it matters little, regardless. your mother will never tolerate a betrothal between the two of you and you know better than to even attempt to broach such a topic. it had been sheer miracle that she hadn’t tried marrying you off to aemond after securing aegon and helaena’s marriage, and you aren’t willing to tempt fate by giving her ideas now. so what if you spend countless nights dreaming of freckled skin and dark hair? it matters not in the scheme of things.

rhaenyra flees kings landing after daemon’s return to westeros, leaving you feeling strangely bereft without your nephews’ company. years go by with no contact from your sister’s family, and so you let your old daydreams fall to the wayside. there’s no use dwelling on what you can’t have, and no point bringing it up since even now just a mention of luke or jace is enough to inflame aemond’s temper.

and then, of course, the news comes that rhaenyra is returning to court for the king’s fiftieth name day. there are great feasts and celebrations planned in honour of your father, which you privately think silly considering it’s unlikely he would be well enough to attend half the festivities. still, there’s no denying your excitement at the idea of seeing jace again. he would be a man grown, now, his twentieth name day having passed only a few moons ago.

for once the majority of your family will be under one roof, and you are certain it will end in disaster — but you intend to enjoy it while you can.

going flying the morning of the velaryons arrival is perhaps not your smartest idea. 

your nerves wake you well before dawn. you feel as if you’re going to crawl out of your skin if you don’t do something, and you know your chances for flying will be limited with the celebrations expected to start tomorrow. so you decided to take the chance while you can, dressing quickly in your riding gear before creeping to the dragon pit well before any of your family wake.

silverwing likes it when you take her for unexpected flights, so she makes no complaint when you have the dragon keepers release her. you go through the motions of saddling her yourself, as you always do, taking the chance to reinforce the bond with your dragon.

silverwing hadn’t been your hatched dragon. the egg that you had slept beside as a babe had never hatched, just as aemond’s and helaena’s hadn’t. it had infuriated aemond when you were children, that jace and luke’s dragons hatched while he was left without. it had made him an easy target for the other boys; aegon had often led the others in riling him about his lack of dragon until he had claimed vhagar. you can admit now that the others had oft been cruel to him in their japing, and it had ended poorly for everyone involved.

your claiming of silverwing had been incredibly boring in comparison. she had found you, in truth, a year after aemond claimed vhagar. she’d been your great-grandmother the good queen alysanne’s dragon before your own, and had not taken a rider since the queen’s death. she’d flown from the dragonmont to find you, and you’ve been nigh on inseparable since. your mother despairs over it, hating how her often her ‘perfect daughter’ has shown up to court late with windswept hair and flushed cheeks.

but, to you, flying is freedom.

there’s nothing else like it in the world; the sensation of silverwing beneath you, the seven kingdoms at your fingertips, and only the sky above. your mother has never really let go of her fear of the dragons, and you can understand it in a way; she is no targaryen, and she’ll never know what it is to bond with a dragon, to have that presence so alien and yet so familiar nudging against the corners of your mind. any attempts to explain it to her are met with bemusement and wariness, and you’d long ago learned to stop bringing it up.

silverwing’s joy to fly merges into your own as you climb atop her, running a soothing hand over the gleaming silver spikes at her neck as you adjust the straps. her impatience thrums loudly through the bond as you settle yourself into the saddle, and you feel her heart beat through you like a second pulse as your own anticipation rises.

“ivestragī īlva sōvegon, ñuha raqiros! [let us fly, my friend!]”

she needs no further nudging than that, and with a delighted roar she launches into the air. your laughter is stolen by the wind as she beats her wings, propelling you higher and higher before sweeping over the towering peaks of the red keep. with a shouted instruction she banks sharply to the left, flying out over blackwater bay as the sun finally crests the horizon. the dark sea lights up with reds and golds beneath you, the sky gloriously blue above, and silverwing’s distinctive scales shine in the breaking dawn.

a glorious morning, you think, and as the two of you climb higher to the sky you feel all your nerves and excitement for anything but the flight leave you. this is what your mother will never understand; flying is an escape, yes, but not from your duties as she assumes it is. this is an escape from your worries, from the petty machinations of court. in the sky with your dragon, you need worry only about how chill the wind will be, or if aemond is out with vhagar, who’s a grumpy old beast at the best of times and silverwing is feeling mischievous.

you find peace, here, in the sky. this is what you were born for.

long minutes pass as you fly leisurely, circling over the bay and the keep and back again in ever widening circles. sometimes silverwing dives just to do so, plunging so close to the blackwater that you could reach out and skim your hand over the dark depths. you lose track of time as the two of you fly, contentment bleeding across the bond so completely you can’t even tell which one of you it’s coming from.

a dragon’s cry in the distance catches your attention, and silverwing pulls up from where she’d been ducking her head into the water to snatch fish. she propels you rapidly higher into the air, crying out in response as you break through the thin cloud cover. you expect to find aegon’s dragon; sunfyre is the only dragon silverwing likes, rather than tolerates, to be making such a noise in greeting.

but it’s an unfamiliar dragon that greets you, olive green scales shining with the damp from the high altitudes. your mind races as you struggle to place it, and it’s only when you catch sight of a head of dark curls astride the dragon that you realise who it is.

vermax.

and jacaerys.

your heart skips in your chest, silverwing’s unexpected excitement tangling with your own nerves as she swoops towards the much smaller dragon. it’s only her sheer happiness that stops you from panicking or shouting a command to halt in valyrian, and moments later you recall she’d have known vermax from her time on dragonstone.

she somersaults over and around vermax playfully, and you release an exhilarated laugh in response as you cling tightly to the saddle. you see only snatches of jace as your dragons fly complicated patterns around each other, but the quick flashes you do get find an easy smile on his face.

the dragons spend a long while flying together, racing and diving and spiralling to new heights. they move so quickly that you have no chance to try and greet jacaerys, can offer nothing more than quick smiles as you pass him. it gives you the time for your nerves to settle back down, time to reassure yourself that any childhood feelings are long faded and that you will be able to act perfectly composed when it is time to greet him.

eventually you realise your dragon is not going to land until you tell her too, and vermax is clearly just as willing to chase after the larger she-dragon for as long as she is willing to be chased.

“māzigon, silverwing. istiti tegun [come, silverwing. we must land],” you shout, laughing again when the dragon whines her displeasure. she listens regardless, soaring down in tightening circles with vermax following close on your tail. her landing in the dragon pit is far from smooth, but you’re well used to compensating for the jostling as she settles onto the ground once more.

you’re quick in freeing yourself from the saddle, murmuring warm thanks and praise to your dragon as you walk to the side of her great head to meet a single burning eye. “kirimvose, ñuha raqiros. kesi sōvegon arlī aderī [thank you, my friend. we will fly again soon],” you tell her, and she responds with a content grumble as she nudges her head gently against your chest in affection.

you leave the dragon keepers to return her to her cave, instead turning to watch as jace shares his own goodbyes with his dragon. you take the chance to look at him, properly look, and find yourself suddenly warring with self-consciousness and a burning in your chest.

despite the acrobatics of the dragons, he looks perfectly put together with his dark curls brushing his shoulders and a pleasing tan to his skin. you fear you must look a ruin, with your hair undoubtedly a mess and cheeks flushed from the cold bite of the wind. your breath is still a touch laboured from the exertion of the flight, while he looks perfectly composed in his fancy black and red doublet. you curse the old gods and the new that you’d picked out your old riding gear this morning — comfortable, yes, but certainly not ideal for greeting the heir to the heir and the man you’d once daydreamed about marrying.

you push the thoughts away with determined stubbornness, refusing to dwell on the warmth in your chest when jace finally turns to look at you. he’s grown, you note immediately, now standing at least a head taller than you. any traces of baby fat have left him, leaving behind a strong, square jaw and strong yet slim shoulders. his dark eyes are warm, though, and his smile friendly as he takes you in.

you dip instinctually into a curtsey, a perfectly respectable greeting ready on your lips, but you’re startled into straightening back to standing when jace laughs.

“come now, princess,” he says, fond and teasing he approaches you. he’s the only one who’s ever been able to make the title sound more like an endearment. “since when have we been ones for formality?”

it sets you at ease immediately, tension relaxing from your shoulders as you beam at him. “i suppose we never have been very good at that, have we?” you let your eyes skip over him again, something like relief settling in your bones at the sight of him. “it’s good to see you again, jace.”

“aye,” he returns, dark eyes sparkling. “it is good to see you, indeed.”

for a long moment he simply looks at you, and it makes that peculiar warmth in your chest blaze a little brighter. there’s something in his face that you’ve never seen there before — but then you think of course there is. you haven’t seen him in so long there’s probably all kinds of things about you him you no longer know. it aches, almost, to think it, but in a way he’s a stranger to you; a man with the kind eyes of the boy you’d loved in secret, once.

you clear your throat as you drop your eyes from his stare, glancing at the bustling keepers as they tend to your dragons instead as you cast about for something to say.

“are the rest of your family not flying in?” you query after a moment.

he shakes his head, dark curls swaying with the movement. “no, arrax and tyraxes are still too small to fly luke and joff for such a journey, and mother would rather stay with my brothers on the ship.”

you nod in acceptance, shifting slightly on the spot. “well then, let me be the first to welcome you back to king’s landing, my prince.” you take the formality out of your tone with a playful wink, and are gratified to see the way he chuckles at your antics.

“i had hoped you’d be the first i’d see.” he admits this casually, as if this doesn’t set your heart and mind racing. “i have missed you, aunt.”

you duck your head again to try and hide the smile spreading across your face. you tell yourself sternly to stop acting like some lovesick child, all the while that small flame continues to burn away inside of you. “and i you, nephew.” you glance up at him shyly from beneath your lashes, teeth worrying at your bottom lip, and you don’t miss the way his eyes track the movement.

he’s the one to clear his throat, this time, stepping a half-pace away from you and gesturing for you to proceed him. “shall we head to the keep, then? my mother’s ship should have arrived by now and we wouldn’t want to miss the formal welcome.”

“as you say,” you agree, and the two of you set off.

you spend the long walk to the keep catching up on the long years between you. you’d expected the time apart to be like a gulf between you, a canyon that could not be crossed, but if anything it’s the opposite. it’s as if you’d last seen each other only hours ago. it should startle you, how simple it feels to fall into your old friendship, but you don’t have it in you to be surprised. that’s always been the thing with jace, after all — it’s easy. being around him, speaking to him, listening to his odd tangents. it all comes as natural to you as breathing, as if there’s a part of you that was just born knowing him.

he's dodging your questions as you finally arrive at the keep, having let slip something about an old secret from the days of your childhood that he’s never shared with you. it makes something flutter in your chest, the way he looks at you as he says it. the way he’s looked at you the whole time, in fact, has you having to bite back a smile. he looks at you as if he is looking at something precious, expression tender and fond and uncomplicated. it threatens to steal your breath again, and so you make an effort to try and act as unaffected as possible, because he cannot mean it in the way you think you might want him too.

“oh, but you simply must tell me!” you wheedle cheerfully, a mischievous smile on your lips. “you wouldn’t keep a secret from me, would you, my prince?”

you pout at him, fluttering your lashes in the way you usually do when trying to get your way with your brothers. jace swallows audibly at the sight, some emotion you can’t read flickering across his eyes as his gaze drops to your mouth and then lower again before returning to your eyes. something in his expression makes you flush, cheeks burning as your lips part slowly. a heat rises in you, unbidden, as he steps ever so slightly closer into your space. you’re overwhelmed with the smell of him; sea salt and dragon smoke and something almost woodsy underneath it, something entirely jace.

he murmurs your name so quietly you almost miss it over the sounds of courtyard. his hand twitches as if to reach for you as he ducks his head slightly, and you think if you lifted yours just so you’d be able to brush your lips over the strong line of his jaw. you realise suddenly how much you want to — how much you want to drag your tongue over his skin and taste.

oh.

oh.

you want him. that peculiar feeling that had been burning in your chest — you recognise the desire for what it is, now. the easy camaraderie that you’d fell into on the walk to the keep subsides in the wake of it, and abruptly all you can think of is what his mouth will feel like on your own. the palpable tension between you makes your hands tremble with the urge to touch, heart pounding so loudly in your ears it drowns out anything that isn’t him as the rest of the courtyard fades away.

you sway the barest inch closer, inhaling his scent deeply, and watch as jace’s nostrils flare in response. with a shaky breath you lift your chin, eyes dropping to his parted lips, and you bite your bottom lip as his tongue sweeps over his own.

“jace…”

“brother! there you are!”

luke’s voice startles you both back to reality as you spring apart. you hadn’t realised just how close you’d gotten, your chests almost brushing with every breath, until the gap between you widens. you drop your eyes to your feet, cheeks blazing with embarrassment as you realise how close you’d come to kissing him in an extremely public place. you chide yourself internally for forgetting yourself, and take another second to gather your composure before lifting your head with a smile.

“hello, nephew,” you greet luke warmly, doing your best to ignore the way jace’s eyes burns into the side of your face. “it is very good to see you again.”

“aunt!” luke fairly cheers, and you note how the youth still clings to his face. while certainly older than the last time you’d seen him, he still seems like a child to you. his limbs are long and gangly, in that awkward stage at the cusp of adulthood where he’s not quite grown into himself yet. he bounds closer, drawing you into a hug that you allow and return with a fond laugh.

“luke, honestly,” jace tuts, shaking his head as the two of you separate. “we’re at court, now. at least try to remember your manners.”

the younger boy winces. “ah, right, yes.” he sketches a quick but perfect bow your way. “it is a great honour to see you once more, princess.” he flashes a cheeky smile and a wink your way as he straightens out, and you press your hand to your mouth to smother a giggle at the exasperated look on jace’s face at his brother’s antics. he’s hardly one to talk, you think, considering how quickly he had dispensed with manners when greeting you.

in return, you dip into a practiced if impish curtsey. “it is a sincere pleasure to see you as well, prince lucerys.”

luke does giggle, then, as jace rolls his eyes so hard you think they’re at risk of falling out of his head. despite his dramatics, you spot the smile twitching at the corner of his mouth as he watches you jape with his brother.

“the queen is looking for you, dear aunt,” luke says after the greetings are done, and your amusement flees you as your stomach drops.

it’s only then you realise that with both luke and jace being here, you’ve certainly missed the official welcome of princess rhaenyra back to court. you wince at the thought of your mother’s ire, resigning yourself to a long lecture about your responsibilities and how dragon riding is ‘not one of them’. jace catches your expression, concern creasing his face as his brows furrow.

“alright?” he checks, and you do your best to offer him a reassuring smile.

“yes, i’m sure all will be well.” you hesitate a moment before offering a one-shouldered shrug, ignoring the voice in your head that sounds far too much like your mother telling you how unladylike such a motion is. “i expect my mother will be displeased with me for missing the official welcome, but the festivities will surely distract her quick enough.”

luke and jace both offer you a commiserating smile as the three of you head into the keep. you expect your mother will be waiting in her solar, which is on a close route to the guest suites set aside for the visiting royals, and so you walk with the velaryons as far as you can. when it comes time to part, jace lingers at the entry of the hall as luke continues down the corridor. his dark eyes are fixed to yours so intensely it steals your breath as you slow to a stop as well.

“i’ll see you at the feast,” he says quietly, capturing your hand in his much larger one and bringing it to his mouth. your breath hitches in your chest, eyes widening as he brushes his lips tenderly over your knuckles. your lips part in surprise, tingles racing up your arm from where his mouth makes contact with your skin. before you have chance to respond, jace dips into a sweeping bow and then bids you farewell, leaving you staring after him for a long moment.

well. if your mother doesn’t kill you, you think jace certainly will.

jace sinks into the hot water of the bath with a deep sigh of relief.

after meeting with his mother to explain why he’d been late to the formal greetings — or, rather, offer excuses as to why he’d been late, since he doesn’t think his mother will take well to the idea he was so busy enjoying himself flying with you that the thought of any formal welcome party left his mind entirely — he’d sought his chambers. the bath had been ready and waiting for him, tendrils of steam wafting from the clear water, and he’d wasted no time in shedding his clothes. he’s keen to wash the dragon stink from his skin before the feast, and he makes quick work of scrubbing his skin clean. when he’s done, he allows himself to relax against the metal of the tub, arms draped carelessly over the metal rim as he soaks.

king’s landing from dragonstone is not too long a journey on dragon back, but flying for such a stretch causes its own particular aches. vermax had enjoyed the chance to stretch his wings, at least, and had enjoyed the playful flight with silverwing even more.

he can admit to himself he’d enjoyed it, too, the sight of you astride your dragon lighting something within him. it’s been so long since he’d seen you, not since the aftermath of laena’s funeral, and he hadn’t been prepared for how the sight of you — breathless and flush and beaming at him — would make him feel. he’d almost managed to push back his boyhood adoration and childhood daydreams of marrying you one day with the years passing, but seeing you again brings it all rushing back and he feels as hopelessly enamoured with you now as he did as a child.

you’ve grown well, there’s no denying that. where childhood had left you sometimes awkward and gangly, you’ve become a woman grown now with all the curves and delights that come with it. he’d been embarrassed at how hard it had been to pull his gaze from you on the trip to the keep, but you’d not seemed to notice. too occupied with filling the air between you with light chatter, you’d been oblivious to the way his eyes had dragged over your form again and again.

you just — you’re so unlike anyone else he knows. he’d let himself forget how lovely you were, but there was no way to ignore it now. riding the high of your flight and genuinely happy to see him, you’d been like something out of a dream. your face had been as open to him as ever, plainly delighted to see him, and seeing you had eased some ache he’d become so used to he’d not even know it was there until he felt the lack of it.

he’s not some foolish child. he knows better than to think of things like love when his head must lie with his duty. but the thought remains regardless, lingering in the back of his mind that you would be as easy to love now as you had been when you were younger. it had been a childish love then, of course; innocent and sweet in the ways only children could be. but it had been there, unspoken and unacted upon, but no less real for it.

you’re not children anymore. it would be impossible to think otherwise with the way your riding gear had clung flatteringly to your chest and hips. your mouth looked so pretty stretched into a smile, a smile for him, and he thinks it’s a testament to his restraint that he’d not kissed you on the spot when you’d pouted so prettily up at him. he’d thought for a fleeting moment that perhaps you were going to kiss him with the way your eyes had darkened, how you’d gravitated into his space as if without intention.

heat pools in his stomach as he thinks about how the neckline of your riding dress had cut low enough to allow him a peak at your chest, heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. he wonders what your mouth would taste like, what noises you would make if he’d slid his tongue against your own. gods, he feels like a green boy seeing a woman for the first time — almost undone at just the thought of you. he won’t be able to get through the welcome feast like this, he thinks, so on edge with his lust for you burning him from the inside out.

it’s not even a conscious choice to curl his fingers around his cock, half-hard already as he thinks of you. jace’s head tips back against the rim of the bath, eyes drifting closed as a quiet gasp escapes him. the warm water eases his way as he strokes himself, and he lets himself imagine it’s your slick, instead.

he pictures you before him, pretends it’s your hand teasing at the skin at the head of his cock. your hands are so small, so dainty, he thinks you probably wouldn’t be able to wrap them all the way around him. he imagines they’re a little calloused — soft, mostly, but with the fingertips just rough enough from years spent riding and caring for your dragon. they’d drag so deliciously against his skin, and you’d take to the task with the same voracious enthusiasm you do with everything else. you’d watch him closely, pick up on the cues of his pleasure, and he’d unravel for you so quickly it’d be embarrassing if it was anyone else.

