#larys strong imagine

[thewritetofreespeech]

kinktober: frottage

tags: frottage, making out, secret relationship, targaryen incest [aemond/rhaenyra's daughter], immense pinning by aemond

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“Where is Aemond?”

“I do not know your grace,” Larys replied. Remaining calm in the Queens frustration. She had been hunting for her middle son for hours, and he was no where to be found. “I have checked with the guards and sentries, and no one has seen him leave by Vahgar or horse.”

“So, he must still be in the city.” Alicent deduced. Hoping he was still in the castle as well. “The conclave starts soon, and we need…a united front for the court.” The plan to weave her family’s place to the crown was to start today. First, but claiming Driftmark back from Rhaenyra's brood. Then, with them illegitimized, start making the case that Aegon should be king. “He knows how important today is. How could he do this to me?!”

“The prince is nothing but a servant to duty.” Larys assured her. He may not see eye-to-eye with the prince, at least with the one he had left, but the Lord did respect that he seemed committed to his family and their goal. “I’m sure he will come out of hiding eventually.”

In a further, deeper part of the castle, indeed hidden away from all those who had not truly explored it, Aemond laid sequestered with his maiden. Marveling at her beauty in the low light between kisses. Beads of sweat forming at the back of his neck from the warmth of the candles in the small space and their hot, panting breath. Bucking against each other with soft gasps & grunts in the nest he had built for them

“We have to go.” His lady insisted. For the umpteenth time, yet neither one of them had made a legitimate effort to move.

“No, no. Not yet.”

Aemond didn’t want to go back to the ‘real world’. A world where his family and hers were fighting. Where the rift between them seemed to grow every day. Separating them. Lines in the sand now a chasm that seemed impossible to overcome.

He also knew what was to happen today to Rhaenyra's bastards, and that she might not forgive him for his part in the plot of disinheriting her brothers. Aemond wanted to stay here a little longer, where she wouldn’t be mad at him.

“People will be looking for us.” She told him as he moved to her neck, which was freely given.

“They’ll never find us.” It had taken him years to find this place and even then it had been difficult to remember where the opening was until he had committed it to memory.

“Oh yes. Because you’re so clever. Ow!” His lady yipped but then moaned when he bit at her neck. A true Targaryen. Wanting a little pain with her pleasure.

“We should just leave and never come back.”

He’d made the offer before. To take their dragons and ride until they reach new land. Conquer it like their ancestors. Build a new kingdom, instead of being stuck in this conflicting one.

Yet, every time, she just laughed it off as a joke like she did now. Not realizing the seriousness of how much he wanted to leave, and never come back, and just be the two of them in the world. “You would miss the tarts too much if we left. Come on. Let’s get going.”

Aemond finally let her go, though disappointed about it, and let her right herself.

In the right light, her mused hair and clothes looked like she had been riding. No one would think where Rhaenyra's Targaryen jewel had truly been. In the arms of her scorned, much less beloved uncle. His cock throbbed in his breeches. Desperate to make her truly his, but he would not take such liberties. Aemond would not tarnish their jewel nor besmirch her honor. He loved her too much for that. That’s why he wanted her to run away with him, so they could be together. Growing up in a world beloved & adored, she does not see that her parents will never allow them to marry. Never allow them to be happy. Their jewel will be given to someone politically inclined to help secure her mother’s place on the throne, and Aemond would be unhappy & unfulfilled.

He would join the Watch before he call anyone but her wife.

Righted and upright, Aemond tucked a lock of silver behind her ear. Marveling at the affection reflected in her eyes. “Will you see me later? After the conclave?”

“Of course.” She told him. Her earnest something he wanted to hold on to. “Here, or somewhere else before dinner?”

“Here.” Where he could pretend. And if he spoke his words sweet enough maybe she would take him up on his offer to finally run away.

They exit their nook and depart. Her back to her family and Aemond to his. His mother found him readily enough, given how frantically at this point she had been looking for him, and asked where he had been.

“Day dreaming.” Was all he told her. It was a peculiarly enough answer that it halted all further questions from his mother and left him to get ready for the meeting.

After today, his daydreams where all he might have left. Let him keep them for a little while longer at least.

[maidragoste]

Chapter Two: A United Front

The Hunger Games AU

Katniss!Jacaerys x Peeta!Reader

Chapter One Chapter Three

First of all, thank you very much for all the support that the first chapter had! It made me really happy to see every comment and reblog, it really motivated me to continue writing 🥰🥰

Please let me know again what you thought of this chapter in the comments, as always, likes and reblogs are appreciated too 💖💖

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

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

Jacaerys was irritated. Firstly, because it is evident that you had already begun to play in front of the cameras since when you two arrived at the train station you did not bother to hide your tears, you probably thought that perhaps this way you could get a sponsor or else your strategy was to show yourself weak and like an easy prey to later fight in the arena. That's what Sabitha Vypren, from District 7, had done in her games.

The second reason for his irritation was his uncle. Larys hadn't said a word to him since before the Repair or even now that they were on the train heading to the Capitol. This was supposed to be the time for them to prepare strategies together, for Larys to give them advice on surviving the arena, but his uncle seemed more focused on enjoying the pork chops and mashed potatoes. Jacaerys was also eating, he was ready to eat everything he could to gain the most muscle mass before the games started, but now and then he would stop and stare at Larys hoping that at some point his uncle would decide to speak.

“So, what do we have to do for Jacaerys to win?” you asked, breaking the silence and making him choke.

You were the first to react, you quickly got up and started hitting him on the back until he finally spit out the piece of meat. Effie looked at him with disgust.

"Are you okay?" you asked, looking at him with concern and now caressing his back. Jacaerys noticed how his uncle looked at the two of them with interest. He had no idea why, neither of you two had done anything extraordinary, he made a fool of himself by choking and you ran to save him…Well, I had to admit that your action was striking, someone else would have let him die by drowning to have one less competitor in the arena, not only that but you just said that you wanted to help him win. It didn't make sense… Unless it was another strategy to gain his trust only to then stab him in the back in the arena.

"I'm fine," Jacaerys responded, putting his hand on your arm to stop your caresses. You blushed and moved away from him as if you had been burned by his touch. “What do you mean by that you said earlier?” he asked you once you sat back down.

"You have a chance to win, Jacaerys," you declared as if it were obvious. Evidently, he couldn't hide his confusion because you continued talking "You know how to hunt and you have good aim. Every time my father buys you squirrels he says that the arrow always hits the eye, you never ruin the body" the boy felt the heat rise to his face at your words and he was sure he was blushing because suddenly you seemed to be stopping yourself from smiling. "So if either of us has a chance of winning it's you. I'll probably be one of the first to die but I think I can be of help in the interview" you said the last thing looking at Larys.

Jacaerys felt his appetite disappear. It didn't sit well with him to hear you talk as if you were already resigned to dying. "She's got a good right hook," he said, looking at his uncle. He couldn't let Larys give up on you quickly, if you lost his interest then he surely wouldn't bother trying to help you win. "Lucerys told me. She hit a boy who was bothering him and gave that idiot a black eye."

"Jacaerys, I won't be able to win just by hitting people. Besides, there are surely tributes even bigger than that boy, they will attack me before I can even land a hit on him."

For a moment he had the image of an unknown tribute mercilessly attacking you with a sword before you had the chance to defend yourself. His stomach fluttered at the image of your broken body.

"You, on the other hand, can attack from afar with your bow. If you hide well you can have an advantage" you continued and went back to eating without realizing that your companion was looking at you with a frown.

Your attitude was irritating him. You should have been trying to impress Larys by saying what other things you can do but instead, you keep talking about him. It did not make sense. It had to be a strategy or maybe you were thinking it was a lost cause to try to win the games by having him as a district partner and his uncle as his mentor. You probably believed that Larys would choose to put all the chips on him just because he was his nephew. That made him furious.

"She can lift weights. I saw her lifting sacks of flour"

You suddenly dropped the cutlery sharply on the table. "Enough, Jacaerys," the annoyance was evident on your face and in your voice. "Don't try to make me feel good just out of pity, please. I know I'm going to lose. Everyone knows that." "You made a gesture with your hand to let you continue talking when you saw him open his mouth." Do you know what my mother told me when she came to say goodbye to me? There may finally be another winner in 12. She wasn't talking about me" you said looking into his eyes.

Everyone knew that your mother was a witch but Jacaerys never imagined that she would be one with her own daughter. It was cruel to tell you that when perhaps it could be her last talk. She should have faith in you. Or at least give you the benefit of the doubt. He wanted to comfort you but he had no idea what to say. Besides, he didn't think his uncle would be happy if he saw him being nice to you. He would tell her that he was weak and that he didn't come here to make friends.

So Jace settled for looking into your eyes, hoping that you could somehow understand that he didn't want you to give up.

"Oh, darling, that's horrible," Effie said, breaking the tension between the two of you, placing a hand on her heart, she seemed genuinely moved. "I think you should try hard to win and prove your mother wrong."

You didn't say anything, you just gave a sad smile to the district escort. A moment ago Jacaerys felt bad for you but now he can't help but think that maybe you only told your last conversation with your mother to gain Effie's sympathy and get her to talk about you to her friends in the Capitol. He hated analyzing everything you did but he couldn't let his guard down with you if he wanted to go home to his brothers. He was sure that if Lucerys was with him and could see what was going on in her mind he would tell him that he was being paranoid. But maybe it wasn't wrong for him to doubt you, Jace thought when he noticed that Uncle Larys seemed to be evaluating you with his gaze.

“Let's start to see who his competitors are,” Larys finally spoke, ending the dinner.

Jacaerys was relieved to see that your stylist had put you in an outfit just like his, at least if he ended up making a fool of himself at the parade he wouldn't be the only one. You're wearing the same shiny leather boots and the same full-length black leotard with the cloak that flutters in the wind. The only difference between the two of you was that your suit seemed closer to your body, highlighting your curves.

As you are taken to the lower level of the Renewal Center, Portia, your stylist, along with her team can't stop talking excitedly about what a sensation you two will be. Cinna, Jacaerys' stylist who came up with the idea of setting their outfits on fire, seems tired of the congratulations. Jace couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he, too, was nervous that it wouldn't work and would end with them dead. You didn't look nervous, which shouldn't surprise him considering you were probably used to fire since he worked at the bakery.

Once they arrive, they basically find a giant stable. The opening ceremony is about to begin so the stylists are having their tributes ride into carriages pulled by a group of horses. Cinna and Portia lead you and Jacaerys to their carriage, both of them carefully arranging the posture of the two of your bodies and your cloaks before stepping aside to talk something between themselves.

“What do you think of the fire?” Jacaerys asked you in a whisper. He tells himself that he's just talking to you to distract himself from his nerves.

“At least we're not naked,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders. Jacaerys grimaces as he remembers those poor tributes who had to parade naked covered in black dust. It had happened years before his uncle became a victor, the only reason why everyone knew about that incident was because whenever the games approached on television they did a recap of the best kills, the best dressed as well as the worst deaths and the worst dresses. In the latter, those poor tributes always appeared.

“Uncle Larys definitely wouldn't have let that happen. He probably would have hit them with his cane as soon as they told him that idea,” Jace said with a small smile as he imagined his uncle hitting the stylists and scolding them. You must have imagined the same thing too because you started laughing. Your laughter was contagious so he soon joined you, feeling his nerves disappear for a moment as well as the heaviness in his shoulders. Cinna and Portia will probably be upset that you two lost your posture but neither you nor Jacaerys seemed worried about it.

"If something goes wrong I promise to take out your cloak while you take out mine," you said trying to get serious again but from the corner of your lips, it was evident that you wanted to smile.

"Deal," he agreed with a small smile.

Jace's calm demeanor disappeared the moment he saw his uncle. He tensed as he watched him walk towards the carriage, ready to feel his eyes judging him and scolding him for acting like a child. His uncle was right to be angry, now the other tributes would see them as weak and stupid.

"I want you to present yourself as a united front," Larys said, surprising his nephew.

"What?"

"If you want to win then you have to do everything I say" the mentor reminded them "So you will go out, hold hands, and greet the audience" In his tone of voice there was no room for discussion but Jacaerys had many questions. He couldn't do any of them because when started playing the opening music Larys headed for the exit.

"Come on, don't look so upset. It's not like I have scabies," you nudged him. If he hadn't been focused on seeing the tributes from District 1 in his glowing robes then he would have noticed how the sparkle in your eyes seemed to have dimmed.

It's not many minutes before you and Jacaerys are near the doors. As the District 11 tributes leave, Cinna appears with a torch. You and Jace don't have time to back away when the stylist turns on both of your cloaks. The three of them sigh in relief when they see that it worked.

“Remember head up and smile. Oh, don't forget the most important thing, hold hands. They're going to love you!" Cinna quickly tells them before getting out of the carriage.

Jacaerys hesitates before taking your left hand. Unlike him, you don't hesitate to intertwine your fingers with his. You give him one last smile before his carriage enters the city. The crowd seems alarmed at first when they see the fire but then they soon begin shouting both their names. Jace can't help but feel overwhelmed by the feeling of everyone's eyes on him so he focuses on staring at the screen. For a moment he is breathless, the two of you look wonderful, especially you look brilliant as you wave and blow kisses to the crowd. In the low light of twilight, the fire illuminates both of your faces and your cloaks seem to leave a trail of flames behind. Cinna got what he wanted and gave you both a chance, no one would forget about you two, you really made a sensation.

You squeeze Jacaerys's hand and remind him under your breath to “Smile.”

Then he tries his best to give his best smile and starts greeting you. Someone among all these people must have wanted to sponsor him. This was an excellent opportunity to win over the audience and he had to take advantage of it. He remembers the words of his uncle Larys, so he raises their joined hands, making the screams increase even more. When they enter the City Circle they lower their hands but neither you nor Jace try to let go. During President Snow's speech, Jacaerys is distracted by feeling you caress his skin with your thumb, he tries not to think about it too much, he tells himself that you must be nervous and you do it unconsciously. Luckily it doesn't take long for the national anthem to be heard and the carriages travel around the circle for the last time. Jacaerys notices that the screens seem to show you two more than the other tributes.

