#like have you seen him. amazing build fr.

[fish-ears]

Hahah I need to chill.... No, just kidding, I need to draw more Boxman actually

Also someone on one of my discord servers mentioned the robots as little baby chickens because of the chicken doodle.... So I let myself be silly and make them

[mbat]

i cant stop remembering the best minecraft cave i ever saw that i will never find again 🫠 i know mc servers dont let just anyone do /seed so that they dont cheat but fuuuck sometimes i wish they did

[issamultistan]

fuck the attitude. | park sunghoon

paring: highschool!sunghoon x fem!reader

wc: 2,905 (two thousand, nine hundred, five)

warnings: nsfw content, cursing, mentions of alcohol/drugs and the use of them, not proofread

contents: dom!sunghoon, brat-ish!reader, partygirl!reader, (at first) shy!sunghoon, mean!sunghoon, sunghoon has four fwbs, mentions of hyung line and txt's yeonjun, dirty talk, degradation, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, creampie, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, nipple play, spanking/slapping, fucking in a strangers bed???, use of “sweetheart” , “slut”

notes : INSP BY THIS??? CAPTION??? HELLO D-D SUNGHOON WAS TO HOT PASSING AWAY I NEED HIM OHMYGOD. this was supposed to be a horny thought but i got carried away... LMAOOO

also the way this a year old 😭😭 sorry i disappeared on y’all fr … I ALSO FORGOT TO ADD EVERYONE IS LEGAL 18 OR OVER 18 !!

“what?” sunghoon questions when you abruptly disturbed his concentration.

“c’mon it'll be fun, hoon!” you smile at the male. sunghoon grimaced when he heard the endearment, were the the two of you that close?

well, no.

it all started back in the beginning of senior year, only a few months ago, where you first met sunghoon in your sketching class. he was very quiet at first, too quiet for your tastes. i mean, you were the school renowned party girl. you could be seen at any party that your high school held, no matter if you knew the hosts or not. on the other hand, sunghoon was very different from you. he kept to himself, only having a few close friends, yet still was known as the “pretty prince on ice.” after all, he was amazing at figure skating. your personalities were so different; at least at first.

when you asked sunghoon to attend a party with you, sunghoon nearly wanted to run out of the classroom and never talk to you again. why would you want sunghoon to tag along some stupid party with a bunch of horny and drunk adults?

“okay, no. i am not going to a stranger’s party.” sunghoon drops his sketching pencil to look straight at you. “i don’t wanna go.” he finalizes.

you groan quietly, “why can’t you have some fun? i’m sure heeseung, jay, and jake are gonna be there too.” you smile at sunghoon when you mention his friends. he knew you were going to drag them in soon enough.

“i told you, y/n. no. besides, i have practice.” park sunghoon was lying straight out of his mouth. he only had practices sunday through thursday, but of course, you didn't know that. closing up your notebook you took a good look at the boy across from you.

“no wonder you’re a virgin.” you say, barely above a whisper.

“excuse you?”

a slight laugh exits your mouth, “i mean, if you never go to parties, you surely have never dicked a girl down before. if you have, you’re probably terrible at it and you probably haven't even drank or done drugs.” you chew on your bottom lip as you see sunghoon’s face contort from disgust to anger.

park sunghoon was mad. like really mad.

before the boy could say anything, the school bell rang throughout the campus building, cutting off any words that could've left sunghoon’s mouth.

when you packed up your stuff, you lean against your shared table, “i saw how you got mad, if you wanna prove me wrong, pull up to daniel choi’s house. i wanna see you there, hoonie.”

a slight smirk appears on your face to the point sunghoon wanted to smack it off. the fake sweetness that laced your words got him even more annoyed too. oh, he’s going to prove you wrong.

he’s sure of it.

after the small conversation you had with sunghoon, you wondered why he got so mad. like of course he would since you insulted his sex status, but what made him nearly yell at you? it surely couldn't have just been he was a virgin, right? or the fact he didn't drink or do drugs? it was genuinely the first time you saw sunghoon experience another emotion other than just neutral. even if it piqued your interests, you simply swatted it off your mind.

