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Version 38 (dark & light) du forum Dracarys (forum rpg uchronique GoT)

[sapphire-writes]

Money Shot

Part 4 of The Campaign

modern!Aemond x Reader

summary: Tensions rise between you and Aemond at the arrival of Floris Baratheon.

word count: 6.3k

rating: explicit/18+/MDNI

warnings: kissing, fingering, oral (f receiving), degradation, slight praise, semi-public, finger sucking, gagging, hair pulling, begging, infidelity, reader serving cunt (listen, our reader is not a girl's girl and you know what we're just rolling with it for this one rip), angst, alcohol consumption, smoking, language

note: oh hey there! it's my monthly series update whatcha know! how's everyone doing? surviving? thriving? slay! thanks for reading lovelies I hope you enjoy it!

dividers & headers by me (i know, we've come so far)

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Floris Baratheon is annoyingly pretty.

Even more so now that she’s this close; seated across from you at brunch. Floris and her sisters went to school with you when you were younger; you’d been in the same grade as her older sister Maris. You were never close. When it became clear her family was supporting Aegon over Rhaenyra, you made it your mission to find out everything worth knowing about them. 

Floris motherfucking Baratheon. 

She bats her lashes at Aemond as he holds his brother’s attention in polite quiet conversation. Easily the prettiest of her sisters so it is wasn’t surprising that Aemond had chosen her as his prize. Though to be frank, you’d never thought of Aemond as shallow. He hardly dated at all. 

Aegon had arrived late the previous night, setting off the alarms of Summerhall as he fell into the swimming pool. A fabulous start to the day. 

Floris had arrived the evening after you and Aemond’s most recent rendezvous. She’d squealed like an excited teenager, throwing her arms around Aemond, her heels lifting off of the ground as she peppered light kisses across his face. Her presence had been a thorn in your side ever since. 

A family outing had been Alicent’s idea. The restaurant was Rhaenyra’s choosing; an intimate little rooftop brunch spot. You’d all gotten there early to avoid the sweltering midday sun. 

You glance over your shoulder at the table behind you where Rhaenyra is seated, flanked by Daemon and Joffrey. Alicent and her father sit across from them, both tight lipped. Daemon is lost in his menu, the corner of his mouth curling into a sneer as he murmurs something to Rhaenyra. The table appears quiet, with no polite conversation. Though Joffrey is seated beside his mother, it feels very much as though you’d been seated at the kid’s table. 

“Weren’t you supposed to bring someone?” Helaena asks, glancing at Aegon out of the corner of her eye as she pours over the menu. “I thought you were seeing that Lannister girl.”

You turn away from the grown-ups' table, reaching for your wine. You declined the complimentary mimosas, as did Aegon. He swirls his glass of scotch in his hand, the ice cube clinking against the sides. Nothing like hard liquor at 11 am. 

“She’s not coming,” Aegon answers.

“Not coming?” 

Aegon merely shrugs, tapping his finger against the glass, “We had a fight.”

Helaena quirks a brow at that, pursing her lips as she sets her menu on the table.

“A fight?”

“Yes. A disagreement.”

“About what?”

Aegon groans, leaning back in his chair as a waitress walks by. His eyes rake over her figure so quickly you almost miss it. Aegon’s been perving for years and he’s mastered his technique. Your stomach sours and you roll your eyes. Jace reaches over to you, placing his hand on top of yours giving it a comforting squeeze. 

“Loyalties. I kissed someone else and she wasn’t happy.” Aegon tells his sister. His playful frown suggests he’s unbothered by her reaction to his infidelity.  

Of all the Targaryens, you think you hate Aegon the most.You glance at Aemond and find him already looking at you.

Well, maybe not the most. 

“How dreadful. You’ll cause a scandal, I’m sure,” Helaena muses. 

“No one’s paying much attention to me. Nothing to worry about,” Aegon says, plucking a piece of bread from the basket in front of him, “Everyone’s more concerned about Maegor With Tits.” He holds the bread against his chest for crude emphasis. 

“Hush,” Helaena snaps, always the quickest of her siblings to defend her half-sister. 

Helaena and Aegon quarrel like lovers. It’s unsettling. 

Aemond is still watching you, even though you’ve looked away. You’re trying to control the small smirk that plays on your lips. You know why he’s staring. 

It wasn’t as though you were trying to get him to look at you, but you had opted for a more revealing dress than you usually would for a family outing. Jace’s eyes had widened considerably as you’d smoothed the small scrap of silk into place that morning.

“You look incredible,” he’d said, hand on your hip, eyes following the fabric that stopped just below the curve of your ass, leaving no amount of leg to the imagination.

You glance at Aemond, meeting his hungry gaze. He’s awfully fun to play with. It’s been so boring the past few days ever since Floris’ arrival. She’d been stuck to Aemond’s side like a pretty little leech the entire time. 

“So, Floris,” you say, placing your wine glass on the table, “We’ve been living in the same house for three days now and I feel like I don’t know anything about you. Tell me about yourself.” It’s a command more than a request.

Aemond keeps his eye focused on you, the heat of his glare burning into your face. Helaena raises a brow as Jace and Aegon begin talking to one another, oblivious. Helaena has always been the most observant. Floris smiles kindly, not sensing the tension that rolls off your shoulders. It’s the first time you’ve attempted to speak to her. 

“Oh ... .well…,” she glances at Aemond though he says nothing, “What would you like to know?”

A smile dances across your lips. This should be fun.

“I can’t remember for the life of me where you studied. Which university did you graduate from again?” you ask, cocking your head to the side, “Was it Harvard or Yale? I always confuse the East Coast ivies.” You laugh breathlessly, shaking your head. 

Floris’ eyelashes flutter; a nervous tell. She smiles with a sigh, clearly not used to the spotlight directed at her. 

“Oh well I think you’re thinking of my sister Maris,” she answers, cheeks turning a rosy hue of pink. You knew that, obviously. If Aemond wanted intellectually stimulating conversation, he’d have chosen her as his arm candy. “But I’m planning on going back and getting my degree at some point. I’m really interested in botany—”

“Botany! Ha! That was my minor in university,” Helaena chimes in. Floris’ eyes light up, thankful Helaena has joined the conversation. “That’s rather—”

“Flowers?” you interrupt and Floris’ smile falters ever so slightly as her blue eyes return to you.

Unlucky for her, you’ve never been one to give up easily. You reach for your glass, holding it lazily between your fingers. Smiling tightly and tilting your head to the side, you continue your advances. 

“Yeah,” Floris shakily answers, “I mean…I don’t know. I haven’t really made up my mi—”

“Have you read any good books recently?” you ask, taking a sip of wine. You watch Aemond begin to tap his fingers against the table out of the corner of your eye.

“Oh um, not really,” Floris answers, “I’m not much of a reader.”

You flick an eyebrow up at that, glancing at Aemond. His pale blue eye holds your gaze, nostrils flaring. Interesting. Aegon and Jace have paused their side conversation.

“Oh?”

The table is silent. It’s like watching a cat play with a mouse. Aemond’s knuckles blanche as he curls his fingers in toward his palm. A waitress walks by, absentmindedly refilling the sweating glasses of water that line the table. Aemond says nothing; he doesn’t jump to his girlfriend’s defense.

Doesn’t look away from you. 

Floris wets her lips, smiling politely up at the waitress as she refills her cup. She pauses for a moment, nervously sipping her water. She’s about three mimosas in; you’re sure the alcohol is working in your favor. A layer of nervous sweat covers her brow. 

“I mean, I haven’t really—”

“What about current events?” you continue to steamroll her, “Aemond loves staying up to date he must be driving you crazy with all that. Especially with what's been going on recently in the Riverlands.”

“Oh, well I’m not really sure—”

“Oh you aren’t?” you ask in mock confusion, over dramatically pouting, “Hmph. I assumed you’d be interested in his work. I mean as Aemond’s girlfriend and all—”

“Oh well, that’s actually a great segway,” Floris interrupts, her voice shriller than before, as if she’s trying to regain control of the conversation.

You take another sip from your glass, allowing her interruption. You’re enjoying her distressed state. A smile curves at the edge of your lips and you attempt to hide it behind your glass. 

“We’ve just been having the loveliest time together, haven’t we?” Floris says, pressing her hand against Aemond’s shoulder.

He makes a soft noise of approval and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. You catch his gaze again, the conversation fading into white noise. 

Does Floris know she’s been sleeping on the bed he ruined you on? Your cheeks grow hot. Just a few nights ago you’d been tied to the rails of their headboard. Guilt stabs you in the gut but you choose to ignore the uncomfortable feeling. Floris Baratheon means nothing to you. She’d do the same to you in a heartbeat. There’s no playing fair in these circles. 

“—you see we decided to get engaged!”

You choke on your wine, sputtering, and coughing. Droplets of wine stain the white tablecloth like little pink raindrops. Jace rubs a comforting hand on your back. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed with concern.

“Sloppy girl you got there, Jacey,” Aegon snickers. 

“I’m fine,” you manage in a hoarse voice, “Just went down the wrong way, that’s all.” You can feel droplets of wine running down your chin, onto your neck, and down between your breasts.

Aegon raises his eyebrows, an amused smile on his face as his eyes shamelessly follow the river flowing down your chest. You wipe your chin as you stand from your chair, the legs scraping harshly against the wooden floor.

“I’ll just go freshen up,” you tell everyone. Your throat tightens uncomfortably. 

“D’you want me to come with you?” Jace asks, rising halfway from his chair, his brown eyes wide.

“No, I’m fine,” you insist, pressing your hand against his shoulder until he sits back down, “I’ll be right back.”

You don’t look at Aemond, nor anyone else as you hurry past Rhaenyra’s table and between other patrons towards the restroom. Hurrying down the hallway and slamming the door shut behind you, you take a deep breath gazing at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes are wide and bloodshot from your coughing fit, and your chest is shiny and sticky from the wine. 

“Seven fucking hells,” you grumble, grabbing one of the provided towels and wetting it in the sink. Cleaning yourself up, you try to stop your hands from shaking. 

Engaged. 

You shake your head, fixing your hair, trying to rid yourself of the thought.

He’s fucking engaged.

Sleeping with Aemond Targaryen when he has a “girlfriend” is one thing. But fiancee? The thought makes your stomach tighten. Well, it shouldn’t mean anything. You didn’t care then. You shouldn’t care now. You meet your eyes in the mirror, your stomach flipping unpleasantly. You shouldn’t care. Your lower lip trembles, nails digging into the soft flesh of your palms.

Seven hells.

“What are you doing?” you whisper.

What have you been doing? You have a boyfriend. He has a fiancee. You press your hand against your forehead, breathing deeply as your heart thrums against your ribs. A wife practically. Gods if this got out. You don’t even want to think about it. Rhaenyra’s campaign would be jeopardized. Everything you’ve worked for. You’ve been so incredibly reckless. 

This has to end. 

The door opens and you’re torn from your thoughts as Aemond enters the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Of course, he followed you. You glare at him through the mirror.

“Out.”

“Let me explain—”

“Get out Aemond,” you demand, drying your hands, not turning to face him.

“I meant what I said,” he continues, taking a step forward, “It’s an arrangement that’s all, a publicity stunt—”

“A publicity stunt? You’re getting married,” you hiss, throwing the towel against the counter, meeting his eyes through the mirror once more. It feels hauntingly familiar, looking at him like this; the last time he was buried to the hilt inside of you. “Get. Out.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” he insists.

You laugh bitterly, finally turning to face him. He’s standing inches away from you, so close you can smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne. It makes your head spin. Shit. Stay focused.

“Doesn’t change anything?” you repeat, “She’s going to be your wife.”

“Don’t be such a child,” he snaps, causing you to flinch, “You know how this works. People are paired off together all the time.” He takes a step forward and you back up, your ass nudging against the edge of the sink. “What did you think was going to happen, hm?” He steps even closer, his body completely caging you against the counter.

Aemond places his hands on either side of you. He’s not wrong. You know how this world works. Families align with each other all the time through relationships and marriages. It’s as if they’re frozen in time using betrothals for political gain. 

Just look at Rhaenyra and Laenor Velaryon. Their marriage was anything but a loving one. Her children are proof of that, clearly fathered by someone else. You remembered watching them arrive when you were in grade school; exiting the black limousine and not realizing who they were. Their father was rumored to be the head of the Secret Service at the time, Harwin Strong, though this was never confirmed. 

“It’s not like Jace is going to let you go,” he murmurs, hands inching closer to your waist, “Or have you not thought that far ahead?”

His hands come to rest on your hips and he chuckles softly at the sound this elicits from you.

“You’re in too deep,” he says, nose brushing against your cheek. His minty breath wafts over your face. One hand remains on your waist, the other trailing up the side of your ribs. Goosebumps bloom on your arms as he reaches your face.

“It’s for the election,” you whisper.

“The water’s over your head,” he murmurs, his hand caressing your cheek, “If you think it’ll end there, you’re not as smart as I thought you were. You’re drowning.”

You swallow, lips parting to give him another snide remark, but he doesn’t let you; the hand that cradles the side of your face pulls you forward and presses your lips to his. You push against his firm chest, disconnecting your lips with a wet pop. Your hand reaches toward your face, your fingertips pressing against your tingling lips.

“You’re getting married—”

“And you’re fucking jealous,” he snarls, bringing his face inches away from yours. You suck in a surprised breath, cheeks warming as his lips curl into that familiar smug smirk, “Worried Floris is getting what you’ve been missing?”

Humiliation makes your skin prickle; the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. Your fingers fall from your lips.

“Fuck you,” you hiss from between clenched teeth, “I don’t care.”

You try to push by him but his hands plant themselves on your middle, holding you firmly in front of him. His hands slide down your waist, cupping the globes of your ass. A disapproving whine leaves your lips as he squeezes the soft flesh harshly, lifting you onto the counter. Your fists beat against his chest and he grabs your wrists.

“You care,” he insists, pressing a kiss against the side of your neck as you twist an arm from his grip to shove him, “Otherwise you wouldn’t be behaving like a spoiled brat in front of everyone.” His lips press against your throat with every word he speaks. 

One of his large hands moves up your back winding in your hair and tugging your head backwards. Your forearm presses against his shoulder attempting to push him away. Aemond hums appreciatively against your throat, pressing another soft kiss against it. Your breathing hitches as he continues to kiss your neck, warm desire pooling in your belly. You stop pushing, curling your hand into the fabric of his shirt instead, pulling him closer. 

“It’s been three days,” he murmurs, continuing his exploration up your neck with his lips, nipping and sucking at the smooth skin, “Three days without this cock is driving you crazy, huh?”