He finishes confirming that it was not his imagination once you arrive at the Training Center and get off your carriages. As Cinna and Portia remove their cloaks, you and Jacaerys notice the angry glances of the other tributes, especially Royce Baratheon, the burly boy from District 2 who volunteered, and his district partner Agatha Durrandon.

Jace notices that the two of you are still holding hands so he lets you go.

"The flames suit you well and you have a beautiful smile" you declared with a smile making him blush.

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[greenqueenhightower]

He was obviously talking about Alys.

The "claiming an emotionally and sexually manipulative relationship with the outcast woman who bears a similar name to the witch stepsister who breastfed him and probably was the sole person to provide him with affection" theory is gaining ground as we speak.

The levels of twisted Oedipal complex would be enough to resurrect Freud from the dead.

[ironmansbay]

And what're YOU looking at???

Twitter

Portfolio

Consider commissioning me!

[ararebloom]

alicent x larys | au: eighteenth century

[veloursdor]

day 255 of the hiatus and i miss him

ft alicent being miserable

[entitled-fangirl]

GUYS GUYS

I literally found this in the vault and now I can't remember where I was going with this story 😭

........................

"The heir to Harrenhall?" Larys growled.

The youngest child of the late Lord Lyonel Strong, a daughter, now held the title of their Lady. "I don't know, brother. But father's instruction was clear-"

"-Was it? Because I don't see clarity in undermining two elder sons for a youngest daughter."

She scoffed. "I am not your enemy, Larys. And I am truly sorry that it was not passed to you, but you must respect what it is now. Father is dead, as is our brother, and you only worry about who shall run Harrenhall. And why do you wish for it when you spend all of your time here in King's Landing?"

He chose not to answer. 

She gritted her teeth. "I shall return home to decide what is even salvageable of the fire-"

"-You will go nowhere," he threatened and grabbed her wrist. "Not until Harrenhall declares Aegon as king."

She hesitates, "Brother-"

"-You are their Lady, are you not?" He mocked. "Bend the knee to Aegon before you go."

"It's more complicated than that and you know it."

...........................

A/n: Does ANYBODY want to guess what I wanted to do with this cause I got NOTHING

[all-that-glitters-is-goldfish]

[novaursa]

Hello my love! I absolutely adore your writings and wanted to send a request that might prompt some imagination.

I would love a fic where the reader is velaryon (rhaenyras daughter) and married to cregan stark through a marriage alliance. They have grown to love eachother and have one child, a young son, and reader has a dragon. Reader is a dragon rider and may ride into battle with her dragon for her mother’s cause.

Whilst cregan is needed at the wall, a handful of men—sent by the greens in response to blood and cheese—sneak into winterfell with a mission; kill/take readers dragon or pay the price with her son. After killing the guards and a fight where reader tries to defend herself and her son, (maybe resulting in reader getting injured) the men give reader the option. Her dragon or her son. (I’ll leave the choice/what happens up to you 🤭)

cregan soon gets word about what has happened and rushes back to the aftermath.

it would be an honour if you were to even consider my ask 🥰

thank you for all you do and the joy you bring to this side of tumblr <3

The Cycle

- Summary: Cregan leaves with his duty to the Wall and you are left alone with a choice Larys Strong brings.

- Pairing: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: The reader is Rhaenyra's daughter and is bonded with Grey Ghost.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Alternative scenario: one for the price of two

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

- A/N: I hope this is what you had in mind, dear anon. ☺️❤️

Winterfell is quieter than you have ever known it. The grand halls that once echoed with the clamor of swords and laughter are hushed, the absence of Cregan’s men leaving an emptiness that stretches through every corridor. Outside, the sky is smothered in a blanket of heavy clouds, the winds howling mournfully, as if they sense the danger that lingers just beyond the gates.

Your son, Eddard, sleeps soundly in his cradle, his tiny fists curled by his face, the sight of him softening the edges of your worry. You brush a gentle kiss to his brow, your thoughts drifting to Cregan, away at the Wall with his men, fulfilling his duties to the Night’s Watch. The last thing he said to you before leaving echoes in your mind.

“Winterfell is safe. You are safe.” His grey eyes were serious, his hand warm against your cheek as he spoke.

You had believed him then, believed in the strength of the castle walls and the loyalty of the men who guarded it. But you can’t shake the unease prickling at the back of your neck, a mother’s intuition whispering warnings in your ear.

The first scream splits the night like an axe through ice. You jolt upright, heart hammering, and before you can even grasp what is happening, the door to your chambers bursts open. Figures, shadowed and swift, flood the room. Larys Strong’s men, their faces obscured by masks, their blades gleaming in the dim light.

“Stay back!” you cry out, instinctively placing yourself between them and Eddard’s crib. Your hand reaches for the dagger hidden beneath your pillow, but one of them is faster, knocking it from your grip and seizing your wrist with bruising force.

“Princess Velaryon, or is it just Lady Stark now? There’s no need for heroics,” the leader sneers, his voice a sickly mix of mockery and menace. “We’re here to deliver a message.”

They drag you from the room, your protests muffled by a rough hand clamped over your mouth. Your heart pounds as they force you down the twisting stairs, through the empty halls, until you’re thrust out into the freezing night. Your breath plumes in the air as you look up, dread curling in your stomach.

Grey Ghost is there, your dragon, your bond. Chained and wounded, his scales stained with blood, his wings pinned cruelly to the ground. He lets out a weak, rumbling growl as he sees you, his eyes gleaming with pain and anger.

“No…” you whisper, struggling against the iron grip of your captors. “No, please—”

Larys Strong steps forward then, his smile a twisted, grotesque parody of civility. “You see, Y/N, the Dowager Queen in King’s Landing sends her regards. The blood of a child for the blood of a child, was it not?”

The horror of what he means dawns on you, a sickening wave of realization that turns your limbs to lead. The butcher and the ratcatcher. The trap your mother and Daemon had laid for the Greens. And now, here in the cold North, the Greens have come for you.

“Your dragon or your son,” Larys says softly, almost kindly, as if he were offering you a choice of fine wines. “One lives. One dies. You decide.”

You can barely breathe, the cold air clawing at your throat as you shake your head in disbelief. “No… please, don’t do this… Eddard is just a babe, he’s done nothing—”

Larys cocks his head, feigning sympathy. “Nor did little Jaehaerys. Yet your mother saw to his death, didn’t she?”

Tears blur your vision, but you force yourself to stand tall, to meet his gaze. “If you kill him, I swear on the gods, old and new, I will burn you all to ash.”

Larys’s smile widens, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Such fire. But threats won’t change anything, my lady. You have until the count of ten.”

The men around you tighten their grip, and you know, with a cold, sick certainty, that they will carry out his command. That you will lose one, either your sweet son, innocent and helpless, or Grey Ghost, who has fought beside you, who has bled and burned for your family’s cause.

“One,” Larys begins, his voice calm, measured.

You look at Eddard, bundled against the biting cold, his eyes wide and trusting as they meet yours. He doesn’t understand. He’s too young to understand what is being asked of you.

“Two.”

Grey Ghost lets out a low, mournful wail, his tail lashing weakly against the chains that bind him. You can feel his pain, his fear, through the bond you share, a connection forged in fire and blood.

“Three.”

The world narrows to the beat of your heart, the silent plea in Eddard’s eyes, the agony in Grey Ghost’s. How can you choose? How can any mother be asked to make such a choice?

“Four.”

Your hands are shaking, the words trapped in your throat. You want to scream, to beg, to offer anything, everything, if it will just make this nightmare end.

“Five.”

But there is no mercy in Larys’s gaze, no compassion in the men who hold you.

“Six.”

Grey Ghost’s roar rises, a desperate, broken sound that tears through the night.

“Seven.”

Eddard’s small, soft cry, frightened and confused, cuts through your soul.

“Eight.”

You look at Larys, the man who holds your fate in his hands, and you know that there is no victory here, no way to save them both.

“Nine.”

“I choose…” The words scrape out of you, each one a knife to your heart. “I choose my son.”

Larys’s smile is slow, triumphant, as if he had won some great game. He turns, gestures to his men. “Kill the dragon.”

“No!” The scream rips from your throat as they move toward Grey Ghost, their weapons drawn. You struggle, kicking, biting, but they hold you fast, forcing you to watch as the blades rise and fall, as your dragon, your beloved Grey Ghost, thrashes and roars, his blood staining the snow red.

You sob, your heart shattering with each cruel blow, each gasping breath your dragon takes. He fought for you, for your family, and now he dies, his life ended by your choice, your terrible, necessary choice.

When it is over, the silence is deafening, the night air thick with the smell of blood and death. Larys releases you then, his gaze almost pitying. “There, you see? It wasn’t so difficult.”

You collapse to your knees, your body shaking with grief and rage, unable to tear your eyes from Grey Ghost’s still form. Eddard cries out, and you gather him to you, clutching him close, his tiny warmth the only anchor in a world that has gone cold and dark.

Larys steps back, his work done, his men already withdrawing into the shadows. “Remember, Lady Stark,” he calls over his shoulder. “A debt paid in blood can always be collected again.”

As the night closes in around you, the promise of vengeance burns in your veins. You have lost so much, but you will not break. You will rise from this. For your son. For Grey Ghost. And you will see the Greens pay for every drop of blood they have spilled.

The journey back to Winterfell is swift and relentless, Cregan pushing his horse hard across the snow-swept landscape. There’s a weight in his chest, a gnawing dread that had taken root the moment he received the ravens’ grim message at the Wall. The North is no stranger to death and violence, but the attack on Winterfell, the heart of his home, is a scar he never thought he’d bear.

As the castle looms into view, his heart stutters at the sight. The once proud and imposing stronghold is shrouded in a somber silence, the gates barely guarded, the towers and walls bearing the signs of a vicious struggle. It’s as if the very soul of Winterfell has been drained away, leaving only a husk.

He rides through the gate, dismounting even before his horse fully stops. The few men left in the yard stand grim and silent, their eyes shadowed with exhaustion and grief. There are still bloodstains on the stones, patches of crimson stark against the pristine snow, a testament to the horrors that have transpired.

“Where is she?” he demands, his voice a low, urgent growl. “Where is my wife?”

One of his men, Ser Bryndon, steps forward, his face lined with fatigue and sorrow. “In the Great Hall, my lord. She’s… she hasn’t left her chambers much since the attack.”

Cregan’s heart clenches. He brushes past them, striding through the courtyard, the cold biting at his exposed skin, but he hardly feels it. Every step echoes in the eerily quiet halls, the silence pressing in around him like a vice.

When he reaches the Great Hall, he pauses, bracing himself for what he might find. The heavy wooden doors creak open under his hand, and he steps inside, his eyes sweeping the shadowed space.

There, at the far end of the hall, you sit by the fire, a small, fragile figure in the vast, empty room. You are clutching Eddard to your chest, his small form bundled in blankets, your body curled protectively around him. The flames cast flickering shadows across your face, highlighting the dark circles beneath your eyes, the pallor of your skin.

“Y/N…” His voice is rough, almost breaking, as he crosses the room in a few long strides.

You look up at the sound of his voice, your eyes red and hollow, and for a moment, you just stare at him as if unsure if he’s real or another cruel vision conjured by your grief. Then, with a broken sob, you are in his arms, clutching at his furs, your body trembling with the force of your anguish.

“Cregan…” Your voice is a ragged whisper, muffled against his chest. “They took him from me. They took Grey Ghost.”

He holds you tightly, one arm around your shoulders, the other cradling your son. His heart twists at the sight of you, at the haunted look in your eyes, the way you cling to him as if he is the only thing anchoring you to this world. “I’m here,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”

Your breath shudders out of you in a broken gasp, and you shake your head. “It’s not your fault… It’s them. Larys Strong… he made me choose, Cregan. He made me choose between Eddard and Grey Ghost.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He can feel your pain, your guilt, as if it were his own. He tightens his hold on you, his jaw clenched against the fury and helplessness threatening to overwhelm him. “You did what you had to do,” he says fiercely, his voice low and steady. “You protected our son. That’s what matters.”

But he knows, even as he says it, that it will never be enough to ease the agony in your heart. He can see it in your eyes, in the way you curl in on yourself, as if trying to shield yourself from a blow that has already struck. And the sight of it breaks something deep inside him.

“I should have been here,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “I should have protected you both.”

You pull back slightly, your hand coming up to cup his face, your touch gentle despite the tremor in your fingers. “You are here now,” you say, your voice a soft, wavering thread. “That’s what I need. You and Eddard… we’ll get through this. Somehow.”

He nods, swallowing against the lump in his throat. He looks down at your son, at the innocence in his small face, the way he sleeps so peacefully despite the storm that has raged around him. Cregan’s heart aches with love and sorrow and a fierce, unyielding determination.

“I will make them pay,” he vows quietly, his voice hard with the promise. “For every drop of blood, for every tear, I will see them suffer.”

He can feel the weight of your gaze on him, the fire of your own resolve rekindling in the depths of your eyes. “We’ll make them pay,” you agree, your voice firmer now, a steel edge beneath the sorrow.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin as if he can somehow shield you from all the hurt and loss that has been inflicted upon you. “Rest now, Y/N. I’ll take care of everything.”

But even as he says the words, he knows there will be no rest for either of you, not truly. Not until the debt has been paid in blood and fire.

Later, when you’ve finally fallen into a fitful sleep, he steps outside, his breath fogging in the frigid air. The courtyard is almost deserted, the few men left tending to the grim task of clearing the bodies, the fallen. And there, on the far side, lies the massive, still form of Grey Ghost, his once-silver scales now dull and bloodstained.

Cregan approaches slowly, his heart heavy as he takes in the sight of your dragon, his body broken and scarred from the fight that cost him his life. He reaches out, his hand resting against the cooling scales, and he bows his head, grief and rage roiling within him.