“hey, y/n!” a voice calls out from you down the hall. you look back and you see jake sim, a friend of yours and sunghoon.

“oh hi, jake! what's up?” jake rarely ever talks to you, even if the both of you had the same calculus class last period.

“hoon’s mad at you.” a slight downturned smile hooks his mouth as he says his words.

you rolls your eyes at him, “i wonder why.”

jake sighs, “he won't say what got him so mad, he just kinda said it was your fault.” the boy shrugs his shoulders as the two of you enter into class.

as the two of you sat down to whatever seat you wanted, you purse your lips, “all i said was he was a virgin because he never went to parties.”

the blond boy stares at you weirdly, as if you said something offensive. “you said what?”

“it’s not that big of a deal, he just can’t take a joke. like if i said that to you, you’d take it lightheartedly, right?” you look at jake expectantly.

“y/n, it doesn’t work like that… besides, what do you know about hoon?” jake scoffs at your previous words.

“let’s see, he’s quiet, ice skates really well... and that’s it. he’s really plain.” you laugh at your own words.

“yeah, and if you were closer to him you’d know he has like four girls on his dick right now.”

what.

“sunghoon? park sunghoon. mr. pretty prince on ice? no way.” your mouth twisted a bit at jake’s sentence. was he really being serious?

“you didn't know? he has a lot of friends with benefits type relationships. all of the girls he’s fucked always say he’s like a sex god.” jake whispers as he sees more students enter into the once empty classroom. “if you don’t change your attitude, he's probably gonna fuck it outta you.” jake jokes before the class bell rang, signaling classes were slowly going to go into session.

for the rest of class, you couldn’t think of a single thought about calc. all you could think was sunghoon.

four friends with benefits? fucked many girls? a sex god? he’d fuck your attitude out of you? what other secrets did sunghoon hid from you? well, you didn't have to take long because just in a few hours, you’ll see.

the clock strikes 21:35 (9:35 pm), meaning daniel’s party would start soon. daniel, or previously known as yeonjun, was an alumni of the current high school you were attending. you first met him in year 9 (freshman) year when he was in year 12 (senior). he quickly became the older-brother-type friend that you would become closer to as the years pass. even though daniel was committed to his college courses, he still had that high school wild party side in him. so every once in awhile, he’d host parties at his (insanely large) house.

as you take a look at the time, you start to get ready, texting your friends now and then, deciding what to wear. once you finished getting ready, you take a glance at the clock again. 22:18 (10:18pm). perfect.

you finish yourself up and met your friends outside as all of you drove to daniel’s house. even if you were already having fun with your friends, a particular someone stayed in your head. butterflies were swarming your stomach as you kept on thinking of jake’s words, “if you don't change your attitude, he’s probably gonna fuck it outta you.”

what were you thinking? it’s not like sunghoon was going to fuck you... unless?

the smell was just putrid. sex, alcohol, drugs, sex, alcohol, did you say sex yet? it was only half an hour into the party and yet you can see multiple people passed out on daniel's living room couch, a bunch of horny teenagers trying to suck their faces off, a group trying cocaine for the first time, park sunghoon looking so fucking hot, and— park sunghoon? didn’t he have practice?

too dumbfounded by the way sunghoon looked, daniel spotted you. “y/n!” you nearly knocked daniel down by jumping into his arms and hugging daniel. “you’ve grown so much! how’s been senior year?” he asks, trying to stabilize himself from nearly falling back first.