“Aemond,” you try to snap at him but it’s dangerously close to a moan, “They’ll be waiting for us—” You’re silenced by his fingers thrusting through your parted lips, pressing down against your tongue. 

“Shhh,” he hushes in a condescending tone, “I think that pretty mouth has said enough, don’t you agree?” You watch him with wide eyes as he presses further down your throat until the tips of his fingers reach the rough surface of the back of your tongue causing you to gag. He moves his fingers back.

“C’mon, you can do better than that,” he scolds, tapping your cheek with his other hand. His eyes narrow as he presses his fingers further down your throat once more. Your throat constricts and you claw at his bicep, fighting the urge to gag again. You hollow your cheeks, sucking his three fingers in your mouth. “There she is. That’s much better— there’s a good girl, that’s it.”

He removes his soaked fingers, a line of saliva still connected to your lips. Gasping for breath you feel him part your legs, his hand sneaking under your dress. You can feel his cool, wet fingers against your inner thighs. 

“Aem—”

“What did I say?” His words are clipped and irritated. His fingers graze against your clothed center, pressing lightly against your soaked center. You can feel how much you want him. How right he was about the jealousy that burns in your belly. You’re sure he can feel it too.

A muffled whine leaves your lips as his fingers pull your panties to the side, parting your silky wet folds. You’re embarrassingly wet already. Aemond chuckles darkly, fingers dipping against your entrance and gathering some of your arousal before circling your clit.

“You’re begging to get fucked, you know that?” he asks, his voice husky and strained, “Walking around here looking like this.” The hand in your hair tightens and pinpricks of pleasure sting your scalp. “Needy. Little. Slut.” His fingers pinch your clit on the last word and you cry out.

Aemond slams his lips against yours to silence your cry and you hook a leg around his slim waist, heel digging into his lower back pulling him closer. He kisses you feverishly like he means to devour you. It’s sloppy and his teeth scrape against your lip but you don’t care. It’s been days without him speaking to you, let alone touching you. You’ve felt like you were going crazy.

Not that you were about to admit that to him.

Your breathing is turning to pants as he continues to kiss you, fingers circling your bud with determined precision. Your eyebrows scrunch together as the current of pleasure in your abdomen winds tighter, and your toes begin to curl. You whine against his mouth and he shushes you once more.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls through an open-mouthed kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. 

You accept it greedily and your limbs turn to jelly when he licks at the roof of your mouth. One hand clings to his bicep, nails digging into the hardened muscle while the other winds around his neck and tangles in his hair. His hand dips lower, two fingers stretching inside of your warm waiting pussy. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs as you shudder at the stretch, “Fucking c’mon then—” his fingers crook upwards pressing against the spongy section of your walls that has your back arching, and black spots dancing across your vision.

“Gods—” you whine, clenching around his digits as his thumb presses against your clit. His fingers are longer and thicker than your own; you’d indulged yourself several times the past few days but masturbation was nothing compared to the pleasure Aemond is able to give you. 

“This is all you needed, huh?” he asks, steadily beginning to finger you, focusing all his attention on caressing your sweet spot. “Oh yeah. You’re so much happier with my fingers buried inside this tight little cunt, huh?” Your face flushes as he speaks to you. Every stroke of his fingers sends waves of pleasure washing over you. Your jaw slacks, eyes squeezing shut. Every nerve ending in your body is singing as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. 

“You want my mouth on this sweet little pussy?” he asks gruffly, his face pressed against yours, “Tell me how badly you want it. C’mon. Tell me.” The squelching sound of his fingers is borderline pornographic in the small space.

“Yes!” you wail.

“Beg me,” his voice is rough, the commanding tone causing your walls to spasm around his lengthy digits. 

“Please,” you whine, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. He knows your body so well. Too damn well. Every curl of his fingers incessantly bullies against your sweet spot. You can feel your walls pulsating around his fingers, squeezing him tighter and tighter and tighter. 

“Please what, baby?”

Your teeth are clenched together, and a whimper gets caught in your throat. Your eyes roll back in your skull as he slows his pace stroking just right. Your head tilts back gently tapping against the mirror, mouth hanging open in bliss as you try to find the words. 

“Please—please I need your mouth—”

“Yeah?” he says, an amused, open-mouthed grin slashed across his face, “Where?”

Seven hells he’s relentless. You bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, your heel presses against his buttock, your back arching off the counter desperately grinding against his hand for more friction. Gods you’re practically fucking yourself on his hand your hips rutting against his palm.

“Please! Please on my pus—” Your sentence dies as Aemond kneels in front of you. “Aemond—oh god,” you moan as he presses his face against you, one hand holding your panties to the side, as his tongue slides over your aching clit.

“Since you begged,” he murmurs, suckling your clit between his lips and sucking; tongue lavishing the sensitive button with even strokes.

His tongue is deliciously warm and firm, tracing little circles around your clit and making your mind go blank, the last few moments forgotten. His fingers stroke the rough patch at the front of your sensitive walls and he presses against it with brutal determination. 

Your thighs shake around his head, fingers tangling in his hair as the pressure in your belly builds, winding tighter and tighter until at last white-hot pleasure bursts through you; your muscles go taut and you cry out, slamming the back of your hand against your mouth to stifle the noise as you release barrels through you. 

He fucks you through it, a low rumble of appreciation bursting through his chest as the wet, sucking sound of his fingers grows louder with your release. The pleasure is almost too much; it ignites you completely. 

A rush of air enters the small space and your head snaps up. Aemond is quick to stand, mouth falling away from you and your release fizzles out. 

Daemon leans against the doorframe, a knowing smirk on his face as he purses his lips. His eyes follow the length of Aemond’s arm down to where it disappears still beneath your dress. Aemond’s fingers slip out of your pussy, the soaked digits dragging a wet path down against your inner thighs leaving you despairingly empty.

“Carry on,” Daemon murmurs, letting the door close behind him as he exits.

Blood rushes in your ears and the room begins to spin. It’s like Daemon took all the air in the room with him. Black spots appear in your vision. 

“Fuck,” you’re nearly panting, “Oh gods—” Your mind is beginning to spiral, the high of pleasure leaving your limbs. “Shit,” you breathe, fixing your panties, hopping off of the counter, “—fuck.”

Aemond reaches for the sink, and he turns it on calmly, beginning to wash his hands. 

“Relax.”

“Relax?”

He shuts off the faucet, drying his hands as he faces you.

“He’s not going to say—”

“Aemond,” you stop him, holding your hand up, “Just don’t.”

Fixing yourself quickly, Aemond stands in stony silence as you open the door and flee the bathroom. You return to the table, not looking at anyone. Sitting beside Jace you reach for your wine, downing the rest of it, trying to ignore the ache between your legs. 

Aemond rejoins a moment later, reclaiming his seat next to Floris. She holds out the menu, pointing at something trying to show him. It takes him a moment to get back into character. You watch him blink before slinging an arm over the back of her chair and leaning into her, seemingly very interested in what she’s showing him. 

You place your glass on the table, your leg bouncing uncontrollably. Helaena watches you, lilac eyes narrowed. Turning away from her scrutinizing gaze you subtly glance at Rhaenyra’s table.

Daemon meets your eyes, raising his glass to salute you.

Fuck.

You forgo dinner later that day, claiming the sun has gone to your head. Hiding beneath the silk sheets of you and Jace’s bed seems like a much better way to spend the evening. You try to busy yourself on your phone but your thoughts keep going back to Daemon. The smirk he wore, the look in his eyes.

Caught you.

Your stomach turns and suddenly the blue light is making you feel nauseous and you throw your phone across the room. The sun bleeds orange tendrils of light across the floor as it lowers over the horizon, the hours ticking by as you lay in silence. 

The door creaks open when the room is shrouded in darkness. The mattress dips as Jace sits, placing a comforting hand on your back.

“Hey,” he says softly, rubbing slow circles over the covers, “How’re you feeling?”

“Miserable,” you answer truthfully.

“I’m sorry baby,” he murmurs, “Do you want me to stay?”

“No,” you tell him, “I’m sure there’s something planned, you should join them.”

“It’s just a movie,” he tells you, “Joffrey picked it. Some crazy action film.”

“Charming,” you grumble as he places a kiss on the top of your head.

“Can I bring you something later?” he asks, and you don’t answer, “Get some rest.”

He gently closes the door as he leaves and the nausea comes back. You don’t deserve him. Jace knows, you’re sure of it. He knows there’s someone else. He’s just too nice to say anything. 

Whether he knows it’s Aemond you’ve been sleeping with is a different story.

It should make you feel worse than it does. 

You sit up, throwing off the covers suddenly very hot. You can’t sit in this room anymore, can’t lie down and sulk. It’s driving you up a wall, making you want to crawl out of your skin. You need fresh air. Rising from the bed, you throw on a pair of shorts and a simple t-shirt along with some flip-flops. 

The hallway is quiet when you enter; everyone must still be in the theater room or have gone to bed. You quickly pad down the stairs, the sound of your flip-flops echoing through the grand entryway as they slap against the marble staircase. Heading through the spacious kitchen you open the sliding glass doors and head out the back towards the pool. 

You see him as soon as you step onto the patio. He’s standing at the far end of the pool, a lit cigarette dangling from his perfect mouth. He glances at you, the cherry red tip pointed in your direction. He’s taken his hair down, the silver waves ripple over his shoulders. 

The pool is filled with lights dancing on the blue surface; little lotus flowers holding candles. A basket of beach towels sits next to the door and you grab one. Aemond watches your movements as you walk along the side of the pool coming closer to him.

“What are you doing?” you ask, watching him crush the cigarette under his shoe.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Didn’t know you smoked.”

“Only during times of stress.”

You nod, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth. You don’t ask him to follow you, but he does all the same as you continue to walk the edge of the pool until you reach the beginning of the yard. You walk on the grass until you reach the dimly lit cobblestone path you’d seen during the tour of Summerhall house Alicent had given the day you’d arrived. Fairy lights have been strung along the railing that leads down to a small private beach giving the path a feeling of perpetual summer. Aemond’s footsteps echo behind you sounding heavier than your own. 

As you arrive at the end of the steps you remove your shoes. Your feet sink into the sand, cooler now with the blazing summer sun not hanging overhead. 

“You shouldn’t swim at night,” Aemond comments.

“I’m not going to swim,” you tell him, placing your shoes on the last step, “Are you coming?”

Aemond hums, hesitating for a moment as he holds your gaze. He truly looks ethereal with the moonlight casting shadows along the angles of his face. That chiseled jaw, those striking cheekbones. His prominent long nose. He could have gone into modeling if not politics, that you’re sure of. 

You walk side by side further down the beach before you spread the towel and sit on top of it. You pat the spot beside you and he accepts the silent invitation to sit. For a moment neither of you speak, staring out at the waves that gently lap against the shore. The lights of the city are visible from here, just shiny little stars sparkling against the horizon. 

You can feel his gaze shift as he looks at you. What was it he said to you a few days ago?

You can’t fool me.

“I can speak to Daemon,” Aemond says softly, “Make sure he doesn’t…”

“Don’t bother,” you cut him off, “You and I are a ticking time bomb. It could have been anyone walking in on us.”

At least it was Daemon. If he releases it, he’ll spin it to make Aemond look like the sleaze; cheating on poor, doe-eyed Floris Baratheon. You don’t even want to think about the possibility of Otto or Alicent walking in on you. 

It’s always easier to scandalize women. 

If Daemon spoke to Rhaenyra, she’d make him leave your name out of it. Nameless, faceless. Just some girl. Curiosity gnaws at you. 

“Why wouldn’t you say something?” you ask him suddenly, “You could get on top of this before Daemon goes to the press. He’ll ruin you with this.”

“I’m not worried,” Aemond responds coolly, “I’m not scared of a little scandal.”

You think back to the stories you’d heard about him. The dutiful son with his sprinkle of bad decisions. Aemond cleans up his messes, unlike his elder. 

“I suppose your family is very protective of your reputation,” you agree, tucking your knees against your chest.

“You don’t have that sort of protection,” he says softly.

It’s true. The Targaryen and Hightower names are like royalty compared to everyone else. Sucking your lower lip between your teeth, you slowly shake your head. 

“No,” you agree, “I don’t.”

“I’m not going to say anything,” he clarifies, “I expect Aegon to win this campaign without the additional nonsense.”

You snort out a laugh. Even now he can’t help but try and push your buttons. It’s inevitable, the two of you. Always trying to one-up one another. 

“Yeah okay. Well, we’ll see about that. Besides, Rhaenyra’s numbers have increased steadily since the debate,” you tell him, bumping your shoulder against his. The small contact leaves a burning feeling where your skin meets his. 

“Don’t count your eggs before they hatch,” he softly teases.

“I know my chickens.”

Aemond frowns, giving you a quizzical look. “That’s not a saying.”

“Says who?” you ask, arching a brow at him. 

This is easy, this is good. Just banter. Just Aemond versus you. It’s much more simple when you’re on opposite sides of the playing field. 

“Surely someone,” he says leaning back against his hands.

The waves crash loudly against the rocks and seafoam sizzles against the sand. The moonlight reflects off of the top of the surf sending a silver trail down the middle of the water, splitting it neatly in two. 

“Why?” you softly ask, tapping your fingers against your calves.

“Why what?” Aemond asks.

“Why aren’t you going to say anything?”

Aemond stares at you, his gaze burning into the side of your face until you can’t stand it. Turning your head, you meet his heated gaze. 

“You know why.”

Your head tilts to the side, eyes not leaving his. “That’s a problem.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Aemond insists, “If we’re careful.” Aemond wets his lips, “What do you want?”

Your heart is beating so fast against your ribs it's almost painful. You place your palms against the towel, pushing against it trying to ground yourself. 

“This…” you struggle to find the words, opting for another shake of your head, “This will never work. You and I; we hate each other.”

“Yes,” Aemond agrees, his hand moving on top of yours.

“And you’re engaged,” you continue as his fingers lace through yours. Oh gods. There it is. That ache deep inside of you; a bottomless pit of want that threatens to swallow you whole. 

“I’m engaged,” he agrees, reaching over to stroke your cheek, “And you’re with Jace.”

His thumb strokes your cheekbone, hand cradling your jaw. The action is affectionate and caring. It’s so tender, so endearing you almost burst into tears. 

“I’m with Jace,” it’s barely a whisper, “I’m with—” You don’t get a chance to finish. His mouth is on yours before Jace’s name leaves your lips. There’s only Aemond.