“I swear,” he murmurs, his voice a low, fierce vow, “I will see justice for you, for my family. The Greens will pay for this treachery.”

The wind howls through the empty yard, the promise of vengeance carried on its bitter, biting breath.

[qyburnsghost]

Loving this story! Finally something unique and exciting. Stayed up til 5am reading it and trying my best not to devour it all!!!

Chapters: 9/? Fandom: House of the Dragon (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen/Original Female Character(s), Alys Rivers of House Strong/Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen, Aegon II Targaryen/Original Female Character(s), Aegon II Targaryen/Helaena Targaryen Characters: Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen, Aegon II Targaryen, Mysaria | Lady Misery (A Song of Ice and Fire), Alys Rivers of House Strong, Daemon Targaryen, Rhaenyra Targaryen, Original Characters, Larys Strong, Helaena Targaryen, Alicent Hightower, Otto Hightower, Criston Cole, Tyland Lannister Additional Tags: Rape/Non-con Elements, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Incest, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Gore, Slow Burn, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Original Character Death(s), Abusive Relationships, Unhealthy Relationships, Porn With Plot, Rapist Aegon II Targaryen, Minor Alys Rivers of House Strong/Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen, Love Triangles, Love Pentagons, Fia is a Whore, Aegon II Targaryen is a Whore, Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen is a Whore, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat Summary:

“Deserved… That boy did not deserve to die. Why could you not have just let it go? We do not, all of us, have the means to take back that which was stolen from us. Some of us have to learn to live with our pain knowing we may never get justice for it. What pain you have wrought now for all of us because you could not live with yours.”

“You know nothing of my pain.”

Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen x Fia Celtigar (Original Character)

[maidragoste]

Babysitter

Larys Strong x Velaryon!Reader

Summary: Larys was thinking about spending a quiet afternoon alone with his wife but Jacaerys ruins his plans.

Modern AU where Sea Dragon was never with Harwin and she is married to Larys. Nobody asked for this but I'm a bitch for Larys and Sea Dragon so I wrote it. The truth is that I really enjoyed writing about them being domestic, please if you liked it, don't hesitate to comment, like or REBLOG 🥰💖💖

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

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

When Larys entered, the first thing that caught his attention was that the house was silent instead of listening to the music that you usually played when you were at home. The second thing was that when Nightwing, your dog, went to meet him excitedly at the entrance and started barking, you asked him to stop, which was strange because Nightwing always did that and a long time ago the both accepted that she wouldn't stop doing it.

And the third thing was that a minute after Nightwing barked a baby cry was heard. As soon as he heard it Larys thought about opening the door again and leaving, maybe if he took Nightwing's leash and took her for a walk you wouldn't be upset with him for leaving but he doubted it. So he finished taking off his coat and tried to calm the dog by petting it as he headed to the kitchen.

"Hi," you greeted him and your husband turned to see you smiling at him from the living room. Despite the small tantrum a few seconds ago you looked happy to have their nephew Jacaerys in your arms "Harwin and Rhaenyra needed some time alone so I offered to take care of him"

He shouldn't be surprised. Lately every time the both went shopping you always "coincidentally" passed by the baby clothes section and stopped there for a while while you cooed just how small and cute the clothes are. Sometimes you even end up buying some compulsively. Not only that, every time you received a new photo of Jacaerys or your cousins' children you let out an "aww" and excitedly showed him the photos. When you two went to the park to take Nightwing out and you found a baby you started making faces at them until you managed to make them laugh. And now you were offering to take care of Jacaerys. He had a suspicion that you have baby fever.

"For how long?" he asked, hoping it would be an hour or two at most, he didn't want to spend the rest of the day with his nephew. When Larys got off work he had planned to come home and relax with you. He hoped they could take a bath together and then order something for dinner at that restaurant you like while watching some reality show.

"Just for a few hours"

Larys took the kettle out of the fire before it started making a lot of noise and Jacaerys would get scared.

"How many?" He asked, knowing that he wouldn't like the answer because you weren't being specific for some reason.

"They'll probably come looking for him at midnight" you responded and pouted as you heard the exasperated sigh your husband let out "Don't be like that, Jace is happy to see you" You went to sit on the couch when you saw that Larys entered the living room with two cups of tea.

"How do you know? He can't talk" Larys scoffed as he put the cups on the table. Nightwing, seeing that he sat down, instantly lay down on the floor.

"He crawled all over the house looking for you" you responded with a smile and you saw that the baby was starting to get restless so you left him on the carpet with his toys.

"You're talking shit"

"Larys! Language!" you scolded him, lamely, slapping him on the shoulder.

"He can't talk," your husband responded, rolling his eyes.

Larys really thought that you were lying and that you told him that hoping that it would warm him and maybe make him want to have a child. But it was obvious that you weren't lying because Jacaerys barely spent a minute with the toy before crawling to his side and starting to tug at his pants. Larys had never held a cup of tea so tightly, he was afraid that at some point it would fall and burn the child. The last thing he wanted was to end up going to the hospital. Besides, his brother would kill him for hurting Jacaerys.

Larys gave you an annoyed look as she placed the cup on the table.

"I told you he wanted to spend time with you" you scoffed but you took pity on him because you sat on the rug and got the baby's attention by making noise with one of his toys.

Jacaerys loosened his grip on the pants but he still seemed hesitant to let go.

“It's okay, Jace, your uncle isn't going anywhere. You can play with him later” you reassured him and the baby finally let go of his pants to go with you. You welcomed him with open arms and kissed his forehead.

“Don't lie to him, I'm not going to play with him,” your husband said as he took the cup back.

“Larys, stop being an ogre and enjoy your nephew's company.” There was no harshness in your voice but he knew you were serious.

He rolled his eyes and started drinking his tea. You managed to distract the baby by playing with him so Larys could enjoy his tea in peace. Your husband admired you as you responded to Jace's babbling as if it were a real conversation. Jace gave you one of his toys, which he had just slobbered on, but you didn't seem disgusted but instead concentrated on cooing and congratulating him for being so good and wanting to share his toy. You would be a good mother. He could imagine you doing the same with their children.

“Your tea is going to get cold,” Larys reminded you when he saw that your cup was still intact.

“It's okay, I can make another one later.”

But Larys knew you wouldn't. “Give it to me and have your tea,” he asked. You handed him, Jace, carefully and watched with a smile as your husband took the baby without hesitation, unlike the first few times he seemed hesitant before Harwin or Rhaenyra handed Jace to him. “The tea,” Larys repeated with a small smile when he noticed the way you looked at him. Maybe it wasn't so bad that Jace came. He instantly retracted that thought when his nephew started pulling his hair. “Harwin is raising a savage.”

“Don't be exaggerated,” you said, feeling warm from the view in front of you more than from the tea.

Later when Nightwing starts crying and staring at the door Larys, who ends up agreeing to “play” with Jacaerys just because she wants to spend time with you, gets up to go take the dog out. He watches with amusement as Jace begins to crawl with the intention of following his uncle but he is too slow so when he reaches the hallway where the door is he just sees Larys close the door and bursts into tears. You will instantly take him in your arms to comfort him. The door opens again and Larys enters again with Nightwing but Jace continues crying.

“Let's wrap him up so he can come with us,” your husband said as he approached you. “You're too annoying.” There's no malice in Larys' voice or when he pokes the baby's cheek with his finger. “Remind me to ask my father if Harwin was as crybaby as Jace when he was a baby,” he tells you as he takes his nephew away from you so that you can look in the bag that Rhaenyra had left you for some warm clothes.

“I will,” you say and give him a small kiss on the cheek before going to get the clothes.

You and Larys manage to quickly dress Jace under the pressure of Nightwing's crying. Any trace of distress on Jace's part disappears the moment you and Larys settle him into The Kangaroo Carry being carried by Larys. Your husband is struck by the fact that out of nowhere there is a baby carrier in the house, but he doesn't say anything, thinking that surely Rhaenyra left it or you bought it for future visits from Jace or your cousin's children.

Once Nightwing relieves her, instead of returning home, the both decide to go to the park that is close to home for a while. This time you are not the one who coos or makes faces at strangers' babies but the other way around. Larys would be lying if he said he didn't like hearing how people said you four looked like a sweet family. If your purpose with Jacaerys's visit was to get him into the idea of having their own child then you had achieved it.

Hours later, Jacaerys has just left with his parents and Larys is sitting exhausted on the couch hugging you around the waist. The television is on but he is not paying attention to the program rather he is looking at you. Your eyes are lighting up and you have a smile on your face as you look through your phone at all the photos you took today of the two of you with Jace.

“You know, if you want a baby you just had to tell me,” he said, catching your attention.

For a moment you look at him surprised but then you laugh and lean in to kiss him. Larys feels how all the tiredness in his body magically disappears while he savors the sweetness of your lips. But Larys definitely feels more awake when you whisper on his lips, “I'm already pregnant, you fool.”

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[greenbloods]

'it's best to live i think. however you do it.'

oughh imagine youre larys strong and youve lived the past thirty years of your life shrugging off insult after insult about how your life isnt worth living, and you construct a self image impenetrable to the world because you are the clubfoot and you are the monster they claim you to be and if you armor yourself in that they can never hurt you.

and now your king is burnt badly and he looks close to death and everyone around you is whispering that it is better if he dies and suddenly you're a little kid again and it's like someone peeled off all your armor and your big brother isnt there to protect you this time

[ceoofglytchell]

Haunting me

Summary: The Dance is over and you get summoned to the Red Keep to be the nursemaid to the little Queen Jaehaera. However, the more days pass, the more you notice a presence always lingering around you, watching from afar.

Pairing: Ghost!Aegon II Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 7042 words

Warnings: Post Dance of Dragons Era, talks of death and war, underage marriage (Jaehaera and Aegon III), Reader is described to be female and to have long hair, my attempt at mystery, ghost stuff, angst, fluff, brief suggestive content (it’s about a tapestry), no mention of Y/N

Notes: This is for the wonderful @bearwithegg ! It took me a long time to post this, but I hope you’ll like it! Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated. Enjoy 💛

It has been months since King Aegon Targaryen returned victorious to King's Landing and reclaimed his father's throne.

Months since the Dance of Dragons was officially over. Rhaenyra is dead, the war that tore the Seven Kingdoms apart is finally over.

And then the unthinkable happened. The king was found dead in the carriage that brought him to the Great Sept. They say he passed out as peacefully as if he were sleeping. His wine had been poisoned, but no one could tell for sure who the culprit was.

Rumors say it was Lord Larys Strong. Others say it was Lord Corlys Velaryon. Still others say it was the king himself, to end his suffering.

But one could never say with any certainty.

A few weeks later, Aegon III, son of Rhaenyra, would be married to little Jaehaera, the king's last living child. They were children, innocent and frightened, who did not know the meaning of the oaths they were speaking there.

They were both no more than ten summers old, which was why they could not rule. The council took on that responsibility for them. But that did not mean they did not need someone at their side.

The Dowager Queen, Alicent Hightower, was out of the question. It was rumored that she had gone mad in the tower where she had been locked after the death of her last son. Her servants were said to hear her weeping at all hours. And when she was not crying, she was always talking about the time in her own youth when she read to the old King Jaehaerys.

Little Queen Jaehaera was all alone. The girl had no mother, no father, brother, or dragon. The war had taken all of that from her.

She needed someone by her side to take care of her.

And that was exactly why you were called to court. A young lady from a small, rather insignificant house, who had barely survived the Dance.

It was a great honor for you, as you had never dared to imagine ever seeing the Red Keep with your own eyes.

Even though times were bleak, the harvests left much to be desired, and many villages lacked young men, you were overjoyed to have been given such an opportunity.

A small ray of hope in a hopeless age.

The Red Keep was not what you had imagined.

The halls were cold and empty, the walls gray and colorless, and the people were taciturn and seemed plagued by the ghosts of the past.

Little Jaehaera quickly grew on you. Her large, amethyst-colored eyes were always sad and empty, but your heart swelled every time you made her smile.

She never laughed, but sometimes, when you told her stories from your village, you could see her eyes sparkle or the corners of her mouth lift slightly.

It was a beautiful sight that you guarded like a treasure.

You did not have much to do with the young king, as the king and queen often went their separate ways. You were also protective of the girl. The mere thought that something could happen to her sent shivers down your spine.

You did not want to know how the Dowager Queen felt. On the quiet nights when the moon was high in the sky and not even the trees moved, you could hear her weeping. It was loud, tragic, and broke your heart in two.

It must have been terrible to lose four children and three grandchildren in such a cruel way within the span of four years. The first victim was little Jaehaerys, the little queen's twin brother. Then Helaena, Aemond, Maelor, Daeron, and finally Aegon.

Her first and last.

She was only able to bury two of her children. The bones of the Kinslayer were lost forever at the bottom of the lake in front of Harrenhall, as were the bones of his mount, the mighty Vhagar.

In the villages surrounding the God's Eye, there is said to be a kind of test of courage for the younger people. They are supposed to swim to the bottom of the lake and see the bones with their own eyes. Some left a gold coin as tribute, others tried to destroy the final resting place of the prince and the dragon by kicking the bones underwater.

Depending on whose side these people had been on in the war.

Helaena and Aegon were given their graves next to each other in the Sept, so they could comfort each other even in death. It was the Queen Dowager‘s idea.

You had no connection to any of this.

You had not known any of them, had not ever seen any of them with your own eyes, and during the war, your house had been neutral. Your father did not care who warmed the Iron Throne with their behind, but only that his people were healthy and well-fed.

You had not wanted to choose either. Both sides had been right somewhere, but all that was quickly forgotten the moment the first blood was shed. After that, the flame became a walking inferno, devouring everything and everyone who approached this chaos.

You were glad you were not consumed by the fire.

"Have I already told you the story of Mattis the Foolish?" you asked Jaehaera after you had put her to bed and tucked her in.