“fuck,” he hisses out, thumb dragging over the liquid leaking copiously from his tip. his head tips back even further, water dripping from his curls onto the stone floor as he chases his release. his imagining splinters into disconnected fantasies; you, on your knees with your mouth stretched around him, lashes damp with reflexive tears as your eyes fix on his. you, sprawled beneath him and writhing as he feasts on your cunt like a man starved. you, babbling in high valyrian as he sinks into the tight wet heat of you. you, clenching and shuddering around his cock as you come for him, blazing and beautiful. you, you, you.

his release hits him hard, a low groan tearing from his throat as his hips thrust up into his hand as he drags out those last few moments of pleasure. his panting breaths sound loud in the silence of his chambers, and jace is suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he is alone. there is, of course, no trace of you.

he knows in that moment he has to have you. he cannot tolerate the thought of anyone else — not for himself, and certainly not for you. he wants you as his wife, his queen, the mother of his children. jace doesn’t care how he must do it — as long as you’re as willing as he is, he is going to make you his.

the feast has started by the time jace arrives.

his indulgence had cost him time, and then he’d spent longer than usual readying himself while trying to ignore the fact he was doing so only to impress you. by the time he makes it to the hall his family are already seated and the minstrels are playing a jaunty tune. his eyes seek you instantly, and he resists the urge to frown in disappointment as he sees you sat between helaena and aemond. he’d hoped to sit beside you and use this time to see if there was any hint of you returning his feelings. no matter — there would be time enough later. if he has his way, there’ll be all the time in the world.

you look beautiful, he notes. you’re dressed in your usual deep green, the gown cut flatteringly for your shape. your face is animated and happy as you chat to aemond, and though he finds the idea of anyone enjoying that grumpy prick’s presence bizarre, he enjoys the sight of you so at ease.  

as he approaches the head table and the empty seat between his mother and luke, your eyes linger on him. he’s gratified by the way you light up when you spot him, offering him a warm smile in welcome for all that you’re quickly entangled into a conversation with your sister. it eases some of the sting at finding you unavailable, and he’s helpless but to smile back at you even when your gaze slides back to helaena.

luke eyes him strangely as he settles into his seat but says nothing as jace reaches for a goblet of wine. his mother greets him absently, entangled as she is in conversation with the king, and he takes the moment to glance out at the hall.

it’s a relatively small feast. large enough to not cause offence to the heir to the throne, but not so grand as to detract from the festivities planned for the next fortnight. he recognises a few faces in the crowd, people from different houses from across the kingdoms. the king’s birthday celebrations are no small affair, and he spots representatives from all the great houses as well as some of the more minor ones.

it makes him want to slump in his seat, for all that he keeps his posture straight. he knows the next few weeks will be full of politicking and double speak, and it grates. as the heir to the heir, jace knows it’s partially his responsibility to ensure their alliances still stand while seeking out any news one that might present themselves. he has no doubt that some of the lords in this crowd will have brought their daughters, planning to parade them in front of him and his brothers in hopes they might pick one as their betrothed.

his lack of betrothal has been a point of contention for many of the court, he knows. most had assumed he would be betrothed to his stepsister baela, and he’d thought the same for years. it was only when his mother had confided that baela had no interest in being queen and, in fact, was so strongly opposed to the idea that she swore to fly to essos and never be seen again if they tried marrying her to him that he realised just why such a betrothal had never been announced.

it had left him free, in a way, to pursue his own desires; without a betrothal attached to him he’d shed any guilt about seeking company at the pleasure houses. but, in turn, it had left him open to the machinations of the other houses who all sought to have their blood on the iron throne. it’s incredibly tedious, but he knows he must grin and bear it for the sake of his mother and his house.

the food arrives then, and he busies himself with the meal and talking to his siblings. his grandsire makes a speech welcoming his daughter and her family home, and jace notes the sour faces of alicent’s sons. they keep their tongues, at least, which shows a maturity from them he truthfully hadn’t expected. perhaps they’ve grown just as you have, he thinks, but dismisses the thought when aemond catches his eye and only sneers in response to jace’s tentative smile.

he's often wondered at the conflict between the two sides of the family. the animosity now he can pinpoint, of course; aemond losing his eye. but there had been years before that of tense, standoffish behaviour interspersed with camaraderie when everyone seemed to forget they weren’t meant to be friends. he remembers playing pranks with aegon while luke trailed after them, and he remembers sitting with helaena while she perused the dirt for bugs.

he remembers you, most of all. kind and fearless and smart, you’d enamoured him from the moment he was old enough to recognise girls were different to boys in interesting ways. even before then you’d been fast friends, something in your similarly mischievous behaviour drawing you into each other’s orbit. he’s always been drawn to you, he thinks, to the uncomplicated joy you took in your life. there was so much to be miserable about, so much duty on all your shoulders, but you always found something to smile over. your unfailing optimism would no doubt be irritating to some, but to him it has always been one of his favourite things about you.

his gaze, predictably, shifts to you. he startles to find you looking at him already. you flush immediately as your eyes lock, presumably embarrassed at being caught, and he enjoys the colour it brings to your cheeks. you don’t drop his stare, though, not until helaena says something to draw your attention back to her once again. he catches sight of a private little quirk of your lips as your head turns, and something like satisfaction settles in his chest as he hides his own smile in his goblet.

perhaps this feast won’t be as tedious as he���d feared.

“are you enjoying the festivities, princess?”

jace’s voice pulls you from where you’ve been staring into your wine as if it holds all the secrets of the world. you’ve lost count of how many goblets you’ve had, chattering away with your siblings before aegon had started to become cruel in his inebriation and you’d all opted to split apart through the hall. you glance up to find the velaryon prince standing before you, hands perched loosely on the hilt of his sword. he looks unfairly handsome, you think, with his tumble of curls and well-fitted doublet, and something about the slight smirk on his face makes you think he knows it.

“i am enjoying them well enough,” you allow, flicking your gaze from his to look out at the dance floor. aemond is dancing with helaena, aegon far too deep into his cups to bother thinking of his wife. your mother is as tense as she has been since you’d found her earlier; her stepdaughter’s arrival to court has set her incredibly on edge, and the lecture she’d given you earlier had certainly been one of her worst. and your father is oblivious to it all, simply too pleased at the presence of his favoured daughter to care about the way the rest of his family are fracturing apart.

he's not been a good father to you, the king. he’s called you and helaena rhaenyra more than once over the years, and even when his eyes are you on you, you never feel like it’s you he sees. your mother had tried to soothe the ache of his absence, of his blatant favour for a woman who was not here, but as the years stretched on even she had seemed to fade further and further away from you all. for so long it’s just been the four of you, clinging to each other and tearing each other apart in equal measure. you’ve oft thought that daeron is the luckiest of you, able to thrive at the hightower and away from the mess of your family.

you pause at the maudlin turn of your thoughts, peering contemplatively into your wine again before offering jace a slightly sheepish smile. “i… fear i may have indulged in too much wine,” you admit, startling a laugh from the darkhaired prince.

it’s aegon’s fault, you decide; before he’d gotten belligerently drunk he’d been so cheerful, seemingly pleased to have the pressure of being the eldest targaryen child in court off of his shoulders. in his cheer he had plied you with wine, laughing and japing with an arm over your shoulder as you reminisced on simpler times of your childhood. happy to see him so, you’d not resisted, but now you find yourself regretting those choices as your thoughts tumble sluggishly through your mind.

jace shakes his head fondly at you, reaching out to carefully steal your goblet away. his fingers brush against yours as he does so, the barest of touches and yet enough to set your heart racing as you blink slowly up at him. he sips from your wine deliberately, amber eyes darkening as he holds your stare, and your lips part with an unsteady breath. something about him drinking your wine from your cup has your stomach fluttering pleasantly.

gods, i want him.

the thought is enough to startle you, heat suffusing your cheeks as you avert your gaze. jace doesn’t, though, and you can feel the weight of his stare on you like a tangible thing. it makes your skin prickle with warmth, and you lurch a touch unsteadily to your feet before you can say anything silly like ‘kiss me, please’.

“i think i should retire to my chambers before i make a drunken fool of myself,” you announce, fingers smoothing over the green velvet of your dress.

“i’ll escort you,” jace returns, tone leaving no room for argument.

he sets aside the wine and offers you his arm, quirking an eyebrow as if in challenge. you hesitate for barely a second, taking a steadying breath, before looping your arm through his and allowing him to lead you through the crowd towards the open doors. the woodsy smell of him you’d noticed before is clearer, now, and you take another deep breath of the scent. it calms your nerves and yet inflames your desire, and your fingers tighten infinitesimally against his bicep.

you stop at the doors of the feasting chamber for long enough to let ser erryk know that you’re retiring for the evening, leaving it to him to pass the message on to your mother, and then you and jace are alone in the halls of the keep.

of course, you’re not truly alone. guards litter the corridors and even at this late hour servants bustle along, busy with their chores. but in the quiet of the keep as jace leads you to your rooms, you can almost imagine yourself alone with him. the thought threatens to overwhelm you, mad fantasies of him tugging you into a dark alcove to devour you flashing through your mind, and you scold yourself internally.

you’re really very cross with aegon. he and his wine have left you in this state, too far into your cups to keep control of your dangerous wonderings. if only he had not kept calling for more of that gods-be-damned arbor gold, you’d have been able to keep your wits about you. you’d wanted to dance at the feast, too, mayhaps even with jacaerys but at the very least with your brothers. instead, you’re being led back to your rooms like a child who’s had their first taste of wine with dinner and let it go to their head.

jace’s presence helps your intoxication little. seeing him again, touching him, smelling him — it’s all too much when all your defences are down like this. you feel like a girl again, staring breathlessly after him and so full of certainty that you love him, and it’s just— ridiculous. you’ve spent mere hours in his presence and you’re like some lovelorn idiot with no thought in your mind beyond being as close to him as is possible. it’s foolish, reckless, absurd. but it’s there, regardless, unfurling in your chest with a lovely kind of agony.

you keep quiet on the walk, too afraid that if you open your mouth you’ll beg him to have his way with you or, worse, confess your re-blooming infatuation for him, and jace seems content enough to walk in silence for a while. eventually, though, he speaks.

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen you drunk before,” he observes, tone light.

you glance at him sidelong, pursing your lips at the teasing smirk curling on his mouth. “it’s aegon’s doing,” you tell him solemnly. “my brother is something of an expert on the subject of wines, and his tolerance is… much higher than mine own.”

jace snorts. “aye, i had noticed.”

you lapse into silence, again, only now you find yourself stealing glances at him. he really is very pretty, you think, though in quite a masculine way. something about the sharp line of his jaw and the curl of his eyelashes keeps drawing your attention, and you suspect you are not being subtle with your admiration in your inebriated state. as you walk by an open window moonlight floods into the hall, sending jace’s profile into sharp relief, and your eyes catch on the smattering of freckles on his smooth skin. something about the pattern makes you think of the stars, and you realise too late that your quick glances have turned to a lingering stare.

“is there something on my face, princess?”

jace’s mockingly innocent words draw your eyes to his. he’s smirking down at you, eyes dancing with amusement, and your cheeks flush. gods, you don’t think you’ve blushed so much in moons compared to the mere hours you’ve spent in his company. the things this man is doing to you — it is unconscionable. you don’t know how much more of this you can take before your resolve breaks.

“i apologise, my prince,” your respond after a beat, teeth biting at your lip. “i did not mean to… i was leagues away.”

his eyes darken, mischief fleeing them in favour of flickers of something else as they linger on your mouth, and that damnable heat in your stomach blazes. you want desperately to surge forward and kiss him, or for him to take you in his hands and kiss you. you just want, and ache, and burn. and it’s too much, far too much for your wine-addled brain to process, but you know if anyone was to happen upon you in this corridor, starting at him with your mouth parted and your breaths shuddering through your lungs, there will be consequences.

“we should— we are almost at my chambers.” your words are stumbling, loud in the sudden quiet that had descended over the pair of you, and jace startles a little, eyes darting away from yours as your stomach plummets. gods, what are you doing? staring at him in such a way? he must think you a simple-minded fool, gaping at him for the sake of a few freckles. you step away from him, rubbing your arm as you turn your eyes to stare intently at your feet instead. “i can make it the rest of the way from here. you should return to the feast.”

jace is quiet for a long moment and you peek up at him to see him watching you with an indecipherable expression for a charged breath before nodding slowly and taking a step away.

“as you wish,” he murmurs, ducking his head in a simple bow. “sweet dreams, princess.”

you stutter out your own farewell, half-convinced you’ll be dreaming of nothing but his hands and his mouth this night, before turning and all but fleeing down the hall.

oh, yes. jacaerys is certainly going to be the death of you.

jace spends the next few days at court so entangled in his responsibilities he feels he barely sets eyes upon you.

he and his mother are roped into starting the celebrations in the absence of the king himself. his grandsire’s health is failing, of that there is no doubt, and after enjoying himself a touch too heartily at the welcome feast he requires a few days to recover. he thinks perhaps that’s why these festivities are so important; it’s unlikely the king will make it to his five and fiftieth name day, and almost certainly not his sixtieth. it leaves him with… complicated feelings.

when his grandsire dies, he will no longer be the heir to the heir, but the heir to the iron throne itself. it’s a daunting thought; for all that his mother has seen him well prepared to sit his throne one day, it feels such an impossible task. he doesn’t understand how he’s ever supposed to be ready for such a thing.

the thought rises, unbidden, that it would be easier with you by his side. with your kind heart but sharp mind, you’d make a fine queen. he finds himself daydreaming of it still and scolding himself all the while for acting the green boy, and yet unable to stop. it’s as if his every thought leads back to you in some way or another — he sees a flower and wonders if you’d like the smell of it, or sees a dress and thinks of how much lovelier it would look on you. at night he indulges in more sensual wonderings, and he swears he’s not felt the urge to touch himself so much since he was a boy of five and ten just starting to discover the pleasures the touch of another can bring.

for all that you’d appeared to reject him the night of the welcome feast, he finds himself certain you desire him just as he does you. in fact, he fancies it’s that very desire that had led to you fleeing his company and avoiding him in the days after.

because you are avoiding him.

yes, he is busy with the festivities and you are perhaps equally so. but he does not think it’s busyness that drives you to seek conversation with absolutely anyone else when he looks for your company, and it is not busyness that has you clinging to aemond’s side so fiercely either. you know he won’t approach you when you’re with your brother, knowing how it hurts you to see them trade barbs and knowing himself well enough to know he will not be able to bite back his rancour if aemond says a word about his father.

jace is not an idiot. he knows what people say about him, the words they barely bother to whisper behind their hands about who his true sire is. he has complicated feelings about that, too, but it all boils down to one simple thing: he is his mother’s son. she is heir to the king, and he is her heir. for him, that’s all that can matter.

he knows it’s all that matters to you, too. for all that your brothers had spit bastard at him for as long as he can remember, you’ve never done so. you’ve never looked at him differently for the rumours of his birth, and it’s just one thing among many he treasures about you.

perhaps it’s foolish, to cling to these childhood feelings so tightly, but he cannot let the idea of the two of you together go. he knows luke has noticed how he stares after you in longing, since his brother has never been shy about teasing him relentlessly. he thinks his mother has noticed, too, from the few carefully inane comments she’s made about betrothals and duty. 

he supposes an argument could be made for the fact that with the years without contact between you, he doesn’t really know you anymore, not as he once did, but he doesn’t feel it matters. he can learn anything new about you and will in fact do so joyfully, but the important things? the things that speak to who you are at your core? jace has always known those, has always felt connected to you in a way he never has with another, and he loves you now just as he did as a boy. 

it would be easier in a way if he felt sure you didn’t reciprocate his feelings. at least then he could try and move on from them, put to bed his endless wonderings of you. but for as often as he turns his head to look at you, he finds you looking away from your own watching of him. the few, brief interactions he has with you over the next few days feel loaded, the desire and affection between you a palpable thing, and he’s tiring of pretending there’s nothing there anymore.

he’s tired of pretending he doesn’t miss you.

so, at the halfway point of the celebrations when there’s another, larger feast held with plenty of chances for dancing and sneaking away into dark corners, he makes it a point to keep an eye on you. the moment he spots you, finally alone, he beelines for you. your attention is on your necklace, readjusting the pendant that rests on your chest, and he cannot help but let his gaze linger on the swell of your breasts as he approaches. he’s found himself staring at your chest more often than is wholly appropriate over the last few days, but then he knows his own weaknesses when it comes to a woman’s form.

“p-prince jacaerys,” you greet weakly when you look up from your necklace, hands smoothing over the skirts of your dress. your eyes dart about the room as if seeking a rescue from someone, and he tries not to feel how such a response to his presence stings. “how are you enjoying the feast?”

“well enough,” he returns, echoing the words you’d spoke to him days ago. gods, has it only been days since that conversation? it feels like an age, and he has felt more distant from you in these passing moments than he is in your years apart.

“that is… good.” your fingers twist around each other, teeth catching on your bottom lip, and he has to swallow back the sudden rush of desire to be the one nipping at the pouting flesh.

“would you do me the honour of a dance, princess?”

his request startles you, eyes widening as your fingers drop back to your side in surprise. he thinks for a wild moment that you’ll say no, make some excuse to remove yourself from him, and he feels himself bracing for the rejection. but you hesitate, searching his face, and whatever you find there seems to soften something in you as you nod.

“of course.” you offer him your hand, an unsure smile on your face.

he takes it with relief, trying not to react at the sensation of your hand in his own. he was right in thinking your hands are smooth, but as he leads you to the dance floor and your fingers slide over his palm he feels the drag of callouses as he’d expected. it pulls him back into that heated imagining of before for a moment, and he has to shake his head slightly to keep himself from losing his wits.

you stay quiet as he guides you into position, dainty hand resting on his shoulder as he places his own at your hip. he leads you through the first few steps in quiet, too, taking the moment to enjoy having you in his arms, having you close. but he realises after a silent minute that you’re obviously not going to say anything, and even as he looks beseechingly at you appear to avoid meeting his eyes.