“it’s been great, danny.” the nickname brings a wave to nostalgia as he gives you a red solo cup of some random alcohol you could care less about.

time passes and you surprisingly haven’t drunken much nor did any lines of coke, smoked a blunt, touched molly— you get it. instead, you kept an eye out on sunghoon. as said he has specifically four girls he has his hands constantly. what a player. you internally roll your eyes at the man only a few feet away from you in the kitchen. sure, he was attractive. it’s not like he could pound you until your brain is fucked out in the best way, making sure his cock is brushing so deep in your pussy— what the fuck.

daniel thankfully interrupts your stupid thoughts by pushing you another cup of alcohol, “drink?”

you smile at his completely drunken state, “thanks, danny.”

“i think that should be enough for tonight, sweetheart.” the deep voice made you flinch, making your back hit the person’s chest. it's none other than park sunghoon, in the flesh, looking obnoxiously hot.

“who are you to decide how much i drink?” you quirk an eyebrow at the taller boy, taking a liking to the nickname.

“i just think that some people shouldn’t drink too much.” sunghoon says nonchalantly.

before you can properly retort back something witty, daniel stands on the kitchen counter. “i’m just gonna say this once because i’m probaby gonna be wasted soon but let’s do a cheers because i say so!” daniel was wacked out of his mind but, it was a funny kind of wacky. you raise your cup along with everyone else in the room and cheers with daniel. you take a glace back at sunghoon and instantly regretted it.

as he rose his cup, he bites his lower lip attractively, making his dimples become prominent to the eye. he then downs his drink in one fast gulp, sighing from the alcoholic drink afterwards. “you’re staring too hard, sweetheart.”

“i’m not.” this time you were the one lying out of your mouth. “why would you care? didn’t you have practice to attend? or your little girlies?”

a scoff comes from sunghoon, “sorry i lied, sweetheart. i don’t need them either, i have better things to do.” he presses a hand against the counter next to you, practically caging you in his body.

“like me?” you joke at first.

“yeah, like you.” a smirk appears on his face as he looks down at you. sunghoon knew too well what he was doing. the eye contact was unbearable, your breathing became ragged, and your drink moving around in your cup due to how shaky your hands have gotten. you bit your lip to silence yourself of saying anything more embarrassing.

“where’s that little y/n that teased me for being a virgin, huh? because all i see is a little slut just begging for my cock in her.” sunghoon playfully moans in your ear as he says the word “begging”.

gluping down the nervousness you try to think of something to say, “i’m not begging unless... you... i don't know... fuck the attitude outta me.” you mock sunghoon by moaning “fuck” and restating the words jake told you earlier.

“oh, i will.”

sunghoon immediately pulls you to a random room upstairs in daniel’s house and pushes you towards the bed, making you bounce lightly on the mattress.

“i’m gonna fucking ruin you.” and that’s what sunghoon did. stripping you from your jeans and panties, he latches his lips over your clit, sucking harshly at the bud. your hands find his black roots, pulling him closer to your cunt.

“so fucking needy, aren’t you? you’re so cock hungry for me, huh? haven’t even done anything but sucking on your stupid clit.” sunghoon mutters against your labia. his voice vibrates against you in the best way possible.

“fuck— yes i am— only for you!” you weakly murmur, unable to create full sentences with the amount of pleasure sunghoon provided. his strong arms wraps around your thighs, pushing you down to the mattress. your legs also find their way around his head, making his tongue fully insert itself into your hot cunt. lapping at your juices, in just a few minutes, sunghoon’s face became all messy. your voice raises in pitch as you sputter out, “coming— sunghoon!”

even if your high came crashing down, sunghoon smirks against your cunt, “yeah that’s right, come for me, say my name when you come.” a smack against your ass rippled through your veins as sunghoon kept on devouring you whole. with that, sunghoon bores his eyes into your as he flattened his tongue right on your cunt. you couldn’t look away. it was too much, you were so close coming undone over sunghoon’s tongue again.

“no— sunghoon— too much— want your cock.” your voice trembled but you tried everything you could to at least sound coherent enough.