The little girl shook her head and hugged her stuffed animal—a small cat—more to her chest. A hint of curiosity flashed in her eyes as she looked up at you.

"Well, listen carefully then. Mattis was a young man from the village I come from. He was well-read, handsome, and always quick with a joke. The young ladies idolized him, and every boy wanted to be his friend. Mattis was sure that the gods would favor him and that everyone would like him. And so he set out on a long journey to confirm his belief."

Jaehaera pulled the blanket up to her chin. "And what happened to him?"

"On his way, he encountered a group of bandits who had kidnapped a woman. She called for help, and Mattis the Heroic, as his friends always called him, rushed to the aid of the fair maiden," you continued, and you could see how the little queen became more and more curious with every word that left your lips.

"And then?" she asked you in a quiet voice. She never spoke aloud.

"He had confidence in his ability to befriend anyone, even vicious bandits. He approached them and struck up a conversation. The men fell under his charm, laughed with him, and toasted him. In the end, they gave him the woman for two gold coins and wished him luck on his journey."

"Oh no," murmured the little girl, already anticipating what was coming.

"No sooner had he set off again, the lovely maiden on his arm, he was suddenly stabbed in the back. The woman had pulled out a dagger, robbed him, and returned to the bandits' camp, while Mattis died miserably in the dirt. He had no idea that she was one of them and that she had only been out to rob good souls like him," you continued, brushing a silver strand of hair from the girl's face.

"And because he put his trust in a stranger, he is now called Mattis the Foolish?" Jaehaera asked you with a smile.

The story was dark, yes, but she liked it. You had learned that quickly after you read her a fairy tale once and she handed you a ghost story from Old Vaylria the next evening. It seemed so as if she liked the morbid and dark, which was why you had to come up with a new story every night that reflected that.

"Or simply because he believed that everyone would be his friend because he did not know any different. And what does this story teach us, darling?" you asked her as you slowly got up from the edge of the bed and smoothed out the wrinkles in your nightgown.

"That you should be careful who you put your trust in," she answered with a nod.

"Exactly. And now sleep well, my little one," you whispered to her before placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

You were already halfway out the door and on your way back to your humble chambers to finally get some good sleep after your long day when you heard her voice again: "Do you... Do you think ghosts exist?"

You immediately stopped and turned to your charge, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What strange questions she sometimes asked.

"Ghosts? They are a nice thought, are they not? Your parents and siblings are watching over you, Jaehaera. One way or another," you assured her with a nod of your head.

"Good night," she murmured, turning away from you, whereupon you sighed softly and closed the door behind you.

As you walked through the corridors, you occasionally nodded to one guard or another. They all seemed tired and as if they had seen too much. The war had left its mark on everyone.

Not paying attention to who might be passing you at this late hour, you suddenly bumped into someone.

"Forgive me," you said immediately, but the man simply nodded and disappeared around the next corner without another word.

It was not until several seconds later that you realized... that he had silver hair.

But that could not be true.

The only people in these halls who still had such features were the young royal couple, and they were already in bed.

Later, you told yourself that it must have just been a trick of the light. That the man's hair had simply been ash-blond. But as you looked around the Great Hall the next morning, as most people were getting breakfast or servants were getting it for their lords and ladies, you noticed that you did not see a man with ash-blond hair anywhere.

So who was this man?

You did not want to ask around. Not because you did not want to find out, but because you were not good at talking to people. Jaehaera was the exception because it was your job to take care of her and because she was an innocent child.

Most of the time, you just felt like everyone was judging you, even if you had not done anything wrong. You could feel their eyes on you, and you hated it. You never knew why. You had always been like that. Like the young Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, you too preferred to be alone. You were better off alone.

You firmly believed that you had only imagined this man. After all, you had been tired, and the girl had just said something about ghosts before you left her alone for the night.

It certainly would not happen again, you thought.

It had been two moons since you bumped into the silver-haired man that night. You had not seen him again. No sign, not even a hint.

By now, you were quite certain that your eyes had indeed been playing a trick on you. At least, that was what you thought until you suddenly saw him again.

It was one of the few days in which the young King Aegon III was supposed to listen to some of the people's petitions. Of course, he did not do this unsupervised. He actually just sat on the throne and greeted and bid farewell to the citizens of the Small Folk who spoke, while one or sometimes two council members did the actual speaking and made the important decisions.

Hidden in the shadows at the side of the throne room, a figure leaned against the cold, wet wall of the Red Keep. His skin was as pale as the snow falling in the north, his hair as silver as the moon, uncombed and falling to his shoulders. He wore a dark green doublet, which he left open. Beneath it, a blue shirt and black trousers were visible. His black boots were dirty, and a heavy gold chain hung around his neck.

No one seemed to notice him. No one spoke to him.

You could almost say he was not there at all.

But you saw him. You saw him, and you decided to approach him with quiet, cautious steps. He did not seem to notice you, and you had to gather all your strength to finally clear your throat.

"Excuse me?" you said quietly, careful to keep your voice low so the other men in the hall would not hear you. Their focus should remain entirely on the throne.

The silver-haired man—and even in this light, you could see that it was definitely silver, not just pale blond—turned slowly to you. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he looked like he had just seen a ghost.

Perhaps he was not used to being spoken to so simply?

"I think that we have met before," you spoke when he did not say anything. "Two months ago. I bumped into you in the night."

He blinked before something like recognition suddenly flashed in his violet eyes.

Violet eyes, silver hair, pale skin... was he a Targaryen?

Somehow, he even reminded you of Jaehaera. You could be wrong, of course, but they had almost the same eyes. Large, sad, and looking as if they carried the weight of the world on their shoulders.

"You…" he cleared his throat. "You remember?"

His voice was rough, as if he had not used it in a long time, and the look in his eyes was one of caution. You could not imagine why. You did not look like a princess or one of those fine ladies who took themselves too seriously. Your dress had hardly any embroidery, and your jewelry was silver, not gold. Unlike many others, pomp and wealth were not things that captivated you.

"I wanted to apologize again. It was late, and I was not looking. I hope you will forgive me," you explained your reasons for approaching him again.

He blinked and looked at you for a few seconds before finally nodding his head: "It is alright. Honestly, I also did not pay attention to where I was going."

You thought you remembered his gait being very purposeful, but you decided not to press the issue. He seemed to you like a man who, like a bat, avoided sunlight when it came.

"You do not look like someone who would make a request," you said with a tentative smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you nodded your head toward the throne.

His lips parted slightly, and he turned slightly toward the monstrosity built so many years ago by Aegon the Conqueror himself. A true sign of royalty, and apparently, it also had a mind of its own. People still spoke of how steel rejected the false queen and accepted her half-brother Aegon. For many who witnessed the event, this had been a sign at the time.

"Believe me, my lady, I have many requests I could make. I merely do not wish to frighten our young king," he answered with a grin, which made your knees go weak for a moment.

"Why would the boy be afraid of you?" you asked him instead, genuine curiosity in your gentle tone.

The man in front of you simply shrugged and leaned back against the wall behind him. "I am not sure. I just have a feeling."

You nodded your head and looked at the small king sitting precariously on the Iron Throne, which was far too big for him and almost swallowed him. Silver hair, violet eyes, pale skin...

"Are you a Dragon Seed?" you asked him curiously, turning back to him, only to see that the man had disappeared.

You quickly scanned your path to the left and then to the right, but you found no sign of him anywhere. How could he have run away so quickly? You had not even heard footsteps. What was wrong with you?

Who in the Seven Hells was this man?

This question haunted you in your sleep for the next few weeks. With each passing day, you believed more and more that you were simply going mad. Sometimes you thought you could see him out of the corner of your eye, but whenever you turned around, there was nothing but cold air.

Even with Jaehaera, you found no peace. The little girl bore such a frightening resemblance to the stranger that you once accidentally asked her exactly how many brothers she used to have. It had been foolish and thoughtless of you, as she immediately turned away from you and disappeared into her chamber to cry instead.

She would not even accept your lemon cake as an apology, and she would not listen to any stories in the evening. In fact, she even forbade the guards from letting you in when you tried to wish her goodnight.

You felt terrible.

One afternoon, you summoned the courage to ask a member of the council what the former Targaryens had looked like. The answer you received was anything but satisfactory. They had only told you exactly what you already knew. Silver hair, pale skin, amethyst-colored eyes that sometimes varied in color and intensity, and one of them had an eye patch. You were aware of all of this.

The one person who could still help you was the Queen Mother, Alicent Hightower, but she was rather ill at the moment because she apparently had the flu.

So you were left empty-handed.

That was until you met him again one night. You were standing on the balcony of the chambers you had been assigned when you entered the Red Keep. They were apparently the old chambers of the mad Queen Helaena, who took her own life by jumping from Maegor's Holdfast.

At the time, you had asked why you had been assigned these chambers, since you were no one of great importance. After all, you came from a relatively unknown house, and your sole duty was to look after the queen. You had expected servants' quarters, not such opulence.

The moon stood high in the sky, bathing the world in a silver glow. Otherwise, the night was warm, and the sky was cloudless. It was peaceful.

It would have been so easy to find peace that night, but you found none.

Dressed in a pale green robe and a white nightgown, you leaned against the stone railing and looked down at the city below. Your hair fell in gentle waves down your back, and only now did you begin to understand how long you had been within these walls. When you left your home, your hair had fallen to your elbows, and now the ends touched your lower back.

Although the night was windless, you could suddenly feel a light layer of gooseflesh spreading across your arms and a chill running down your spine. There was really no reason for that until you suddenly heard the sound of heavy boots behind you.

You immediately turned around and gasped in alarm when you saw the silver-haired man who had been on your mind for months.

"By the gods! How did you get in here?" you asked him, placing a hand over your heart. It was racing as fast as a hummingbird's wings.

The stranger, who did not seem much older than you, seemed as surprised as you for a moment before he seemed to recover and straighten his shoulders.

"You doors were open," he said simply.

"No, they are not," you replied, letting your gaze sweep over him. You had never before considered whether he might be dangerous. You had been too fascinated by the mystery he represented.

A small laugh escaped him, and you could feel your heart clench for a moment.

"Oh, I am pretty sure they are," he said before leaning against the stone railing next to you and looking down at the city as if he were its king. He certainly looked like one.

Confused, you blinked and looked back down at King's Landing. Lights were still burning in some of the windows, but most seemed to be fast asleep. Of course, that did not apply to the residents of the Street of Silk, where life blossomed at night like you had never seen before. You had only been there once, and you did not want to repeat the experience.

"And why do you just walk into someone's chambers without even knocking first? Especially since it is the middle of the night! I could have been asleep already," you told him, and you could feel a shiver run down your spine at the thought.

Not because he might have seen you sleeping, but rather because you would not have known.

"Believe it or not, beautiful, I honestly have no idea."

You were about to respond when he turned back to you, and the expression on his face was so frighteningly real that it swallowed the words in your mouth.

The moonlight fell on his features in such a way that it made him seem almost inhuman. Divine, even. He looked like a fallen angel who did not know what path to take. He was beautiful in a way that was hard to put into words.

"Who are you?" you finally asked him that one question that had burned itself into your mind as if Balerion himself had enclosed you in his flames.

A smile played around the corners of his mouth, but it quickly disappeared. Instead, he turned back to the city, and a sigh escaped him. Soft and barely audible, but you heard it because it was otherwise eerily quiet. Other than your breathing, you could not hear a single sound.

"Trust me, you do not want to know," he finally answered.

A single gust of wind whizzed through the night, making the already tangled strands of his hair appear even tangler. It almost looked as if he had last combed it years ago.

"But I do," you replied, taking a step closer to him. Normally, that would have cost you a lot of courage, but that was the last thing on your mind. The only thing you wanted were answers.

"I do not wish to scare you," he said with a sigh. "You would not understand."

A huff of air escaped you: "Trust me, I understand a lot of things. I am not a foolish woman, for a change. I read a lot."

For a second, you thought you saw something like recognition in his gaze, but it vanished as quickly as waves come and go at the ocean.

"You are the one who takes care of my—I mean, the one who takes care of the queen, right?" he asked suddenly, at which you just blinked for a few seconds. That had been a particularly quick change of subject.

"I— Yes," you answered him with a nod of your head.

He nodded too, and while people danced and drank in the distance, the balcony of your chambers was enveloped in a silence that was not exactly unpleasant, but was not entirely pleasant either.

Too many questions remained unanswered for it to be pleasant.

"How is she?" he asked you, his voice sounding as if he knew so much more than he let on. He sounded vulnerable, almost sad.

At first, you wanted to ask him why he cared. The answer was already on the tip of your tongue, but you swallowed it down at the last moment. You did not want to fend him off. No, you just wanted to know more about him. About this beautiful, mysterious man who had been on your mind ever since the first moment.

"I cannot say. Sometimes she smiles, sometimes she cries, but mostly she is just quiet. I try to be a friend to her as best I can, and maybe even a kind of mother figure, but it is not easy."

Once again, he nodded his head, and you could see him slowly letting this information sink in, absorbing it. It seemed like it meant something to him. Like he knew her.

"I am grateful you are with her. If she were alone... she would fall apart from all this," his words were spoken with such certainty that you could be sure of one thing, too. He was not a stranger. He was exactly where he belonged. In these halls, in the Red Keep.

You took another step closer to him, until your elbows were almost touching. You expected to feel the warmth of his body, but as you stepped closer, you felt absolutely nothing. As if you were speaking to the air.

"Who are you?"

He opened his mouth to answer you when there was a sudden, frantic knock on your door. You stood there for a moment, but then reluctantly turned away from him and hurried to the door.

They were locked from the inside, as you said. There was no way he could have entered these chambers from the outside without you noticing.

Your hand trembled as you unlocked and opened the door, only to see Jaehaera standing before you. Barefoot, wearing only her nightgown, her hair loose.

"I had a nightmare," she said without you even having to ask.

You immediately crouched down and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. You were just glad she was talking to you again, even though you had made the mistake of asking her about her brothers.