“you’ve been avoiding me,” he speaks lowly, watching you carefully as you stare purposefully at the bridge of his nose instead of his eyes.

your eyes flicker away and back and then away again, fingers tightening around his own as he leads you through the steps of the dance effortlessly. “aye,” you admit quietly. “i have been.”

“why?” he doesn’t mean to sound so desperate nor so accusing, but the quiet hurt that your absence has caused him surges forth before jace can stop it.

you finally meet his gaze, eyes helpless and wanting and aching, and his stomach twists at the sight of your conflicted expression.

“i— jace, i can’t.” your voice cracks with the weight of your emotion and without thinking he pulls you closer, arm wrapping tight around your waist to provide you some semblance of comfort. “i can’t. not here, please.”

wordlessly he alters the steps of the dance, drawing you with precision through the crowd of dancers until you come to one of the balconies. it’s blessedly empty of anyone else, and as soon as you realise it some tension seems to shake loose of you.

you step out of his grip slowly, almost reluctantly, and walk to the railing, palms splaying on the stone. he joins you after the barest hesitation, drinking you in as you stare out at the courtyard and beyond. he notices how tightly you grip the banister, colour leeching from you knuckles with the strength of your grip, and almost without thinking jace rests his hand beside your own, pinkie fingers brushing. the touch seems to release something in you and he hears how your breath shudders before you speak.

“i embarrassed myself on the night of the welcome feast,” you confess miserably. “i drank too much, and the way that i behaved— staring at you in that way— it was not becoming behaviour of a princess, nor of a, a friend. i did not wish to make you uncomfortable again, so i thought it best i keep my distance from you.”

he blinks in surprise. “uncomfortable?” the mere idea of such a thing is maddening. he recalls the sight of you before him, lips parted and oh so kissable as you’d stared at him with such intention it had set him ablaze. how in the name of the gods can you think he found such a thing uncomfortable? “princess, i can assure you, the only feeling i took from your admiration is delight.”

your head snaps around, eyes finally meeting his own again, and he shakes his head in bemusement at the sight of your desperate hope. “truly? you do not jest?”

he resists the urge to chuckle, knowing you’ll take any kind of laughter, no matter how well meaning, poorly. instead he reaches for you, grasps your hands in his own and tries not to bask in the way you lean into him as he steps recklessly into your space. he feels your trembling breaths puff against his jaw as he ducks his head to stare intently into your eyes, and if he were a weaker man jace thinks he’d be on his knees in prostration for you in that very moment.

“surely you must know how i feel for you?” he murmurs, tracking the way the flush in your cheeks travels down your neck and onto your chest with greedy eyes. “how desperately i adore you?”

“jacaerys—.” you huff, shaking your head in denial for all that with every breath you take you sway ever closer to him. “we hardly know each other anymore. i won’t deny there is, is a yearning between us, mayhaps, but you cannot claim to adore me when you know me not. it’s been years since—"

“—do you think time matters?” he talks over you, strong in his conviction that you and he share a bond that transcends time or distance or duty. “that any distance between us could change what i know in my bones? i loved you before i had a name for it. i loved you when we were children and, yes, i love you again now. mayhaps i don’t know your favourite sweet or if you prefer to watch the sun rise or set, but i know you. i know who you are, princess, for all that i might no longer know the rest of it. i know your good heart, your quick mind and i know that i love you.” he hesitates, drinks in the dawning, open wonder on your face, and then adds, “and i think you might love me just the same.”

you sigh out his name sweetly, fingers tangling with his own as he squeezes your hands tenderly. you tilt your chin towards him as your eyes flutter shut. his nose slides against your own as you turn just so to the side, and your mouth is so close. he could kiss you, right now, and he knows that you would not pull away. but he’s too aware of the noise of the feast, the crowd of people that at any moment could find you in a compromising position.

he wants you, gods does he want you, but he will not ruin your reputation, will not sully your virtue for the sake of a stolen kiss on a balcony when he desires no less than forever with you.

“i will not push you,” he murmurs against your lips, breathing the air right from your lungs as he presses his forehead to yours for just a moment. “if you do not want this — if you do not return my feelings — i won’t push you nor pursue you. i hold too great a respect for you for that.” he cradles your jaw, thumb dragging at the corner of your mouth, and he glories in the way you shudder at his touch. with an unsteady breath he separates himself from you, hands clenching into fists at his side in an effort not to immediately reach for you again.

“but if you decide you want me as i want you, that you love me as ardently as i you, then my chambers will be unguarded and unlocked for you.” he sketches a bow, heart thundering in his chest as you stare at him in wordless shock. “i hope to see you later tonight, my princess.”

you have no chance to respond before jace leaves you standing on the balcony.

he leaves you with your mind swirling, one thought after another coming so quickly you have no hope in processing them. you’re glad to be outside, at least, the cool breeze helping soothe the heat that blazes through your veins as you press your hand over your racing heart. you don’t know what to think, what to feel, what to do. all you can think about is jace, earnest and honest and in love with you.

he’s in love with you (!).

it’s too quick. too much time has passed with too little contact. in the years since he left court you’ve grown into new people, people who for all intents and purposes are strangers to each other. the lust is there, there’s no point in denying that with how your body warms at the smallest glance from him. and that old familiarity that blossomed as friendship as children and now into easy companionship as adults, that remains as it always has. and mayhaps you’ve thought to yourself, in the dark quiet of the night, that you’ll surely love him once more. that to know him any better at all is to love him again, because how can you know him and not love him?

but there’s been years and leagues between you for so long. time and distance have their ways of changing a heart, and he might say it doesn’t matter but it does. it does.

only it doesn’t, not at all, because giddiness is bubbling up in you so sudden that you cannot fight it, a helpless laugh escaping you as you press your hand over your mouth in unabashed amazement. your brave prince, plunging headfirst into the long-unspoken feelings between you. it incites you to act, drives you back into the hall where you catch aegon for long enough to tell him you’re retiring for the night before escaping into the quiet corridors.

you feel like your heart is going to burst in your chest, nerves and excitement and awe twisting together inside of you until you feel like you might vibrate out of your own skin. the walk to jace’s chambers is a haze, and in the morning you expect you’ll panic, wonder if anyone saw you walking so shamelessly towards the prince’s rooms. but now, in this moment, all you can think of is how fervently you want him, how guilelessly you love him.

the knock on his door — unguarded, as he had promised — echoes loudly in the silent corridor. you can hear your own heartbeat thundering in your ears as you wait for him to answer, and when he finally does he takes your breath away.

he’s shed his doublet and sword belt, standing in only his breeches and a billowing off-white tunic. the ties are loose on his neck and you’re entranced by the peek of tanned skin there, the freckles you can see disappearing beneath the shirt. he says your name, once, and your eyes snap back to him in time to see the relief and wonder coalesce into smouldering fire.

he curls his fingers around your wrist, thumb swiping over the delicate skin in a way that makes you shiver, and he uses the hold to wordlessly tug you into his chambers. you step into the space, eyes darting from the large bed to the roaring fire and back to the bed again as he locks the doors behind you.

you are finally, blissfully, alone.

you feel his presence behind you, heat and woodsmoke radiating from him as you turn to face him. something in your chest loosens at the blatant awe in his amber eyes, like liquid gold in the light of the flames, and before you can pause to think you’re speaking, your feelings escaping you in a flood.

“i shouldn’t be here,” you say shamelessly. “i know my being here is—. i shouldn’t be here. but i couldn’t not be, jace, not when you left without giving me a chance to tell you how i feel. because, gods, of course i feel for you. it’s unreasonable, insensible— there’s so much about each other we just don’t know anymore.” you shake your head, smiling at him wide and helpless and hopelessly, hopelessly in love with him. “but despite all the rationality in the world, all the good sense — despite knowing the trouble this is sure to bring us — i am completely and utterly in love with you, jacaerys velaryon.”

he kisses you, then, surges into your space and cups your cheeks and slots his mouth so sweetly against yours. you gasp into his lips as he kisses you deliberate, slow and tender in a way that makes your chest ache. your arms loop around his neck, pulling him as close as you can as his own arms wrap around your waist. your noses bump and your teeth clash in your eagerness and it’s still glorious, it’s the best kiss you’ve ever experienced because it’s him.

it’s always been him.

you part after a few minutes, remaining close together as he runs his hand through your hair before cradling your face once more. “tell me again,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing your breath.

“i love you,” you say, smiling so wide it makes your cheeks ache. “i love you, i love you, i lo—”

he kisses you again, a quick press of his mouth against your this time, and then he’s laughing softly as his golden eyes shine down at you. “i have loved you forever,” he tells you, indulgent and affectionate as his thumb traces over your cheek. “i will love you forever, my princess.”

he draws you closer still, holds you tightly against him but far enough that he can drink you in, and for long moments you simply bask in the presence of each other, of this slow unfurling of happiness in your heart. this close to him, you can once again see the freckles dotted across his face. without even thinking of it your hand rises, and with butterfly-gentle fingers you trace a path over the constellations mapped on sun-kissed skin. jace sighs softly with your touch, dark lashes fluttering closed as his lips part.

“iksā sīr gevie [you are so beautiful],” you murmur, slipping into high valyrian in the quiet of his chambers.

he exhales shakily, breath hitching in his chest as your fingers brush gently over his eyelids, the slope of his nose, the furrow of his brow. you want to remember him like this forever – bathed in the soft firelight, trembling beneath your tender touch, wholly and entirely yours.

“ñuha dārilaros [my princess],” he breathes, and hearing him speak possessively of you in your mother tongue ignites something within you so suddenly you cannot fight it.

arousal roars to life, deep in your belly, and you are helpless but to do anything but lean forward and press your lips to his once more. jace meets you just as greedily, hands gripping tightly to the flesh of your hips as he hauls you closer until your chests press together. your hand moves from his face to fist in his hair, tugging at his curls until he whines against your lips. he kisses you deep and open mouthed and filthy, tongue sliding against yours so deliciously that you can feel heat pulse between your legs.

one of his hands comes up to tangle in your hair, pulling until your head is tilted back. he trails hot, wet kisses along your neck and you hiss at the sensation, pressing his head closer to your skin. you feel him smirk against you before he mouths at your pulse point, teeth nipping just enough to send a thrill of pain and pleasure through you.

“jace,” you moan, grinding against him shamelessly as he sucks a bruise into the sensitive skin of your throat. you want him so fiercely it makes you reckless, makes you insatiable as the hand not buried in his curls drags down his back to grip at his ass. he groans against you, your name spilling from his lips so deep and husky that you want to do whatever you can to make him say it like that again and again and again.

“this is— we shouldn’t,” he says into your skin. he pushes at the shoulder of your dress to expose more of your bare skin to his greedy eyes, lips trailing the path his fingers have taken. “we should wait until we—. if anyone knew of this—”

“—no one will know,” you assure him, fingers flexing into the taut skin of his ass to drive him closer to you.

“i don’t want to, to besmirch your honour.” even as he speaks he’s dragging his tongue against your collarbone, chasing a bead of sweat down to the swell of your chest.

“fuck my honour,” you burst out, and your language has him moaning. you hitch your leg around his waist and his hand drops instantly to grip you at the knee, pulling you just so until the hard length of him is grinding deliciously against your core. you can’t think, can’t breathe, for wanting him. his touch and his scent and his taste consumes you, inflames you, and you care for nothing but the feel of him against you.

he pulls away from your chest, mouth swollen and pupils blown as he pants hotly. he presses his forehead to yours, squeezing your hip to still you as you shamelessly try to rub yourself against him. “this will bring ruin to you if it gets out, do you understand? it would break me to be the cause of such a thing.”

his desperation makes you hesitate, something about the fierce tone breaking into the haze of lust that consumes you. you take a moment to look at him, and you know with certainty that if you ask him to stop right this second he will.

but you don’t want him to stop. you’ve never wanted anything less.

“jace.” you cup his cheek, thumb dragging over his bottom lip as you force him to keep your gaze. “i know the risks of this as well as anyone.” you lean in closer, your nose sliding against his before you tilt your head to pepper soft, deliberate kisses along his jaw, the corner of his mouth. “i love you.” he sighs softly in pleasure before turning his head to capture your mouth again, and this kiss is a softer, slower thing.

when you break apart, you stare deeply into his eyes, making sure he can see the truth of your words. the heat in his amber eyes threatens to splinter you to pieces as you swallow thickly, almost overwhelmed once more with your desire for him.

“i am yours, jacaerys velaryon,” you say steadily. “no matter what happens from here— i belong to you.”

it’s like a dam breaks in him. his hands are suddenly everywhere as his mouth devours yours relentlessly, leaving you gasping and arching into his touch. he backs you towards his bed as his hands fist in your skirts, bunching the material up to your hips. he breaks from your mouth long enough to tug your dress over your head, leaving you in your thin small clothes, and despite the sweltering heat of the room your nipples harden beneath the sheer material.

“look at you, pretty thing,” he says reverentially, the weight of his heated gaze tangible as he stares at your heaving chest. “is this all for me?”

“yes,” you hiss, head tilting back as he trails kisses down the column of your throat. “all for you, jace. only ever for you.”

he groans at your words, deft fingers making quick work of the complicated stays of the brassiere, and when the material falls from you he stares for a long moment as if transfixed by the sight of your bare breasts. it makes you smug, knowing that those times you’ve caught his eyes lingering on your chest haven’t just been in your imagination.

“you are perfect,” he murmurs worshipfully, large hand cupping the side of your breast tenderly. “such a perfect girl for me.”

his thumb sweeps over your nipple, featherlight at first before returning more firmly when you sigh and lean into his touch. his other hand grips your hip once more, pulling you close to him as he lavishes more attention on your neck. he nips and kisses his way down your throat, your shoulder, the swell of your breast until he’s hunched slightly in front of you, sucking bruises into the tender skin of your chest.

“jacaerys, please.” you know not what you’re pleading for, only that you need something, and it’s as if he can read your mind as his mouth closes over your nipple. his hand, now free, gropes at your other breast as his tongue swirls tight circles around your nipple and your head tips back with a moan. it’s somehow enough and yet not, your hips bucking aimlessly as heat and slick pools between your legs, and you crave.

“more, please,” you beg shamelessly.

jace drops to the floor in response and the sight of him on his knees for you has your head spinning. he presses open mouthed kisses to the soft skin of your abdomen, bites gently at your hip as his hands slide steadily up your legs. you tremble beneath his careful ministrations, and he murmurs wordless assurances into your sweat-slick skin.

he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your smalls, dragging them agonisingly slowly down your legs until you can step out of them. standing completely bare before him you expect to find yourself shy, but the way jace looks at you rapturously has liquid heat licking through your veins instead.

he leaves lingering kisses on your thigh and down your leg, and when his mouth brushes over the tender skin at the back of your knee you feel them buckle. he huffs a gentle laugh against you, warm hands cradling your waist as he urges you to sit back on the bed. you do so unsteadily, planting your hands against the soft feather mattress and watching him with intent ardour.

he nudges your legs apart and settles between them, his shoulders spreading you wide around him and you release a soft breath as his thumbs rub soothing circles into your thighs. “let me take care of you, my princess,” he pleads, eyes wide and soft and beseeching as he gazes up at you. you nod hesitantly, not wholly sure what he intends, but then his eyes finally drop to your core and darken so quickly it makes your mouth dry.

“gods, look at you.” he drags a finger through your folds and your head cants back, a whine escaping you at the touch. “you’re so wet for me, love. so gorgeous.” he brings his finger to his mouth, licking it clean of your slick and it has your mouth dropping open because he’s obscene, you think. he’s glorious.

“you taste so good,” he says, his voice so rough with arousal it makes you shiver. “wanna taste more of you.”

with no more warning that that, he licks a deliberate strip along your slit before circling his tongue over your clit. your hand shoots to his hair, tangling in the dark curls as he feasts on you. his name falls from your lips over and over again like a prayer as he laps at your core, tongue pressing deliciously inside you. you grind wantonly against his mouth, panting as he laves at your cunt.

your pleasure climbs sharply, rising so high you’re helpless to resist the way your stomach tightens. as if sensing your approaching high jace shifts his focus to your pulsing clit, flicking his tongue rapidly over the bundle of nerves.

“jace, gods, feels so good,” you gasp out, fingers tightening in his curls to press his head impossibly closer. “please don’t stop, ‘m so close—”

he sucks harshly on your pearl, ever so carefully dragging his teeth over the sensitive flesh, and you fall to pieces as that tightly wound ball in your stomach snaps. he coaxes you through the trembling release, gentling his attention on you to drag out your pleasure until you’re squirming away from him in sensitivity. when he pulls away from your core his face is shining with your slick and the sight makes you feel feral. you bend to reach him and he presses up to meet you, kissing you hot and messy as you drink the taste of yourself from his mouth.

“you did so well for me, my princess,” he pants into your mouth as he crowds you onto the bed and the praise blooms hot in your chest. “need you to be good for me a little longer, okay? need to prepare you.”

you whimper, capturing his mouth in another sloppy kiss and nipping thoughtlessly at his lips as he settles between your legs. you can feel the heavy length of him against your hip, kept from you by his breeches, and you’re suddenly insensible with desire to see more of his skin. you tug wordlessly at the hem of his tunic, pulling it free from his trousers, and with a huff of fond amusement he separates from you to pull it over his head and toss it aside.

you drink in the exposed planes of his chest, leaning up to drag your tongue from freckle to freckle along his collarbone, and jace groans out your name in response. you follow the map of constellations down his chest, pressing kisses and gentle bites to the skin until you come to one of his nipples. hesitantly you flick your tongue out, curl it around the puckered skin just as jace had done to you earlier.

“fuck,” he hisses, fingers clenching in the sheets as his arms tremble with the strain of keeping himself steady above you.

emboldened by his response you lavish the pebbled bud with attention, switching to the other when the fancy takes you, until jace is shuddering with desire and pushing your shoulders back into the bed. he swallows your protests with a flurry of kisses as his fingers trail down your chest, your abdomen until he reaches the heat between your legs. he presses a finger against you again and you arch into the touch, tossing your head back into the pillows.

“i want you so badly,” he confesses in a whisper as he sucks another bruise into your neck.

“yes,” you respond senselessly, hips bucking up to meet the slow stroke of his finger. “want you, jace, please.”

“i need to prepare you first, love,” he tells you again and you whine in displeasure. “i don’t wish to hurt you, so i need to get you ready for me.”

you’ve heard that it can hurt, what happens in bed between a man and a woman. you can’t comprehend the idea with how good you feel right now, how good he’s made you feel already, but you nod in acquiescence at jace’s stubborn expression and he beams down at you.