“hmm? too much? don’t you mean too good? you’re gonna take everything i give you, got that?”

you felt like you were on cloud nine. even if sunghoon was just eating you out, he looks good doing it. a little too good. a smug smile as he eats you out, his nose and mouth all up in your pussy, and his strong arms hooking under you to make sure you don’t move. everything was so attractive.

with one last flick of his tongue, you came for the second time that night. you weren’t the one who would have multiple orgasms but, you might just have to try it because of sunghoon.

in such a short amount of time, you came twice. all from sunghoon eating you out. jake wasn’t joking around. sunghoon is like a sex god.

your thighs immediately clamp up after sunghoon removes himself from your pussy. he raised up to take off the layers he had on him but he laughs at you once he sees you trying to regain breaths, “awhh, is my tongue too much for you sweetheart? i didn’t even finger you. this stupid little cunt just loves coming, huh?”

one of his hands fiddle with his jeans, taking them off, while the other slides to your slick cunt and slaps it a few times. each time more and more of his saliva and your cum splats on his hands, causing him to get impossibly harder.

“i’m gonna fuck you, gonna fuck you so hard you’re crying for me to fill you up.” sunghoon grunts as he presses his tip on your opening, gaining the wetness on his cock. you simply moan back, you wanted his cock. you wanted to go dumb on his cock. that was all you needed.

once his cock fully slides in you, he takes no chance and starts roughly thrusting into you. it didn’t take that long for you to start moaning his name again. the bed was rocking to his motions, your hands on his chest trying to have some balance while his hands are secure on your thighs; pushing them along to his pace.

“ngh— sunghoon, fuck! more please, please sunghoon i need more—!” you mindlessly babble. you were experiencing so much pleasure, you didn’t even know you wanted more. your brain and your heart were jumbled up together.

“yeah? more? you want more you needy slut? alright, i’ll give you more.” hoon starts peeling off your top and bra, fighting the urge to just rip them off. he then grabs your sensitive nipples and twists them. the shocking pleasure has you nearly screaming for sunghoon. there’s so much happening, you couldn’t care if anyone could hear you outside.

“does it feel good, y/nnn?” slurring his words near the of you name. “look at you shutting your eyes, you love this!” sunghoon laughs as he kept on having a stable pace. his cock is so loose in you and the tip is practically abusing your cervix over and over.

sighing, moaning, groaning, grunting, whimpering was the only thing left in the room. along with sunghoon’s cock in you, of course. you were at the brink of that knot completely snapping in your stomach. it was so close; it was right there. tears even start dripping down to your cheeks, not in sadness or pain. but in delight.

the waves of pleasure were crashing down soon. they were waves crashing slowly. you needed those waves where they’d crash down fast. third orgasm was even better than the first.

“sweetheart, you’re crying? crying on my cock? fuck— you’re desperate to come.” sunghoon grunts as another bead of sweat starts dripping along his hairline. he was on the edge too, he needed it as much as you. a barely heard “mhmm!” escaped your lips as a response.

“god— sunghoon! use me— wanna have your cum in me— please!” you creak out. sunghoon laughs at your poor attempt of talking.

the warm, nearly silky feeling of my white strings of his cum was all in your pussy. snug, full, and filled. sunghoon’s arms gives up and falls right besides you.

“don’t ever say i’m a virgin again.” sunghoon groans as he takes his thrown off t-shirt to clean off yours and his cum off of you and him.

“i was just joking! hoon— fuck. you are a sex god.” you can’t help but laugh a bit.

“sex god??? who told you that.”

“… jake.” you reply.

“whatever, at least i got to prove it to you that i’m not a virgin.” hoon rolls his eyes at you.

“yeah but, i sure don’t think we can still be friends after this.” you sigh, looking at the ceiling above you.

“who said we were?”

“what?”

“who said we were just friends?”

who knew sunghoon wanted to fuck from the start?

kpop masterlist !