But just as you were about to hug her to tell her that everything was fine and she did not need to be afraid, her eyes suddenly widened. You had never seen her like that before.

Without a word, she stormed past you and toward the balcony.

"Jaehaera!" you called after her and quickly jumped to your feet, almost tripping over the ends of your robe.

"Where is he?" she shrieked, causing you to look at her questioningly.

"Where is who?" you replied, and then you noticed that your mysterious stranger had once again disappeared without a trace. Again.

"Daddy! Where's Daddy!?" she cried, and you were at a loss.

"Daddy?" you repeated. "Sweetheart, your father is no longer with us. You know that."

But the little queen would not listen. She pointed to the spot where the silver-haired man had just been standing, and thick crocodile tears began to run down her soft cheeks.

"No, you do not understand, he was here! I just saw him! He was standing right here!"

The coin fell. You grabbed the edge of the door to keep from falling.

"By the gods..." you whispered, disbelief in your voice.

Jaehaera wept, and you understood.

The silver-haired man was not just anyone. It was Aegon II Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. And a man who should most certainly be dead.

Weeks passed, and you had not seen Aegon again. To protect Jaehaera, you told her that she probably saw a shadow coming from the curtains and that her mind was playing tricks on her. Of course, she would not accept that, and once again she ordered her guards that you were not allowed to enter her chambers.

She was angry and sad, and you understood why, even if you could not yet explain it all.

That afternoon, some of the tapestries were to be replaced. Many were more than ten years old, and the Small Council had decided to have new ones hung. In your opinion, any change was a good thing. They apparently still wanted to suppress the past—the war that had been less than two years ago—as best they could.

Because the queen did not want to see you, you helped removing the tapestries in one of the castle's many corridors. Thank the Seven, you did not have to hang any of the new ones, because that would have required a ladder, but it felt good to tear the old ones off the wall.

Simply doing something violently helped you release some of the frustration that had been building up inside you over the past weeks and months, like a gigantic wave that threatened to bury you at any moment.

"Just coming and going, ridiculous," you muttered, while you tore one of the tapestries off the wall, which clearly depicted a sexual position. Like the other ten that were already scattered on the floor. "I mean, yes, he was the king, but that is still pathetic, is it not? Oh, who am I kidding? The man is a ghost. He can come and go as he pleases."

"If I did not know you are talking about me, I would have said you were very angry about a lover," a familiar voice suddenly spoke behind you, and you froze completely.

Slowly, you turned to him, still holding the tapestry. Aegon the Elder was standing not far in front of you, leaning against the wall with a grin on his lips that almost took your breath away.

"Ever done that?" he asked teasingly, pointing at the red carpet motif.

Your eyes widened and you looked down at the motif. It showed a woman twisting in a very unnatural way, pleasuring a man while another sat between her thighs.

"What do you take me for?" you quickly retorted, heat flooding your cheeks, turning them the color of a ripe apple.

A laugh escaped him, loud and genuine, and for the first time, you saw his eyes sparkle. He seemed happy.

"I am only jesting, my dear. I did not expect you to be involved in such activities before. Although... are you married?" he asked curiously, glancing down at the motif on the carpet for a while longer, as if fascinated by it.

The way he licked his lips made your heart leap in your chest, and you quickly tossed the tapestry to the others already scattered on the floor. His smile turned into a pout.

"No, I am not married yet," you said, and immediately he beamed from ear to ear again.

"Something any man likes to hear."

Without being able to stop yourself, you raised your eyebrows and crossed your arms. "Oh yeah? And what about ghosts? Do they like to hear that too?"

The radiant sparkle left his eyes for a moment, and instead he sighed and turned away from you to take another closer look at the remaining tapestries that adorned the walls. You followed him without saying a word.

Suddenly, a chuckle escaped him, which sounded like music to your ears.

"I tried that! Before you ask: No, it didn't work," he explained, pointing with his outstretched arm at a particularly bold motif.

"Oh..." was all he got in response from you.

Then you cleared your throat in what you hoped was a good attempt to change the subject: "You seem so happy today, Aegon."

He did not turn to you, but you could see his shoulders tense for a moment before finally relaxing. "You know my name."

"I have told you before and I will tell you again. I am no fool, Your Grace," you said, sounding perhaps a little more serious than necessary. "She saw you."

"I know," he shrugged. "And that is exactly why I was with her just a moment ago."

Your eyes widened and your mouth opened and closed for a few seconds, like a fish's.

"You—you were with her? With Jaehaera?" you asked, just to be sure.

Aegon continued down the corridor, and from the way he walked, you could sense what he had been like when he was alive. Lively, playful, and perhaps a little arrogant.

You would have liked to have known him when he was still among the living.

"I just said that. Yes, I was with her. We talked, and I was able to tell her some things I did not get a chance to."

"I hope you gave her a long embrace, because she deserves it. You are her father," you said, letting your eyes roam over him. He looked so real. As if you only had to reach out and you could touch him.

You could see the Adam's apple moving in his throat as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He seemed so human, so alive, that you wanted to pull him into the throne room and show everyone that the king was still alive and that there was no reason to treat two war-torn children like puppets.

"Believe me when I tell you, I would have loved to. But I cannot."

"You cannot? What does that mean?" you asked him cautiously, yet still curiously.

Aegon did not answer with words, but simply held out his hand, as if he were asking you to dance. Slowly, you raised yours as well and extended it. Your fingers could almost touch; you even imagined to briefly feel the warmth of his skin, but where flesh and bone should have been, there was nothing but air. Your hand simply slid through yours.

Your shoulders slumped, and for a moment, your eyes filled with tears. Here stood Aegon, former king, caught between life and death.

"But at least I do not look like a roasted chicken anymore," he jested, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

You tilted your head, but he was already explaining before you could even ask the question: "My brother pretty much set me on fire with Vhagar. My whole left side was burned, my leg was useless, and my cock did not work either anymore."

"Your— Oh. I am sorry, Aegon," you said, wrapping your arms around yourself, not knowing what else to do with them.

You had once heard that the king loved wine and women more than anything else and spent more time on the Street of Silk than in his castle. So it must have been terrible for him to suddenly no longer be able to do the things he loved most. And sex, after all, can be very liberating in stressful times.

"Oh, never mind, dove," he sighed, shrugging as if it did not matter to him, but you could see the pain was still there, lingering. "I am over it."

"No, you are not," you said with a smile.

"Guilty," he grinned, turning around. "Where are you from, anyway?"

"House Butterwell of Whitewalls," you murmured, unsure whether you wanted him to hear it or not. Your house was not one of those that immediately conjures up images of a large castle and riches as far as the eye can see. No, quite the opposite.

The silver-haired man, whose name you now knew, tilted his head, and you could see him thinking hard. "My dear, I have to disappoint you, but I have never heard of your house."

"I know," you said simply, shaking your head as a gentle blush rose in your cheeks. "That is what most people say when they ask me, which admittedly are not many."

But the former king simply shrugged and reached out as if to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, but his hand slid through you once again. Disappointment settled in your stomach.

A part of you wished he could touch you. You wanted to know how his hands would feel on your skin, if his lips were as soft as they looked, and if his fingers would be warm or cold.

These thoughts were dangerous, but you could not hold them back anymore. Just like the feelings that blossomed within you and were directed at him. A ghost.

But he smiled, and you knew you were lost.

From that day on, you spent almost every single day with him. Sometimes Jaehaera was even there, but often you were alone.

He often came in the evenings, when most of the lords and ladies had already gone to sleep and you were wrapped in a comfortable nightgown. You would spend hours telling each other things. Sometimes from your own lives, sometimes they were completely irrelevant and had nothing to do with you or him at all.

Aegon now knew everything about you. He knew your favorite wine, your favorite color, silly childhood memories you had confided in him, as well as your dreams and desires. You knew his entire life. His difficult childhood, his youth drowned in wine and women, and his adulthood, which had been no less difficult.

In a short time, you had grown more fond of him than any other man you had met before, and Aegon was sure—for once in his life—that he knew what love felt like.

He did not say the words, and neither did you, but somehow you both knew.

You could feel it in the way he was always there exactly when you needed him, and he knew it in the way you looked at him. As if he had personally hung the stars in the sky and made them shine just for you.

You had resigned yourself to the fact that he could not touch you. If he wanted to, he would say so instead. Imagine me placing my hand on yours and squeezing gently.

He calls you dove. You call him king.

And when he was with you, the world seemed to be in order, even if you could not explain it.

That was until the first letter reached you. Your presence at court had attracted the attention of other houses and their sons. All of them were alliances that should be considered. All of them would give your house a bigger name and fortune, and your father would be able to provide more for the citizens. Your house would finally gain prominence.

Your father and mother were excited and happy, expecting you to make a suitable choice. A charming young man who would marry you and to whom you could give heirs. The fate of so many young ladies.

They could not have known that your heart had long since been taken, and that the only man you wanted and with whom you could imagine a life was no one who could make all this possible for them.

For the man you loved was long gone.

He found you sobbing in your chambers. You were sitting at the foot of the bed, a cup of wine in one hand and a letter in the other.

He was no fool.

You were a beautiful woman and of marriageable age. It was only a matter of time before the first men crawled out of their holes to feast on you.

It was not fair. But what in this world was fair anymore?

"Who is it?" he asked you in a calm voice, hoping he could reassure you.

"I don't know," you sobbed. "Some Lord Manderly."

He knew the name, but it probably would not be the old man he was thinking about. That would make the marriage proposal almost insulting. You were in the prime of your life, and that old fart already had one foot in the grave. The bastard.

"Aegon?" Your gentle voice pulled him out of the raging thoughts he was currently trapped in.

"What is it, sweetling?"

"Do not be mad. I will not choose Manderly anyway. My father at least gave me the freedom to choose one of the men. All that matters to him is that I choose at all," you explained, wiping the salty wetness of your already shed tears from your cheeks.

A long sigh escaped the Ghost King before he unceremoniously plopped down on the bed next to you, burying his face in the soft sheets.

Your scent clung to them, and he wished he could just lean against you, hold you in his arms, and promise you that no one would ever take you away from him.

You smelled of freedom, of wildflowers, and fresh soap. Apparently, you had bathed just an hour or two ago.

"And look, my king. Jaehaera will need her nursemaid until she is at least fourteen summers old. That is still a while, and I do not think she would let someone replace me," you said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Aegon froze.

Your eyes widened.

Your hand was on his shoulder. It did not just move through it, it was on him. Warm and alive.

Aegon did not hesitate for a second, but sat up and reached for your hand, squeezing it gently, as he had said so many times he would.

"You... You can—"

"Touch," he finished for you.

Not a second later, his lips were pressed against yours, his hands on your cheeks, his thumb rubbing small circles into your soft, flushed skin.

His lips were warm, soft, and so alive that you could feel the first tear rolling down your cheek. Then the second, and then the third.

"Don't cry," he murmured against your mouth before teasing your tongue with yours.

"You are crying too, Aegon," you replied, and you heard him chuckle softly.

You leaned back to catch your breath, but he was whining and trying to press another kiss against your lips, but you placed a finger on his lips to stop him.

"How is that possible?" you asked him with a genuinely happy smile on your lips.

"I have no idea, dove. But if I do know one thing, it is that I want to enjoy this evening to the fullest," he answered, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"To the fullest, you say? What about my suitors?"

The grin on his handsome face only widened before he buried his head in the crook of your neck.

"Forget them. Your king commands it."

He pressed a kiss against the sensitive skin of your neck, and you knew he was right.

For one evening, real life could rest. For one evening, the line between life and death had been blurred, and you had never been happier.

And Aegon knew this might be the last night he would ever touch, which is why he vowed to savor it to the last second.

Until he was no more.

The Dividers are from the wonderful @zaldritzosrose !

Taglist: @bey0nd-1he-stars @sassypain @hisfavegirl @dahaenatargaryen @sylasthegrim @danytar

[writingsofwesteros]

Can i please request something about larys where after aemond insults him and calls him a toad, larys finds comfort in aemond's sister-wife (reader) who's more than willing to comfort him and let him do as he pleases (whether it be soft gentleness or mean and rough) 🥺😍

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

NSFW

“I do apologise for my husband, Lord Larys.” Your voice was soft and sweet; the same tone you now used with your Lord husband. Aemond more often than not needed the sweet honey you whispered rather than the truth your marriage had been built upon. It seemed war had changed him; even a fool could see that now. It should not surprise you that Larys did not seem shocked by your presence; as ever Lord Strong seemingly saw everything. “Oh, do not apologise for the actions of others, my Princess.” A shiver moved down your spine at the sound of his voice; always so deep and intriguing. It was as if he pulled you in with ease.

“Still, I thought I would..” You continued whilst gracefully moving around the wooden chair Lord Strong had settled on. Those dark eyes of his starred as you finally came to be fully in his view. “It is kind of you.” Larys was not one for pity but coming from such a pretty face as your own; he would allow such a thing, he thought to himself. Still, you felt as if you needed to do something more to hold Larys in the palm of your hand. The soft thin material that wrapped around your slender body left nothing to the imagination; and oh, Larys could imagine an awful lot. His eyes twitched for a moment as he watched your body language; you had never been one he had spent an amount of time watching. 

It seemed that had been a mistake. “I am thankful for all the help you have given, my Lord.” You whispered so sweetly; those doe eyes of yours never leaving Larys as you finally came to a stop in front of him. As you nibbled on your soft, plump lip; Larys legs began to spread open as he read your face with ease. “Let me show you,” your hands slowly moved up and down his inner thighs as you gracefully moved to kneel. Larys’ dark eyes followed your every movement as the slip of a dress in your husband’s colours began to fall down your shoulders. Goosebumps easily moved over your soft skin as you settled between his thighs; your hands beginning to reach for his buckle.