“that’s my good girl,” he utters affectionately, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

the finger that’s been sliding leisurely against you shifts, pressing inside with a familiar stretch. you’ve touched yourself before, explored what pleasure you can draw from your own body in the late of the night. you don’t know if it’s different because it’s the angle or just because it’s jace, but the feeling of his finger pumping into you is so much better than anything you’ve managed with your own clumsy digits and you moan with the pleasure of it.

“you’re so tight,” he says in amazement, burning gold eyes staring down at you worshipfully. “can’t wait to be inside you, my princess.”

you moan at his filthy words, hips bucking into his touch as he presses a second finger into you. this one pinches more, makes it almost uncomfortable until jace starts to rub slow circles over your clit with his thumb. any discomfort melts into liquid pleasure as he mouths at your neck once more, fingers crooking inside of you just so until stars burst behind your eyes.

“fuck, jacaerys—”

he shushes you softly even as his eyes gleam with smug pride. he picks up the pace, now, fucking you with his fingers as your pleasure starts to climb once more. just when you start to feel like you can’t take it anymore he slides a third finger in, the stetch burning deliciously this time, and you come apart on his fingers with a strangled moan of his name. he doesn’t relent this time, though, even when you writhe helplessly beneath him; he just chases another release for you without giving you a chance to recover, and the thrill rises so quickly it almost makes it a little hard to breathe.

“just one more,” he soothes as you whine, pressing delicate kisses to the corner of your mouth as he drives his fingers into you relentlessly. “you’re doing so well. just one more for me.”

your third climax hits you so hard your back bows up from the bed, mouth parting in a silent cry of pleasure as jace coaxes you through it before pulling his fingers from you. you ache at the loss, mewling your displeasure as your cunt clenches around nothing. he breathes a laugh at your impatience, kissing you so sweetly in such contrast to the delicious heat between you that it almost makes you weep.

with shaking hands you reach for the ties of his breaches, fumbling with the laces while he kisses you languidly. you make a triumphant little noise when you finally untie them and he smiles at you, adoring and soft and yet somehow feverishly aroused as you push the leather trousers down his hips. he helps you the rest of the way, kicking them off before returning to hover over you.

your hands brush his abdomen as you reach for him, fingers curling gently around the hard line of his cock, and he realises a shuddering breath in response. he watches you intently as you stare at his arousal, fascinated by the way your fingers barely close around the thick girth of him. he’s going to fill you so well, you realise, and you bite your lip as your core clenches again. the tip of him is leaking fluid, and you drag your hand up his cock to swipe your thumb over the head.

jace moans at the movement, so you do it again and again, watching in inflamed curiosity at the way his stomach contracts as he thrusts into your hand, the wet noise of it making you flush down to your toes as desire sparks in your core. his hand covers your own abruptly, stopping your exploration, and you pout up at him as he fixes you with a blazing stare.

“if you keep doing that, i’m not going to last,” he says, voice shaking with the weight of his desire.

“fine.”

you huff, pretending at annoyance even as you eagerly lie back and spread your legs for him. you fix him with an expectant look, raising an eyebrow, and he chuckles fondly as he settles himself between your legs once more. you’re not expecting the velvet heat of him dragging against you and you gasp at the sensation, grinding against him as he thrusts shallowly against you.

“are you ready for me, love?” he checks, cradling your face in his hands as his thumb rubs over your jaw.

you turn to press a kiss against his palm, near overwhelmed with your love and affection for this man. “yes,” you say simply, and it’s all the permission he needs as he ducks down to kiss you unhurriedly.

his head catches at your opening on the next thrust, and with the slightest shift of your hips he’s pressing inside of you. the stretch of him burns, pinches, but just as he did with his fingers, he worms his hand between your bodies to drag circles over your clit. you do your best to relax, keeping your eyes fixed on his golden stare as he slides into you, agonisingly slow.

the whole while he keeps up a litany of praise, calling you good and precious and perfect as sweat beads along his forehead. when he’s finally fully sheathed inside you he stills his movements, kisses you hard and wanting as he thumbs at your pearl, and when you’re ready you tilt your hips. the stretch of him burns, still, but in a way that sets your skin alight as you cling to his shoulders.

he moans your name like a prayer, drawing away from you until the tip of his cock catches at your entrance once more, and this time when he sinks back in your eyes roll back into your head. he feels so good, stretching and filling you so completely that you’ve no room to think, to breathe, to do anything but take it as he thrusts into you. he buries his head in your neck, resting on his forearms as he plunges into you again and again and again, and between your own choked breaths and the sounds of skin against skin, you hear him muttering in high valyrian.

“sīr sȳz syt nyke, sīr ȳrda, sīr lōz. vēttan syt nyke. ñuha dārilaros, mirre ñuhon [so good for me, so tight, so wet. made for me. my princess, all mine].”

it drives you wild, his voice and his words and hearing him speak in valyrian combined with the exquisite torture of the slow drag of his cock inside you. it’s too much, not enough, and leaves you with nothing but the need to feel as much of him as you possibly can. your hands drag up and down his back, fingernails leaving raised red lines in their wake as you seek to be as close to him as you can bear.

“more, jace, gods, please, i need—”

he cuts you off with a hard thrust, your breath punching out of your lungs as he starts to drive into you harder and faster. it’s so good, so fucking good, but still not quite enough and you whine, seeking something you’re not sure you know how to verbalise.

“whatever you need, love. i’ll give you whatever you need.”

understanding your need even when you don’t, jacaerys rears up, grips your legs and presses your knees to your chest before bearing down on you. like this he reaches so deep it hurts in the most unbearably, searingly pleasurable way. and it’s perfect, exactly what you needed, feeling him so far inside you that it soothes you and ignites you and makes you ache all at once.

“y’feel so good,” you manage to slur out, head lolling as you lose yourself to the feel of him taking you apart so expertly. “so— fuck— so deep. so good, jace, so good.”

jace groans your name, pounding into you so hard and so deep that it’s unconscionable, has your eyes rolling back into your head as your hips buck up to meet him recklessly. your peak approaches again, searing heat blazing through you as you inch closer to another climax, and all you can do is whine and moan as he fills you over and over again. he starts to lose the thread of his rhythm as you clench around him, valyrian and common tongue mixing senselessly as praise spills from his lips.

“avy jorrāelan [i love you] my perfect girl, gūrogon nyke sīr sȳrī [take me so well], can’t get enough of you, hells, i love you, ao sagon ñuhon [you’re mine], my love, my princess, my queen, ñuha ābrazȳrys [my wife].”

you come so hard you see stars, walls pulsing around jace’s cock as he curses. he thrusts sloppily into you, chasing his own release and dragging out your own as you keen, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. he finds completion with a drawn out noise, seed spilling hot and thick inside of you as he lazily pumps his hips two, three more times before collapsing on top of you.

you press absent kisses to his temple, brushing back the sweat-soaked curls from where they’ve matted on his forehead as he shudders against you. you feel lethargic, body aching in the sweetest of ways as you fight to catch your breath. eventually the heavy weight of jace on top of you becomes uncomfortable and you squirm beneath him in protest. with a sigh he slides himself free of you, rolling over onto his back and wrapping an arm around you to pull you with him so that you sprawl over his chest.

you bury your smile into his neck, satisfaction settling bone-deep as his hand runs up and down your back idly. for long moments the two of simply lie together in the quiet, the only sound the rustling of the sheets and the crackle of the dying fire.

“i’ll speak to my mother and the king on the morrow,” he says into the quiet and you raise your head to look at him. he looks serious, amber eyes contemplative as he peers down at you. “i’ll not let another night pass without you as my betrothed.” he smiles at you then, a little crooked as his eyes crinkle, and without thought you reach up to press a lingering kiss to his mouth.

“i love you,” you say, eyes shining with mischief. “ñuha valzȳrys [my husband].”

jace swallows your laugh with another kiss, doing a poor job of hiding his own amusement as his smile presses to yours, and as the candles burn down you let all of your worries and doubts fade.

you love him. he loves you.

there’s nothing else that matters.

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬

Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.

Cw: fem!reader, cisgender female reader (I'm sorry mascs and nbs, I'll make something for you later) incest/targcest implied for later, platonic and romantic yanderes, yandere EVERYONE x reader, here's a list of every character that will be featured (not all of them are romantic):Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen, Rhea Royce, Alicent Hightower, Otto Hightower, Viserys I Targaryen, Aegon II Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Haelena Targaryen, Daeron Targaryen, Lucerys Velaryon, Jacaerys Velaryon, Laena Velaryon, Laenor Velaryon

Notes: I go by a very strange mix of the series and the books, I haven't seen the series in a while so the timeline will most likely be a mess. I'd like this to be a series but I've been incredibly busy. Extra: at first I thought about making reader Mysaria's daughter, but this is a self insert, so it's best that you look however you like, leaving the mother anonymous. The only physical reference I'll make will be reader's silver hair

>After Rhaenyra was declared the heir of the iron throne, Daemon, insulted, flew away with his mistress, the white worm, who he would conceive a child with, even asking for a dragon egg for the prince or princess to come

>However, Viserys demanded him to go back to his home and wife, he sent Mysaria off to lys, where the stress of a storm in the trip back made her lose the baby

>Daemon never fully forgave his brother, and this left him less than eager to have another child anytime soon

>So imagine his surprise, when 7 years later, there's a rumour spreading in flea bottom like wildfire, about a girl carrying Daemon's bastard

>Many women had claimed to carry a royal child before, thinking this could give them any sort of prize, so Daemon didn't think much of it at first, but when he heard her name, he recognized her as one of his previous "favorites" who disappeared without a trace months ago

>She was said to have taken residence in Essos, and Daemon went on dragonback to find her. She was from the free cities, five years older than Daemon, and a heart as cold as a northern winter, or so they said. She was not expecting Daemon, running away to have the child in peace

>"They said I was too far along when I found out, moon tea would've only harmed me. Besides, it was lucrative in its own way" said the woman. Daemon did little to suppress the disgust on his face when thinking about her being defiled by other men while carrying his dragonseed babe

>She wanted no part in the baby's life, and Daemon, in his particular fashion, informed her he'd take the youngling as soon as it's out of her, may even pay her a few coins to make sure she won't do much as think about keeping it

>A few months passed, and he returned to king's landing with a babe in arms. Demanding an egg in honor of the birth of princess Y/N Targaryen

>This egg would later hatch into the dragon Dagahrion, the princess' bound dragon

>The court was a hot mess, according to Otto, he wouldn't be surprised if the young creature lost its left ear because of all the gossip and ill-speaking of her, just like her father. This was a scandal, considering he was still married to Rhea Royce, who he gravely dishonored time and time again, Daemon was always shameless, but this was crossing a limit, even for him, to call his bastard a princess while refusing to lay with his own rightful wife, disgraceful

>Daemon tried to use you as yet another attempt to get his brother to annul his marriage to "the bronze bitch", but even when he failed, he did everything in his power to legitimize his daughter

>Despite everyone on the council telling Viserys how foolish it'd be to do it, making enemies out of the Royce house, further insulting Rhea, and putting a whoreborn on the line of succession (no matter how far from the throne), all it took was a little yawn and the bright twinkle of your eyes to make him melt, he is fully committed to his role of uncle, even as a doting grandfather, considering his father passed long before her birth

>Viserys sent Daemon back to the Vale, saying he should do his best to give lady Rhea an heir, to make up for the slip and avoid causing the Targaryen house any more trouble. Viserys, for totally not selfish reasons wanted to keep the princess in KL, saying Rhea should not be made to raise his bastard

>Daemon said he'd rather be exiled again than to leave his daughter in Hightower hands to go try to fuck his wife. Viserys was greatly offended by the implication that the Hightowers truly ruled and schemed while he reigned

>To his outmost displeasure, he finally had to let his niece go to the Vale with her father

>Rhea loved you as soon as she set eyes on you, completely separating you from your father's actions, and seeing you as a pure angel in this horrible situation

>But it was so difficult with Daemon around, she just wanted to whisk you away and love you, she'd pray to the mother to be able to breastfeed you, crying when she heard you wail in frustration of your hunger, since it took several wet nurses to get you to drink milk

>But Daemon was always around to remind her you were not hers, that he considered her lowly, not worthy of you. He'd correct you when you learning to speak, and dared to refer to her as "mama"

>It was said the ground of the vale would shake upon them yelling when fighting over you

>But this joy to Rhea was short lived, as Daemon sent you to KL when he had to fight in the war of the stepstones, saying the "nest of vipers" was more deserving of you than she was. When you were three, your step mother had an accident while hawking, many said Daemon orderded for her to be poisoned when she was bed bound, others said the distress of your parting made her lose skill

>It was Viserys greatest pleasure when you were left at his care, his adorable baby niece was now an infant, and somehow you were even more charming, being able to speak, sing and walk

>To no one's surprise, Viserys' reaction was not generalized, with many not being keen on having a bastard running around the castle playing with the princes, by that point, Aegon was 8, Haelena was 7, Aemond was 5, and Daeron was 1, and almost all of them could see people treated you differently

>Rhaenyra was welcoming, baby Lucerys had just been born, and she was delighted to have a girl to spoil, it only helped that Jacaerys loved you as well, and would often fight his uncles for the chance to be with you

>Alicent in particular was not pleased with your presence, thinking you were an uncomfortable conversation to have with her children, especially resentful of the fact her youngest son would be attached at the hip with you

>To Otto, you were an annoyance, a living proof of Daemon's pure disregard for the norms, however, he could rest at night knowing you were ninth in the line of succession, and a girl, who would someday marry a son of a minor house and be too busy bearing children to present a claim to the iron throne

>Even though the Hightowers were tougher than the king, they did eventually succumb to your spell, and became just as enamoured with you as everyone else, in their minds, you were almost a product of spontaneous generation, completely ignoring your shameful father and prostitute mother

>Your arrival also caused the birth of Lucerys (who was again, born with a striking resemblance of Harwin Strong, just like his older brother) to be less gossiped about, after all, your case was much more interesting

>Some people in court starting referring to you as "The princess of flea bottom", this title costed quite a few tongues around the castle, ordered by Viserys, happily approved by Otto

>The Hightower hand was careful not to show too much affection to you, as it was improper and he knew how zealous was Viserys when it came to you

>Aegon was "already too old to be playing" in his words, and kept his distance from you, you reminded him to much of his sticky handed little brothers

>But as if you knew, you chased him around and praised him for his knightly demeanor (in your eyes) and how he's just like the heroes in Viserys' stories. It was not a long time before Aegon now appointed himself as your guard, watching like a hawk over his brothers and nephews when he thought they were being too rough on you

>Haelena loves you from the start, sees you as a little doll, she loves showing you her bugs, you're the only one who listens to her attentively

>Jacaerys and Daeron are only a year old, but always search for you, you think they're cute, something that spikes jealousy on Aemond, he wants you to think of him as someone worthy of admiration, like you see his older brother, he'd even accept being cute in your eyes, but he has none of those traits to appeal to you. You love him and love playing with him nonetheless, but he thinks he needs something else to win your favor

>The Velaryons dote on you too, with Laenor married to Rhaenyra and once your father marries Laena that same year, they are maybe too eager to become part of your family, and regard you as theirs

>Especially Laena, who Daemon allows (unlike with Rhea) to pamper and care for you, but still corrects you when it comes to remembering your origins, Laena may love you, but she's not your mother

>Maybe Daemon does this as a way to imagine you're only his, he doesn't care for the woman who abandoned such a precious treasure, she has been wiped away from your life and memory, you're only familiar with your father, you only belong to him

>You have his silver hair, you have his name, no matter who your mother was, you are his true valyrian heir, his dragonseed

>Unfortunately, Daemon is not the only one whose eyes light up when thinking of owning you

[venusbyline]

Haunted ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 28, oct.

(late post)

— pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Rivers!reader x Alys Rivers

— type: smut, dark, Kinktober (House of the Dragon Edition)

— kink: breast fucking

— summary: In fact, Harrenhal was driving Daemon insane and seemed to be so fucking haunted, because as soon as he woke up, there was no trace that what the three of you did during the night had actually happened.

— word count: 1.4k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 28th day, female!reader, Alys Rivers's younger sister!reader, dark!Alys Rivers, dark!reader, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, breast fucking, rape/non-con (but becomes dubcon later), breast worship, non-con somnophilia, threesome (female/female/male), Rivers Incest (older sister/younger sister), large breasts, forced orgasm, cum eating, cum shot, curse words, oral sex (male receiving), vaginal fingering, rough kiss, overstimulation, hallucinations, ambiguous/open ending, cheating, mind manipulation, age gap (older man/younger woman/older woman), implied breastfeeding kink, mommy issues, erotic dreams/nightmares, implied Targcest (mother/son), open to interpretation, bisexual!reader, bisexual!Alys, Rivers sisters are witches, haunted castle, The Curse of Harrenhal, married Daemon Targaryen/Rhaenyra Targaryen, referenced Daemon Targaryen/Alyssa Targaryen, implied Mysaria/Rhaenyra Targaryen, Laena Velaryon mentioned, Alicent Hightower mentioned, sadism, switch!Daemon, dom!Alys, dom!reader, canon divergence, porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @baybaybear1 @blessedbymoon @p45510n4f4shi0n @lina-lovebug @moonnicole @badger-reads @dearjardim

— crossposting: AO3

One of the things Daemon Targaryen loved most about women were their breasts. He was a great breasts lover, whether they were large, small or medium, different colors of nipples...

Although Daemon liked cunts, butts, thighs and hips too, nothing compared to his appreciation for breasts. He loved Laena's medium breasts, he had loved Rhaenyra's small breasts when she was young and then he also grew to loved how big they were after she was pregnant six times. And even though he hated to admit it, he actually enjoyed watching Alicent's tiny underdeveloped breasts covered by her pretty dresses when she was a teenager, before she married his older brother and became a fucking annoying bitch with each passing year of her adult life.

With his arrival at Harrenhal, it all seemed too much. Maybe it was the conversations with the weird healer, Alys Rivers, but he was feeling... Tempted. He was constantly having dreams and nightmares, involving Rhaenyra, Laena and even his mother, who he could not even meet because she passed away when he was just a little baby. His mind was tormented by strange and troubled thoughts, peculiar desires. Daemon was never known for being the most loyal partner in the world, but he did never even considered cheating on Rhaenyra during the recent years.

However, staying at Harrenhal was destroying what little sanity that he still had. When it was not the nightmares and macabre visions in the wreckage of the castle or Alys Rivers talking cryptically to him, it was you trying to seduce him. He did not know almost anything about you. From the few rumors he heard in those days, you must be some daughter of Alys Rivers or more likely her younger sister. Either way, you were probably a bastard of House Strong too. He did not care much about your constant glances in his direction, or how you seemed to devour him with your hungry eyes. Daemon had more important things to do than care about a little girl who was turned on about him.