© issamultistan | tumblr

[the-kr8tor]

I'm going to be honest- I've never seen the Princess and the Frog, so I've never experienced Dr Facilier first hand, but I like the concept of a goofy ass shadow so here we go Daily Hobie HC! Also based off what 🪦 anon said either with how he'd act Who knew a simple card reading could lead to this? Hobie, having others souls wrapped around his fingers, burying his face into you with a muffled, satisfied hum. While he had others wrapped around his fingers, you had him wrapped around yours. You prevented a smile from tugging at your lips as you faked being asleep, mainly for the fact you didn't want to wake up (gaslighting yourself to go back to bed), but you were enjoying the attention he was giving you. Hobie pulled your body close to his chest, your face situated comfortably into the pillow as he peppered sweet, adoring kisses to every bit of your face, his cool lip piercings grazing against your skin, granting reprieve from the slow heat building up. Eventually, you couldn't help but let a smile slip, causing Hobie to nuzzle his face into your neck, mumbling a 'morning' to you as he continued to gently kiss your skin. You still can't believe you managed to have him wrapped tightly around your finger, given his reputation, but here you are, being smothered in his kisses willingly. You stretch out your neck with a chuckle, giving him room to kiss down to the base. Hobie gladly takes the opportunity, pressing chaste and loving kisses to your skin as he lets you slowly wake up from your slumber. During random times, Hobie will appear behind you and simply just pepper kisses to your shoulder, the back of your neck, your head, your hands, anywhere really. Not that you minded, you never did. It simply startled you, but it never failed to remind you how much he loved you. A I really need to do more research on this villain I'm going to continue with a longer one tomorrow Maybe I'll actually watch the movie -🐦‍⬛

My love for goofy ass shadows started with peter pan's shadow 🤣 you should watch it it's amazing!!

Daily Hobie HC!!!

OMFG MORTICIA AMD GOMEZ ADAMS CODED

OWIZNWNDQPSM THIS GOT ME LONGING FR BRO AHHHHHH THEY'RE SO IN LOVE 🥴 (oh no did it cut off again?)

Imagine if R was one of those fake psychics with the 90 dollar crystal ball they bought off of amazon that they use to scam ppl by just reading them well (ala spencer reid or dr house) and they do it so well that ppl have stopped doubting their abilities and think that they're an actual psychic so facilier! Hobie is like: who tf is taking my customers? And his abilities are actually real so off he goes to confront r and wait a minute why is that fake psychic have such gorgeous eyes? And why is his dark heart beating so loudly that even the dead could hear it? Uh oh now (they're the baddest duo out there)

[celestie0]

First time asker but long time reader 😭 I’m sorry that you got that shitty ask. It’s such a weird fucking thing to ask someone “hey when are you making these two fuck?” like… does that not feel weird to type out?

The gojo x reader tag has at least 5 explicit smut fics minimum daily, go read through those if you genuinely need sex in everything you read (it’s time to reflect on the porn addiction you have).

Regardless, I’ve been reading your fics on Ao3 and I absolutely LOVE the banter between gojo and reader 😭 it flows so fucking well I can feel the chemistry radiating from my screen. When I first started reading IHM, I was also an ancient hag like reader (29) so I found myself able to really relate to her. Usually when I envision Y/N, it’s a random person in their place but with this fic specifically idk why I lowkey insert myself? Everything she does, I would probably do the same and it makes me nervous (in a good way) that I’m gonna get attached to gojo and y/n’s relationship 😭

I absolutely love how gojo provides the security Y/N so desperately needs in the span of the fic. She has been suffocating on her own for so long that he just provides some fresh air. Dare I say meant to be?

The domesticity is everything and I like how we’re learning more about him alongside Y/N. So far we’ve seen just how supportive gojo has been and I’m excited to see how y/n comes through for him because my spidey senses (and your amazing writing) shows me that he has some baggage and it might resurface soon.

The build up to them realizing they love each other is making me giggle and kick my feet. I will happily eat whatever you feed us, thank you for sharing your writing with us. You absolutely have a talent for writing and fleshing out characters/relationships.