There were no words spoken even as his hard cock bobbed out of its confinements. It was bigger than you thought; Aemond was longer but your pussy clamped around nothing at the thickness of Larys. “Does your husband know you are here?” Larys purred. “No, my Lord..it is just you and I.” You whispered sweetly as you began to lean in. “I promise.” You fluttered your lashes as you began to press open mouthed kisses up his inner thighs. Larys only watched with those dark eyes of his but his fat cock gave him away. His mushroom head is already leaking for you. Your eyes still stayed on him as Larys’ face was unmoving, which if it was any other man; you would have been put off.

Still, you leaned in and your soft, warm tongue moved up his length. Larys could not stop his fat cock twitching now as his hand grabbed at the chair. A hum fell from your lips and vibrated against him as you hid the amusement you felt. The messy sound of your drooling mouth moving over his twitching cock echoed. His hand slowly reached into your locks now as you lowered your head; your hot mouth engulfing him with ease as you did many times with your now regent of a husband. Still, Larys was much quieter than Aemond as your tongue slowly moved up and down his length with ease. Your doe eyes looking up at Larys from under your lashes.

Your tongue moving over his leaking head with a soft moan as you lapped at his pre cum. With that act, Larys’ hold only tightened as amusement flooded you. It seemed he was just like any other man, you thought to yourself whilst bobbing your head once more. Your face pressed against his stomach as drool easily escaped you. His hips slowly began to rock now, eagerly trying to reach his own climax as the Prince Regent’s wife was on her knees for him. The thought alone brought a smirk to his face as his hold on you only tightened. Not that you cared; Aemond could be that much rougher. Still, you allowed Larys to believe he had the control in this interaction.

His own stomach began to tighten; his climax coming all that more faster than his own hand could ever provide him. You hummed against him knowing the vibrations would drive Larys as wild as any man. Of course, you were proved right. His hold only tightened as he pushed your head against his stomach without care. Larys could not stop his grunts of pleasure echo in his chambers as his cum flooded you with ease. All you did was moan and take all he gave you. Gods, you could not stop the shiver running down your spine as you slowly leaned away. His hand easily moved to the back of your neck as those dark eyes of his burrowed into your own.

“Undress,” Larys ordered and his voice was soft if only for a moment, which was the only thing that gave away what had transpired. That had not been something you planned but alas, to keep control of the situation you began to do as he ordered. Those dark eyes of his moved over your body as it slowly became completely bare for him. The soft silk dress that had wrapped around your curves with such ease fell to your feet. Your husband’s colours have fallen from you now. Larys’ smirk told you that he knew this as well as the Lord Strong motioned to his lap. Delicately, you placed your hands on his shoulders whilst you moved as gracefully as you could to sit down. 

Still, Larys kept his hands from you - for now that was. Your sweet, bouncing breasts were displayed in his face before brushing against his chest. “Will your husband expect your return soon?” Larys whispered up to you. “I imagine he has new duties as Regent now to notice I am not where I should be,” You purred into his ear as his hand slowly began to move south causing goosebumps on your soft skin.

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (11/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex content, smut, the angst, semi-public intimacy, cockwarming, description of someone being shot, violence, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He got his girlfriend back.

Not quite in the way he had imagined, but the thought of him being her boyfriend and her taking it seriously made him feel a wave of confidence after years of doubt.

It had to do not so much with the fact that he had gained what he wanted, but rather with the idea that although his grandfather had accustomed him to the thought that there was a path for him only by his side, he now knew otherwise.

Criston Cole had been the first person to reveal to him how tense the situation was among their men, how furious they were that Otto had decided out of sheer spite to bet on Aegon, his pawn, putting too much power in his hands.

Aegon's orders and the fact that some of their bodyguards now had to listen to him made them turn to him, looking for another alternative.

He was their alternative and presented them with his plan.

Having known them for so many years, aware of what their strengths and weaknesses were, he assigned them tasks, spreading his net over the city, slowly tightening the noose around all the places that had ever belonged to Larys Strong.

He had promised his Rhaenys that he would never kill or harm anyone again, at least not in the way he had done so far, so he decided to rely on his wits and logic. He offered the old owners to help pay their debts and cooperate with them in exchange for them giving up the clubs without a fight.

Those who did not agree experienced a loud gunfight and a bit of fear: he paid the police in advance to stay out of it, so no police car came to the addresses indicated even when someone called the police station.

His grandfather was furious and that pleased him most of all.

By focusing on the fight with Daemon he had completely let go of the subject of Larys' legacy and had paid the price. He also felt pride, because in a way he had regained what belonged to the father of the woman he loved, so it was also a tribute to her.

She only allowed him to see her once a week, but they wrote to each other constantly: he out of sheer longing, she to make sure he was still alive.

Sitting on the couch in Heavenly Beach, despite his employees sitting around him, partying with the girls who were apparently most attracted to gangsters, he sat with his head in his phone, writing a message to her, feeling like a teenager in high school.

He grinned involuntarily as he read her reply, feeling the thrill as he did every time she teased him.

She was trying to keep him at a distance and push him away, he knew that.

He swallowed hard when, a moment later, his phone vibrated and his eyes were presented with a photograph of her lying on her stomach, on her body only her panties and top, from under which a little fragment of her breast was peeking out, pressed against the sheet, her loose hair spread in disarray, her lips parted in a sweet, dreamy, warm expression.

He stared at the picture for a moment, feeling involuntarily that he grew hot, his manhood swollen in his trousers. He ran his hand over his chin, sinking into the world of his fantasies, having not been able to experience fulfilment with her for weeks despite her allowing him to touch her.

Partly.

"What are you doing, boss? Have some fun with us. Alice is lovely and lonely." Said Allan, embracing one of the girls, pretty and slim, who giggled quietly, looking him boldly straight in the face.

He got up without a word and went out the back exit to smoke a cigarette, dialing her phone number on the way. She didn't answer for a long time, as was her usual habit, but after a while he heard her sigh on the other end, indicating her impatience.

"– I asked you so many times – why are you doing this? –"

"– I wanted to hear your voice –" He hummed, taking a drag, tilting his head back, enjoying this moment.

Silence answered him on the other side.

"– my grandfather is trying to contact me – to make a deal – to make me his successor again – but I don't know if I want it – what do you think? –" He asked, taking a drag again, the tip of his cigarette turning red with a quiet hiss.

He heard her swallow hard, horrified by his words.

"– don't do it – don't go back there –" She whispered.

They were both silent for a long moment.

"– I'm worried about my mother – she's torn between Criston and her father, she's begging me to come back – she and Cole had an affair for many years, even before my father died –" He said indifferently, looking up at the sky, spotting the outline of a crescent moon among the darkness.

"– did you know about this? –" She asked shocked, and he sighed heavily.

"– yes –"

His girlfriend grunted, trying to speak quietly.

"– she's not part of all this – let her stay out of it – your grandfather's reign won't last forever – Otto wants you to worry about such things – he knows you love and care for her – he'll treat her and Helaena as bargaining chips –"

He nodded, letting out a loud puff of smoke through his nose, having exactly the same opinion as her, surprised at how much peace he felt.

She was the only one who could understand him.

She was the only one he could get advice from.

She was the only one he could trust.

"Thank you. Sleep well."

"I'm here for you." She muttered quickly, as if she feared he was about to hang up.

He hummed under his breath, extinguishing the remnants of his cigarette on the metal basket, feeling the warmth in his heart at her words.

"I know."

The next day, the sight of her in the library filled him with both euphoria and frustration – he knew she wasn't wearing a bra to annoy him, at the same time tempting him when he knew he couldn't take her, and wanting him to know that any other men could look shamelessly at her nipples.

All his anger at her and what she was doing to him vanished when she pulled her shirt off, her half-naked body covered from the others only by a few rows of bookcases.

Thank goodness it was summer and no one went there.

Her nipples were swollen and hard under his tongue, her breast plump and soft between his fingers. The smell of her naked skin, the heat that emanated from her, her hands clenched in his hair, holding him close drove him mad. His groan vibrated through her soft skin as he felt her hips begin to roll deliberately back and forth, rubbing against his throbbing, swollen manhood.

"– fuck, let me – please – just this once –" He mumbled, switching from one of her breasts to the other, slightly larger, which could not be seen at first glance.

The thought of being so close to her and yet not being able to have all of her, like he had then, that night, was driving him crazy.

This was her punishment for what he had done to her.

He sighed as she rose suddenly from her knees, putting her T-shirt over her head, his hand involuntarily going to her calf, wanting to hold her, his body hot with desire, his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

Not yet.

Just a moment longer.

"– baby –"

"– next week Professor Addams is organising a private excavations two hours away from our town – it's a site in one of the medieval fortresses of our region, very important and he needs volunteers – I've offered to let you come and to count it as your student practices, so that you would have to make up less of them during the academic year – professor will rent rooms for all of us in a hotel nearby – if you come and do your best, I'll let you sleep with me –" She said lightly, throwing him a calm, expectant look, like a teacher looking at her student.

He swallowed hard and stood up with her, shocked, his length pulsed hard at her words.

I'll let you sleep with me.

"– do you mean it? –" He asked with difficulty, unsure if he could stand it any longer, if he knew whether he could pass the next test she wanted to put before him.

"– yes, but it's two weeks – you'd then either have to give up your job, or drive to do your errands at night and come back in the morning –" She explained as if nothing had ever happened, grabbing her backpack.

He caught her around the waist and pulled her aggressively to himself, making her body slam into his, his heart in his throat.

"– promise me –"

Instead of words, she did what she'd forbidden him to do since they'd started dating: her wonderfully moist, swollen lips pressed against his, and he groaned loudly, shocked. He sighed, pressing her body closer to his as her slick tongue slid between his teeth, licking him invitingly, making his cock swell painfully hard in his trousers.

I'm not going to make it, he thought, I'm just going to rip her panties off and fuck her on the floor.

She, however, pushed him away, looking at him with her mouth wide open, in her eyes pleading, warmth, affection.

Everything he wanted so badly.

"– I'll write you all the details later – take it seriously –" She mumbled out with a pain from which he felt his heart squeeze, not knowing how to act, feeling with desperation that he was unable to wait any longer.

"– I love you –" He muttered, something in her gaze from which he grew hot.

"– I love you too –"

He stared at her like an idiot, feeling like he was running out of breath, because here she was, for the first time responding to his confession, for the first time saying those words.

I love you too.

He felt something inside him break, that if he didn't feel her right away he would just start crying.

"– I need you – please –"

"– be there –" She mumbled and walked out, leaving him alone.

He thought it was pathetic that he was so desperate that he hid his face in his hands and burst out crying.

He longed for her closeness, for her tenderness, and she only gave him moments when he craved hours, days, months.

He thought heaven and earth might collapse, but he had to go to these goddamn excavations, if only to spend two weeks fucking her all night.

"Two weeks? You shouldn't disappear for that long. The situation is precarious." Said Cole, shaking his head, sitting with him over a drink that same evening.

"I'll be available at night, I'll come by a few times to keep an eye on things. It's only a two-hour drive from here. This case is really important to me." He said, and Criston hummed with understanding.

"I'll do my best, but let's keep in touch."

He nodded at his words.

"Call if something happens."

Even the news that perhaps her ex would be part of their escapade couldn't spoil his mood: he wasn't sure he'd been this excited and terrified at the same time since he was a small child.

On the one hand, it was a dream come true for him, on top of it being in her company; on the other, it was a leap into the deep end of the unknown in a group of people who were strangers and who he didn't know if they would accept him.

He couldn't help the fact that he didn't like to talk much, that others' questions made him uncomfortable, that he felt cornered when too many people looked at him at once.

Nevertheless, as soon as he got the message from her that Daemon had been gone for a few hours, waiting a few streets behind the hotel so as not to arouse suspicion, he pulled up in the car park and got out of the car, looking around.

He thought she would be waiting for him, but he couldn't see her anywhere.

This made him do what he hated to do, which was to ask a stranger something.

A couple of students, looking at him with surprise in their eyes, showed him the way, telling him that his girlfriend was in the area where the research was to take place.

Walking there from a distance, he thought with awe that it was a huge project: there was a gigantic stone fortress towering over them, around which he understood there had been many wooden houses in medieval times, of which there was now no trace.

He swallowed hard when he heard her voice from afar and stepped uncertainly into one of the tents, all eyes on him.

He felt warmth in his heart seeing that she smiled at the sight of him, her eyes shining with pure happiness.

She loved him.

Not even the rage at the sight of Robb could take away the satisfaction he felt at what he had done to her, at the ease with which her body had taken him in as soon as the door from their hotel room had closed behind them.

He wasn't sure if his brain was functioning at all during this act, because he was too stunned by pleasure and desire, the simple, primitive thrusting into her again and again with low, pathetic groans of delight.

She was so wonderfully warm, moist and soft, squeezing and enveloping his cock so perfectly, that he felt like crying.

His niece.

That night they made love twice more, completely bare, with no shame or regret, no thoughts of morality or propriety. What he focused on were her moans, her cunt squeezing him in convulsions of pleasure, dripping with her desire, his lips melting with hers in sticky, loud, deep kisses full of their tongues and saliva, their fingers entwined together in a tender embrace over her head.

They fell asleep cuddled into each other like little children, stirring with difficulty on the single, cramped bed exactly as they had then, eight years ago.

He felt, looking at her peaceful face immersed in sleep every time he awoke in the night, that he had regained something.

He had regained her.

In the morning, to their frustration, their alarm clock woke them up. They were both sleepy and half-unconscious when they showered together, soaping each other's bodies and hair, brushing their lips lazily against each other's, running their hands over each other's naked, wet bodies.

There was something wonderfully natural about the way her figure clung to his, seeking refuge in his embrace, his arms pressing her against his body, his hand stroking her hair, her eyes closed in complete peace.

They both felt it.

His niece froze and blinked when she saw him start to dress, putting on exactly the same clothes as usual.

"No. After all, we will be working in sand and dirt. I told you to take something to change into." She said, and he scratched his chin, recognising that perhaps, indeed, his black trousers and Tshirt were not a good idea for such heat.