You fall into the familiar rhythm quickly as he climbs on top of you, kissing you all the while. The sounds of the waves are deafening, matching the beating of your heart, of blood rushing in your ears. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. You want to lose yourself in the sound, in the feeling of him on top of you, pressing against you. He’s everything. He’s all-consuming. 

It’s too late for anything else. 

You’ve already been devoured. 

The heat of the morning sun wakes you, a light sheen of sweat covering you. The side of your face itches and you bring a hand to it, brushing away some sand. Sand sticks to your legs and arms. Aemond lays beside you on his back, an arm thrown over his eye to block the sun. 

“We fell asleep,” you tell him, squinting at the rising sunlight.

Whirl. Click!

A noise startles you. Must be the birds. Pushing yourself into a seated position, you brush some sand from your arm. Aemond turns onto his side, throwing an arm lazily over your outstretched legs. His hand curls against the meat of your thigh causing you to chuckle.

“Someone’s needy,” you tease, combing some hair from his face. 

He growls his eye remaining shut, but the corner of his mouth quirks in a smile.

Whirl. Click! Whirl.

Craning your neck, you raise your arms above your head, yawning as you stretch. A sliver of flesh is exposed as you do so, and Aemond reaches his hand to grasp your waist, tugging you closer. You definitely shouldn’t have fallen asleep. Jace is probably worried sick. You pat your shorts. Shit. You’d left your phone as well.

“They’ll be looking for us,” you tell him, attempting to escape his grasp.

“Let them look,” he says, voice rough with sleep, as he pulls you close, pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips.

Click!

You turn. There’s that noise again. As your ears adjust, you’re less sure that it’s simply the sounds of the birds rustling in their nests. The waves crash against the rocks, and you look over the dunes as the sea breeze rustles through them.

There it is. 

A photographer, laying on his belly in the dunes, camera held at the ready. Whirl. Click! Your heart drops into your stomach. You’re going to be sick, for real this time. 

You should have known.

Pushing away from Aemond, you pull your shirt down, dusting off the remaining sand.

“You’re a real fucking asshole,” you hiss, pulling the towel out from under him. 

Aemond frowns at the sudden change, watching as you shake the towel out before chucking it in his direction. He catches it, leaning back slightly, surprised at the force of your throw.

“What?” Aemond says, face a mask of confusion.

“Shame I wasn’t in some skimpy suit, bet the press would have a field day putting those photos side by side with you and Floris,” you tell him scoffing, “I should’ve fucking known better.”

He calls your name. You don’t turn back, shielding your face as you hear the click of the camera once more attempting to save whatever dignity you have left. You can hear Aemond struggle to sand as you move toward the stairs, slipping on your shoes. His hand wraps around your forearm as you begin to climb them, halting your steps. 

“This was not me,” he insists, “Look, Storm’s End yes, I did that but I had nothing to do with this—”

“I am such a fucking idiot,” you snap, ignoring him.

“I swear it-” You tug your arm away from his grasp, his expression crestfallen.

“I don’t even know why I’m surprised,” you tell him, laughing bitterly, “Like I didn’t know who I was dealing with.”

Aemond’s lips part, but he says nothing. You open your mouth to speak again.

Click! Whirl. Click!

“Fucking hells,” you mumble, turning away and running up the steps back towards the main house. 

Tears stream down your face, hot and wet as you continue to climb. They’ve already got their money shot. You won’t give them one of you crying as well.

[queen--kenobi]

Like a Cigarette (Drag Out, Never Quit) Part I

My entry in @hotd-bigbang for this year! The header, dividers, and the moodboard are all done by the wonderfully talented @ewanmitchellcrumbs

Fic summary

When the Greens realized Rhaenyra invaded King's Landing, Elayna, Aemond's wife and mother of his children, was among those who fled. Not trusting Larys, Elayna had made a plan with Tyland Lannister should the worst ever occur. Seven months later, freshly widowed Elayna and Tyland return to King's Landing. The pair of Westerlanders grew close in the intervening months, making many wonder what happened. King Aegon II decides to see for himself exactly how close the pair became.

Chapter summary: Having made their way back to King's Landing, Elayna has to deal with some personal matters.

Warnings: heavy discussions of grief, character death (not in fic), lots of angst. NSFT (m!receiving oral, f!receiving oral, PiV, some praise kink, and previous D/s dynamics referenced.) Also, dub-con. They both are given an out, but it's still there.

Word count: ~10.3k

Part 1 of 3

A/N: Thank you to both @emilykaldwen and @/ewanmitchellcrumbs for doing this year! I had a lot of fun with this, and y'all did a fantastic job putting this on.

Elayna closes her eyes. 

Despite her exhaustion, she can't seem to find sleep. Every jolt of the carriage shakes her awake. The movements aren't what keep her from sleep but what they might do; the thought of her twins waking up is almost enough to bring her to tears. It took far too long to get either of them down for a nap. In theory, she knows she could give them to someone else. In practice, the idea terrifies her. An almost animalistic fear hits her at the thought of someone else handling them. 

Aelon and Reynard are all she has left of Aemond, left of her old life. She'll be damned if she lets someone take that from her.

“You can go to sleep. I'll wake you if they do.” Elayna cracks one eye open at the sound of Tyland’s voice. He sits across the carriage from her. He could have chosen to ride with everyone else, but he chose to stay with her. 

“I cannot ask that of you. You have already done far too much for me.”

Elayna wouldn't be alive if it weren't for Tyland. The twins wouldn't be alive if it weren't for him. If he hadn't managed to sneak her out of King's Landing just before Rhaenyra took the city, all three of them would be dead, and it wouldn't be a swift or painless death. 

Aemond killed Rhaenyra's son. 

Killing his wife and two unborn children would be one of the first thing Rhaenyra sought to do. Elayna cannot find fault with the logic; she would do the same for her children. 

The carriage jostles almost violently. Elayna lowers her head to look at the twins, missing Tyland pursing his lips together at her statement. Aelon opens his eyes. Panic surges through Elayna. If he begins to cry, Reynard will surely wake as well. She tries to carefully adjust Aelon, wanting to better cradle him if he should start to cry. The adrenaline coursing through her combined with her exhaustion makes her movements sloppy, jostling the twins more than the carriage.

“Elayna...”

“Don't!” She snaps instantly. Elayna winces when she hears her tone. She tries her best to soften the edges when she opens her mouth again. “I... I know you mean well, but I. I cannot . I will not let anyone else take care of them.”

“At the expense of yourself?” Elayna frowns. She glares at Tyland across the carriage. It's all sheer emotions mixed with sleep deprivation; no true ill will sits in her gaze. Tyland doesn't flinch; he stares back at her evenly. “You can't keep going like this.”

“It doesn't matter if I can or not. I must.”

He sighs. Elayna looks away, cradling Aelon closer to her. One part of her brain sees how emotional and illogical she's being, but the majority of her brain refuses to look at it.

“I know you're right. But. How do I know she won't hurt them?” Elayna's voice cracks slightly at the last word. She swallows and clears her throat in an attempt to disguise it. Tears begin to collect along her waterline without permission. “I couldn't trust before, but now. How can I? How can I trust anyone to not hurt them?”

Her voice rises an octave without her permission. She slaps her hand over her mouth in an attempt to push the words back inside her body, but it's too late. The increased desperation in her tone finally triggers Aelon. He lets out a piercing wail. 

The wave crests, and each member of Elayna’s family falls.

Aelon's wail causes the trapped sob in Elayna’s chest to burst violently from her. She has no idea if it's in solidarity or if it's because the sound of Aelon's crying makes her want to scream. Upon hearing both his mother and brother crying, Reynard joins. The look of alarm on Tyland’s face would be funny in almost any other circumstances. 

“Elayna...” 

Elayna tries. She tries to tell him she's fine, she's okay, she just needs a moment. All that comes out is a choked noise and then an unholy wail. Her cries mix with those of her babies. Tyland's eyes go wide. He opens his mouth to say something, most likely words of comfort, but nothing comes out. Elayna curls around both Aelon and Reynard.

A soft hand on her shoulder nearly makes her jump. Tyland sits beside her. His expression is equal parts alarm and concern. His fingers flex and curl, as if he's not sure if touching her is the right move. Elayna buries her face into his shoulder. Tyland stiffens at the contact. Elayna opens and closes her mouth, trying to assure him she's fine, it's fine. Nothing comes out. 

“There, there.” Tyland rubs her back very awkwardly. He clears his throat. She hears three thumps on the carriage door. She feels the jolt as the carriage stops. Elayna wants to push away from Tyland in case people look in on them, but she doesn't have the energy. Instead, she pulls Aelon and Reynard closer while pressing herself further into Tyland.

The door to the carriage opens. Elayna panics. The thought of someone seeing her like this sends an intense spike of panic through her. She tried to push away, but Tyland keeps the one hand on her shoulders. She can't hear what he says to the servant who opens the door.

Elayna hears other voices. One of them gives soft commands. Tyland occasionally speaks, but she can't hear it because of the noise in her head and wails coming from her. Eventually, two other voices join, this time feminine. Elayna lifts her head from Tyland’s shoulder. 

“No. No!” She shakes her head violently and clutches Aelon and Reynard closer to her.

“Elayna. Elayna!” Tyland takes a gentle hold of her shoulders. “It's okay. ‘Tis okay.”

“I don't. I don't want them to!” Elayna's voice cracks as it reaches a new octave. Tyland brings one hand to her face.

“ ‘Tis okay. It's okay. They're not going to hurt them. Aelon and Reynard will be fine.” Tyland wipes some of the tears from her face. “They will be watched. The nurse maids will have others around them. No one will hurt them. I swear.”

Elayna stares at him, her lip wobbles even more. Tyland clears his throat. 

“You need to let them. You can't do this by yourself.”

“But I-”

“We'll call for them once you've calmed down.”

Tyland's logic makes sense. It goes against every instinct in her body, but it makes sense. She stares at him. Tyland’s movements are stiff and hesitant as rubs her back. 

“Okay. Okay.”

She tries to stay calm as she carefully hands over Aelon and Reynard to the nurse maids. Both wail even louder when she passes them; it takes all of her self-control to not fall apart again hearing them. 

It isn't until the carriage door closes again and she and Tyland are left alone that she lets herself break down once more. 

This time, Tyland seems to expect it. He holds her, at first clearly unsure if he should. When she grabs the collar of his doublet, collapsing into him as she sobs, he pulls her closer. He doesn't say anything, just holds her in his arms and rubs a small circle on her back. The gesture brings more tears. Her body feels so heavy. 

She's tired. She's so so so tired. Her entire being feels like a giant lead weight. The more she cries, the more sheer exhaustion creeps upon her. Elayna splits apart at the seams, everything finally too much to handle.

She wakes up warm.

Elayna sighs. She vaguely registers the sound of the carriage rolling over cobblestone now, the clack of horse's hooves against them. She turns her head with a grunt. Her left cheek slides against silk as she tries to bury her face. A light, soft sensation rests on her right cheek and neck. 

The fabric doesn't give. 

It takes Elayna a moment to realize the reason as to why. Her sleep addled mind slowly arrives at the conclusion. She struggles to open one eye, crusty from the salt in her tears. Red silk greets her first then a moss green velvet. Sluggishly, she tilts her head upward. In her periphery, she notices her head rests in the crook of someone's neck. She sees the lines of a jaw with a blond beard.

“Tyland...?”

Tyland’s eyes flick down to look at her.

“We should arrive at the Keep soon.” Elayna becomes aware of his arm around her, his hand resting on her shoulder. His hands seem broad against her. She idly admires his fingers. She wonders what his hands would look like against her bare skin, what colors bruises in the shape of his fingers would take. 

“How long was I asleep?” Words float in and out of her brain. She lets her eyes close again. 

“Half the day. I've kept Aelon and Reynard with us as much as I could.”

At the mention of her children, Elayna's eyes fly open. Before Elayna can even try to sit up, Tyland quickly reassures her.

“They're in here with us.”

Elayna still pushes herself up to look at the space. The sight makes Elayna's shoulders drop. She lets out a deep breath before slowly letting herself settle back down. Her head finds Tyland’s shoulder once more. 

She should be worried what people might think if they saw the two of them. She shouldn't let herself relax. She needs to be on guard.

Instead, Elayna closes her eyes. 

The two of them stay like that for a long moment, Elayna's head on Tyland’s shoulder and Tyland’s arm around her. At some point, Tyland’s hold moves. His arm rests loosely around her waist. Elayna sighs. She nestles closer to him, almost instinctively, at the change in positioning. They sit in silence. Elayna listens to the sounds of the horse's hooves and the creaking of the carriage. She listens to the soft rise and fall of her breath, of the twins's breath, of Tyland’s breath. She listens intently to a moment of peace she might never get again.

After a while, Elayna sighs. While she enjoyed the blissful break from the realities of her situation, she has to clean up the pieces. 

“ ‘m sorry.” She manages. “For earlier. I didn't mean to... cause concern.”

Tyland sighs. It's not necessarily at her but more world weary.

“I imagine being a widow with two babes is difficult.” Tyland looks down at her. “You have help. Use it. Not everyone means you harm.”

Elayna doesn't say anything for a long moment. Instead, she stares ahead. He's somewhat right; not everyone means to harm her but enough people do she cannot risk it. The truth of the matter is the minute she married Aemond, both herself and any children they had were in danger. It wouldn't have mattered who won, she and her children were always going to be on the chopping block. They didn't afford any decency to Aegon and Helaena's children, why would hers be any different? If anything, Aelon and Reynard were more in harm's way, given Aemond's actions. Elayna tries to find the words to explain this, but they stay stuck inside her mouth.

“They're all I have.” She whispers. It's the closest thing she can come to getting him to understand.

“And they will have nothing if you continue on like this.” He counters. Elayna swallows. “They're children of a Prince. Aegon won't let anything happen to his nephews.”

Tears threaten to fall again. She doesn't try to fight them this time. Instead, she lets them fall. This time, her body grants her the mercy of them being silent.

“I... I know that. But ‘tis hard.”

Tyland stays silent. She fights to keep her gaze forward, not wanting him to know how much just saying those words aloud hurt her. 

“Do you trust me?”

Elayna lets out a humorless little giggle. Tyland stiffens, but Elayna quickly turns her head up to look at him. 

“Of course I do.” She smiles at him. The motion almost feels foreign to her. “If I didn't, I would have had your head for seeing me cry.”

Tyland raises an eyebrow at her. Elayna stares evenly back at him.

" 'Tis a joke!"

"I somehow doubt that." Before Elayna can react, he clears his throat. "Nothing will happen to them. I promise."