I appreciate you and will do my best to support you vocally from here on out 🥹 have a great week pls!

hi my love!! first of all thank you SO much for this supportive message, i srs teared up when i read it 😭 idk if that’s embarrassing to admit lololdjfsdfh but yea omg yesterday was rough so i can’t tell u how much it means to me

i agree on the porn addict thing omg like i love smut as much as the next person, but likeee to go into an author inbox after they just posted a 14k chap of their fic n say “are we gonna get smut soon?” like 💀 that’s sortaaaaa. i’m getting porn addiction vibes

aaaaaaaa i’m so happy you’re enjoying the banter in ihm :’’) and that you’re able to see yourself in reader’s shoes!! that’s such a wonderful thing n one of the aims of my writing ♥️ ♥️ also pls 29 is not ancient hag oml i mean there will be lots of rhetoric in ihm where reader thinks she’s old but like ultimately i want the message of the series to be that it’s never too late to start over and find happiness & joy :) i think that really applies to everything and everyone. and ahhh yes there will be some pretty angst stuffs BUT there will be happy ending <33

yes ihm gojo def got some baggage 😂😂 i need my men like that LOL. but thank you so much for being excited to see how reader comes through for him as well!! i know she’s going through a lot on her own, and that can sometimes cause her to neglect the things outside of her…but i think she has capacity to really be there for him too

oh my dear i really am so lucky to have you as a long time reader and i’m so grateful to hear your thoughts, but also please send them whenever you want to and without pressure <33 i will eat it tf up if/when you do but yea xD never feel burdened to! you have a wonderful week as well omg imma eat u fr

[storgicdealer]

ehehehehehe okay. first things first i figured out a good name for stohio: carteblan (i cannot believe it took me this long ive been calling it stohio for like ? oh my god just over a year now)

anyways yeah.

i havent figured out the exact timeline, but a couple years before victim "came back to life"/escaped the ava1 youtube video (that's a whole other can of worms), stickfigures were just finding out about the existence of other living sticks. in particular, freedom was a rather popular figure as one of the first sticks to break out of stick slavery (many living stickfigures were put to tasks, similar to chosen and second, where it was either do the task or die). freedom specifically was the first to discover the outernet, and quickly provided a link to others online.

he then created the "stick freedom ad" (which earned him his name; prior to this, he was simply known as unti (short for untitled) (sticks having Names outside of their roles was not a common thing yet)). he made this ad and scammed several websites into displaying it without actually paying for it by using fraudulent money (there are a couple very old blog posts and forum posts about the Stick Freedom Ad and what its supposed to mean, since clicking on it leads to an error 404).

as more sticks were freed and entered the outernet, they began to build houses. some sticks that had experience with drawing helped draw the sketches for these houses, which was then built upon using the surrounding resources. this eventually developed into carteblan, the city that mango and purple live in today.

however as time passed the culture in carteblan became a little elitist--- victim-blamey (haha), acting like all sticks should be strong, and turning down their noses on sticks who look a little too different from the norm (like paleo, ballista and hazard) (the norm being hollowheads, fullheads and whiteheads).

like i mentioned in my reblog, the sticks in carteblan began to crave more, lives similar to human lives, and amongst that was a demand for stick children. in my headcanon, sticks cannot reproduce and any sex they have is entirely recreational, so they had to devise another method for having kids. adoption, like mango did with gold in my hc, is the most common way of doing this.

sticks like second, that can draw things to life, are extremely rare (like 1 out of a thousand) in the outernet, but theres a couple thousand people in carteblan as of 2024 so there are a few sticks that can actually draw sticks to life. thus, they do 'kid' commissions where they literally draw a kid to life in exchange for money. there are also some website sticks in touch with their animators who ask their animators do do kid commissions as well for people in the outernet.