Well... At least he thought that way until he woke up from a nightmare. Another terrible nightmare. Another erotic dream with his mother, Alyssa Targaryen. He did not even know her, but his mind was making him think about her all the time during the dream. The full and pretty lips, the pointed nose, the extremely beautiful and sensual violet eyes, the delightful body and milky skin, the curves of the hips, the stretch marks on the stomach, the large breasts... Damn, those damn breasts. What kind of curse could that stupid castle be poisoning him, making Daemon dream he was being breastfeeding by his own mother? The woman he had never even met. It was so disgusting, and yet he could not help but groan in frustration when he woke up, realizing that there was no more milk on his lips. Alyssa was not truly called him her favorite son, she was not stroking his hair while he was being fed...

Daemon was about to stand up and take a deep breath, before his eyes widened as he felt his member being pressed. Or rather, crushed against two soft things.

"Seven Hells... What the fuck?" He moaned in confusion, opening eyes with his vision still blurred, despairing when he saw you smirking, rubbing his cock between your big breasts.

"Another nightmare?" You teased, your voice sounding more sensual than all the brothel whores he had fucked in the past. And the quantity was really high. "About your hot mommy?"

Daemon kept his eyes wide, stuttering like a pathetic little boy. He did not look like the almost fifty years old King Consort and exceptional warrior anymore, you had turned him into a confused mess, moans echoing as you pressed your own breasts harder, making his cock disappear in the middle. "S-Stop it! Stop it right now or I will rip your head off!"

His death threat was not real. Both of you knew that. He would not kill you. He did not even truly want you to stop. He needed more physical touch, he needed to have sex, to feel the warmth of a woman again, something Rhaenyra had been denying him since the labour of the stillborn Visenya and Lucerys' murder, as well as the death of his father, the usurpation of her Iron Throne caused by the Greens and her anger knowing that Daemon was the causer for the death of a little child. The innocent Jaehaerys, firstborn son of Helaena and Aegon.

Daemon knew he should understand her reasons. But he was also a man with high sexual desires, and given the chaos in their marriage, he was more than eager to cum.

Considering how sensitive and even sore his cock already was, Daemon pictured you had been taking advantage of his body for hours while he slept, raping him during his erotic nightmares. Now, he was sure you already knew what he was dreaming about and what he wanted and needed so much.

"Would you rather kill me or cum on my breasts and my face for the third time?" You asked mockingly and the man frowned, swallowing hard with embarrassment and some irritation when he finally noticed that your breasts were already covered with his cum and your face had a few drops of it too. You were making the most of the situation.

Instead of answering you, Daemon swallowed hard again and pushed his hips higher, starting to help you to fuck your breasts, your tongue touching the head of his cock and making him moan and growl, desperate for a distraction and eager to cum as many times as possible his body could handle it. "Y-You are going to pay for this..." He groaned, squirming when you placed your hands on your breasts and tightening them harder. "O-Oh, fuck. You fucking bastard whore... Rhaenyra will want to kill us when she finds out about this." Daemon threw his head back, body trembling while he released his seed with a guttural moan, painting your face with those white drops again.

Daemon heard you chuckle and saw you run your fingers over your cheeks, licking the cum and smirking at him, who was still panting and with a look mixed with anger, lust and hesitation. He wanted so badly to strangle you or fuck you until your breasts became even bigger and heavier after the bastard children that he would insist on placing inside your womb.

"I have my doubts that your wife will care about your incestuous dreams or your extramarital affairs here in Harrenhal. She is too busy wanting to fuck your ex-lover. Mysaria, I guess." The sudden appearance of Alys Rivers and her words left Daemon stunned. He wanted to tell her to fuck off and that she was just lying for fun, but he fell silent when she started tearing off her nightgown, her body with beautiful breasts approached the two of you as she crouched next to you on the bed, crushing and scratching the soft flesh of your chest with her long nails, giving you an intense kiss, both of your mouths hungry for each other, blood dripping from the bites. Daemon's eyes remained focused and wide at the sight, just as his cock became hard again. "I guess Daemon can handle a few more orgasms before he goes completely insane, right, little sister?" Alys Rivers teased and you nodded with a giggle, giving her one last kiss before the two of you smirked at each other, watching as Daemon closed his eyes so he could try to control himself as you began to pump his cock, already so creamy with his own seed, ached and sensitive. Alys took advantage of the fact that your hands being busy and she put Daemon's big and thick member inside her mouth, one hand caressing his balls carefully and the other hand fingering deeply and roughly her sister's tight little cunt.

In fact, Harrenhal was driving Daemon insane and seemed to be so fucking haunted, because as soon as he woke up, there was no trace that what the three of you did during the night had actually happened. Every day staying inside was like being on the brink of complete madness. He never knew what was real or a hallucination. All he knew was that during the following afternoon, he saw you and Alys sharing mocking giggles at the sight of him looking very scared and confused, walking around the castle.

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[hyperfixatedimagines]

The Queen’s Ward (Alicent x f!reader)

Summary: Alicent and the lady (y/n) Velaryon had never seen eye to eye but as Lady (y/n) is forced to be a ward underneath the Queen’s icy gaze she finds that Alicent is not all that she seems, and that while her gaze is icy her touch is quite hot.

A/N: This is my take on book canon Alicent. Very much not canon compliant. It’s a little smutty but nothing crazy. As always, let me know what you think!

From a young age (y/n) had been the very image of elegance and grace. Her manners were impeccable and her beauty immeasurable. Princess Rhaenys had weathered a lifetime of compliments about (y/n) by the time (y/n) was ten years of age.

The dragon egg placed in her bed never hatched but (y/n) claimed Silverwing at the age of seven. The she-dragon had been spotted resting in the sand dunes of Driftmark one summer and (y/n) was determined to claim her birthright.

And claimed it she did. Silverwing bonded to her instantly.

To the world, especially to lady Alicent Hightower, it seemed as though Lady (y/n) had no flaws. She was perfect. 

While Princess Rhaenyra was dubbed the realm’s delight, young lady (y/n) was dubbed the realm’s beauty.

As (y/n) grew, so did the pressure for her to marry. Lord Corlys had been approached by many, many, suitors by the time (y/n) had her first moon blood but Rhaenys had always fought against it.

Princess Rhaenys had realized that two of her children were different. Laenor did not care for girls and (y/n) did not care for boys. (y/n) was much more skilled in disguising such a fact but Rhaenys saw through it.

Unfortunately, Rhaenys would not always be able to protect her eldest daughter from the politics of their station.

-

(y/n)’s favorite summers were the ones she spent out at sea with her father, where court graces were not expected and it mattered more that she could successfully steer a ship than if her needlework was precise. Out at sea with her father and his crew she could breathe a little easier.

But her second favorite summers were those spent with her cousin, Rhaenyra, in King’s Landing.

Princess Rhaenyra was, in many ways, what (y/n) always wished to be. Princess Rhaenyra could do as she pleased. She had no care for propriety or what others would say. She was free.

(y/n) envied that in many ways. She was always painfully aware of how she had to behave to be the very image of perfection. It was the only armor she had in a world that would see her dead if she ever revealed who she truly was.

But when (y/n) was with Rhaenyra she could be a little freer.

The only downside to spending time with her cousin was the fact that Rhaenyra was good friends with Alicent Hightower.

Alicent was four years their senior but Rhaenyra had become quite taken with her.

Rhaenyra saw Alicent much the way Laena saw (y/n). So Rhaenyra never believed (y/n) when (y/n) expressed her distrust of Alicent.

(y/n) never had proof of Alicent’s duplicitous nature but she never felt at ease near the Hightower girl. She could never name why, but eventually she would know the reason all too well.

-

All Alicent’s girlhood she had heard the many praises of (y/n) Velaryon.

(y/n) Velaryon was graceful. (y/n) Velaryon was beautiful. (y/n) Velaryon was perfect.

Alicent hated (y/n) Velaryon.

And then she actually met (y/n) Velaryon.

She met (y/n) one summer early on in her time at the Red Keep. Alicent watched (y/n) and Rhaenyra play in the gardens from afar. 

She couldn’t help but admit that (y/n) Velaryon really was beautiful.

Alicent’s stomach filled with butterflies the first time (y/n) had spoken to her.

(y/n)’s smile was bright like the sun, and just as warm.

The two girls had been friends at first. But that friendship didn’t last long.

Alicent became ambitious. Just as ambitious as her father, Otto Hightower. With that ambition came the realization that she felt something sinful towards (y/n).

Alicent felt desire. Desire for a girl.

And she would not let that desire be her ruin. She was going to be queen one day.

-

Alicent had just turned eight and ten. (y/n) was four and ten, as was Rhaenyra.

The Queen had died, and the King needed to remarry.

Many young women had been brought forth as eligible brides, including Alicent and (y/n).

Lord Corlys had never pressured his daughter or his wife on the idea of (y/n)’s marrying, until the King needed a new wife. Corlys desired nothing more than his blood on the iron throne. This was his shot.

“(y/n), it is time for you to do your duty as a lady of House Velaryon and wed,” Lord Corlys had declared.

(y/n)’s protests fell on deaf ears. Her father would not be moved, and her mother could not help her.

So (y/n) sought refuge in the many empty halls of the Red Keep. She sat behind one of the hall’s large stone pillars and cried.

She knew that Rhaenyra and Laena would be in her chambers waiting for her and she could not bear to be near them in her state.

So (y/n) brought her knees to her chest and buried her face in her legs.

“I did not think you were capable of such cries of sorrow,” a cold but alluring voice said beside her.

(y/n) lifted her face and found Alicent standing against the wall opposite her.

Lady (y/n) wiped away the remaining tears with the sleeve of her dress.

“Lady Alicent. I apologize you had to hear that.”

Alicent shrugged. “Your tears matter not to me.” She approached (y/n) and lowered her face to (y/n)’s. “Although, seeing the realm’s beauty driven to tears is a pretty sight to see,” Alicent said with a smirk.

(y/n) stood and dusted herself off. She would not let Alicent get to her.

So she smiled a tight smile. “I must be on my way. Good day Lady Alicent.”

But just as (y/n) went to walk away Alicent reached out and grabbed (y/n) by the arm.

Alicent pulled (y/n) back. “We have not seen one another in quite some time (y/n). It would be rude not to dine and catch up as old friends do.”

(y/n) clenched her jaw. Dining with Alicent was the last thing she wanted to do. Then she sighed. She would probably be queen and as such she had to embody the best of the realm’s manners.

“Perhaps we can meet for tea later this evening, but I must take my leave now. Excuse me.”

(y/n) tried to pull away but Alicent would not let go. (y/n) looked down at her arm then up at Alicent. 

This was most impolite. (y/n) couldn’t imagine what had possessed Alicent to be so rude with her.

“You’re not excused (y/n).” 

(y/n) met Alicent’s gaze. She found nothing but determination, and anger, in Alicent’s gaze. It frightened (y/n), but it also made her feel alive. 

“Lady Alicent, I ask that you please-”

Alicent stepped closer toward (y/n), their noses just a breath apart.

“I know your father wants the King to marry you, but you will never be Queen.”

(y/n) furrowed her brows. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Because I will  be Queen,” Alicent spat in response.

“I care not for the crown. I will pray the Gods grant it to you,” (y/n) replied.

Alicent’s gaze flickered down to (y/n)’s lips then back to meet (y/n)’s gaze. 

“You are a fool not to take the crown for yourself.”

(y/n) pulled out of Alicent’s grasp. She stepped away from the older girl and shrugged.

“Then I am a fool, Lady Alicent.”

Alicent watched (y/n) walk away, the daughter of the sea snake had some bite in her after all.

-

Just as Alicent had declared, the crown was hers. Everyone but Lord Corlys Velaryon was in high spirits during the King’s wedding.

But no one was more gay than Lady (y/n). She had been saved by the girl she liked the least.

(y/n) made it a point to thank the new Queen.

The young Velaryon girl watched as Queen Alicent walked out of the great hall. 

She followed her.

Once they were out in the courtyard (y/n) called out to the Queen.

“Your Grace.”

Alicent smiled at the sound of (y/n)’s voice. She quickly schooled her features into feigned annoyance as she whipped around to face (y/n).

“What is it?”

(y/n) bowed and smiled at Alicent. “I wanted to thank you.”

Alicent almost didn’t register what (y/n) had said, the sight of the realm’s beauty bowing to her occupied her sole focus. After a moment Alicent looked away from (y/n). “Thank me?”

“I am safe from being married off once again. So I wanted to thank you.”

Alicent’s gaze snapped back towards (y/n). She furrowed her brows. 

“You truly are a fool (y/n). I am the Queen of the seven kingdoms. You can’t imagine the power I have now.”

(y/n) let out a small laugh. “I don’t wish for power, your Grace. But I’m glad you have what you have always wanted.”

Alicent stared at (y/n), confused. “If you don’t wish for power, what do you wish for?”

“I don’t know,” (y/n) replied, avoiding Alicent’s gaze.

Alicent stepped towards (y/n)

“Your Queen orders you to speak the truth.”

(y/n) looked up and swallowed hard. “I want to never marry.”

(y/n) sighed loudly. She had never actually said that out loud, to anyone.

Alicent’s stomach filled with butterflies. It made her very happy to hear (y/n) had no desire for marriage. Butterflies still filled her stomach whenever (y/n) was near, and the thought of (y/n) marrying filled Alicent with dread.

“Why,” Alicent asked.

(y/n) looked taken aback by Alicent’s question. She looked away from the Queen.

“That does not matter.”

Alicent furrowed her brows once more.  “If I ask you a question lady (y/n) you answer it.”

(y/n) clenched her jaw. Only Alicent would take (y/n)’s thanks as an opportunity to debase her.

“I do not wish to leave my family to bear children for some lord and be a slave to his every whim.”

Alicent stepped closer to (y/n) once more. “A woman’s highest honor is to wed and birth a man’s children.”

(y/n) held Alicent’s gaze. “I don’t agree, your Grace.”

Alicent tilted her head slightly, appraising (y/n) in the faint moonlight of the hall. “What if you loved  him, and he loved you?”

“I don’t believe in love,” (y/n) replied.

Alicent brows raised. “The realm’s beauty doesn’t believe in love?”

“Do you?” (y/n) countered, though she knew the truth.

(y/n) knew Alicent loved power. She didn’t think the new Queen was capable of loving anyone or anything else.

Alicent’s gaze flickered to (y/n)’s lips, then (y/n)’s bosom, then back up to (y/n)’s eyes. 

“Maybe I do,” Alicent whispered. 

No one had ever looked at her that way Alicent was looking at her.

(y/n)’s heart started to race. “You do?”

Alicent raised her hand and cupped (y/n)’s face. She ran her thumb across (y/n)’s cheek.

“Of course.”

(y/n)’s skin burned under Alicent’s touch, but (y/n) liked the heat. 

She had never felt that way before. (y/n) looked down at Alicent’s lips. 

She had kissed girls before. Silly games girls played, practice for their husbands they would say as they giggled and twirled their hair in between their fingers.

(y/n) wondered if Alicent had ever played such games.

(y/n) stepped towards Alicent, their faces just a breath apart. 

Alicent smiled. 

(y/n) detected no malice in her smile. She smiled back.

“I-,” (y/n) stammered. 

The magic of the pair’s private moment burst when Princess Rhaenyra ran out of the great hall and into the corridor, screaming (y/n)’s name.

Alicent pulled away from (y/n) and cleared her throat. She started down the hall, not once looking back at (y/n).

The night’s cold breeze replaced Alicent’s hot touch and a shiver ran along (y/n)’s back.

Princess Rhaenyra reached the pair and tugged on (y/n)’s arm. “Cousin, they brought out more lemon cakes.”

(y/n) watched Alicent walk away. Rhaenyra’s pleas barely registered in (y/n)’s ears.

All she could feel was the ghost of Alicent’s thumb on her cheek.

-

Many moons passed and with them came the dawn of war. Corlys Velaryon took his son and his men and set out for war alongside Prince Daemon Targaryen. They warred to secure the islands known as the Stepstones.

While Lord Corlys warred, his wife Princess Rhaenys ruled Driftmark. At her side was her eldest daughter, Lady (y/n).

Lady (y/n) had taken to helping her mother rule Driftmark. She had even been granted the final word on a few local disputes. Her mother beamed with pride at the sight of (y/n) taking her new role seriously. (y/n) studied every book of laws in the keep’s library.

The longer the war went on the more (y/n) worried about her father and brother. Laenor had become quite the sailor and dragonrider but he was still just a boy. Lord Coryls was fierce and a brilliant strategist but (y/n) could only imagine the worst.

She tried to put on a brave face for her mother. She worried just as much, if not more, than Lady (y/n) did.

So when a messenger arrived in Driftmark with the declaration that Lady (y/n) had to be taken to King’s Landing to be ward of the King, Princess Rhaenys cried a river of tears.

Upon hearing the message (y/n) knew that Alicent was behind it. The King would never make such a declaration of his own accord. Making lady (y/n) a ward of the King would further divide their houses, not mend the rift between them that occurred when the King chose Alicent Hightower over Lady (y/n).

Still, (y/n) packed her belongings and said goodbye to her mother and sister. She made the journey to King’s Landing atop her dragon. Both she and her mother agreed she could not leave her dragon behind.

Lady (y/n)’s arrival in King’s Landing was a quiet one.

Princess Rhaenyra had met (y/n) at the dragonpit to say hello. Her cousin was eager to see her and was overjoyed that (y/n) would be staying with her. The Princess confided in (y/n) that she had been right about Alicent. She was not Rhaenyra’s true friend.

The Queen had bore a babe, a boy, for the King.

Ever since then Alicent had been nothing but cruel to Rhaenyra.

(y/n) empathized with her cousin, and promised they would be a united front against the Queen’s cruelty.

When the two returned to the Red Keep no one was there to greet (y/n). Rhaenyra led (y/n) to her chambers then excused herself as she had the duty of being her father’s cupbearer and was already late.

Once alone (y/n) let out a deep sigh. The chambers that had once felt like a second home now felt like a gilded cage. 

(y/n) wondered why the Queen would call her to King’s Landing, after so many years apart. Her last memory of her was the ghost of her thumb on (y/n)’s cheek. Her stomach knotted, with excitement and nerves at seeing her again.

-

The Queen stormed into lady (y/n)’s chambers. 

 Lady (y/n) stood from the desk where she had sat, writing her family a letter on her arrival. “Your Grace.”

The Queen froze as she laid eyes on Lady (y/n) for the first time since their almost kiss outside the great hall. 

Lady (y/n) was even more beautiful than she remembered. 