Elayna buries her face back into his shoulder. She wants to tell him he's too kind to her, but the words won't come. Instead, she presses herself more into his side.

They stay like that, Elayna's head in the crook of Tyland’s neck and his arm around her waist, until they reach the gates of the Red Keep.

Everything feels off, almost to the point of being tangible. She can almost taste something acrid and mournful in the air.

The greeting party was small; Aegon cannot move much without being in pain so his absence was expected. Queen Alicent, however, did not come out to see them. Elayna was under the impression she would until she was later informed Alicent doesn't leave her chambers for much of anything anymore.

She understands.

Elayna often thanks the Seven the twins were born before the news of Aemond's death reached her. She has no idea what the devastating news would have done to the twins if they were still inside her belly. Even then, it almost killed them. In the days after, Elayna stayed in bed all day, only getting out of bed to feed Aelon and Reynard. The thought of doing anything more hurt her deeply. It took both Johanna and Tyland to coax Elayna not just out of bed but out of her chambers. Guilt still eats at Elayna; Johanna had her own losses yet Elayna selfishly took all the space to mourn. 

Perhaps the sight of Alicent's two new grandchildren may do the Dowager Queen good. Elayna tells herself this as she carries the twins to Alicent's chambers. When the guards open the doors, and Elayna sees Alicent, Elayna almost gasps.

She doesn't recognize the woman before her.

Alicent's curly hair sits tangled, almost in mats. Her eyes are sunken, red rimmed from crying. She almost curls in on herself, any and all previous confidence long gone from her body. Elayna hurts. She physically aches looking at Alicent.

“Your Grace.” Elayna steps forward. Alicent finally looks up to Elayna. She looks so much older than the last time Elayna saw her. 

“Elayna.” Alicent's voice lifts with relief, but she doesn't smile. “You're alive.”

“Aye. Thanks to Ser Tyland.” Elayna clears her throat. “I am not the only one alive thanks to him. Your grandchildren are as well.”

The news of two grandchildren doesn't take all of the sorrow away from her, but it visibly puts more life into Alicent. She almost perks up. Her eyes brighten.

“Grandchildren...? You were with twins?” Alicent carefully stands up. Delight creeps into her voice, the delight of a mother learning they're a grandmother. At the sound, Aelon lets out a pleased giggle. Reynard coos softly.

“If I may present Aelon and Reynard...”

Alicent makes her way over to Elayna. Elayna gently maneuvers Aelon out of his sling as she approaches. Alicent stops just short of Elayna, as if waiting for permission. It almost seems as if she thinks Elayna will tell her no. Instead, Elayna cradles Aelon and hands him to her.

“This is Aelon.”

“Aelon.” Alicent repeats. She takes a moment to study him. Elayna watches as Alicent notices how light Aelon's hair is and how his nose matches Aemond's. Alicent looks up. Tears threaten to fall. “He looks like his father.”

Elayna does her the courtesy of pretending to not notice the slight break in Alicent's voice. 

“He does. But he has my temperament. Nothing is ever quite right for him.” The subtle jab at herself makes Alicent shake her head. Elayna turns to Reynard. “This one looks like me, but I think he shall take after his father.”

Elayna lifts Reynard from his sling with a grunt. She cradles him close to her chest, positioning him so Alicent can look at his face.

“He has your hair but Aemond's eyes.” Alicent remarks almost absent-mindedly. Aelon babbles in her arms, a plea for attention. Alicent shifts him. He quickly grabs onto her hand with one of his own small and pudgy fists. Alicent almost smiles. Her face relaxes some, the harsh lines on her face easing up as she does so. Her eyes brighten a bit at the same time. Yet she still doesn't smile.

Elayna doubts Alicent ever will again. 

Elayna steps close to her. Reynard reaches out to clasp one of the many strands of hair free of Alicent's braids. He looks at her, eyes wide. 

“I...” Elayna begins. She pauses to take a deep breath. “Is it silly one of my wishes is I could have told Aemond we had twins?” Elayna wants to look at Alicent and meet her eyes, but she can't. All the strength to lift up her head leaves her body. Instead, she reaches across to smooth out one of Aelon's hairs.

“No.” Alicent manages. “No, ‘tis not.”

Elayna inhales shakily. This time, her head begins to hurt before her eyes water. 

“I hope they become men their father would be proud of.”

Elayna's words make Alicent break first. She lets out a choked sob, placing her free hand delicately over her mouth. Elayna presses her lips together and averts her eyes. 

“I... I miss him.” Elayna confesses. “I miss him so much.”

Alicent lets out a strangled sob, a noise Elayna is all too familiar with herself. The sob quickly turns into heavy crying. Alicent's shoulders heave with each attempt of an inhale. Silent tears fall down Elayna's face. 

She can't hug Alicent properly because of the twins, but she tries her best. She stands as close to Alicent as she can and wraps her free arm around her. Alicent doesn't respond in kind but grips Elayna's arm. She almost seems as if she might collapse.

When Alicent does fall into Elayna, Elayna catches her as best she can. Elayna carefully guides her towards a chair. Once Alicent is close enough to lean on the chair, Elayna speaks. 

“Here. Give me Aelon.” 

Elayna shifts so she can take both infants. Alicent hands Aelon over. Elayna tries her best to carefully guide Alicent towards the seat of the chair, mostly to ensure Alicent doesn't fall. Alicent manages to get into the seat. Elayna kneels in front of her.

They stay like that for a moment. 

Eventually, Alicent clears her throat. She looks at Elayna from underneath her eyelashes. Elayna nods.

“Would you like to hold Reynard now?”

“I would.”

Elayna hands Reynard over, cooing as she does so. Reynard kicks his feet but does nothing more in the way of protest. Alicent carefully cradles him in her arms. Elayna watches for a minute before Aelon, clearly upset with the lack of attention, lets out a high pitch scream. When Elayna looks down at him, he grins and giggles.

Elayna's summons aren't unexpected. 

“The King wishes to speak with you.”

Elayna slowly stands. She turns to face Alicent, but she doesn't need to ask. Alicent offers before she can ask.

“I'll watch them.”

Elayna offers her a small smile. She trusts Alicent. The loss of two of her grandchildren and two of her children means she understands Elayna's pain, Elayna's fears. Alicent won't harm her children.

Elayna follows the Kingsguard. She expects to be taken to the Throne Room. Instead, the path leads towards the King's chambers. Aegon holding an audience in there feels strange in her mind. Perhaps he has yet to fully recover from his injuries. Elayna never saw him, at least, not the full extent. She had been willing to look at him if he wished, but she opted to give him privacy instead. 

It wasn't out of disgust she did not look but respect. When she went to see him, his wounds were still fresh. The thought of another person seeing her as she might have seen him, weak and hurt beyond belief, meant she averted her eyes. 

They stop in front of the doors. Elayna takes a moment to inhale and steady herself before the doors open.

Aegon sits in a chair in the antechamber of his rooms. Elayna notes the blanket covering his legs but opts not to say anything. 

“Your Highness.” Elayna curtsies deeply. She looks up as she straightens back up. Aegon nods.

“Lady Elayna.” 

The two stare at each other from across the room.

“I was glad to hear of your survival.” Elayna starts. She does mean her words. While the news of him being alive was entwined with the news of Rhaenyra's death, she finds herself more comforted by the fact Aegon survived. “I... I did worry.”

“Lord Strong planned well.” Aegon dips his head. “Almost as well as Ser Tyland. Getting all the gold and you away, that is a lot to keep track of.”

“And I'm thankful he was able to do so.”

Aegon scrutinizes her. He narrows his eyes and stares at her in an almost calculating way. Elayna shifts. It's not an expression Elayna has seen on him before, and it almost makes her nervous. Aegon seems to see what he wants because he leans back slowly. A playful smile makes its way onto his face. 

“Did the two of you fuck?”

Elayna barely manages to keep herself from withdrawing in shock. Instead, her nostrils flare with indignation. Aegon tries to raise his eyebrows. The motion causes him pain; it makes his jaw clench and eyes screw shut.

Instinctively, she steps forward, wanting to offer help and ease the pain in any way she can. Elayna almost reaches out to grab his hand but catches herself.

"Well?" Aegon still sounds in pain. His question covers his slip-up. "Did you or did you not fuck?"

“No. We didn't.” Her words come out a hiss. Aegon nods. He doesn't seem entirely convinced.

“Do you want to?”

“That is not an appro-”

“ 'Tis a yes or no question.” Aegon looks at her. 

“I...” 

If Aegon were not so injured, he would raise his eyebrows and jut out his chin. He stares at her. Elayna screws her eyes shut.

“Answer me.”

She takes a deep breath. 

“Yes.”

She tries to force herself to sound authoritative. If she owns it, it shan't feel so shameful. It shan't feel like a betrayal. It would be an answer to a question. 

Instead, Elayna's voice comes out a soft whisper. It cracks almost. The single word rips and tears at something deep within her. Her husband has not even been dead a year, and yet, she openly admits to wanting another man. Shame swirls and screams in her brain. 

She opens her eyes and looks back at Aegon. Aegon studies her, not quite detached but not necessarily in a familiar way. Her internal agony must show on her face because he speaks after a long moment.

“I don't ask to cause pain.” Aegon begins slowly. She can almost feel him roll his words around in an attempt to select the right phrasing. Eventually, he sighs. “The Small Council wants you to marry already.”

“They wish to get rid of me.” The words fall from her lips without thought. “They wish to get rid of the wife of a kinslayer.”

Aegon stays silent. He looks away for a moment. His throat bobs. Elayna needs no more confirmation.

“I know you love Aemond.”

The use of the present tense nearly brings Elayna to tears. Aegon doesn't seem to notice his slip up. Perhaps it wasn't a mistake. Perhaps the wording was intentional. Aemond may have di- 

Is dead. Aemond is dead, but that doesn't mean Elayna's love for him died as well. Even if she herself feels as if part of her own soul passed the minute she was given the news, the love still lives on.

“I do.” She swallows. She blinks rapidly. The tears threaten to fall despite her efforts. Elayna turns her gaze to the ceiling and clears her throat. “His loss cannot be easy for you either. He is your brother.”

Aegon nods. 

“He would want you safe.” 

An idle question crosses her mind. She appreciates the warning about the Small Council's intentions, but to bring them up now seems strange. Tyland should be irrelevant to this conversation. Why does he feel like a focal point?

“What does this have to do with Tyland?” Aegon blinks with surprise at Elayna’s question. “You start by asking if I wish to sleep with him, and then speak of the Small Council and Aemond's wishes.”

“Nothing gets past you, dear sister.” Aegon nearly chuckles. The sound comes out weak. Elayna frowns. A small conversation such as this shouldn't be taking such a toll on him; it makes a small part of her ache to see him in such pain. “People need assurances. Especially the Westerlands.”

Elayna tilts her head. She regards him quietly. Each breath of his seems so labored. If she figures out what he's getting at, she can save him some agony.

“Aemond's children should grow up in their home.” Aegon rasps. Elayna studies Aegon.

“Are you... are you suggesting to marry me off to Tyland?” Elayna raises an eyebrow.

“You should have a husband you want to fuck.” 

Elayna purses her lips and turns her head away, not because she finds herself disgusted with his comment but because she may laugh at it. 

“I should.” Elayna decides on saying. Were she two years younger, she might have remarked on the fact most women don't get that choice. Instead, she holds her tongue. She turns back to face Aegon. “I accept.”

“Excellent.” Aegon raps the arm of his chair. He doesn't say what they're both thinking; Elayna's acceptance is just an illusion. The choice was already made. “You're dismissed.”

Despite the sun being above the horizon, the air grows cold as the chill of night begins to roll in. Elayna pulls her light cloak tighter around her shoulders. She's glad she thought to bring it on her walk in the gardens with Tyland. 

It had become a daily ritual at Casterly Rock for the two of them to walk in the evenings. Despite what the maesters said, Elayna had refused to stay bedbound during the last months of her pregnancy. Tyland offered to walk with her after supper so she might get the movement she wanted while still supervised in case something were to go wrong. The ritual quickly became the favorite part of Elayna’s day.

“Aegon seems to have grown. He thinks more as a King should.” 

Tyland nods his agreement. He keeps his stride even with Elayna's as they walk.

“I noticed much the same at the Council meeting. He's already looking forward to what the next year should bring.”

Elayna arches an eyebrow. “Had you told me two years ago that could even be possible, I would have called you a liar.”

“I'm sure it would not have been the worst thing you would have said of me two years ago.”

“No.” Elayna shakes her head almost violently. “Not you. Never you.”

Tyland raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything in regards to that. Instead, he turns back to look in front of them. 

“The King thinks we may need to bring a more favorable image back to the Crown. He seems to have an idea in mind already since he was asking about our reserves.”

“Well, an easy way to do that would be a royal wedding, but he has to be careful. I wouldn't trust just any bride.” Elayna purses her lips. “He could use that to his advantage. While he cannot mourn Queen Helaena all his life, a certain level must be expected. so long as the wedding occurs within a year, I don't think people will be too upset.”

Tyland tilts his head slightly before nodding in silent agreement. 

“That is a way to bring people together, yes.” 

The two walk in silence for a moment. As they do so, Elayna studies him. He looks almost lost in thought. His eyebrow almost press together while his mouth stays in a thin line. No one else is present in this portion of the gardens. Elayna nudges Tyland gently with her shoulder. 

“Anything you wish to share?”

“Aegon brought up an interesting proposal to me.” Tyland turns to face Elayna. “He told me it may be suggested I take a wife.”

“Oh? And did he have anyone in mind?”

“Yes. You.” Tyland looks Elayna in the eye. “He suggested it as if the Council thought of it themselves.”

“And you think he came up with it himself?”

“I do.” 

Elayna nods. “I think so too.” At Tyland’s confused expression, Elayna laughs softly. “He spoke with me about it earlier today.”

“And? What did you think?”

Elayna feigns an indifferent shrug.

“ ‘Tis a sound plan.” Elayna watches Tyland, gauging his reaction. She wants, no, needs to know if he wants to marry her. She could live with it, she supposes, if he doesn't want to. The cold and sudden feeling of dread at the thought of him saying no tries to tell her otherwise, but she does her best to ignore it.

“That's not an answer.”

“Tell me what you think first. Then I shall give my opinion.” Elayna bites the inside of her cheek to keep from giggling at Tyland’s expression.

“You're acting childish.”

“Oh? How exactly am I being childish?”

“ ‘Tis a yes or no answer.”

“And I shall answer once you give me yours.”