wow okay this is long. there are other stick cities too but the two major cities are carteblan and adagia most other sticks live in solitude or on websites ok im done woo

grabs you by the shoulders. falls onto the floor. has a fucking awakening

DUDE.

this is one of the most amazing things ive seen recently that inspired me to make a ramble/srs.

im going to create another part of my ramble series and pin it because of it im fr

foundation of the outernet, development of outernet sticks and creation of living beings

(a ramble made with the help of an immaculate person with amazing ideas)

OH MY GOD?????? FIRSTLY. i need to mention that i ADORE that we both have an idea that outernet was discovered by created internet/pc sticks. that its appearance began to be a place for a whole race to live in. and that its not something that exists completely naturally and independently from it. this is the theory of their origins i believe most right now

freedom being the founder IS SICK. ITS SO FUCKING SICK im rolling on the floor

in my "rules of code" ramble also i supposed sticks being in touch with their creators as well and them also BEING DRAWN!!! by sticks and creators. ill put a screenshot of everything hold on

outernets creation

my thoughts about outernets existence that most of which i think i explained

lives of stickmen and reproduction

my thoughts were about reproduction as well!!!!! its mostly accepted as canon in the fandom that sticks reproduce naturally but i cannot say that it actually is canon. everything that was going on with purple was symbolic and didnt showcase like. natural birth

alan said that for gold to exist king would have to marry a very neon yellow stick.

AND THIS made me confirm my headcanon that stick children are created by parent(s) own code. that they cannot influence it or prefer a color, that their code INHERENTLY has the variety of the color palette and hexcodes embedded into it.

ABOUT the code and colors. (i believe that the colors of sticks mixing up with each others is COMPLETELY code.)

all sticks inherently have a code and a name that gives them associated power. that can be messed with as well by a user (tdl command). its something that ive also talked in my rules of code ramble and mentioned the concept of "levels" and name power hierarchy

the chosen one, created and possessing a grandeu amount of power

the dark lord, also posessing a lot of power (that i dont believe couldve came from the command that was written into them. the command of destroying chosen is a goal that i believe is able to not be achieved)

the second coming, the name of someone that ties them with their predecessor (does make me wonder though how exactly their code made a connection with our chosen. maybe its possible that the name "the second coming" by itself, as a level, implies being a coming of someone powerful)

victim, being quite weak by themselves and not posessing any power by their own and having to rely on pc programs they're aware of.

i believe that being able to code a stick into a specific power and duty is something that could only be achieved and controlled through the feature of the program the stick was created in. in case of outernet, since they dont have access to computer programs and therefore, programs of creation such as adobe they cannot influence or change one's code

when it comes to creation of a stick i truly believe that you are able to give them color by yourself, unless the child is made by connecting it to the codes of its supposed parent(s). they gain hue by either actually taking/mixing up the colors of the parents or by taking one color in case of a sole parent.

(societal thought: its possible that outernet sticks, due to not wanting to have a literal copy and just an extension of themselves and wanting to create an "actual new life" by mixing colours prefer to have children with a partner, and not by themselves only)

have thought that color/code of the stick could be influenced by the parent(s) preferences, like a parent would like to have a kid similar to them and name them the same way (thus resulting/having their hexcode being picked out individually) BUT. i remembered alans words about kings spouse.

that for gold to exist king would need to marry a really neon yellow stick.

would it imply that sticks that subtract parent(s) code cannot influence the color of the stick created? as much as it impossible to influence the features of a born child in our real life, only taking it from parents and letting the nature play a randomizer. and that the only thing that they are able to influence is the shape of their creation?

society of outernet

THE CONCEPT OF STICKS SOCIETY BEING ELITIST ABOUT THIS STUFF. im eating it im not sure what fully do with it yet but im eating it

ive also talked about society there

when talking about creators of mercs king purple and co i was mostly thinking about real users. BUT YOUR CONCEPT OF STICKS BEING DRAWN BY OTHER STICKS AND ME THINKING ABOUT IT AS WELL . THIS IS SO FUCKING AMAZING. this is canon for me IDC!!!!!!