Alicent hated her even more for it. She folded her arms across her chest as she looked around the room. 

“Lady (y/n), a shame to see you have not settled in just yet.” 

(y/n)’s head turned to the stack of unpacked trunks in the corner of her room. She had told the maids to only unpack one of them.

“I won’t be here long. There is no need to unpack everything, your Grace,” (y/n) replied with a strained smile.

The Queen pursed her lips as she tilted her head, examining lady (y/n).

“Your optimism is refreshing, Lady (y/n).”

(y/n) stood tall. She was no longer a young girl, she was a lady grown. 

“It is not optimism your Grace, but the assurance that once I have spoken with the King he will see there is no need for me to remain in King’s Landing.”

The Queen let out a huff. She walked to the table towards the far side of the room and took a seat facing (y/n).

“If that is the case then I must admit it is startling to see you have not grown any less foolish in your time away, Lady (y/n)”

(y/n) turned to look at the Queen.  “It is the truth, your Grace.”

The Queen looked over at the fruit on the table. She grabbed a few grapes and slowly brought them to her mouth. 

“Your father started a war without the King’s permission.” the Queen said in between bites of fruit. “We cannot allow for the realm to think such actions are allowed,” she finished with a small smirk. 

“Then why not impose taxes upon our lands? Why keep me as a ward while the war still rages.” (y/n) furrowed her brows. 

She did not believe Alicent’s motives were purely political. It simply didn’t make sense.

The Queen stood from her seat and walked towards lady (y/n). “That does not send a strong enough message to the other houses.”

(y/n) instinctively stepped back as the Queen continued to approach her. 

The Queen closed the gap between them and reached up to cup (y/n)’s cheek.

“Such behavior must be punished,” the Queen whispered.

(y/n)’s face flushed with pink. She looked away from the Queen’s heavy gaze but did not move away from the Queen’s grasp.

The Queen smiled. “The gossips of court spoke about how beautiful you had become in recent moons... .perhaps I brought you here to see if there was truth in their words.”

Lady (y/n)’s heart beat rang in her ears. She stepped away from Alicent and turned away from her.

The Queen watched in delight.

“I-,” (y/n) stuttered as she struggled to compose herself.

The Queen took a deep breath, schooling her features into polite indifference. 

“Or perhaps I brought you here to reveal that the realm’s beauty is nothing but a sick deviant.”

Lady (y/n) whipped around to face the Queen. “I am not a deviant.”

The Queen smirked. “Come, we must not keep the King waiting for dinner,” she said as she made her way towards the door.

Lady (y/n) clenched her jaw and followed the Queen out of her chambers.

-

The first few moons at the Red Keep were dreadful for lady (y/n). 

With no choice but to obey the Queen’s endless requests for (y/n) to wait on her every whim. 

Lady (y/n) had not yet been able to get a moment alone with the King. At the dinner welcoming her to the Keep the King made little comment to (y/n) being a ward of his or the reason why. (y/n) had not seen the king since. 

But everything would soon change for lady (y/n) and the Queen.

-

It was a night like any other.

Lady (y/n) had been called into the Queen’s chambers to prepare the Queen for sleep. 

She had helped Talia ready the Queen for bed before but this time (y/n) noticed she was alone. 

The Queen stood in front of the mirror, she stared at (y/n). 

“Well, what are you waiting for,” Alicent asked. 

Lady (y/n) stepped forward and unlaced the Queen’s dress. 

(y/n) made sure to focus only on the bodice in front of her. She could not let her mind wander, lest it go to carnal places.

Alicent watched (y/n) through the mirror. She could feel (y/n)’s fingertips leave goose pimples in their wake as (y/n) unlaced the bodice. It took all her strength not to close her eyes and savor the younger woman’s touch. 

Once the bodice was undone lady (y/n) walked around to face the Queen. Lady (y/n) avoided the Queen’s gaze as she tugged at the dress. 

Alicent’s voice caught in her throat as Lady (y/n) lowered herself to help her out of the dress. 

“You can step out of the dress now, your grace,” (y/n) said as she looked up at the Queen. 

Alicent looked down at Lady (y/n) and felt her heart thump faster in her chest. 

The realm’s beauty on her knees for me, Alicent thought. She bit her cheek. She knew better than to think like that. 

Alicent looked away from Lady (y/n) and stepped out of the dress that pooled at her feet. 

Lady (y/n) took the dress and placed it in a nearby trunk. She grabbed the Queen’s nightgown and returned to Alicent’s side. 

Alicent stepped into the nightshirt and avoided (y/n)’s gaze as the Velaryon girl fastened the buttons at the front of the shirt. 

Lady (y/n) fastened the buttons of the Queen’s nightshirt as fast as she could. She felt an overwhelming heat spread throughout her with every second she passed so close to the Queen. 

The final buttons were along the Queen’s throat. 

Lady (y/n)’s eyes briefly met the Queen’s. 

Her hands stopped. 

Alicent noticed. She swallowed hard. 

“Why did you stop,” she whispered. 

Lady (y/n) stared into the Queen’s eyes. 

Alicent hadn’t always been cruel to her, (y/n) recalled. They were friends for a time. They were closer to each other than either was to Rhaenyra. 

“You stopped first,” (y/n) replied mindlessly.

Alicent’s brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“You stopped being my friend first…your grace,” (y/n) said then looked away from the Queen. 

She quickly finished the last of the buttons on the nightgown then stepped away. 

Alicent turned and watched (y/n) walk across the room. 

“Why bring that up now?”

(y/n) made it to the window on the far side of the Queen’s chambers. The fresh air hit her face, a welcome respite to the blazing heat that bloomed inside her. 

The Queen stepped towards Lady (y/n). “I asked you a question lady (y/n).”

(y/n) sighed. “It was a thoughtless statement, your grace.”

Alicent frowned, she wanted to press (y/n) for the truth but she knew it would be fruitless. 

“Do not let it happen again lady (y/n),” the Queen replied. 

Lady (y/n) took a deep breath of night air then turned around. 

“If that is all your grace, I will take my leave.” Lady (y/n) curtsied and turned to leave. 

Alicent put a hand up to stop (y/n). “I have a final request for tonight lady (y/n).”

Lady (y/n) faced the Queen. “How can I be of service to your grace.”

(Alicent lays down in her bed and brings a cup of wine to her lips, watching the reader over the rim)

“I want you to read to me,” the Queen declared as she poured herself a cup of wine from the nearby table. 

“Read to you,” Lady (y/n) mused.

The Queen nodded. “Yes, now help me into my bed.”

Lady (y/n) approached the Queen’s bed and pulled back the furs and quilts so that the Queen could lay down. 

Once she was comfortable, the Queen looked up at (y/n) expectantly. 

lf a cup of wine from the nearby table then got into bed. 

“You may begin.”

Lady (y/n) furrowed her brow. “I don’t have a book, your grace.”

The Queen shrugged. “Then you can tell me a tale.”

Lady (y/n) swallowed the urge to roll her eyes. All she wanted was to retire to her own bed.

But alas, that was not an option. 

So lady (y/n) plastered on a saccharine smile and said, “As you wish your grace” as she walked to the chair by the mantle. 

“Not there,” the Queen barked. 

“Where do you wish for me to sit, your grace?” Lady (y/n) asked with a strained smile.

The Queen pointed a finger to the foot of her bed. “There.”

Lady (y/n)’s stomach dropped. But she did as she was ordered to. She walked to the foot of the Queen’s bed and sat down, her back to the Queen.

“Face me,” Alicent commanded. “I want you on your knees.”

Lady (y/n) turned to meet Alicent’s gaze. “On my knees?”

Alicent took a long drink from her goblet. “Was I not clear lady (y/n)?”

“As you wish, your grace,” (y/n) replied through gritted teeth.

(y/n) grabbed her skirts and lifted them as she knelt down on the bed. She could now hear the thrumming of her heart as it pounded in her ears. 

“What tale will you tell me tonight lady (y/n)?” The Queen asked, a devious smile on her lips. 

So pretty on her knees, Alicent thought. 

“Whatever tale you wish to hear your grace,” (y/n) replied lifelessly. 

“Tell me of your travels lady (y/n). I was told you traveled to Dorne with your father.”

“I did indeed, your grace.” (y/n) began. “Well the trip itself was quite long but we sailed and I enjoy the salt air.”

(y/n) felt herself relax as she recalled that summer she traveled with her father. She was quite young but had insisted on going. 

“Sunspear was beautiful, with water gardens and trees filled with various sweet fruits.The markets outside of the keep were lively and there was an aroma of spices that filled the air.”

(y/n) closed her eyes and almost felt the heat of the Dornish sun. 

Alicent watched with a small smile as (y/n) relaxed. The smile faded as she remembered that was the summer after she and (y/n) stopped being friends. 

“When my father took me to the market I found this emerald ring with a dove carved into the gold band.” (y/n) opened her eyes and met the Queen’s gaze. “It reminded me of you.”

Alicent’s voice caught in her throat again. 

“That was the summer after our big fight. Do you remember?” Lady (y/n) asked. Though she doubted the Queen remembered. 

Alicent looked away from (y/n). 

“You’re excused lady (y/n),” the Queen commanded. 

Lady (y/n) looked down at her hands as she got off the Queen’s bed. She turned and made her way towards the door. 

“I didn’t have a choice (y/n). I couldn’t be your friend anymore,” Alicent said as (y/n)’s hand reached for the door.

Lady (y/n) turned her head back towards the Queen but Alicent had already pulled the quilts and furs over her.

(y/n) opened the door and left for her quarters. 

-

A few weeks later Lady (y/n) entered the Queen’s chambers and walked to the bed. She knelt on the foot of the bed just as she had countless nights before. 

She had brought with her a book on the maester’s moon charts with her. She wanted to tell the Queen about how sailors used the moon charts when out on the ocean.

“What have you brought to read to me tonight lady (y/n),” the Queen asked as she emerged from the partition next to the bed. 

Lady (y/n) looked up from the charts and swallowed hard when she saw the Queen in her nightgown. It was cut quite provocatively at the chest and it was so thin (y/n) could see the outline of Alicent’s curves. 

Alicent smirked when she realized lady (y/n) was staring.  “Already kneeling at the foot of my bed, ready for me. Such a good girl.”

Lady (y/n)’s face went pink and she quickly looked down at the moon charts. 

The Queen got into her bed and settled in. “You may begin, Lady (y/n).”

(y/n) began to tell the Queen about moon charts but she was cut off my a loud knock at the Queen’s door. 

The Queen rolled her eyes. “Who calls?”

“It’s Talya, your grace,” Ser Criston’s voice boomed. 

“Let her in,” the Queen replied. 

Talya entered the Queen’s chambers and bowed. 

“The King has requested your company for the night, your grace.”

The Queen sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Alright, tell the King I am on my way.”

Talya nodded and bowed once more before leaving. 

The Queen kept her eyes closed for another moment before she got out of her bed and reached for a robe to wrap herself in.

Lady (y/n) gathered her charts and got off the bed. 

“What are you doing?” The Queen asked.

“Talya said-,” Lady (y/n) began.

The Queen cut her off. “I did not grant you leave.”

“But the King-,” Lady (y/n) argued.

The Queen cut her off once more. “Called for me, not you. You will stay put, on your knees, until I return.” Alicent bridged the gap between her and lady (y/n). “Is that understood?” She asked, their faces inches apart.

Lady (y/n) nodded. “Yes, your grace.”

A heat bloomed between (y/n)’s legs at the sound of Alicent’s commanding voice. She got back on the bed and knelt facing the bed. 

The Queen stepped closer towards lady (y/n). 

“Good girl,” she whispered in (y/n)’s ear. 

A chill ran down (y/n)’s back. She bit the inside of her cheek and closed her eyes. 

The Queen started for the door and slowly her footsteps started to fade. 

Once the Queen was gone lady (y/n) debated getting off the bed and going back to her chambers. 

She knew that Alicent would make her pay for not obeying her orders…a part of lady (y/n) wondered what that punishment would be, and a smaller part of her felt a rush of excitement at the thought of being punished by Alicent. 

Like the good girl she was, (y/n) stayed. She continued to knee at the foot of the bed. She poured over the moon charts as she waited for Alicent to return. 

Sometime after the hour of ghosts (y/n) ended up falling asleep. 

Alicent returned during the hour of the wolf, weary and spent from her time with the King.

She entered her chambers and smiled when she saw (y/n) asleep on her bed. Alicent walked over to where (y/n) lay. She reached out and slowly ran her finger across (y/n)’s cheek.

Lady (y/n) startled and quickly sat up when she realized the Queen had returned. 

“Your Grace, my apologies. I must have fallen asleep. I am so sorry your grace I-,” lady (y/n) rambled.

Alicent’s languid smile remained. She placed her finger on (y/n)’s lips. 

“Your Queen grants you leave,” she whispered. 

Then Alicent dropped her finger from (y/n)’s lips and made her way to her side of the bed. She pulled back the furs and quilts and got in. 

Too stunned to react, the lady (y/n) took a few moments to collect herself. Then she got off the Queen’s bed and made her way to the chamber door. 

Once at the door (y/n) turned back towards the Queen. 

The Queen laid in her bed, facing the window at the far end of the room and picking her nails absentmindedly. 

“I hope you sleep well, Alicent,” (y/n) said. 

Alicent snapped out of her thoughts and turned towards (y/n). She smiled softly. 

“Thank you (y/n). Sweet dreams.”

(y/n) returned Alicent’s smile then turned and left the room.

-

More moons passed.

 Lady (y/n)’s nightly visit to the Queen was now a welcome event as things had softened between them.

(y/n) entered the Queen’s chambers as she did every night. 

This night Talya was helping the Queen into her nightgown and (y/n) had walked in while the Queen was in her thin shift. 

Lady (y/n) quickly averted her gaze. “Apologies your grace. I did not see Ser Criston outside but I should have knocked.” 

Talya placed the nightgown on the Queen. The Queen smiled at lady (y/n). 

“It’s alright (y/n). We won’t be able to have our nightly reading.” Alicent stepped towards (y/n) and sighed. “The King wishes for me to stay in his chambers tonight.”

(y/n) shrugged. “I can stay if you wish. That way I can read to you when you return.”

Alicent’s smile returned. “That’s kind of you lady (y/n).” Then she let out another sigh as Talya left the room. “I won’t return until the morrow.”

“Oh,” (y/n) replied, a small frown tugged at the edge of her mouth.

“You look as though this upsets you lady (y/n),” Alicent replied with a small smirk. “I imagined you would be giddy at the news.”

(y/n)’s face warmed. She had been caught frowning. She looked away from the Queen.

Alicent stepped closer to (y/n). “Could it be that you don’t hate my presence as much as you used to?” She whispered.

“I appreciate routine, your grace,” (y/n) replied, a small smirk of her own on her face.

Alicent laughed and placed a hand on (y/n)’s arm.

“I needed something to lighten my mood. Thank you (y/n),” Alicent said and gave (y/n)’s arm a gentle squeeze.

Blush returned to (y/n)’s cheeks at the Queen’s touch. She was glad Alicent was already headed towards the door and wouldn’t notice.

The Queen walked out of her room and left (y/n) alone. (y/n) knew she could not linger so she turned to follow the Queen out the door but she stopped when she noticed the open bottle of perfume oil on the table next to the door. 

(y/n) reached for the handkerchief in her dress pocket and before she could think twice about it she dabbed a bit of oil on her cloth. She inhaled the sweet perfume of lavender and honeysuckle.

(y/n) smiled to herself and hid the handkerchief back in her pocket. Then she left the Queen’s bedchamber.

-

It was a night like any other. 

Lady (y/n) knelt in front of the Queen, reading a passage out of a book of history from Essos. 

But on this night the Queen had drunk a bit more wine than usual. And her gaze lingered on (y/n)’s lips longer than it usually did.

“Put the book down,” Alicent commanded. 

Lady (y/n) did as the Queen told her to. 

“Is there something-”

(y/n)’s words died in her throat. 

The Queen got out of her bed and crossed the room to pour herself more wine. She downed it in one gulp then turned to (y/n).

“Lay down.”

Lady (y/n) furrowed her brow. “Why?”

“You don’t need to know why. I am your Queen and I commanded you to lay down on my bed,” Alicent replied sternly. 

(y/n) was not sure where Alicent’s anger had come from. Alicent had been far more cordial to (y/n) in recent days. She wondered why the sudden change in demeanor. 

But Alicent would not give her time to wonder. 

“Now,” Alicent barked. 

(y/n) did as she was commanded to and laid down. Her heart started beating faster. 

She could not see Alicent but (y/n) could hear Alicent cross the room. 

Alicent sat in a chair opposite her bed. She had brought the pitched of wine with her and she poured herself another cup. 

“I want you to take your nightgown off.”

Lady (y/n) sat up. “Absolutely not,” she objected.

Alicent stood. “Are you defying an order from the Queen?”

(y/n) stared at Alicent, mouth agape. “No I simply don’t understand w-”

“It does not matter if you understand or not. I am the Queen,” Alicent replied. 

(y/n) swallowed hard. Her heart beat loud in her ears. She could not do what had been asked of her. 

“Fine, I’ll do it for you,” Alicent spat. 

The Queen approached lady (y/n) and reached for (y/n)’s nightgown. Lady (y/n) grabbed the Queen’s hands. 

Alicent met (y/n)’s gaze. 

“How dare you,” Alicent roared. 

“Just tell me why,” (y/n) replied. 

Alicent stared into (y/n)’s eyes. (y/n)’s eyes begged for any reason. 

(y/n) noticed how tired Alicent’s eyes looked. Then she recalled that the King had called for her many times the past couple nights.

Alicent swallowed hard. “I need it.”

(y/n) nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Alicent stepped back and watched as (y/n) stood and undressed herself. 

The nightgown pooled at (y/n)’s feet. She bent down and picked it up. (y/n) laid it down on the bed then laid back down.

“Now what,” (y/n) asked. 

The night air drove a chill down (y/n)’s body.

Alicent sat back down in the chair facing the bed. 

“Spread your legs.”

(y/n) did as she was told. She spread her legs open.

This is wrong, (y/n) thought to herself. We can’t do this. 

But desire started to pool below (y/n)’s stomach. So (y/n) quieted the voice inside her that told her to grab her nightgown and run out of the Queen’s room.

Alicent took a long drink from her goblet. 

“Have you done this before,” Alicent asked. 

(y/n) let out a laugh. “Have I ever been naked on the Queen’s bed before?”

Alicent bit her cheek to stop herself from laughing. “Have you ever touched yourself,” she reiterated. 

The smile left (y/n)’s face. She felt her face get hot. “I uhm- I,” she stammered. 

Alicent let out a chuckle. “I’ll take that as a no.”