"I took my tracksuit bottoms and some other old clothes, but I won't look very neat in that." He confessed with embarrassment, rummaging through his bag.

She knelt down beside him, looking through his things together, apparently trying to find something that would be suitable.

"You have to be comfortable first and foremost. And you have to have a baseball cap."

"What?"

"I took one for you. Otherwise you'll get sunstroke."

It occurred to him, when he'd put on everything she'd told him to, that he looked like a drunk from under the shop. He was relieved when it turned out that she herself had dressed in a similar way, a white Tshirt and tracksuit shorts on her body, a baseball cap on her head, her hair tied up in a braid.

If they were going to look like drunks from under the shop, then at least together.

As soon as they reached the tent where they were all supposed to gather it became apparent that if he had come dressed the way he wanted to, he would have made an idiot of himself.

They all looked alike, dressed in bright, light clothes that might as well have been pyjamas. He pressed his lips together, spotting Robb among the other students.

He hoped he had heard her moans as he walked past their room.

How good she felt with him as he took her for himself again and again.

The professor greeted them and assigned them their tasks. To his surprise and relief at the same time, the man divided them into three groups. One was to be led by himself, another by Robb and the third by his girlfriend.

Her words that she was his assistant and how much the professor trusted her were not mere boasts, he thought with admiration.

He had, of course, been assigned to her group and was relieved at the thought that for the rest of his stay he wouldn't have to look at her ex any more than necessary.

His Rhaenys knew most of the people she worked with, who were simply her colleagues from the lower years of their studies. They had specific spaces designated for research and their task for the day was simple: digging.

Of course, the upper layers of the earth were removed by special excavators, but at some point they had to work by hand so as not to destroy any artifacts hidden beneath the surface.

There was something liberating and relaxing about the fact that this activity of driving a shovel deep into the ground and digging a big hole in it didn't require him to think too much.

After a few hours, he already understood why his niece had made him put a baseball cap on his head and why they had each brought a couple of big bottles of water for themselves: sweat was running down his back from the heat and from time to time he had to take a break to drink.

To his relief, even though the people in the group were talking to each other, fooling around and laughing, they didn't drag him into any discussions or distract him from his work. Rhaenys was digging too, approaching each person when they expressed the opinion that they might have come across some historical relic.

After only half an hour, one of the girls stumbled upon a coin from the 19th century.

The real excitement he felt was when his shovel hit something that clanked as if it were made of metal.

"Rhaenys?" He called, and though the people around him didn't know who he meant, his niece walked up to him, cocking her head in curiosity, her face all pink with exertion.

"What's wrong?" She asked softly, and he hit the spot he had just dug with his shovel again, intending to make the same sound.

His discovery piqued interest.

He crouched down, letting his girlfriend, more experienced and confident in what she was doing, take the smaller shovel, digging around the object, one of her colleagues took the brush, shaking the dust off its surface.

"It's a German pistol. Second World War. Very good condition." He stated, and his girlfriend nodded.

"Yes, the Germans were in this fortress in the 1940s. Good job, Aemond, secure it and sign it. Give this object a number as I explained to you this morning." She said, patting him on the back, and he nodded.

"Your first find. Feels cool, doesn't it?" Said the boy, whose name he understood was Cregan, but he didn't know what he was supposed to answer him, feeling uncomfortable at the thought that everyone was looking at him.

"Yeah." He muttered, looking down at his knuckles, for some reason losing the confidence he gained at night in clubs when he was about to put a gun to someone's head.

When he wasn't about to hurt or scare someone he was helpless and didn't know how to act.

They had spent the whole day doing manual labour and although his erection had swollen all over feeling her naked body pressed against his under the refreshing shower, he didn't even have the strength to move, let alone fuck her hard.

So he ended up making soft, tender love to her, his hips rocking lazily inside her, sinking again and again into the tightness of her sticky, throbbing cunt.

Her naked back was nestled against his sweaty chest, his face snuggled against the hollow of her neck as his fingers dug deeper into her fleshy folds with her quiver of pleasure, his free hand holding her thigh spread wide, allowing him to reach as deep as possible with the tip of his erection.

"– no – it hurts –" She muttered, and he froze and stopped moving, rising up on his elbow, his breath deep and heavy, his heart pounding fast in his chest.

"– what, baby? –" He whispered, placing a soft, gentle kiss on her cheek, wanting to make amends to her for whatever he had done to her. She turned her face towards him, stroking his bare arm.

"– when you're too deep – it hurts –" She confessed.

"– 'm sorry –" He hummed, their lips joined in a sticky, wet, tender kiss. He ran the tip of his nose over her face, his cock twitching deep inside her while his thumb teased her swollen clit with lazy, circular motions, her body twitching again and again in pleasure.

He swallowed hard as she rose up and slid his erection out of her, thinking with horror that she had had enough of him and intended to sleep separately, she, however, turned to face him. He sighed, surprised, as her fingers gently grasped the base of his manhood, all soaked from her wetness, directing the swollen, pink head of it against her slit.

With a tentative, slow thrust of his hips he opened her on his fat length, sliding into her slick walls with ease, sinking anew into her wonderful warmth that soothed him.

He moaned softly as she threw her arms around his neck, as her bare breasts pressed against his chest, as her puffy, sweet lips joined his in a greedy, deep kiss full of affection and tenderness. He sank his fingers into the soft skin of her back and buttocks, beginning to pound into her anew, feeling her completely differently in this angle.

They began to pant into each other's throats, licking and teasing each other, a wonderful shudder shook his body as her lips traveled lower, to his jaw, to his neck, to his shoulders, kissing and sucking on him, leaving wet, warm marks behind.

"– fuck – ah –" He exhaled, feeling his cock throbbing hard inside her fleshy walls, the wonderful tingling in his lower abdomen and testicles filling his head with utter emptiness, pure desire to fill her with his seed.

Their foreheads pressed against each other and their bodies intertwined in a loving, close embrace as they began to chase their fulfilment, loud, sticky splats building their way to release.

"– u-uncle – 'm close –" She mewled like a child, her sweet, leaking cunt beginning to clench on his cock, sucking it inside her. He kissed her temple, snuggling her into his body, slamming into her with loud grunts of pleasure.

"– me too, baby – my sweet little girl –" He exhaled and threw his head back, feeling a wonderful, overpowering relief, his erection beginning to pulsate deep inside her, filling her with his semen.

She moaned, rising and falling on his quivering erection, reaching her own peak with a innocent, girlish moan of delight, sending him into a state of complete ecstasy. They hugged each other, saying nothing more, not separating their bodies, wanting to remain as they were now, as close as possible.

The presence of her body right beside him, the fact that her sticky pussy was warming his soft manhood, his arms and hands entwined in a tender embrace made him sleep a stony, peaceful sleep, tired and satisfied.

To his relief, Criston had kept him informed of the state of affairs and it appeared that relative calm prevailed apart from a few minor incidents, so his presence on the scene was not necessary for the time being.

He took malicious satisfaction in the moments when his niece would be called by Daemon, wanting to make sure she was okay. She would talk to him on the phone while his hands traveled over her naked body, stroking her thighs, belly and breasts, his lips brushing gently against the skin of her neck, merely teasing her.

She usually tried to pull away from him when his thumb, seemingly by accident, ran over her nipple, when his fingers sank tentatively into her womanhood, leaking all over from her moisture and his spend with which he had filled her moments before.

Although he was a grown man, he felt like he was a child again.

In the days that followed, he felt that he loosened up a bit with the group of people he had to work with – he didn't talk to them and concentrated on his tasks, but it seemed to him that they simply stopped paying attention to him, which suited him. They were not spiteful or unpleasant about it: they apparently recognised that this was his nature and left him alone.

His Rhaenys was a different person at work: she smiled and joked a lot, easily having dozens of conversations with all sorts of people, even those she didn't know, winning their sympathy. He somehow admired how unforced her talkativeness, assertiveness and empathy were, how easily she made difficult decisions when others were panicking.

"– fuck – I think I broke it –" Cregan said, leaning over something that looked from a distance like a vase still half-buried in the ground.

"– call the restorers – get them to secure the cavities so nothing else breaks and they're able to put it back together later –" She said without a trace of annoyance or aggression. The boy nodded in agreement and stepped out of the big, wide hole they were sitting in, doing exactly what she'd told her.

"You're good at this." He stated as they sat alone at breakfast break under one of the trees, looking at the large stone fortress stretching out before their eyes.

Although their group sat elsewhere, she chose to stay with him, as she always did.

He felt an uncomfortable squeeze in his heart at the thought that, as much as he wanted to, he didn't fit in with neither her friends nor the world.

He was a perpetual obstacle to her, a wall between what she deserved and the miserable scraps she suffered in his presence through his vanity.

She looked at him and cocked her head, a wide smile on her face.

She was happy.

"What do you mean?" She asked, in some natural reflex cuddling her face into his, her hand on his shoulder. He kissed the tip of her nose, stroking her skin with his palm, feeling a subconscious surge of desire, as he always did when she showed him tenderness and interest.

"You're made for this job. For being with these people. But you need to sit with me instead." He muttered wearily, looking down at his fingers in shame.

"I don't have to. No one is forcing me to."

"You're afraid that if you leave me, I'll become the way I was. You're paying the price for my satisfaction."

She leaned in, wanting to look at his face, but he closed his eyes, feeling shame and regret, for some reason unable to enjoy it all, to relax, to let go.

"You would want this, wouldn't you? For me to disappoint you. To pack up and go home, to escape what is uncomfortable for you. Loneliness is safe, I know that better than anyone. But if you want to be alone, what are you doing here?" She asked.

He looked at her and shook his head, feeling tears burning under his eyelids.

"I don't know. I feel good and bad at the same time. I'm fulfilling my dream, I have you, but I can't enjoy it all because in the back of my mind I'm wondering if Cole is going to call me at night to tell me all hell has broken loose. It's like what's going on right now is a dream, and I'm aware that I'm going to wake up. As if I have to watch something I know I'll lose one day." He mouthed, bursting out crying, choking on his own tears. He covered his ears with his hands and leaned his head between his knees, panting loudly, feeling like he was just experiencing a panic attack.

"– God, Aemond – calm down – calm down, I'm here – this isn't a dream – my feelings for you – the fact that you're here – it's all real – don't you feel it? –" She asked in a whisper, enclosing him in the warm, safe embrace of her arms, pressing his face between her breasts where he took refuge.

He closed his eyes, concentrating only on her fingers combing through his hair, on her warmth, on her scent, on the softness of her body.

She didn't let go of him for a moment, stroking his head, neck and back, placing a tender kiss on his temple once in a while. Slowly his breathing calmed, the pounding of his heart slowed, and his body relaxed in her soft, caring, loving arms.

She let him settle on her thighs, let him snuggle into her lap: she stroked him like a small child, saying nothing, letting him just be, drawing on her closeness, her understanding, her wisdom and kindness.

He thought that if he could die now, in her embrace, he would be happy.

Her words and closeness gave him comfort and for that afternoon, looking at her from afar, sitting on the sand, he thought he was truly happy.

Truly at peace.

And then he saw five missed calls from Cole and one message from him.

"I'll go with you." She said, watching as he changed into his normal clothes.

"No fucking way." He growled, looking at her with impatience, wanting her to get the idea out of her head.

"I'll be waiting for you in the car. Don't leave me alone." She begged.

"No. I'll be back before dawn. I promise." He said, kissing her forehead quickly and left, feeling that if he looked at her again, he wouldn't be able to drive there.

Some part of him dreaded going back there, as if being in the light for so long would blind him to the point where he wouldn't be able to see anything in the dark.

Late in the evening, he arrived at Heavenly Beach and went inside, asking one of the bodyguards what had happened. The man nodded towards one of the lodges – his brother was spread out in the company of three girls enjoying himself at his best, buying everyone a round of shots.

"He didn't pay for anything, boss. He says you're the one paying for the booze and the whores tonight."

He moved towards him feeling his jaw clench in rage, the loud music around him ringing in his ears, the twinkling lights around him making him feel like he was about to vomit.

Aegon spotted him and stood up from the couch, pointing at him with his hand.

"Here is my brother. To him you owe such a great party tonight, applause for him!" He called out, the drunken part of the club guests echoed him in euphoria, but the rest were silent, looking at them with concern.

"I think my brother drank too much." He said coldly, towering over him after a moment, looking at him with a dispassionate gaze. "And he doesn't know that he's going to pay for what he ordered and the women he brought with him himself."

"And where's your woman? Hm? Our pretty niece. Did you know, guys, that he kissed her when they were kids? He was already fucked up then." Aegon sneered, taking a loud sip of whisky from his glass, embracing one of his women, a pretty, blue-eyed blonde with his arm.

His men looked at each other in dismay, apart from the background music all around them complete silence.

"Get up, take your whores and get out of my club. Now." He said in a voice that didn't bear objecting, but Aegon only laughed and sighed.

"You know what the worst part is? He's still fucking her. My father was lying dead and he was in the next room banging that poor girl. Tell us, did you rape her? You surely did, she would never want you of her own free will. But in what position? Missionary? No, no, I know! In doggy-style, like a hound. You have always been faithful like a dog. Woof, woof!" He scoffed, and something snapped inside him.

His brother froze, looking at him with big eyes as he pointed his gun straight at his forehead, the girls around him squealed in terror and broke out of his embrace, moving as far away from them as they could.

"– wow, wow, wow – calm down, have you completely lost your fucking mind? –" Aegon asked in a trembling voice, raising his hands in a gesture of submission, and for some reason he grinned broadly.

"– I didn't rape her – she wanted it – we did it a few more times after that – she was always good to me, unlike you – we're together now, you know? –" He hummed, cocking his head with an expression of satisfaction on his face, thinking in the back of his mind that this was who he just was, who he wanted to become.

He felt powerful, strong, invincible.

"– what the fuck are you talking about? –" Aegon muttered, shaking his head as if he thought his younger brother had simply gone mad.