Tyland sighs.

“I agree with the decision.” He phrases his answer carefully. Elayna hums.

“Luckily for us all, I also agree with it.”

Sleep evades Elayna that night. 

She tosses and turns, doing her best to let slumber overtake her. It never comes. Eventually, after the Seven knows how many hours, she gets out of bed. She might as well take advantage of her wakefulness and do something useful.

The knock on her door almost doesn't surprise her.

“Come in.”

The guard from earlier comes inside.

“The King wishes to speak with you.”

Elayna raises an eyebrow. The temptation to remark upon the hour is strong, but she keeps it to herself. If Aegon summoned her at such an hour, it was no doubt important. She wants to ask if she has time to change into a more acceptable robe at the very least. Instead, she reaches down and tightens her robe more. 

“Very well.”

The halls are almost eerily silent. Elayna remembers even at night, she could hear people, albeit speaking more softly than usual. People fleeing the Keep no doubt contributes to it; most still seem to think it unsafe still. It unsettles Elayna. Nothing is as it was when she left, and it breaks her heart once more to think of all the little things lost. Nothing compares to the pain of losing loved ones, yet the lose of familiar sights and sound, of laughter and whispered gossip, hurts as well.

When she and the guards round one of the corners, she's surprised to see another set of guards. Tyland follows behind them. Elayna raises an eyebrow. Why would Aegon summon both of them? And at this hour nonetheless? 

They follow wordlessly behind the guards. Elayna has no idea what to say. Eventually, Tyland leans towards her. 

“Did they tell you what we're being called for?”

“No.” Elayna shakes her head. 

Once they arrive at the doors to Aegon's chambers, the door swing open. Both of them enter, Elayna stepping in before Tyland. At first, Elayna doesn't see Aegon. Her eyes dart around the room, trying to find him. She notices a large mound of cushions stacked in the corner. Eventually, she notices a gauzy curtain drawn across part of the room. 

The doors shut behind both her and Tyland. Elayna turns to her head to look at Tyland. Tyland raises an eyebrow. 

Aegon's voice comes from behind the curtain. In unison, the two of them turns towards the source. 

“Are the two of you in agreement about the plan?”

Elayna looks to Tyland. She reaches her hand out to touch his. Her heart leaps into her throat when he takes her hand in his and intertwines their fingers. 

“Yes.” Tyland speaks for both of them. 

“Good. Then I shall proceed to the matter at hand. I want the two of you to fuck. And I want to watch.” Neither Tyland or Elayna move. Even though she can’t see him too well behind the curtain, Elayna knows Aegon makes a face and juts his chin out some. “Fornicate? Have sex? I know my dear sister knows how, but do you, Ser Tyland?”

Tyland genuinely looks offended. He pulls his head back and purses his lips. He doesn't manage to catch himself from twitching his upper lip with irritation and disgust. Elayna’s heart skips a beat for a second. His expression is endearing, not because it was a particularly attractive expression but because it makes sense for him. 

“I do!”

“Excellent!” Aegon claps. “Then the issue is resolved.”

Heat rushes to Elayna’s face, embarrassment turning her pink. Tyland blinks. 

“Your Grace, I'm not sure th-”

“Elayna has suffered enough misery. I won't stand by and let her suffer a husband who can't fuck her properly.” Aegon tilts his head. “Unless you can't get it up?”

“Aegon!” Elayna hisses. 

“I do this for your sake.” Aegon tilts his head. “Would you rather take a chance on him not being able to please you?” He eyes the both of them. “If you are truly uncomfortable, you are free to go.”

Elayna meets Tyland’s eyes. Tyland stares at Elayna. He brings his hand up to her face. When he gently cups her face, Elayna's knees buckle at the tenderness of his touch. Behind the comfort and concern, Elayna sees a hunger mirroring her own. Tyland’s tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“We don't have to do this.” He whispers. “We can ask for oth-”

His genuine concern breaks her. Elayna closes the small distance between each other. She presses her lips against his. Tyland doesn't react for a minute. Panic begins to rise in Elayna for a second.

He kisses her back. The fear and anxiety evaporate.

Tyland kisses her as if he has wanted to do nothing more in his life. Elayna wonders if that's true. One hand finds the nape of her neck, fingers curling into her hair. Elayna responds in kind. Her touch isn't as gentle as his. She sinks her fingers into his hair. She traps the surprisingly soft and lustrous strands between her fingers. 

If she's going to do this, she might as well do this as if it's the only chance she gets. 

Experimentally, she tugs at his hair, not hard enough to truly hurt him but enough to see if he likes it. Elayna is no stranger to pain and rough treatment. Giving and receiving are as familiar as old friends. Either sets her body alight. 

An idle thought crosses her mind. Tyland’s gentleness and consideration for her is the only instance where her body thrums as much as it did when Aemond manhandled her. It almost makes her want to provoke him. If she feels this way from him being caring, him being rough with her would turn her into a whimpering mess within seconds. 

Elayna trusts him to build her back up once he breaks her. Hopefully he puts the same faith in her. 

When she pulls again, Tyland lets out an unmistakable noise of pleasure. He squeezes her hip. Elayna grins into the kiss, following it with a nip to his lower lip. Tyland squeezes hard. He slips his free hand around to her back. She rewards him by scratching his scalp gently with her nails.

Elayna pulls away first. Tyland gazes at her with an almost dazed look. She likes it on him, how his lips are kiss bruised and how his eyes are dark yet gentle. He brings his hand from her back to her chin. He strokes his thumb over the curve of her cheek.

“Can I?” Tyland brings his other hand to the tie of her robe. From the look on his face, Elayna thinks the question isn't just about her robe. Elayna nods.

“Yes. Please.”

Tyland inhales. He undoes her dressing gown with deft fingers. The fabric slides off Elayna’s shoulders and hits the floor with a very soft, almost airy, noise. Her nightgown is a red silk, not as delicate or dainty as her robe. Elayna moves forward to kiss him again. One of his hands finds her hair while his other skates gently down her arm, his fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake.

This kiss is a little more desperate, a little more teeth and tongue. Her skin buzzes at every point of contact with him. She pushes against him, desperate for more. Her fingers dig into the fabric of his tunic.

“Take this off.” She pulls at the fabric. He nods. Elayna moves to give him space. 

Tyland tosses his shirt off as Elayna turns behind them to the pillows she noticed stacked up in the corner. She grabs one of them and sets it on the ground in front of Tyland. Before she can lower herself down, Tyland leans down to kiss her. She almost giggles into the kiss.

“You don't have to.”

“I know. I want to.”

Elayna sinks to her knees. The plush pillow underneath her feels good. Her hands come up to begin to help him with his belt. 

She pushes back onto her knees. Elayna moves with her intuition. She opens her mouth, sticking her tongue out expectantly. She hears two sharp inhales. Only one of them matters to her.

“Fuck. You have a gorgeous cock.”

Before she can be embarrassed, Tyland groans at her words. Elayna smirks up at him. She looks up at him from under her eyelashes. 

“Like it when I compliment you? Do you like hearing how handsome you are? How gorgeous this cock is?”

Oh, fuck. Elayna actually watches his dick twitch. It almost slaps against his stomach. The sight makes Elayna squirm, spreading her knees ever so slightly. Tyland brings one of his hands down to cup her cheek. 

“Do you think I can take it all?” Elayna purrs. She revels in this new found confidence. She pushes her braids back. However, when she goes to lean forward, Tyland stops her by pressing his thumb to her lips.

“Let me... let me help.”

Elayna tilts her head but nods. Tyland presses his thumb against her lips more insistently. She parts them, wanting to see where he's going with this. 

Her gasp of surprise doesn't make it past her lips. Tyland slips two fingers inside of her mouth. He looks down at her, concern clear on his eyes. Elayna opens her jaw wider to accommodate for the stretch. She inhales through her nose and smells metal, no doubt from Tyland’s rings. Tyland presses down experimentally on her tongue. Elayna lets out a small noise at the feeling.

Elayna about chokes when he presses the pad of his fingers on the back of her tongue. Her eyes water. She tilts her head up more to try and let his fingers slide further down. Tyland places his palm on her cheek.

“Good girl.” He murmurs. Fondness covers every word. “Can you take a little more?”

She tries to reply. A bit of drool slips down her chin. Elayna nods. Tyland pushes his fingers a little further back. This time, Elayna gags. Tyland shushes her. 

“ ‘Tis okay.” He assures her. He pulls back his fingers for a second before pressing them forward again. Elayna accepts them eagerly. She flicks her tongue upward and along his fingers. She looks up at him from underneath her eyelashes. She wants more, needs more. 

Her eyes nearly roll back in her head when he moves his fingers. Tyland starts slowly, giving her ample time to get used to the sensation of his fingers sliding back and forth along her tongue and towards her throat. Elayna moans. He thrusts his fingers at a slightly faster pace. She tries her best to take him further. The idea of her lips touching his rings makes her squirm.

“Breathe.” 

Seven above. The simple command makes her head spin. She inhales through her nose as best she can. Tyland brings his other hand to her cheek. He strokes his thumb along her cheekbone. The gentle touch sits at odds with the way he's outright finger fucking her mouth now. Elayna spreads her legs. Her hand sneaks down between her thighs without her permission. 

Tyland pulls his fingers from her mouth. Elayna gasps for air. Spit connects her lips to his fingers. She looks up at him. Instinctively, she opens her mouth wider and presents her tongue for him. Instead of spitting into her mouth, he leans down and places a gentle kiss on her forehead.

She gasps at the contact. Elayna meets his gaze. 

“You're doing good for me.” He praises. Elayna nods desperately. She wants him but needs to be good for him.

“Stick your cock in her mouth already.”

Tyland’s jaw twitches at the rudeness in the command. Nevertheless, he moves forward. Before he can even take his cock into his hands, Elayna pounces. She surges forward and licks the vein on the underside. Tyland chokes. Her free hand finds his base to keep him where she wants. As she traces her tongue along his length, she closes her eyes. She feels the tension in his body. Wordlessly, she reaches forward and takes one of his hands. 

When Elayna pulls back, she opens her eyes. 

“I don't mind.” Elayna carefully places Tyland’s hand at the back of her head. Tyland looks down at her. She gazes up at him from underneath her eyelashes. She tries to hide her grin. Tyland presses his thumb to her bottom lip. She opens her mouth in response.

Tyland takes himself in hand. Elayna flattens her tongue as much as she can. Carefully, Tyland pushes the tip into her mouth. Elayna works to curl her tongue around him. She watches as Tyland lets out a low hiss of pleasure. 

She wants to hear more. She needs to hear more.

Tyland outright moans when Elayna pushes her head forward to take more of him in her mouth. She suction her cheeks as best she can. Her eagerness takes him by surprise. His fingers curl into her hair as she begins to move. Elayna brings her free hand up to work what doesn't fit in her mouth. Despite his length, she fits more into her mouth than she anticipates. After several minutes, she touches her lips to her hand. 

The sounds in the room are positively obscene. All Elayna hears is the slick noises with every shallow thrust into her mouth, two sets of ragged breathing, and her own breath and heartbeat. Tyland begins to shallowly thrust into her mouth, still clearly trying to not hurt her. Elayna rewards him; she lets out a satisfied hum next thrust.

The moan he lets out goes straight to her head. She almost feels her eyes roll back into her head at the sound. Fuck. Listening to him makes her head spin in the best way. Elayna pushes her legs even further apart and rests her free hand on her upper thigh. Tyland tightens his grip on her hair. His chest heaves. His thighs tremble to keep himself in check. 

She doesn't want that, she wants to see him lose control. She wants to see him lose control because of her.

Elayna looks up at him again. Tyland stares down at her. The look in his eyes almost makes Elayna whimper. He gazes down at her with an expression equal parts love and lust. A air of adoration lingers in his face, and the way he pushes her hair back gently just proves it. It fuels something deep within her. She pulls back to give herself a moment to breath. 

When she goes back, Elayna takes him all the way to the base. She keeps her eyes locked on his. Tyland’s eyes go wide. His chest heaves, and he almost seems to struggle to breath for a second. Elayna doesn't stop until she feels her nose touch his skin.

“Fuck.” Tyland’s voice comes out as praise and want. In the single word alone, Elayna hears how much power she has over him. A giggle tries to escape her. Tyland throws his head back with a moan, fingers digging into her hair. “Don't...”

If she could, Elayna would smirk. She tries to relax her throat more around him. Tyland groans. His fingers tighten in her hair, and he pulls her back. Elayna looks up at him. The whine that escapes her even takes her by surprise. 

Tyland kneels down to in front of her. He kisses her deeply once more. Elayna's eyes flutter closed at the sensation. His hands settle on her thighs. The sensation is muted against her because of her clothes. Elayna pulls away from him. 

“Let me-”

“I've got it.”

Elayna pushes up enough off her knees and calves to pull the hem of her nightgown out from under her. Tyland's hands meet hers when the fabric comes up over her knees. She places her knees back down and presses more into a seated position. They work together to pull her dress up over her head and off her body. 

“Beautiful.” 

Elayna's skin heats up, from her chest to her ears at the compliment. He says it as if he wasn't even aware, as if the words just fell out of his mouth. Elayna's eyes find his. Tyland’s eyes are dark with desire.

“Lean back.”

Elayna leans back on the thick pillows, black with silver and red embroidery. Her chest heaves. Tyland grabs three pillows, two for him to presumably lay down upon. Having Tyland so close to her naked body makes her shiver. He has yet to look at her most intimate parts. The thought terrifies her. What if he is repulsed by her? Or doesn't want to?

Tyland’s hand on her hip brings her back to the present. She makes a small noise and turns her gaze to him.

“Up.” He taps her hip twice. Elayna presses upward; Tyland slides the pillow underneath her. The angle eases some pressure from her lower back. He pushes back, hands warm on her thighs. He pauses for a second to look up at her, expression soft. Elayna's heart pounds in her chest at the wordlessly check-in, and she nods. 

“Yes. You can.”

She squeals when he grabs her thighs and pulls her to the edge of the pillow. The urge to pull away and hide herself almost overtakes her. She starts to pull away but before she can get far, Tyland takes careful hold of her calf. His beard brushes against the inside of her leg, just below her ankle.

Elayna gasps softly. He presses a gentle kiss to her skin. Her chest heaves. She stares at him with wide eyes. Tyland adjusts his hold on her and moves his lips lower. She lets her head fall back as he inches his lips down the inside of her leg. Her heart rate noticeable increases. She outright moans at the first contact of his beard and lips on her thigh. Her other leg falls out to the side.