(y/n) took a steadying breath. “I actually have,” she confessed. 

Alicent raised her brows. “Oh.”

“Do you want me to..uhm,” (y/n) started but couldn’t quite find the strength to say the words. 

Thankfully Alicent could.

“Yes, touch yourself,” Alicent commanded. 

(y/n) closed her eyes and let out a breath. She let her hands travel down her body, slowly working their way down between her legs. 

Alicent watch, rapt. She gripped the goblet of wine so hard her knuckles turned white. 

Soon (y/n)’s fingers slipped inside her. She started off slow, just like she used to back home in the comfort of her chamber. 

After a few strokes the pace of (y/n)’s fingers quickened. (y/n)’s chest heaved as her pleasure started to build.

Alicent bit her lip as (y/n) pleasured herself. The heat between her own thighs had built to an uncomfortable throbbing. 

“Say my name,” Alicent said, voice thick with want.

(y/n)’s pace quickened again, her chest heaved harder, her breaths quickened. 

“Alicent,” (y/n) breathed as she entered herself again and again. 

“Harder,” Alicent commanded. 

(y/n) slipped another finger inside herself and pushed her fingers deeper inside her. 

“Alicent,” (y/n) moaned. 

Alicent watched as the wave of (y/n)’s pleasure reached its crest. She watched as (y/n) came undone. 

“Alicent,” (y/n) moaned as she reached the peak of her pleasure. 

Alicent stood from her seat and swallowed hard as (y/n) came down from the pleasure flowing through her. 

There (y/n) lay, open and warm with a placid smile on her face. 

(y/n) looked over at Alicent. “What now Ali.”

At the sound of her childhood nickname a swell of guilt and shame washed over Alicent. She turned around and downed the last of her wine. 

“Get out,” she said. 

(y/n) sat up, confused. “But I..why?”

The Queen turned back around to face lady (y/n). 

“Leave, before I choose against mercy and drag you out of my room to expose what a filthy whore the realm’s beauty really is,” Alicent spat. 

Tears welled in (y/n)’s eyes but she would not let them fall in the Queen’s presence.

Of course it had been a trick. Everything with Alicent always revealed itself to be a trick.

(y/n) had been foolish enough to fall for one yet again. 

Lady (y/n) grabbed her nightgown and dressed herself as she made her way to the door. She left the room without another glance at the Queen. 

(y/n) wished to never see the Queen ever again.

-

Lord Corlys’ war ended with a victory for the crown but lady (y/n) remained a ward of the Queen.

(y/n) no longer read to the Queen. In fact the Queen had unknowingly granted (y/n)’s wish to never see her again. 

But in a bitter twist life not in the Queen’s gaze was cold and unforgiving. 

Lady (y/n) was practically confined to her room. She could leave to visit the Keep’s library or to see the other ladies of court for a few hours a day but the guards had been ordered to follow (y/n)’s every move and make her dine in her room alone every day. 

(y/n) was miserable, and she was sure it was exactly what Alicent had wanted. 

Lady (y/n) finally did get an audience with the King but all he did was confirm that the only way she would leave the Keep is if Alicent let her go, or if she married. 

Thankfully a celebration was upon the Keep. The King had betrothed Rhaenyra to (y/n)’s brother, Laenor. 

A tourney would be held for their nuptials. 

The King told (y/n) she would be allowed to attend the tourney if she wished to. (y/n) jumped at the chance to be among her family once again.

-

The day of the tourney came and (y/n) raced to her mother’s arms.

Her mother asked if all was well with the King and Queen. 

(y/n) lied and said all was going well. She did not wish to worry her mother with the truth. 

Laena and Laenor rushed to give (y/n) hugs of their own. 

Love and hope swelled inside (y/n). 

-

(y/n) sat between her sister and her brother at the tourney. 

It was Prince Daemon’s turn to joust a member of House Baratheon. 

He asked for Lady (y/n)’s favor. 

“Your favor would all but ensure my win, lady (y/n). You’ve grown more beautiful with age,” Prince Daemon said as he held his lance up for (y/n)’s favor. 

Lady (y/n) smiled politely and stood to grab her favor from the nearby table. 

As she grabbed the wreath of flowers with her house colors she noticed the look on the Queen’s face. 

Alicent was not pleased. 

(y/n) figured it was due to Prince Daemon’s presence. 

If there was someone Alicent hated more than (y/n) it was Prince Daemon. 

Lady (y/n) placed her favor on Prince Daemon’s lance. “I wish you luck, your grace.”

Prince Daemon winked at her as he galloped away. 

Lady (y/n) turned to her family. Her father wore a pleasure smirk on his face. 

Gods, (y/n) thought, he wishes to wed two of his children off. 

Lady (y/n) excused herself and exited the stands. 

She made it past a nearby tent before she felt a pair of hands pull her inside it.

It was the Queen. She was furious.

Lady (y/n) furrowed her brow.“Your grace, what is the matter.”

The Queen tightened her grip on lady (y/n)’s arms. 

“How dare you,” Alicent spat.

Lady (y/n) tried to free herself from the Queen but her grasp was firm.

“I don’t understand, your grace.”

The Queen scoffed. “You practically threw yourself at Prince Daemon like a commonborn whore.”

“I merely gave him my favor, as he asked of me.” Lady (y/n) bristled against the Queen’s grasp once more. 

But the Queen would not let go. 

She forced lady (y/n) to look at her. 

“Do you care for him? Do you wish to wed him,” the Queen asked, a slight tremble in her voice. 

Lady (y/n) looked into Alicent’s eyes. Alicent was angry, that much was clear, but (y/n) also saw a bit of fear in the Queen’s eyes. 

“I do not wish to wed anyone.” (y/n) sighed. “You know that, your grace,” (y/n) whispered.

The Queen let go of lady (y/n). She smoothed down the skirts of her dress and looked away from lady (y/n).

“I do not want to see you near Prince Daemon for the rest of the festivities,” the Queen commanded.

Lady (y/n) frowned. “That is not something I can promise your grace. He is the Prince,” (y/n) replied, defeated.

The Queen began to speak but lady (y/n) cut her off. 

“Why do you even care? It’s not as though it is of consequence to you if the Prince seeks my company,” (y/n) countered.

Alicent avoided (y/n)’s gaze. 

“I don’t have to answer to you, I am the queen.”

Lady (y/n) let out a small scoff. “You do as you please as you always have.”

The Queen met (y/n)’s gaze with narrowed eyes. “I did not grant you permission to speak so freely to me lady (y/n).”

Lady (y/n) crossed her arms against her chest. “Perhaps I’ve grown tired of this game you play with me, your grace. I am not a doll you can cast aside when you’re done toying with her.”

The Queen took a menacing step towards lady (y/n).

“You are done being mine when I command it,” the Queen declared.

Lady (y/n) would not back down this time. She remained firm.

“I will never be yours.”

The Queen pursed her lips. She stared at (y/n) for a few moments, searching for something though (y/n) was not sure what.

“You are a fool (y/n).”

And with that the Queen turned and walked out of the tent. 

Tears welled in lady (y/n)’s eyes. She blinked them away. She would not shed another tear for Alicent Hightower.

-

Lady (y/n) managed to stay away from Prince Daemon for the rest of the tourney. 

Not because the Queen told her to but because she had a real worry that the Prince meant to make her his wife.

The only thing worse than being ward of Alicent would be marrying the Prince.

But at the wedding feast she could not avoid the Prince. 

He sat to the right of her father and she had no choice but to be near him.

As the musicians started a lively tune Prince Daemon turned to lady (y/n) and asked for a dance. 

Lady (y/n) could not say no. 

She followed the Prince onto the dance floor.

Lady (y/n) didn’t need to look at the Queen to know the Queen was not pleased. 

Alicent stared at (y/n) and the Prince.

She downed another goblet of wine.

-

The song ended and lady (y/n) tried to leave but Prince Daemon pulled her close to him.

“How about another one?” 

Lady (y/n) smiled politely. “Of course, my Prince.”

She turned towards the table at the top of the stairs and sure enough, Alicent was staring daggers at her. 

Lady (y/n) turned away from the Queen and continued another dance with the Prince.

After a second dance the Prince and lady (y/n) returned to the great table. 

Lord Corlys joked they made a lovely couple. 

Prince Daemon remarked any man that could have lady (y/n)’s hand in marriage would be lucky indeed. 

“What do you say, your grace, shall we make this wedding celebration two fold?” Lord Corlys asked and raised a cup towards the King.

The King laughed and raised his cup to Lord Corlys. “A drink for the newly wed and another for the newly betrothed.”

The men laughed and drank while lady (y/n)’s polite smile faltered. 

Lady (y/n) looked to her mother for reassurance. Surely the men were not serious.

Her mother avoided her gaze. 

A lump formed in lady (y/n)’s throat. 

The Queen stood from her seat and declared she would retire for the night. 

She called for lady (y/n)’s assistance. 

Lady (y/n) sprang from her seat. “Of course your grace.”

Lady (y/n) followed the Queen out of the great hall. 

They did not speak until they were safely inside the Queen’s bedchamber. 

Lady (y/n) entered the room and immediately felt the Queen’s hands on her. 

Alicent pinned (y/n) to the wall.

“You will reject the Prince’s proposal.”

(y/n) struggled against Alicent’s grasp. “Why should I? I would wed and leave this wretched Keep.”

Alicent grabbed (y/n)’s chin with her free hand and forced (y/n) to meet her gaze.

“I will not allow such a betrothal.”

(y/n) scoffed. “It does not matter. The king approves.”

Alicent huffed. “I care not what the King approves.” She brought her face closer to (y/n)’s. “You will not leave my keep.”

(y/n) could feel Alicent’s breath on her lips. A heat bloomed inside her. Her eyes darted to Alicent’s lips then back up to her eyes.

“Why do you insist on keeping me prisoner?”

Alicent could feel (y/n)’s heart beat faster. She let go of (y/n) and walked away. “I do not need to explain myself to you.”

“Because you are the Queen,” (y/n) argued.

Alicent did not reply. She walked across the room to the pitcher of wine. She poured herself a cup.

“How long will you keep me here? Until I am old and gray?” 

(y/n) stepped closer to Alicent, demanding an answer.

“You said you never wanted to marry. I am merely fulfilling your girlhood wish,” Alicent replied as she downed the wine.

“What a gracious queen you are,” (y/n) said with a hollow laugh.

Alicent finished the last of her wine. “Lady (y/n) is beautiful, lady (y/n) is gracious, lady (y/n) is talented beyond measure.” Alicent mocked as she turned to face (y/n).  “All my girlhood I heard court sing you praises. I hated you so much.”

Alicent scoffed then started towards (y/n). “And then one summer you came to visit Rhaenyra, and I was determined to hate you…but you were so disgustingly kind.” 

She stopped when she reached (y/n). (y/n) eyed Alicent cautiously. 

Alicent tilted her head to the side and reached out to touch a lock of (y/n)’s hair.  “And you were so damn beautiful, just like they had all said.”

(y/n) turned away from Alicent’s touch. “So you hate me because I was kind to you?”

Alicent let out another hollow laugh. “You will never understand.”

(y/n) met Alicent’s gaze. “I understand that we were friends. I understand that you were kind until you became like your father, hungry for power.”

Silence lingered between them as Alicent gazed into (y/n)’s eyes. 

“I wanted you,” Alicent whispered. “I wanted you,” she repeated, a little louder.

(y/n) blinked hard. “I don’t-,” she started but Alicent interrupted her.

“My father wanted power, and he knew I wanted you,” Alicent confessed.  “He told me if I had power I could have you.”

(y/n) swallowed hard. Alicent’s voice rang in her ears, I wanted you.

At the sigh of (y/n)’s continued silence the side of Alicent’s mouth turned upwards in a sad kind of smile. “I got power, but I never got you.”

“You did that night,” (y/n) replied mindlessly.

They had never spoken of that night in Alicent’s bed.

Silence enveloped the pair, both rendered speechless by the weight of their confessions.

Alicent looked down and reached for (y/n)’s hand. 

(y/n) let her take her hand.

Alicent laced their fingers together. 

“Don’t accept Prince Daemon’s proposal.”

(y/n) sighed loudly.  “ If it’s what my father wills, I have no choice.”

Alicent looked back up and met (y/n)’s gaze, a playful smirk on her face.

“I could betroth you to Aegon.”

A small smile spread across (y/n)’s lips. “Would that please the King?”

Alicent shrugged, her thumb caressing (y/n)’s palm. 

“It would please me.”

(y/n) let out a small laugh. Alicent returned it and together they enjoyed their brief armistice. 

-

Talya walked into the Queen’s bedchambers with another pitcher full of wine. She poured the queen another cup full. 

The Queen was in a foul mood, even for her. 

Talya excused herself and took the old empty pitcher with her. 

That morning when she broke fast with the King he informed her that Daemon’s betrothal to the lady (y/n) was all but final. 

Alicent remained in her chambers the rest of the day, drinking goblet after goblet of wine. 

Her father had tried to chastise her for acting like a petulant spoiled child but Alicent didn’t care anymore. 

It was over.

(y/n) would marry the Prince, have his children, and be his. Forever.

Alicent pulled the furs above her and buried her head in the many pillows on her bed. 

The door opened. 

“I do not wish to see anyone,” she barked. 

“Lady (y/n) is here your grace,” Ser Criston called. 

Alicent sat up, and sure enough (y/n) stood at the entrance of the room, book in hand. 

“Leave us Ser Criston,” the Queen ordered. 

Ser Criston bowed his head and left the two women alone. 

“What are you doing here,” Alicent asked. 

(y/n) smiled softly.  “I’ve come to read to you, your grace.”

Alicent scoffed then grabbed the goblet from the nightstand and downed the rest of her wine. 

“Don't you have a betrothed to read to now?” She asked bitterly.

(y/n) walked to the foot of Alicent’s bed then climbed on and knelt in front of the Queen as she had done so many nights before. 

Alicent watched her, her brows furrowed. 

(y/n) set down the book in front of her then looked back up at Alicent. 

“I spoke with my father. I informed him I wish to become a septa.”

“You wish to be a septa?” Alicent asked slowly.

(y/n) nodded. “The keep is always in need of septas is it not?”

Alicent’s brow slowly unfurrowed as she understood (y/n)’s true meaning.

“You’re staying?” She asked, tears welling in her eyes.

(y/n) had never seen Alicent cry. She gazed into Alicent’s eyes.

“Does the Queen command me to stay?” (y/n) asked.

“Only if you wish to,” Alicent replied with a tremor in her voice.

(y/n) crawled across the bed and wiped the tears from Alicent’s eyes. 

“I wish to,” she whispered. 

Alicent returned (y/n)’s smile. 

(y/n) turned to the book she brought. “I also brought the moon charts. I did not get to tell you about them the last time I read to you.”

When (y/n) turned back to face Alicent their faces were inches apart. 

Alicent took a steadying breath. 

(y/n) looked at her expectantly. 

Alicent reached up and cupped (y/n)’s face. “Don’t move,” Alicent commanded. 

(y/n) waited with bated breath as Alicent slowly closed the gap between them. 

Lady (y/n)’s eyes fluttered closed as she felt the Queen’s lip against her own. 

The moon charts next to the couple would go unexplored for the rest of the night as the Queen finally claimed what was hers and lady (y/n) realized she did believe in love after all.

[maidragoste]

The Strong Twins

Harwin Strong x Velaryon!Reader (unrequited love), Alicent Hightower x Velaryon!Reader, Larys Strong x Velaryon!Reader

Part 4 of this

Part 5

Serie Masterlist

Sorry for taking so long to update I was busy with the university 😭

I hope the wait was worth it and that you like this new chapter🥰🥰💖💖

comments, reblogs, likes are always greatly appreciated. I will always thank you for supporting this series 🥰💖 because I really did not expect so many people to like it

My inbox is open so I'm always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions. I seriously love reading your headcanons and thoughts, it makes me happy 🥰💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Despite your coldness and the distance between you two, Harwin still cared about you. That's why when the servants woke him up in the middle of the night to tell him that you went into labor, he got nervous. You didn't let him be by your side while you gave birth, the only people you allowed to enter your chambers, besides the midwives, were your mother, your sister, and the queen. Rhaenyra also wanted to accompany you but the queen did not hesitate to close the door in her face.

Harwin wasn't the only one awake hoping that you'd finish the delivery and everything would turn out okay. Accompanying him in his chambers were his father, his brother, Corlys, Laenor, Daemon, and Rhaenyra. Your father had brought wine so everyone was drinking trying to ignore their worries about things that could go wrong.

The truth is Harwin felt uncomfortable by the presence of Daemon and Rhaenyra. He didn't understand why the man was there with them, yes Daemon was married to Laena but the prince could easily have continued sleeping. He had no obligation to be awake waiting to hear from you and the baby… Unless he was the father of your child and your new lover. Harwin shook his head and stopped drinking, the drink and his nerves were making him think of stupid things. He knew that you loved your sister and would never do anything to hurt her.

Normally Rhaenyra's presence always made him feel warm and gave him some kind of peace of mind but right now he wanted her away. At first, the atmosphere in his chambers was "calm" but that calm disappeared when a furious and injured Rhaenyra entered after you yelled at her that you didn't want her near her and that she will let you give birth in peace. The room was now tense. Corlys Velaryon was looking at them both angrily. Even his own father was glaring at them furiously. He knew that they expected him to drive the princess away but he couldn't do it.

The only person who didn't seem furious with him was his brother. Harwin didn't expect Larys to be next to him and appreciated it, he was sure he would continue sleeping but he appeared next to his father and sat next to him. He didn't say a word of comfort or try to distract him with a conversation, Larys had never been that kind of person but with his presence, he was already giving him silent support. Larys even didn't make fun of him when he spent the first hour pacing all over the room.

Your screams were heard again, and Larys was tempted to pour himself another glass of wine, but he didn't. He had to be sober when he met his son. He would start as a bad father if he was drunk when he first saw the baby. Besides he knew that if he turned up drunk you would be furious and kick his ass or you could ignore him for weeks.

Larys is not a fearful or nervous person. He couldn't remember when was the last time he had felt fear, nervousness, or anxiety. He knew it was foolish to feel that, you are a strong woman, you can fly on a dragon and he is sure that you are capable of defeating any man from the city guard, the birthing bed would not kill you. Besides, your mother took it upon herself to bring the best midwives to King's Landing to help you in the delivery and Alicent was by your side, she would never allow anything to go wrong.

He knew you would be fine but still, a small part of him was anxious. He hated feeling like this. He wanted to go to the black cells and torture someone until that horrible feeling disappeared. He wanted to stop hearing your screams and listen to the prisoners' screams as he pulled their teeth out. But then again, you'd be mad at him for doing other things instead of going to meet his kid.