He, however, had never felt his mind so sharp and focused before.

"– our grandfather made you his successor to reason with me – before our father died he said he would pass everything on to me and that was his original plan – but after Larys put the rape pill in her drink, I couldn't let him live – I don't expect you to understand that though – loyalty, devotion, affection – look at you – you must have pissed your pants with fear, am I wrong? – stand up, show yourself to everyone –" He sneered, raising his voice defiantly so that everyone could hear him.

There was complete silence all around them.

"– I said stand up –" He growled seeing that his brother was looking at him with big eyes red from tears, his mouth quivering in horror and humiliation.

Yes, he thought.

Feel what I felt.

He, completely naked then, standing up to his waist in water, his face all swollen from tears.

"– it's an unpleasant feeling, hm? – humiliation –" He said, watching as Aegon stood up slowly, the large, dark stain on his light-coloured trousers suggesting he was right.

He grinned at him and thought that such a lesson would be enough for him, lowering his gun, but his brother threw himself at him, climbing onto the table, wanting to get him with his own hands, and in a subconscious, involuntary reflex he fired.

His brother gasped heavily, as if surprised, and grabbed himself by the stomach, falling backwards onto the couch, another dark spot forming where he pressed his hand.

"– you fucking shot me –" He mumbled out, and he shook his head, feeling his whole body freeze, people around him screaming and running away, his and Aegon's bodyguards starting to shoot at each other, causing a general panic.

Cole grabbed him by the arm and started dragging him towards the side exit, saying loudly that they should call an ambulance.

He saw her sweet face, felt the embrace of her warm arms, her moist lips placing tender kisses on his face.

He thought that if Aegon died, she would never forgive him.

He promised her that whatever happened, he wouldn't be a murderer.

"– this son of a bitch has to survive – do you understand? –" He said and turned, running up the stairs, several of his bodyguards moving towards his brother, trying to stop the bleeding.

Criston nodded and pulled out his phone to make a call to the hospital.

By the time he walked him to his car the ambulance was on its way.

"– get out of here – hide somewhere – you shot him low in the stomach – I think he'll make it – I'll let you know when I find out something –"

He nodded and sit inside the car, hearing the gunshots again – Criston fell to the ground and hid under one of the trucks while he started to back up and with a squeal of tyres drove ahead.

Only now, heading ahead through streets full of lamplight did he wonder what he had actually done.

He had shot his brother.

He told him their secret.

Everyone heard it, Daemon would find out, and she would be in danger.

He swallowed hard, running his hand over his face, thinking that he just wanted Aegon to feel what he had felt for so many years, that he wanted to teach him a lesson, show him who was in charge, who was better, smarter, cleverer.

Who was the better son, the better brother, the better lover, the better man.

But for the first time he asked himself, was he really better than him?

He was just as scared, just as helpless, just as small.

He had nearly killed his older brother.

That thought, and the realisation that Aegon really might not have made it, caused him to burst into a loud, hysterical sob, and cover his mouth with his hand, trying to silence the sound that was coming from it.

As he drove ahead all he could feel was fear, fear of her gaze, her disgust, her rejection.

Why would she want to be at the side of someone like him?

When he arrived it was almost morning, dozens of missed calls from her and messages asking if and when he would be back were evidence that she had been up all night.

Before he walked into their room, he stood outside the door for a moment, wondering how he was supposed to explain this to her, what to say so she wouldn't tell him to pack up and get out of her life.

He had ruined everything.

When he opened the door he had the feeling that his whole body was quivering, stiff and tense: her gaze, her eyes and cheeks were red from tears, her eyebrows arched in pain told him that she was convinced that he had left her, that he had deceived her, that he had used her again.

She rose and wanted to throw herself into his arms, but he spoke up faster, not wanting to deceive her.

"I shot Aegon."

She stopped in her half-step, looking at him in disbelief, her expression seeming as if she hadn't understood what he'd said.

"What?"

He drew in a loud breath, feeling that he was a little boy again, a terrified child who had broken a very expensive, valuable vase and had to explain why it had happened.

"He was fucking mocking me. He implied that I raped you. In my own club. In front of my men." He muttered as if it changed anything, realising how pathetic he sounded.

The thought that he had lost everything again, that there was no way she could forgive him made him hide his face in his hands and just weep.

All he wanted was for her to hug him, to tell him that everything was going to be alright, that she knew he had hurt and abused him all his life, that she had witnessed it herself.

That she understood that something had simply snapped inside him.

"Is he...is he dead?"

He swallowed hard, trying to calm himself, his breath heavy and hitched in panic, his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

"I don't know. I shot him in the stomach and he's in hospital. He threw himself at me and scared me and I just fired. He saw I had a fucking gun in my hand!" He exclaimed as if he was ten years old and had just told his mum why his brother was lying unconscious on the floor after their fight.

"So you didn't kill him, did you? You didn't mean to do it. It was an accident. He scared you and you fired, but if he hadn't, you wouldn't have shot him." She said slowly in a trembling, terrified voice, and he lowered his hands, looking at her with big eyes, thinking that some part of him wanted to kill him then.

And then he remembered that after he felt that justice had been done, his hand with the gun lowered.

"– I – I just wanted him to stop laughing – he asked if I acted like a dog when I raped you – and I – God, baby, I told him about us in front of everyone – that we are together –" He mouthed, shaking his head, feeling completely naked, her expression of sadness and disappointment made him just sit on the bed, hide his face in his hands and cry, cry, cry.

"– I didn't mean it – I didn't know what to do – he wanted to humiliate me – me and you by spreading such rumours – I decided it was better to tell the truth than – I don't know – I'm so sorry –" He mumbled, himself not knowing where he was going with this thought, feeling a huge, cold emptiness.

He tensed all over hearing her footsteps, lifting his gaze to her, thinking for some reason that she was going to slap him.

She, however, knelt between his thighs, cupping his cheeks in her hands.

"– it would have come out eventually anyway – Aemond, I need to know what is going on inside your mind – if you –"

She asked, but was interrupted by the sound of his phone. He took it quickly out of his pocket seeing that his mother was calling him and swallowed hard feeling that he couldn't do it.

"– pick up – you have to do it, maybe she knows if Aegon is alive –"

But what if his brother was dead?

If he killed him with his own hands?

"– I can't – I don't want to –"

"– Aemond – prove to me who you are – take responsibility –"

He covered his face with his hand as he answered and put his phone to his ear.

"– is he alive? –" He muttered.

"– thank God yes – Aemond –" Alicent said, but he didn't let her finish, afraid of what she wanted to tell him.

That he had already been disgusting as a child and was a disgusting man now too.

"– I'm sorry – I'm sorry, Mum, it was an accident, I swear – he was drunk and he threw himself at me seeing that I had a gun in my hand and I just –"

"– I know – Aegon told me everything – he admitted he provoked you – but I don't understand how you could have let this happen – you are brothers – you almost killed each other for what? – for a few bags of drugs, thick files of money? –" She asked, and he closed his eyes, warm tears one after another flowing down his cheeks.

"– he said I raped her –"

Alicent was silent for a moment.

"– where are you now? – come to the hospital – apologise to each other, explain everything, start all over again –" His mother pleaded, but he wasn't sure if there was anything left that they could fix.

"– I don't know if I want to see him ever again, Mum – I want to rest – let him know I hope he recovers quickly and that I'm sorry –" He muttered and hung up, feeling he had nothing more to say to her.

His niece looked at him in pain, her hands on his thighs as she knelt between his legs.

If Alys had been sitting in her place, all he would have thought about was putting his cock down her throat, but in her case, there was something in her expression that made him crave something completely different, but equally intense.

"– please, embrace me –" He mumbled out, before hot tears again ran down his face one by one, his sobs so pitiful that she stood up quickly, frightened, and let their silhouettes fall together on the bed.

It wasn't until her arms hugged him into her chest, when his hands closed on her back, that he felt his whole body trembling.

"– close your eyes – breathe –" She whispered, pressing her cheek to the top of his head, her fingers combing lazily through his short hair.

He did as she said and tried to focus only on the air he was letting in and out of his mouth, all around them the quiet singing of birds amid the rising sun.

"– don't leave me –" He muttered, snuggling tighter into her warm, familiar body, her wonderful scent filling his entire lungs.

He heard her sigh softly, her hand stroked his back reassuringly.

"– I know how much you are suffering – I am here – you are safe now –" She said, and he felt his heart stop for a moment.

I know how much you are suffering.

I am here.

You are safe now.

He had longed to hear this from his mother, his father, his brother, from her for so many years that when it finally happened his body just froze.

"– I love you –" He whispered, however differently than usual, feeling like he was suffocating. "– God, I love you so much –"

His niece texted her friend that she and him had poisoned themselves with something and that they would come to work later, wanting him to take at least a little nap, knowing that he would fall into despair if she left him alone even for a moment.

He fell asleep only when he unbuttoned her shirt and cuddled his face between her bare, plump breasts, the warmth and softness of her naked body, her long fingers running over his head soothed him.

Despite what he feared, she understood him.

It's always been this way.

When she woke him, telling him she had to go, he begged her to just let him stay as he was, her skin warm and drenched with her scent, his body pressed against hers in a natural, vulnerable embrace.

"– I have to – I should have been there hours ago – but you stay, get some sleep –" She whispered, stroking his head. His eyebrows arched in pain as he shook his head at her words, roaming his hands over her body in a gesture of desperation, trying to stop her.

"– no – no –"

"– Aemond – please –" She said in pain, pressing him against her again hearing his heavy, loud breath, tears squeezing into his eyes.

She sighed.

"– come with me then –"

And he did, because he didn't want to be alone.

When they went outside for the first time she took his hand in hers, exactly like when they were little children playing on the beach. He tried to control himself, but the squeeze in his throat was proof that he wanted to cry again.

He was so exhausted.

"– don't work today – sit under the tree – I'll be next to you –" She said when they got there, but he shook his head and squeezed her fingers tighter between his own.

She looked at him with a gaze in which he saw everything – worry, affection, concern, sadness, understanding, desire. He felt his heart grow hot as his free hand rose to her face, running gently over her jawline, and she nuzzled her cheek into it, closing her eyes.

He leaned in and kissed her as if it was the most natural thing he'd ever done – her lips welcomed him with gentleness and tenderness, parting before his tongue, letting him slide it lazily inside. Her fingers stroked his neck as they clung to each other, sunk only in that sweet, sticky pleasure, humming contentedly, not caring if anyone saw it.

And then he heard it.

The screech of tyres.

By the time he heard her squeal and turned to see what was happening Daemon was already standing in front of him, his fist hit him in the face so hard that he fell to the ground, losing his hearing for a moment.

"– STOP IT –" He heard her scream as her step-father turned him onto his back, punching him with his fist again, again and again, warm liquid trickled from his nose, but he did not resist.

"– I promised you this –" He hissed with rage. "– I promised you that if you didn't leave her alone, I would kill you with my own hands –"

"– DAD, STOP – STOP, STOP, STOP –" She whimpered, trying to pull him away, several people interrupted their work, wanting to see what was happening, looking at this scene in disbelief.

Finally, professor Addams and Robb came out of the tent, hearing loud screams outside.

"– what is the meaning of this? – stop immediately, that's my student! –" The professor shouted. Daemon laughed and stood up from his knees, pointing his finger at her.

"– and that's my daughter and I'm taking her home –"

"– no –"

Daemon looked at her in a way that made her tremble with fear, his jaw clenched as tightly as if it was about to burst.

"– with you I will speak later –" He growled.

"– I won't go with you –"

Daemon wanted to grab her arm, and in a natural reaction he wanted to get up and protect her, however he was preceded by Robb, standing between her and her father.

"– she said no – she's an adult – should I call the police? – he can sue you for assault, you know that? –" He asked, a long, heavy silence fell around them.

He stood up, looking at him, then at her, Daemon's gaze fixed on her face.

"– if you don't come back with me, I can no longer protect you – you will break your mother's heart –" He said coldly, his words intended only for her.

He looked at her in horror, feeling his heart pounding like mad.

Her gaze when her eyes finally turned towards him was full of fear that because of him she would lose her future, her family, her peace of mind and everything she had before he stormed into her life again.

"– you promised me –" He muttered in a trembling voice, looking only at her, the only person who could give him what he desired.

She had promised him that if he tried, if he came here, if he changed, they would spend two weeks together.

"– I did –" She whispered and he felt his heart stop, convinced that this was it.

Their end.

"– let's get back to work –" She said and turned as if nothing had happened, heading towards one of the tents, startling him and everyone around him.

"– come here, I said! –" Growled Daemon, wanting to lunge at her and take her home by force, but Robb blocked his way again.

"– enough – one more step and I'll really call the police –" He threatened, her step-father's gaze shifting to his face after a moment.

He turned away, angry and pale, his hands clenched into fists as he got into his car and drove off with a loud screech.

Feeling his heart pounding like mad and not wanting to be left alone with Robb, he moved after her, adrenaline pulsing hard through his veins.

She had sacrificed herself for him.

Her family, her home.

Just for him.

When he stepped inside he wanted to embrace her, but she shook her head.

"Sit down. I'll get you some ice. Your cheek is all swollen." She said calmly, taking a few cubes out of the fridge and it was only then that he saw how much her hands were trembling.

"– baby – come here –" He whispered, gently placing his hand on the back of her head, and although she resisted for a moment, she finally allowed him to put his arms around her and cuddle her into him.

Her body was shaking.

"– I know, baby – it was very scary – I'm here –" He hummed tenderly, stroking her hair and back, his face pressed against the hollow of her neck.

"– I don't think I have anywhere to go back to –" She mumbled out with difficulty, heartbroken, and burst out into a quiet, exasperated cry.

He swallowed hard, hugging her tighter to him, coming up with an idea he knew their family would definitely not like.

"– you will live with me –"

[veloursdor]

day 24 of the hiatus and i miss him

ft aegon (kinda)