When he reaches the top of her inner thigh, Tyland stares at her for a long moment. Elayna watches him. Her chest heaves, blood singing in her veins. Tyland wets his lips.

Her entire body erupts into flames. Heat surges through her. He hasn't even put his mouth to her, yet a keeping whine escapes her lips.

As soon as his tongue makes contact, Elayna's hands shoot out and find their way into his hair. Tyland starts with a slow, broad stroke. At the top, he stiffens his tongue to flick her clit. 

“Fuck.” The curse leaves her as a sigh. Her hips follow the movement of his mouth. She tries to push up onto her forearms, but it isn't long before the pleasure racing through her means she can't keep herself propped up. 

Tyland surprises her. He makes out with her pussy, not just eats her out. Every movement of his tongue is slow and methodical yet passionate. His mouth moves against her as if he was taking his time to kiss her. Elayna arches into it. When his tongue presses just to the left of Elayna’s clit instead of dead center, she moans.

Tyland notices. Of course he notices. 

He turns his head slightly. The new position gives him better access to the spot. He puts a little more pressure there, not enough to hurt but enough to make every part of her body sing. Elayna's moans get louder. She grips his hair as she throws her head back. Pleasure surges through her with such intensity she almost tries to pull back. Her legs tremble around his head. Tyland doesn't let her escape, instead pining her down with one of his palms flat on her stomach.

“I-” Elayna tries to find herself, but the steady movement of his tongue against her makes all rational thought impossible. She nearly ruts against his face. All she thinks about is the feeling of his mouth against her. 

She arches almost entirely off the pillows when he slips his tongue inside of her. Tyland curls his tongue up until he presses against something inside of her that makes her wail. Her whole body trembles. He moves his head, and the dam inside her breaks. 

Tyland slowly makes his way up her body, his lips ghosting over her skin. The care with which he treats her makes her float as much as what he does. Tyland stops and hovers above her.

“You can.” She murmurs.

The stretch as he pushes inside her cause a moment of discomfort. It's the first time someone has been inside her since she's given birth. She breathes through it until he bottoms out. 

Oh, she's missed this, this feeling of fullness, of slotting together perfectly. Elayna stares up at him. Eyes wide as she does so, she brings her right hand to his face. Tyland groans. He takes the silent invitation. His thrust start slow and unhurried. She rocks her hips into his. It feels good, pleasure coursing through her veins. 

Still. She wants more. She needs more. 

Elayna wraps her legs tight around his waist. She tries to encourage him to go faster by digging her heels into his low back. Tyland hisses.

“Elayna...”

“I'm not going to break.” 

The encouragement makes his hips stutter. Elayna squeals when he shifts back onto his knees, bringing her hips with him. Her head stays down and back arches. The angle causes her eyes to roll back into her head. 

“Fuck.”

Despite the change in angle, he keeps his movements slow and unhurried. The drag of his cock inside her, along her walls, sends a pleasant rush through her. Having her head down with her lower body lifted helps. Elayna whimpers. 

“Harder.” The word spills from her lips unbidden, both a demand and a gasp at the same time. Tyland gives into her. It's still not enough. 

Elayna doesn't want tenderness. Her whole body and soul aches for it, but she doesn't want it. She wants rough and hard; she wants to forget everything. Elayna craves the idea of being broken down into nothing.

“Fuck me like you hate me.” Elayna gasps out. “Like you should.”

She doesn't know how she means it. He should hate her, loathe her. What has she done but asked of him, taken and taken without ever giving? He should fuck her as he sees fit. Elayna wants that, to finally give.

Tyland stops. Elayna actually whines her displeasure. She stares at Tyland, fighting to keep both her confusion and hurt off her face. He's still hard inside her. She clenches around him in an effort to make him move, but he doesn't. Tyland lets out a low hiss but his hips stay still.

“Why'd you stop?”

Tyland looks down at her. His normal put together and slicked back hair falls in his face. His eyes trail over her face. 

“No.” He murmurs. Elayna feels her bottom lip tremble. Tyland quickly shushes her, pressing his lips to her forehead. He swallows. “I... I've wanted this. Far longer than you realize.” 

“I feel the same.” Her heart pounds hard against her ribs at the admission. This time, when Elayna bucks her hips, he matches her movement. 

“Elayna. This is, mmhmmm, this is serious.” Tyland drops down onto one forearm. He presses the other between them and across her hips in an attempt to keep her still. “I... fuuuck, I want. To do this. I want to do this how I've been dreaming about.”

Fuck. She clenches hard around him. Tyland hisses. Elayna swallows hard. A longing, the ever present longing, rears its head. Hesitantly, she nods. 

“I trust you.”

Each stroke stays slow yet intense. Tyland keeps his movements unhurried, as if he's trying to savor every moment. He keeps his gaze on her, watching and drinking in every expression on her face. Elayna finds herself watching him back. Even as she digs her nails into his back, her eyes stay on his. 

Every noise falling out of Elayna’s mouth comes out soft yet sweet, a symphony she wasn't even aware she could make. She knows how loud she can be or how high pitch she can get. The noises coming from her almost feel brand new, different. They feel natural. Each breathy moan fits perfectly into the moment. 

Elayna presses her palms flat on Tyland’s shoulder blades. The urge to dig her nails into his skin never appears. Instead, she clings to him. Her legs lock around his hips, ankles crossing over the other. He shifts slightly, and the angle makes Elayna tilt her head back with a soft sob. 

He presses his forehead to hers. Elayna tries her best to keep eye contact with him, but between the building pleasure and tears, she struggles. An almost whine escapes her. Tyland adjusts, lifting his forehead to press a kiss to her forehead. 

“I've got you.” He moves one hand and takes hold of hers. Tyland interlaces their fingers. Elayna gasps. The simple gesture makes her head spin in a delicious way. She finds an odd eroticism in it. Even now, his tenderness takes her breath away.

This time, Elayna doesn't fight it. She lets herself accept it. The thought she doesn't deserve such treatment never surfaces. She squeezes his hand back. 

Tyland shushes her gently. Elayna realizes a second later she's crying. Tears stream down her face, not big fat ones she associates with sadness. 

He kisses her. 

Tyland kisses her, and her whole world collapses. Elayna nearly sobs as she crests, body trembling in pleasure. The edges comes slowly and gently at first. However, as it begins to wash over her, she feels it build. The pleasure goes from nice to intense as it continues. Elayna clings to him. She holds onto him as if he's her lifeline. When she squeezes his hand, Tyland rubs his thumb over the back of her hand. 

He loves her.

The realization washes over her as her orgasm did, a steady and pleasant feeling that builds in intensity. Tyland loves her. He doesn't have to say it; she sees it now. The look on his face as he stares at her, lust and awe written on his face in equal parts, tells her as much. 

He loves her.

Fuck. She loves him too.

The words almost fall from the tip of her tongue. She keeps them at bay. Instead, she buries her face into his shoulder, letting out a pathetic whine. She pulls him as close as she can, heels locked around his back and palms on his shoulder blades to pull him even closer. Tyland moves his hips in shorter movements. Elayna pants against his skin. Her mouth won't form words; she settles for kissing his neck. 

That undoes him. He gives three more shallow thrusts before he stills. He collapses, trying his best to keep himself from pining her completely underneath him. After a moment, Elayna feels a small amount of cum begin to leak out of her. 

Unbidden, the thought of her being pregnant again rises to the forefront of her mind. Elayna sees it so clearly in his mind, the way Tyland would hold her and dote on her. She'd want for nothing. She clenches around him, causing him to hiss. 

A rustling catches her attention. Behind the curtain, Elayna spots movement. Aegon pulls away and pushes back. An undeniable air of shame comes from him. Tyland senses it too; he presses himself back onto his forearms.

“Go.” Aegon croaks from his unseen position. Elayna says nothing, just lets Tyland pull her up once he gets to his feet.

Her body sits heavy, exhausted yet satiated. Every bit of her feels boneless. A relief sits within her she hasn't felt in a while. Between her crying fit and finally feeling the touch of someone after months, every bit of resistance and ache in her body disappears for the moment. Everything from her legs to her jaw loosens, almost to the point of making her wobble. 

Elayna almost feels fuzzy at the edges. Not in a bad way. If anything, she needs it. For too long, her walls have been up. She’s held onto her need to be a bastion, both for those around her and the idea of being seen as weak and wanting tears her apart. This need has only been detrimental to her; Tyland was right when he told her she couldn’t keep on as she has. 

The walk back to her chambers takes a minute. Elayna makes a mental note of the look on Tyland’s face when he watches her; she can’t give him any hell right now, but she can at a later point. 

Once back in her chambers, Elayna makes her way over to her vanity. She doesn’t need to look into the mirror to know her hair is a mess, multiple thick strands out of her braids. Carefully, she sits down at the vanity. Elayna undoes her braids. A quiet satisfaction builds within her body as she begins to brush out her hair. 

It’s been so long since she’s done this. Elayna knows she can explain away her hair by citing bedhead, but she likes doing this. She always did it as a post-sex ritual when married to Aemond. She moves almost on autopilot. 

She inhales slowly and then exhales slowly. She lifts her head to look at herself in the mirror. Elayna stares at her reflection. A smile plays about her lips. The woman looking back seems content, fulfilled. It's not a familiar sight but a sorely missed one. 

Eventually, she stands and stumbles over to her bed. The sheets lay rumpled from earlier, but it's easy enough to make herself comfortable.

She falls asleep almost instantly when her head hits the pillow. Her sleep is dreamless.

Only when she wakes up does the reality of yesterday hit her. 

She stretches slowly, the pleasant ache in her body reminding her of what happened. Based on the low light filtering through the curtains, she thinks it must be early morning. Her back cracks. Elayna smiles. She rolls over onto her side, preparing her speech as to why they should stay in bed the rest of the day instead of attending to important matters.

The other side of the bed sits empty and cold.

Tyland isn't there. Elayna frowns softly and reaches out into the empty space. She blinks. Despite no one being around to see her blunder, she feels silly, foolish. Of course he wouldn't be there.

Aemond should be the one there.

Aemond isn't either. 

Aemond is never going to be there ever again.

Instantly, Elayna shrinks and curls in on herself, all good mood gone with a single thought. Even after all these months, she misses waking up beside him. It's been worse since the birth of the twins. The amount of times she's woken up, hoping against all odds it was a dream and Aelon and Reynard will be snuggled between the two of them is uncountable. Elayna sighs. She buries her head in her pillow.

Aemond isn't here. He'll never be here again. Elayna blinks back tears. An ugly voice rises amongst the wave of sadness hitting her. She thought first of Tyland when she awoke. She didn't think of Aemond, her deceased husband, but thought instead of another man. Not just another man but a Lannister.

She bites down hard on the edge of the pillow she curled around in a desperate bid to hide her face. Still, she doesn’t manage to muffle all of the wail wanting to break free from her. An almost detached part of her likens it to a wounded animal. Elayna wishes the thought hadn’t occurred to her; it feels as if she ripped apart a wound on her own and poured salt inside of it.

As she lays there, another thought begins circling her brain. This one is worse than the others. This one makes her want to puke, bile threatening to rise. It’s a summation of everything, she supposes, of every blunder and mistakes.

What has she done. 

[ashblooddragons]

When The Lion Met The Dragon

Summary: The Rebellion is on Rhaegars footstep, and he needs Allies, it was a obvious choice to turn to the Lannisters for their gold and formidable army. All he had to do was choose between Lord Tywins Daughters two of the great beauty's of history, Cersei a beautiful woman though very full of herself and cruel to others. Or her little sister, Myranda his late wife's lady in waiting and best friend who seems to despise him. In the end he must pick the lesser of two evils and do his duty as always, but what if his duty turns to fondness, and his fondness to love, and his love to obsession? Read to find out the story of Myranda and Rhaegar!"

This is the last installment of The Red Queen Au! I hope you all have enjoyed or will enjoy the ride!

Coming soon!!!!

Special thanks to @sugutoad for making the header for this fic!! I swear I'd be lost without you girly!!

[ladygreywritesstuff]

Stardew Valley:

Dig Deep -- Farmer/Marlon -- 12/12 Chapters

Stargazers -- Farmer/Marlon -- a sequel to Dig Deep -- 1/? Chapters

Just Enjoying the View -- Farmer/Marlon -- smutty one-shot

Other one-shots and drabbles

Game of Thrones/ASOIAF:

What Storms May Blow -- OC of House Frey/Barristan Selmy -- 25/29 Chapters

A Promise Broken -- Tywin Lannister/Joanna Lannister -- drabble

Elevator Music -- OC/Tywin Lannister, Modern AU -- one-shot

Kissing Roose -- various/Roose Bolton -- drabble collection

Wrong Address -- Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Modern AU -- 3/3 Chapters

True or False -- OC/Roose Bolton -- 26/26 Chapters

Not Today -- Arya Stark/Jaqen H'ghar, Modern AU -- 3/3 Chapters

Therapy -- Roose Bolton/Fat Walda Frey, Modern AU -- one-shot

Protégé -- Roose Bolton/Arya Stark (aged up), Modern AU -- one-shot

LadyGreyWrites on AO3

Header by @saradika-graphics

[dreamfyre03]

A Dragon's Love

Warnings: Death, Violence, Grief, Descriptions of Blood

Dividers by: @zaldritzosrose

Header by: @zaldritzosrose

Chapter 15: A Son Avenged

“There can only be two options. The princess is being held either at Harrenhall, where Prince Daemon has set up camp, or at Dragonstone.” Otto said at the small council meeting that day. It had been three days since the news of his sister’s kidnapping had broken, three days with no sleep, no food, just doing all he could to find her. Yet still, it wasn’t enough.

“And what do you suggest, My Lord Hand? We are not ready to launch attack on Harrenhall, Prince Daemon’s forces outnumber the crown forces at present. With the Riverlands declaring for the Princess Rhaenyra, we’ve lost their men as well.” Tyland Lannister said. 

Aegon huffed in frustration from his seat at the head of the table. “This is fucking ridiculous. We have dragons. We have Sunfyre, Vhagar, Tessarion, Meraxa. We can burn them all to the ground and take her back.”

“Meraxa has been unapproachable for days. The dragon keepers cannot tame her.” Aemond said. “Kidnapping my sister is an act of aggression against my rule. We must rain fire and blood down on them!” Aegon shouted, having lost patience. “What if they have her at a third location? We would waste our resources to retrieve her, only for her to be somewhere else entirely.” Otto said. The doors suddenly swung open, and a messenger slowly approached. “I’m sorry, my Lords, Your Grace. We have received a raven from Harrenhall.” Otto took the parchment, and read it, his face darkening.