It felt unreal. Larys never imagined that he would have a child. No father wanted to marry his daughter to a cripple and on top of that with a second son who was not going to inherit anything, so he never thought that he would marry and have children. And Larys was fine with it because kids in general were fucking annoying. But then Harwin neglected you and he managed to captivate you so you gave him a chance. It was not in his plans that you would end up pregnant. But it wasn't a problem, you looked happy even though he noticed that you were disappointed by his lack of reaction when you gave him the news. He wouldn't say specifically that he was happy but he could say that he was proud, proud that he had done what Harwin couldn't, and now the Strong line would run through his blood. Proud to see how happy you were as the child grew in your womb. He couldn't deny that he liked to see how happy you looked while you and Alicent sewed blankets for the baby. He also liked hearing how excited you were as you talked about the names you had in mind for the child. He would never forget the smile on your face when you took his and Alicent's hands and made them feel like kicking the baby for the first time. You looked happier than he had seen you in years. He was the one who made you happy, not Harwin.

The door was flung open and Laena appeared with a big smile. "Everything went well."

Of course, Harwin was the first to run for your chambers. Soon Corlys, Laenor, and Rhaenyra followed. They were looking forward to seeing you. They needed to see for themselves that you were okay.

Larys remained seated. Although he wanted to go see you, he knew he had to wait a while. It would be striking that he was so eager to meet his nephew.

"What are you waiting for? She wants us all there" Laena said walking in seeing that Daemon, Lyonel, and Larys didn't seem willing to leave the room. Larys was sure Laena gave him the longest look when she said "everyone" and as if she couldn't be more obvious she moved to his side "Come on, go meet your nephews" she commanded as she squeezed hard his shoulder. Perhaps from the outside, it looked like an affectionate gesture but he could feel how your sister was digging her fingers into him.

Laena had only found out about the romance between the two of you because your sister didn't know what privacy was and entered your chambers without knocking on the door. Even Alicent's children knew to knock on the door and get the other person's permission before entering a room that didn't belong to them.

After you two get dressed again, Larys had to endure some questioning from Laena. He thought he had had enough of her when "the Queen Who Never Was" forced him to join her at her tea time to talk about his relationship with you. He preferred the cold stare of a Rhaenys Targaryen to Laena's endless questions.

"I'm sure you are excited to meet your grandchildren too, Lord Strong," Laena added to avoid drawing Daemon's attention. She knew that you would never forgive her if she let your secret slip. She loved Daemon but you and Laenor came first.

“Grandchildren?” Lyonel repeated, shocked to have more than one grandchild.

"Twins," Laena replied, still smiling.

That was enough for both Larys and his father to get up and head to your chambers. On another occasion, Lyonel would have lightened his step considering the limp of his son but this time he was excited. Twins were not common in the Strong family.

Larys felt even more proud of you two but also a little anxious. He was just getting used to the idea of a single baby. Now there would be two of them and he had to work to make them both like him. What if they are identical twins and he couldn't tell them apart? Would you tell him that he is a bad father because of that? What if Harwin manages to distinguish them? Would that make you forgive his brother? He put those stupid thoughts aside the moment he saw Rhaenyra grumbling outside your door. Evidently, again they had not let her in.

“Princess, you should go rest. Lady Strong must be too tired to receive any more visitors. She will surely receive you tomorrow. We don't want to overwhelm the mother right now, right?" he said before opening the door and going inside, ignoring the incredulous look that the king's eldest daughter gave him for daring to throw her out.

The moment you saw Larys walk in, your face lit up. You had wanted him to be with you during the birth but it would clearly have been conspicuous in court for him to be at your side instead of Harwin. At least you could have Alicent next to you, she took it upon herself to wipe the sweat from your forehead and neck, clearly, that was a maiden's job, not a queen's, but no one said anything, and she let you take her hand without any complaints even though you were sure it would have marks from your nails. The presence of your lover, your mother, and your sister made the situation not so terrible. Without them, you probably would have been even more terrified.

The midwives had already left so now you could talk freely, with just the family.

"Come, my lord, meet your children," you said surprising everyone. You knew that Larys and your mother will argue with you for revealing the true paternity of your children, but you didn't care. You wanted Harwin and Lyonel to know that it would be Larys' blood that would carry on the Strong legacy. You were sure that both kept the secret. The Strongs needed an heir and you gave them two. Besides, despite Harwin's infidelity, he had some honor and you knew he would never do anything to hurt a child.

Larys wanted to be mad at you. You just put the children and yourself in danger. His father could order you and Harwin to go to Harrenhal to prevent you from continuing your relationship. Harwin might eventually tell the princess the truth. What you just did was stupid. Like it was stupid that he couldn't stop thinking about how beautiful you looked while you were carrying his son. He should be thinking about how to prevent his father from pushing you away or Harwin from opening his mouth but he could only think about you and the children. He loves you but sometimes he hated how stupid and weak you make him.

Harwin felt as if someone had repeatedly stabbed him in the chest at your words, confirming what he already knew. Larys was the father of your twins. He knew it the moment he saw Aethan's blue eye and the love in your eyes when his brother appeared. You used to look at him that way.

Now he understood why Larys had accompanied him all these hours, his brother was also worried about you and now he was the owner of your heart and with whom you share your bed. Harwin wished he could fool himself into thinking you were only doing this for revenge but he could see the love you had for Larys as you patiently explained how to properly restrain the children. Seeing them as a happy family caused pain in his heart. He always wished his brother happiness but he never imagined that it would be at his own expense. He couldn't be happy for Larys when those children were supposed to be his. You are his wife. He should be the one by your side as you proudly present Alyn to Lyonel as the future Lord of Harrenhal, not Larys.

Lyonel's eldest son knew that the gods were making him live this nightmare because he deserved it after all the pain and humiliation his romance with Rhaenyra caused you. But it seemed cruel to him that the gods had made the children look like he always dreamed his children would look like with you. He always imagined that they would have your beautiful silver hair and your mouth but they would have his nose and his eyes. The twins had slightly lighter skin than yours but there was no doubt that your blood had been stronger because they both have little silver locks, your mouth, and your beautiful brown eyes. Except Aethan also has an eye the same color as Larys'. That eye would always be a reminder to Harwin of who the father of your children really was.

Daemon entered your chambers together with your sister, finding Lyonel and Corlys holding their grandchildren without having any idea that he missed the Strong children's paternity reveal. Thankfully Laena had managed to distract him long enough for you and Larys to have a moment with your children.

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[cherryredlove]

☆ Gods Bless Alicent ☆

Modern!au Gwayne Hightower x Reader

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• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Your best friend Alicent invites you to her 24th birthday party. Despite being friends with her for so long, you finally meet her older brother Gwayne at one of the hottest parties of the year.

Word count: 1.8k

Themes: fluffy, content warning of alcohol and cigars/cigarettes, the SMALLEST drop of spiciness

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The invitation came two weeks ago, a luxurious cream-colored card with a gold-embossed crest. It was unmistakably Alicent Hightower’s style: elegant, formal, and a touch extravagant. Alicent always had a flair for the dramatics.

Alicent was your best friend since your university days. You'd lived together in student halls first year and stuck by each other ever since, suffering through hangovers and linguistics classes together. Godsdamn Valyrian was hard to learn.

When she mentioned that her 24th birthday party would be *the* event of the year, you expected nothing less than a grand affair. She was planning a celebration at her family’s mansion, complete with a guest list full of the coolest who’s who in Westeros and enough booze to get everyone thoroughly inebriated.

You decided to dress the part, slipping into a sleek black dress that hugged your curves just right. You paired it with silver heels and a clutch that matched. Your hair was done in the way Rhaenyra said was very fetching, and you had those diamond earrings Mysaria gave you for Christmas last year on. After checking yourself in the mirror one last time, you headed to the Hightower mansion, excitement tingling in your veins.

As you approached the grand entrance, you were greeted by the soft glow of string lights that draped over the sprawling garden and the subtle hum of music seeping from the house. The scene was already buzzing with energy; laughter and conversation mingled with the scent of barbecue (wagyu meat, of course) and the faint aroma of expensive cigars.

Alicent spotted you the moment you walked through the door. She looked stunning in an emerald green dress that made her eyes pop like bright jewels against her porcelain skin. Her auburn hair was styled in loose waves, framing her face perfectly.

“Y/N!” she exclaimed, weaving through the crowd to wrap you in a tight hug. “You made it!”

“Of course I did,” you laughed, hugging her back. “I wouldn’t miss your party for anything.”

Alicent pulled back, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “Come on, let me introduce you to everyone.”

The mansion was a sprawling labyrinth of luxury. Guests gathered in the expansive living room, on the patio, and around the pool in the backyard. As Alicent guided you through the throng, you recognized several faces from university and others from various social gatherings. Laena waved at you as she chatted to and shared a cig with Criston, who gave you a big smile and a wink as he sipped a fruity-looking cocktail.

The Targaryens were there in force—Rhaenyra, with her striking platinum hair, was animatedly chatting with her husband, Laenor Velaryon. Alicent had informed you of their 'arrangement' that suited them and their law firm just fine. In fact, you were pretty sure Nyra and Alicent had dallied around in the past (and present) together. Daemon Targaryen, the notorious bad boy, was lounging by the pool, an amused smirk playing on his lips as he puffed a Cubana cigar. However, there was only one man who Alicent wanted you to talk to that night.

“Y/N, meet my brother Gwayne,” Alicent said, pulling you towards a tall, striking man with broad shoulders and an easy smile. He had the same auburn hair as Alicent, though his was cut shorter and a bit unruly. His hazel eyes were warm and inviting, carrying a hint of mischief that was instantly captivating. He wore a crisp white shirt and grey slacks, the undone collar buttons making your heart race a little. You spy a chain with a ring around his neck and a swanky wristwatch.

“Hey,” Gwayne greeted, offering his hand. His voice was smooth, with a playful lilt that sent a shiver down your spine. “Alicent’s told me a lot about you.”

You shook his hand, trying to ignore the tingling sensation his touch left on your skin. “All good things, I hope.”

“All good, I promise,” he replied, his smile widening.

Alicent grinned knowingly. “I can't believe you haven't met before! I’ll leave you two to chat,” she said with a wink before disappearing into the crowd, clearly intent on matchmaking.

“So, how are you enjoying the party?” Gwayne asked, leaning against the bar with an effortless charm.

“It’s amazing,” you admitted, glancing around at the lively atmosphere. “Alicent really knows how to throw a party.” You remember the simple days of pre-drinks at the flat, trying to down as much cheap wine as possible before hitting your favoured club, the Dragon Pit.

“She does,” Gwayne agreed, nodding towards the expansive patio. “Have you tried the drinks yet? We’ve got a special cocktail menu for the occasion.”

You shook your head, and he offered you his arm. “Come on, let’s get you something.”

You followed him to the bar, where he ordered two drinks, an Iron Islands ice tea and a Stormlands sangria, explaining the mix of flavours and how they were inspired by the Seven Kingdoms. It was evident he knew his way around a party just as much as his sister did. As you sipped on the concoction—a mix of sweet, tangy, and a hint of spice—you found yourself relaxing, drawn in by Gwayne’s easy conversation and the comfortable vibe he exuded.

He asked about your work and your interests and seemed genuinely interested in your answers. As the night wore on, the initial nervousness you felt in his presence melted away, replaced by a growing sense of comfort and attraction.

You noticed the way Gwayne’s eyes lingered on you, the subtle brush of his hand against yours as you stood close, and the warmth of his gaze when you laughed at his jokes. The chemistry between you was undeniable, an electric current that thrummed beneath the surface of every exchanged glance and shared smile. The way you easily laughed and joked after a couple of shared kamikaze shots with only the finest of Vale vodka made your heart soar.

“Come on!”Rhaenyra’s voice cut through the crowd, pulling your attention to the pool area, where the jacuzzi was bubbling invitingly. She beckoned the large group you were stood with over, waving her hand dramatically. “Time for some real fun!” she wiggled her eyebrows at you, and you snorted loudly.

Gwayne arched an eyebrow at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “What do you say? Fancy a dip?”

The idea of the jacuzzi sounded appealing, and the thought of being closer to Gwayne was even more tempting. “Why not?” You agreed, feeling a thrill of excitement.

Alicent had thought of everything, including a changing area near the pool with an array of swimwear for guests to choose from. After picking out a green metallic bikini, you changed quickly and stepped out into the warm night air.

Gwayne was already waiting, having swapped his party clothes for swim trunks. His toned physique was impossible to ignore, and as you approached, he flashed you a grin that made your heart race. You melted at the sight of his muscled arms. If you swooned publicly over your bestie's brother, Gods knows you'd never hear the end of it.

The jacuzzi was an oasis of warmth, and as you sank into the bubbling water beside Gwayne, you felt the party energy really start to flow. You were surrounded by laughter and chatter, the air thick with the smell of camaraderie that was both intoxicating and freeing. Or maybe that was the smell of Daemon offering you a cigarette.

As the conversation flowed, Gwayne moved closer, his knee brushing against yours beneath the water. “So, what do you think?” he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

"About the jacuzzi or the company?" you teased, meeting his gaze.

“Both.”

You laughed softly, feeling bold and buoyed by the evening’s energy and copious booze. “The jacuzzi is great, but the company is definitely the highlight.”

His eyes darkened slightly, a pleased smile playing on his lips. “I’m glad to hear that.” Godsdammit, he was hot when he was smug.

For a moment, you forgot about the rest of the party, lost in the connection you felt with Gwayne. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you in your own little bubble.

Alicent appeared at the edge of the jacuzzi, a conspiratorial smile on her lips. “Are you two enjoying yourselves?” she asked, a knowing look in her eyes.

Gwayne shot her an exasperated look, rolling his eyes. “Yes, Alicent, we’re enjoying ourselves.” You giggled at his sass, and he laughed easily.

She laughed, too, glancing between you two. “Good. I'm just making sure.” With a wink, she left, leaving you and Gwayne in your bubbly little corner.

“Your sister seems intent on playing matchmaker,” you observed, leaning back against the side of the jacuzzi.

Gwayne shrugged, his gaze steady on yours. “She means well. But I’m not complaining.”

The admission sent a pleasant flutter through your chest. The more time you spent with him, the more you realized how much you enjoyed his presence—the way he made you laugh, the way he listened, and the way he made you feel as if you were the only person that mattered.

As the night deepened, the party’s energy shifted to a more relaxed, intimate vibe. The music softened, and the crowd thinned, leaving a more personal vibe.

Gwayne shifted closer, his expression serious but gentle. “I’ve really enjoyed talking with you tonight, Y/N.”

You met his gaze, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the jacuzzi. “I’ve enjoyed it too, Gwayne.”

He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. “Would you be interested in going out sometime? Just the two of us?”

The question sent a thrill of anticipation through you, and you nodded, unable to suppress a smile. “I’d like that very much.”

His answering smile was a bright, genuine thing that made your heart skip a beat. “Great. It’s a date, then.

As the stars twinkled above and the sounds of the party faded into the background, Gwayne leaned in, his gaze locked onto yours. The world seemed to hold its breath as he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss.

The kiss was everything you hoped it would be—gentle yet filled with a promise of more to come. When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours for any hesitation, but all he found was an echo of his own eagerness. He leaned in again and kissed you, more fervent this time, and you whimpered lightly as his teeth grazed your bottom lip.

“I’ll call you,” he promised, his voice a low murmur that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You nodded, your mind a whirlwind of possibilities. “I’ll be waiting.”

As the night wound down and you lingered in the warmth of the jacuzzi, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment and excitement for what lay ahead. Alicent’s party had indeed been one to remember, and she would be bragging for the rest of time about how it was her that set up the cutest couple in Westeros.

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AN: look the whole cast basically smokes, might as well be true to canon material lol. anyways i luv gwayne and i luv modern aus so expect lots more like this. as always send in requests plz i luv writing for people!

[k-nayee]

BLURB and Author's Note

Tamed M.List

Next

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

❝The only reason you have any standing is through the pity and charity of my family.❞

Daemon stopped directly in front of you, icy gaze looking down at you with contempt. ❝We both know what you truly are—a bastard fished out the sea by the Queen Who Never Was.❞

The room fell silent, his words hanging heavy in the air. Predatory eyes were locked on you: intently watching, waiting for the tears of humiliation to spill as you flee away to—

laughter.

His smug and confident expression faltered.

Dark, bitter laughter spilled from your lips. The sound was soft at first, growing louder until it echoed off the stone walls.

Confusion flickered across Daemon's face once he realized his words had not struck as intended.

❝No threat, you say?❞ you murmured, amusement still coloring your tone.

As the last of your laughter faded, you lift your gaze to meet his. Daemon nearly recoiled at the intensity within your golden eyes.

They blazed with molten fury, feeling as if fire licked every surface of skin you looked upon. For a brief moment, he felt the urge to flee, unsettled by the force of your stare.

❝It is only because I have not been wronged,❞ you said, your voice now cold and cutting, ❝that I have not become one.❞

The King Consort’s face darkened as his smirk vanished completely, his eyes narrowing as your words took hold. But before he could respond, you stepped forward, closing the distance between you.

❝It is strange,❞ you drawled, voice laced with a chilling disdain and calmness. The roles had reversed; it was now you who looked at him as if he were nothing more than an insect beneath your feet. ❝There is no Targaryen blood running through my veins, and yet Dragons bow down before me.❞

You leaned in ever so slightly as you look through your lashes; a cruel, sinister smile tugging at your pretty lips.

Golden eyes clashed against violet, your gaze piercing through him as the room filled with silent, dangerous tension.

❝I wonder...can I do the same for their riders?❞

∘₊✧───────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧───────✧₊∘

If you came from my other books, welcome back! If not, that means I'm at least doing sum right and gaining reads🤧

Not gonna do a whole ass speech, we all know the basic things. But to make sure, the most important things I wanna emphasis on will be bolded so you cant say I didn't warn ya:

1) Plagiarism is a HELLA big no no. Takes a lot of time and energy to even to write out a whole completed chapter other than half-assed drafts. If I find out you stealing without credit: I'm blocking and reporting until your account is taken down.

2) This story will contain profanity, violence, dark humor, and other mature themes

3) I will either skip over certain parts of the show/book series or diverge the plot because I don't wanna follow every episode

4) Canon characters may/will be slight ooc, but will maintain their overall personality

5) I may end up making the book an "in-between arc" type of story if I either get too lazy or don't know how to end it

6) Other than the golden eye color: skin tone, hair color, and other descriptions are up to audience

7) I live a life outside of Tumblr, so please don't be commenting "update update!" That shit is rude and disrespectful and I don't like pressure; takes the fun out of writing.

Okay! That's all I gotta say for this. See y'all later!