“What does it say?” Aemond asked. “You owe my Queen a debt. Lucerys Velaryon will be avenged.” He read aloud. Aemond felt his guilt eating away at him. If Daenys died because of his actions, he would never forgive himself. He would make the Stranger take him too, for the only thing keeping his heart beating was that he knew she was still alive. She had to be, because Aemond couldn’t imagine a world without her. He wished he took her to get wed before he left, consequences be damned. Then she would still be here. 

The meeting went on for another hour, and he when it was over, he went to the library, and made his way to their spot in the corner, the settee where they sat the night of his name day ball, and she looked at him as though he was more than her brother for the first time. His head was throbbing, he couldn’t think of what else to do. Helaena was utterly distraught, and she tried her best to maintain a happier disposition, but when Jaehaerys and Jaehaera kept asking for their Aunt Daenys, he saw the pained look that crossed her face. 

“Brother. Helaena said I would find you here.” Daeron’s voice distracted him from his thoughts.

Aemond just grunted in response.

“We will find her. And bring her home.” Daeron reassured him. “She doesn’t deserve this. I would rather be the one taken, locked away so that she could be here, safe. Rhaenyra has lost her baby, then her son, because of what I did. If Daenys dies because of me, I will never forgive myself. Never. It would be all my fault.” “And do you think she would want that?” His younger brother asked. Aemond looked at him, knowing he was right. 

“She would tell you to stop the self pity. No wallowing, no moping. When I first got sent away, and all my letters to her were nothing but gripes and complaints, she sent a firm response saying that she won’t stand for my self pity. To always remember that I was a dragon amongst men, and to never let my time there make me forget that I’m a dragon.” He told him. “As gentle and kind as she is, she never could stand it when we pitied ourselves.” Aemond finally replied. “Indeed.” 

The brothers sat in silence, until Daeron said, “She’s always had a special love for you. I’ve always seen it. She loved Aegon like her best friend, even though sometimes she had to act as a mother, just like with me. To Helaena they were sisters in every sense of the word. But with you, it was different. She was always her happiest with you.”

Aemond felt his chest heavy with pain as he heard his brother’s words, and pictured her smiling when they went dragonriding together, or when she squealed in excitement when he gave her his gift for her name day. He remembered how she would scold him for losing his temper on the training grounds as she cleaned his cuts and bruises. She may have been her happiest with him, but he was only ever at peace when he was with her.

“We will find out where they are keeping her. And we will strike and take her back, and they shall never see us coming, to rain dragonfire upon them.” 

Daenys hadn’t left the rooms she was being held in since she was brought to Dragonstone. Servants brought her food, clothes, and one even brought her a book on the history of Dragonstone, although she didn’t say who sent it. She contemplated every day to summon Meraxa and escape, but with Syrax, Vermax, Tyraxes and possibly Meleys all surrounding Dragonstone, she knew it would be a losing fight for her dragon. She couldn’t risk Meraxa’s life like that, her dragon was a part of her. She sat watching the sun set over Dragonstone, when she heard the door open behind her. Rhaenyra hadn’t been to see her since her first visit, and she was surprised at the thought that she might visit her again. But when she turned around, she was met not by the face of her sister, but her nephew Jacearys. “Jace?” “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come. I’ve just returned from Winterfell a few days ago.” Her heart was hammering in her chest. Had Cregan Stark sworn to Rhaenyra? “I’ve nowhere to go, so I suppose it does’t matter.” She replied. He sat on the chair in the corner, watching her as she sat on the inner ledge of the window. His brown hair was windblown, and judging from the state of his clothes, she could tell he’d been dragonriding. His face was tired, and he looked much older than he did a few weeks ago. 

They didn’t speak for a few moments, until she said, “I’m sorry for you loss.” “Which one?” “Both of them.” He sighed, and she saw the combination of sadness and anger in his brown eyes. “My brother was innocent. Aemond will pay for his crimes.” Was all he said. She felt her chest tighten at the mention of her brother. Every day she looked out the window praying to see Vhagar soar over the horizon, but they probably didn’t even know where she was. Maybe after her leaving, he didn’t want her to come back. “And what of me?” She asked. 

“I’ve convinced my mother to keep you comfortably in these rooms. You are a princess, you do not belong in the dungeons.” She felt sickened at the idea that Rhaenyra initially wanted to throw her to the dungeons. “I am grateful for that, but am I to live out my life until the war is over in these four walls? That is no way to live, Jace.” 

“I won’t let any harm come to you. I sent you a book, did you like it?” He asked. She nodded, forcing a smile to her face. If she was going to escape, she needed allies. She got up and walked over to the edge of the bed, sitting to face him. “That was very kind of you, thank you.” He looked at her, gazing at her face, then down to her chest that was pushed up by the gown provided for her. He let his eyes trail down to her hips before coming back up to her eyes. “I know they are your family; but so are we. You can still change your alliances, marry and secure your position.” He told her, a hint of desperation in his voice. 

“You are a good person, Daenys. You are kind, and loving, and good. You are nothing like them, do not condemn yourself to the fate that awaits them because your care for them has led you astray.” 

“I am already betrothed.” “Your engagement has been broken. Cregan has declared for my mother.” He revealed. She slumped her shoulders in defeat. So this was all for nothing. 

“You say you too are my family, but my sister can barely be called my sister. The only one of you who has showed me any kindness, or gotten to know me, is you.” She admitted. “Perhaps if time was on our side, you could have gotten to know us more. But there is still time. Please, Daenys.” He begged her. 

“I am sorry, Jace. Just as your love for your mother and siblings means you cannot forsake them, neither can I forsake my brother. I love him, and I cannot betray him. I only hope this does not change what goodwill there is between us.” She maintained. 

He sighed, and stood to his feet. “Our loyalties may be different, but I cannot hold it against you. No matter how much I’d like to.” He replied, as he left, shutting the door behind him. 

Jace began to visit her rooms regularly after that, often in the evening, while the sun set, but sometimes later at night also, and at first she was conscious about sitting and talking to him while he was in nothing but his shirt and trousers, and her a nightgown, but after the first few nights, she grew more comfortable. 

As week had passed, they talked about many things, and many times, in the moment she often forgot of the circumstances that brought her to this position. He spoke of his childhood, and always acting as the protector of his siblings, and of how it difficult it was to live with the whispers of his legitimacy behind his back, and even to his face. “I suppose I understand what it feel like to feel responsible for your siblings.” She said as she took a grape from the plate of fruits he brought with him.

“Aegon was the eldest boy, but I was eldest overall, and I felt responsible to look out for them, especially when their mother wasn’t often kind, or frequent in maternal warmth.” “It is admirable, to take up such a responsibility. You didn’t have to.” He commented.

She smiled softly, memories of her childhood running through her mind. “It never felt like a burden. I love them, and I loved caring for them. It is what family must do.” She expressed, a hint of sadness in her voice. 

They were silent for a moment, before he said, “I know you would have liked that from my mother. I’m sorry she never opened her heart you. It might be difficult to believe, but she can be very loving, and kind.” 

“It’s alright. I believe you, she is your mother, and I know that she loves you.” She replied. 

As much as she sometimes didn’t care to admit, she looked forward to Jace’s visits, they became the highlight of her day. He was kind, and understanding, even funny. Maybe she was simply feeing the effect of her imprisonment more and more. She never forgot where his loyalties lay, and even though she saw the change in him from the lighthearted humorous boy she grew to know what felt like a lifetime ago, she still saw him come out when they talked. He would even make her laugh sometimes, telling her funny stories about mischief he and his brothers would get into. Her heart still yearned for home, for her siblings, for Aemond. But Jacearys’s kindness and company made her captivity a bit more bearable. 

.

.

.

Aemond dumped the glass of water on Aegon’s face as he laid in his bed, hungover, after drinking away his sorrows yet again. His brother let out a gurgled cry as the coldness of the water jolted him awake, and shouted, “Fucking hells, brother!” “We’re to meet with the council again, to see if we can spare resources to attack Harrenhall first, to find Daenys. Get up.” He commanded harshly. While Aemond spent every waking moment drowning in books of war strategy, sending out spies all over the realm, doing anything he could fathom to work on getting their sister back, Aegon went back and forth between unbridled anger, and drowning his frustrations in wine, or in whores. He groaned and sat up, his eyes dull and tired. He looked out the window and said, “It’s nightfall.” “I know. We cannot wait until morning to assess such a thing. It’s too important.” Aemond replied. “Very well, I still think I should take Sunfyre and Meraxa and look for her.” His brother said as he pulled on some clothes. “We need a strategy. We’ve no room to fail, if they know we’re actively looking for her, to attack and get her back, we lose the element of surprise.” “I suppose, but-“ Aegon was cut off by a bloodcurdling scream that echoed throughout the hallways. Both brothers ran, Aemond with his sword already drawn, ready to fight. They followed the screaming to the nursery, and when Aemond’s eye took in the horror before him, his blood ran cold. 

The rug that covered the expanse of the floor was soaked in blood, and Helaena was on her knees in the midst of it all, the limp, butchered body of a child in her arms. Jaehaera stood in the corner, Maelor clutched in her little arms, her arm bruised and her nightgown torn. “My son! They’ve killed my son!” Helaena screamed, her sobs could no doubt be heard throughout the Red Keep. Aegon dropped to his knees beside her, and pulled her and the body of their son in his arms and for the first time in years, Aemond saw his brother come apart, weep as he and his wife mourned their child. The guards finally made their way to the rooms, and it was only then Aemond realised those posted outside the rooms were dead on the ground. “Lock off every entrance and exit to the castle. No one, no man, woman, servant, not even a rat, to leave this place. I want whoever did this to be found. He won’t be spared any mercy. Go!” Aemond commanded them. His mother and Daeron were running down the halls, and Aemond saw her collapse into Daeron’s arms at the sight, wailing and crying out for the death of her grandson. Aemond snapped out of his daze, and went to the two frightened children in the corner, picking them both up, and holding them to him. As he was about to stand, he spotted a piece of paper on the ground, and picked it up. The words he read  would haunt him for the rest of his life. 

A son for a son. Lucerys Velaryon has been avenged. 

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Tyrion XII (Chapter 66)

For most men, there was no cost to joining a company, but he was not most men. He dipped the quill into the inkpot, leaned over the first parchment, paused, looked up. "Would you prefer me to sign Yollo or Hugor Hill?"

Tyrion's such a loser he has to pay to join a sellsword company.

I have a prediction! Cersei, Jaime, and Tyrion will always have their proper names as the chapter header.

+.+.+

The dwarf laughed and signed the parchment, Tyrion of House Lannister. As he passed it left to Inkpots, he riffled through the pile underneath. "There are … what, fifty? Sixty? I'd thought there were five hundred Second Sons."

"Five hundred thirteen at present," Inkpots said. "When you sign our book, we will be five hundred fourteen."

"So only one in ten receives a note? That hardly seems fair. I thought you were all share-and-share-alike in the free companies." He signed another sheet.

Brown Ben chuckled. "Oh, all share. But not alike. The Second Sons are not unlike a family …"

"… and every family has its drooling cousins." Tyrion signed another note. The parchment crinkled crisply as he slid it toward the paymaster. "There are cells down in the bowels of Casterly Rock where my lord father kept the worst of ours." He dipped his quill in the inkpot. Tyrion of House Lannister, he scratched out, promising to pay the bearer of the note one hundred golden dragons. Every stroke of the quill leaves me a little poorer … or would, if I were not a beggar to begin with. One day he might rue these signatures. But not this day.

Bowels! I was going to make an Orson Lannister beetle joke, but that's show-only.

I'm going to keep track of this. He's signing 25-30 contracts worth 100 golden dragons each. (💰2500-3000)

+.+.+

"Debts written on the wind tend to be … forgotten, shall we say?"

"Not by us." Tyrion signed another sheet. And another. He had found a rhythm now. "A Lannister always pays his debts."

Seven books of wasted buildup if you don't make them broke by the end.

+.+.+

He wanted to laugh, but that would have ruined the game. Plumm was enjoying this, and Tyrion had no intention of spoiling his fun. Let him go on thinking that he's bent me over and fucked me up the arse, and I'll go on buying steel swords with parchment dragons. If ever he went back to Westeros to claim his birthright, he would have all the gold of Casterly Rock to make good on his promises. If not, well, he'd be dead, and his new brothers could wipe their arses with these parchments. Perhaps some might turn up in King's Landing with their scraps in hand, hoping to convince his sweet sister to make good on them. And would that I could be a roach in the rushes to witness that.

More than enough evidence Team Daenerys will take Casterly Rock.

We'll have to wait and see if Tyrion screwed himself, and those mines are as empty as the show indicated. (I think they are.)

+.+.+

The writing on the parchments changed about halfway down the pile. The hundred-dragon notes were all for serjeants. Below them the amounts suddenly grew larger. Now Tyrion was promising to pay the bearer one thousand golden dragons. He shook his head, laughed, signed. 

25-30 contracts are worth 1000 golden dragons each. (💰2500-3000 + 💰25,000-30,000)

+.+.+

"You will work for Inkpots," said Inkpots. "Keeping books, counting coin, writing contracts and letters."

"Gladly," said Tyrion. "I love books."

Tyrion Lannister keeps landing the same job.

+.+.+

"I once had charge of all the drains in Casterly Rock," Tyrion said mildly. "Some of them had been stopped up for years, but I soon had them draining merrily away."

Speaking of evidence they'll take Casterly Rock, that would be the second time the drains have been referenced.

So to mark his manhood, Tyrion was given charge of all the drains and cisterns within Casterly Rock. Perhaps he hoped I'd fall into one. But Tywin had been disappointed in that. The drains never drained half so well as when he had charge of them. - Tyrion III, ADWD

Twice is never a coincidence, the show got it right.

If Team Daenerys takes the Rock with a stealth mission (as opposed to dragons) and holds the castle, that makes it far more likely it's the Red Keep falling on Jaime and Cersei.

+.+.+

I won't have you parading about where you might be seen. Stay inside as much as you can, and shit into your bucket. Too many eyes at the latrines. And never go beyond our camp without my leave. We can dress you up in squire's steel, pretend you're Jorah's butt boy, but there's some will see right through that. Once Meereen is taken and we're away to Westeros, you can prance about all you like in gold and crimson. 

What is Ben Plumm's plan here?

The Second Sons defeat Daenerys in Meereen, then go to Westeros and do what exactly? Conquer the land with 514 men? It's not like he knows about Aegon.

+.+.+

Till then, though …"

"… I shall live beneath a rock and never make a sound. You have my word on that." 

Like your brother and sister! ❤️

+.+.+

Three notes remained, different from the rest. Two were written on fine vellum and made out by name. For Kasporio the Cunning, ten thousand dragons. The same for Inkpots, whose true name appeared to be Tybero Istarion. "Tybero?" said Tyrion. "That sounds almost Lannister. Are you some long-lost cousin?"

"Perhaps. I always pay my debts as well. It is expected of a paymaster. Sign."

2 contracts are worth 10,000 golden dragons each. (💰2500-3000 + 💰25,000-30,000 + 💰20,000)

Not sure what to make of the Tybero stuff.

+.+.+

Brown Ben's note was the last. That one had been inscribed upon a sheepskin scroll. One hundred thousand golden dragons, fifty hides of fertile land, a castle, and a lordship. Well and well. This Plumm does not come cheaply.

The final contract is 100,000 golden dragons, fifty hides of fertile land, a castle, and a lordship. Final tally:

💰147,500-153,000 golden dragons, fifty hides of land, a castle, and a lordship.

Pray those mines haven't run dry, Tyrion Lannister.

+.+.+

"The Second Sons are amongst the oldest of the free companies," Inkpots said as he was turning pages. "This is the fourth book. The names of every man to serve with us are written here. When they joined, where they fought, how long they served, the manner of their deaths—all in the book. You will find famous names in here, some from your Seven Kingdoms. Aegor Rivers served a year with us, before he left to found the Golden Company. Bittersteel, you call him. The Bright Prince, Aerion Targaryen, he was a Second Son. And Rodrik Stark, the Wandering Wolf, him as well. No, not that ink. Here, use this." He unstoppered a new pot and set it down.

That's the dumb shit Targ who drank wildfire. Also, the Wandering Wolf! Arya's husband. ❤️ Other notable members include Oberyn Martell, and the Tattered Prince.

I glanced over their wiki, only noteworthy history I can see is the Second Sons fleeing when a Dothraki khalasar attacked Qohor.

+.+.+

"For most of us, the signature suffices, but I would hate to disappoint a new brother-in-arms. Welcome to the Second Sons, Lord Tyrion."

Lord Tyrion. The dwarf liked the sound of that. The Second Sons might not enjoy the shining reputation of the Golden Company, but they had won some famous victories over the centuries. "Have other lords served with the company?"

"Landless lords," said Brown Ben. "Like you, Imp."

Tyrion hopped down from the stool. "My previous brother was entirely unsatisfactory. I hope for more from my new ones. Now how do I go about securing arms and armor?"

Sister. Sansa had once dreamt of having a sister like Margaery; beautiful and gentle, with all the world's graces at her command. Arya had been entirely unsatisfactory as sisters went. - Sansa II, ASOS

And they both don't mean it.

+.+.+

Stumpy note:

I need everyone to know we're one-third of the way through this chapter when Tyrion goes to the armory.

I point this out because absolutely nothing happens the back two-thirds of this chapter. The chapter is fourteen pages long and two-thirds of it is nothing.

+.+.+

"Talking again, are we?" It was better than her usual sullen silence. All over an abandoned dog and pig. I saved the two of us from slavery, you would think some gratitude might be in order. "If you sleep any longer, you're like to miss the war."

"I'm sad." She yawned again. "And tired. So tired."

Tired or sick? Tyrion knelt beside her pallet. "You look pale." He felt her brow. Is it hot in here, or does she have a touch of fever? He dared not ask that question aloud. Even hard men like the Second Sons were terrified of mounting the pale mare. If they thought Penny was sick, they would drive her off without a moment's hesitation.

I don't know if Penny continues to show symptoms of the pale mare in Tyrion's first few TWOW chapters, and I'm not about to read ahead to find out.

If I had to guess, I'd say we're being reminded of these early signs and symptoms because of another character (who is currently wandering the Dothraki Sea).

#JusticeForPenny'sDog&Pig

+.+.+

"We," she said. "If you're one of them, you should say we, not they. Has anyone seen Pretty Pig? Inkpots said he'd ask after her. Or Crunch, has there been word of Crunch?"

Only if you trust Kasporio. Plumm's not-so-cunning second-in-command claimed that three Yunkish slave-catchers were prowling through the camps, asking after a pair of escaped dwarfs. One of them was carrying a tall spear with a dog's head impaled upon its point, the way that Kaspo told it.

The peacock calls himself Kasporio the Cunning, though Kasporio the Cunt would be more apt. - Tyrion XI, ADWD

x

Kasporio the Cunning touched his sword hilt. - tyrion XII, ADWD

I have a prediction!

Kasporio will do something stupid.

+.+.+

Snatch was waiting by the cook tent chewing sourleaf when the two dwarfs turned up, cloaked and hooded. 

[...]

Snatch snorted and spat out a mouthful of red slime. 

[...]

The serjeant's fingers were stained a mottled red from the juice of the sourleaf he chewed.

Snatch, the Bronn clone, is still deader than dead.

A serjeant, Tyrion knew, from the way the other two deferred to him. He had a hook where his right hand should have been. Bronn's meaner bastard shadow, or I'm Baelor the Beloved. - Tyrion XI, ADWD

x

Snatch chewed his sourleaf, making japes and scratching at his balls with his hook hand. Something about his manner reminded Tyrion of Bronn. - Tyrion I, TWOW

+.+.+

"My father was wont to say it. Did you know Lord Tywin, Kem?"

"The Hand. Once I saw him riding up the hill. His men had red cloaks and little lions on their helms. I liked those helms." His mouth tightened. "I never liked the Hand, though. He sacked the city. And then he smashed us on the Blackwater."

"You were there?"

"With Stannis. Lord Tywin come up with Renly's ghost and took us in the flank. I dropped my spear and ran, but at the ships this bloody knight said, 'Where's your spear, boy? We got no room for cravens,' and they buggered off and left me, and thousands more besides. Later I heard how your father was sending them as fought with Stannis to the Wall, so I made my way across the narrow sea and joined up with the Second Sons."

"Do you miss King's Landing?"

"Some. I miss this boy, he … he was a friend of mine. And my brother, Kennet, but he died on the bridge of ships."

The more character development we get from the Seconds Sons the longer they'll stick around.

Snatch is the Bronn one, and Kem is ... the gay one. Can you tell I have nothing to talk about?

+.+.+

"Rats wouldn't eat my mother's cooking. There was this pot shop, though. No one ever made a bowl o' brown like them. So thick you could stand your spoon up in the bowl, with chunks of this and that. You ever have yourself a bowl o' brown, Halfman?"

"A time or two. Singer's stew, I call it."

Daily reminder Tyrion Lannister does not deserve to survive this story.

+.+.+

Kem liked that. "Singer's stew. I'll ask for that next time I get back to Flea Bottom. What do you miss, Halfman?"

Jaime, thought Tyrion. Shae. Tysha. My wife, I miss my wife, the wife I hardly knew. 

Second time Tyrion is referencing Tysha, but the author leaves a little room for doubt.

"If m'lord would prefer a boy, I can have one waiting in his bed."

M'lord would prefer his wife. M'lord would prefer a girl named Tysha. - Tyrion I, ADWD

+.+.+

His greathelm sported a ram's horns, one of which was broken.

When he took it off, he revealed the battered face of Jorah Mormont.

Ram's horns and a demon's mask tattoo.

Jorah's looking like Satan.

+.+.+

The demon's mask the slavers had burned into his right cheek to mark him for a dangerous and disobedient slave would never leave him. Ser Jorah had never been what one might call a comely man. The brand had transformed his face into something frightening.

Tyrion grinned. "As long as I look prettier than you, I will be happy."

Sometimes she would close her eyes and dream of him, but it was never Jorah Mormont she dreamed of; her lover was always younger and more comely, though his face remained a shifting shadow. - Daenerys II, ASOS

↓

"The girl finally poked her nose abovedecks," Tyrion told him. "One look at me and she scurried right back down below."

"You're not a pretty sight."

"Not all of us can be as comely as you. - Tyrion VIII, ADWD

↓

A few more beatings and you'll be uglier than I am, Mormont. - Tyrion XI, ADWD

↓

Ser Jorah had never been what one might call a comely man. The brand had transformed his face into something frightening.

Tyrion grinned. "As long as I look prettier than you, I will be happy." - Tyrion XII, ADWD

Yay!!

+.+.+

Her eyes got big. "You like my nose?"

Oh, Seven save me. Tyrion turned away and began rooting amongst some piles of old armor toward the back of the wagon.

"Are there any other parts of me you like?" Penny asked.

Perhaps she meant that to sound playful. It sounded sad instead. 

Now he knows how Sansa felt.

+.+.+

He passed over a warhammer (too long), a studded mace (also too heavy), and half a dozen longswords before he found a dirk he liked, a nasty piece of steel with a triangular blade. "This might serve," he said. 

Dagger!

+.+.+

"I don't want to hack off heads."

"Nor should you. Keep your cuts below the knee. Calf, hamstring, ankle … even giants fall if you slice their feet off. Once they're down, they're no bigger than you."

So many giants to consider here. Robert Strong? Littlefinger? An actual giant? Tyrion?

+.+.+

Penny looked as though she was about to cry. "Last night I dreamed my brother was alive again. We were jousting before some great lord, riding Crunch and Pretty Pig, and men were throwing roses at us. We were so happy …"

Tyrion slapped her.

How do we get Penny away from Tyrion without her dying? I need that.

+.+.+

Penny touched the cheek he'd slapped. "We should never have run. We're not sellswords. We're not any kind of swords. It wasn't so bad with Yezzan. It wasn't. Nurse was cruel sometimes but Yezzan never was. We were his favorites, his … his …"

"Slaves. The word you want is slaves."

"Slaves," she said, flushing. "We were his special slaves, though. Just like Sweets. His treasures."

Every master has their favourites, Penny.

No older than ten, she had the round flat face, dusky skin, and golden eyes of Naath. The Peaceful People, her folk were called. All agreed that they made the best slaves. - Daenerys II, ASOS

x

Dany stroked the girl's hair. "Say the word, my sweet, and I will send you from this awful place. I will find a ship somehow and send you home. To Naath." - Daenerys II, ADWD

x

Two of Dany's favorite hostages served the food and kept the cups filled—a doe-eyed little girl called Qezza and a skinny boy named Grazhar. - Daenerys IV, ADWD

x

Jhiqui and Irri would be waiting atop her pyramid back in Meereen, she told herself. Her sweet scribe Missandei as well, and all her little pages. They would bring her food, and she could bathe in the pool beneath the persimmon tree. - Daenerys X, ADWD

+.+.+

She was not all wrong. Yezzan's slaves ate better than many peasants back in the Seven Kingdoms and were less like to starve to death come winter. Slaves were chattels, aye. They could be bought and sold, whipped and branded, used for the carnal pleasure of their owners, bred to make more slaves. In that sense they were no more than dogs or horses. But most lords treated their dogs and horses well enough. Proud men might shout that they would sooner die free than live as slaves, but pride was cheap. When the steel struck the flint, such men were rare as dragon's teeth; elsewise the world would not have been so full of slaves. There has never been a slave who did not choose to be a slave, the dwarf reflected. Their choice may be between bondage and death, but the choice is always there.

Tyrion Lannister did not except himself. His tongue had earned him some stripes on the back in the beginning, but soon enough he had learned the tricks of pleasing Nurse and the noble Yezzan. Jorah Mormont had fought longer and harder, but he would have come to the same place in the end.

And Penny, well …

Penny had been searching for a new master since the day her brother Groat had lost his head. She wants someone to take care of her, someone to tell her what to do.

Settle down, Kanye.

This is not subtle. The author is practically begging the reader to recall her freedmen, Unsullied, Dothraki slaves, and Missandei.

"[...] Man has the right master, that's better."

Tyrion did not dispute him. The most insidious thing about bondage was how easy it was to grow accustomed to it. - Tyrion XI, ADWD

If Tyrion doesn't call out her mhysa nonsense (to himself) after they meet, I call bullshit.

+.+.+

"Or dead dwarfs," said Jorah Mormont. "We are all like to be feeding worms by the time this battle is done. The Yunkai'i have lost this war, though it may take them some time to know it. Meereen has an army of Unsullied infantry, the finest in the world. And Meereen has dragons. Three of them, once the queen returns. She will. She must. Our side consists of two score Yunkish lordlings, each with his own half-trained monkey men. Slaves on stilts, slaves in chains … they may have troops of blind men and palsied children too, I would not put it past them."

"Oh, I know," said Tyrion. "The Second Sons are on the losing side. They need to turn their cloaks again and do it now." He grinned. "Leave that to me."

George gave up, and decided to tell us how this is going to play out.

Monkey!

Final thoughts:

That was the most anticlimactic end to his chapters possible.

47 down, 2 to go. :(

I realize only one Tyrion chapter has been released, but we can't move ahead to Tyrion II TWOW without covering the short summary of Tyrion I TWOW.

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[universe-of-heart]

A Rewritten History of Fire and Blood

Jae Briarwood has been an advisor of the Iron Throne longer than anyone else could know. It is seemingly up to them to keep the realm and their pledged house from diving into a freefall. In a way, it reminds them of their first home. Old Valyria. Fallon Lannister despises how her family views her as a piece to play with. She despises the act of a lady her mother puppets her as. At ten-and-nine, she takes charge of her own life and it completely changes her previous trajectory. Years later, Raylen Stark finds herself in King's Landing to attend a celebration for the king and then unity of a once fractured house. Companionship is found in the least likely of places for the Northern girl between her, a prince, and the only other girl brave enough to know them both. Come along as we discover how the lives of these characters could have gone and how everyone around them can affect the narrative.

Cross-posted on AO3 under Finn_leyy Banners, headers, and dividers used in each chapter: The moon phase border by @samspenandsword MDNI banner by @cafekitsune, house dividers by @aemondtargaryenonlyfans

Chapter 1: The House a Dragon Built

Chapter 2: Heirs to the Iron Throne

Chapter 3: Two Proposals of a Different Kind

Chapter 4: Pain in Repeating Cycles

Chapter 5: Growth of New Beginnings

[pryjagon]

Multimuse && Multiship OC and Canon Characters; Daryl Dixon, Beth Greene, Willas Tyrell, Camellia Tyrell (oc) , & Rohanne Lannister (oc) ( more to come probably ). RULES && MUSE INFO

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Chapter headers for Tyrion, Cersei, Theon, and Asha as illustrated by Jonathan Burton for the Folio Society editions of ASOIAF

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