it does, however, make me wonder of their living process. we know that alan's hollowheads are created for a reason, are born aware of themselves, how to walk/run/interact/fight and havent been seen aging or changing. and due to chosen, victim and second surviving a whole bunch of damage that should've killed them, second literally REFUSING to delete, the fate of dark lord being unknown and alan not giving a straight answer about it and, very important: cg as created sticks being unable to actually die and needing only refresh of a page to continue living, having all their memories intact... makes me wonder that stickmen created directly by a human hand are unable to die.

(does make me wonder about another completely different thing. the societal perception. is it acceptable to be in touch with your stick creators? how would it even feel. do they perceive them as a distant relative?? do sticks that are able to create life consider their creations close to them as well??? im imagining something along the lines about detroit stuff with connor&kamski but way less intense)

connection of realms and creation of life

ive rambled A TON about connection of internet and outernet and how sticks especially of outernet could connect and travel between realms. hear ye hear ye.

right now i genuinely believe that stick society advanced so far in the outernet and got to live there that their connection with the internet mightve severed:

sticks of outernet don't physically interact neither with internet/pc programs OR travel there unless they obtained something that could allow them to travel to a pc/internet (the minecraft block and nether portals that seem doing quite fine in the outernet dimension) or have powers that can allow them to break through (chosen and the computer/ip sky which, interestingly, has only been seen broken through on the alanspc ip adress//dark portals to the internet).

given this, there's not a lot of accesible methods of traveling to the internet and most of them are available only to pc sticks.

(except. for king and purple. except for king getting a block from minecraft that was not supposed to be in the outernet from that merchant in his backstory. but it is a whole another can of worms as well)

as far as we've seen sticks that werent exposed to pc and internet tech dont really use or possess any tech that could access it??????? the times where we've seen tech such as computers/phones/tvs/pc and programs interface were always in possession of sticks that came from a pc or were there at least once (hollowheads, the cg, purple) or were entrusted with it from someone that was on a pc (mercenaries). talking about the video used on the tv in "the king" episode... it has never been shown that this video was being shown directly from the youtubes platform either. and that lead me to a thought that outernet sticks might not even interacted with internet's properties except for the tools used to create a life that came along with the foundation of the internet and most likely were developed from tools brought by the first sticks. but the way outernet progressed they might not even know that this stuff is literally from another realm

heck, a daring thought.

in case of outernet being almost completely cut off from its original internet history recent sticks of outernet might not even know of the existence of pcs and internet.

this does however clash with sticks being still created by people and sticks that are able to create life being in touch with them. but its still supposable that only rare sticks with an ability to create life somewhat have a.. gene? passed through to them from some of their ancestors that could've been able to create life. and users dont exactly come into this (also given its unlikely that its a regular experience for a user to be emulated in the outernet world like it was with alans cursor in showdown)

continuing to talk about elitism. again this is such a sick concept

im thinking right now that elitism towards stickmen that arent completely strong/prefer not to engage in fighting due to the progress of their civilization//different kinds of stickmen mightve also came from the original stickmen (im going start coloring this concept now. also this whole is some adam and eve stuff) that were created to fight. we know from our real world that the first appearance of sticks in the internet didnt come from a desire to animate them in a fighting ring but the whole scene and culture of fighting sticks came around pretty quickly. the whole reason avam exists as a series

its possible that while predecessors of original stickmen werent created with fighting in mind the stickmen that discovered the outernet might as well been the first sticks created for fight. and since it isnt a thing that gone away and is most likely embedded into the code of sticks themselves in the avam universe the whole "fighting code gene" mightve been carried over to recent sticks as well. and this elitism exists that even though sticks dont have to fight anymore (to literally survive in most cases) due to the progress of their kind some conservative mfs might believe that "this is what our ancestors intendeeeddd you need to bow to your roots and your existing gene"

the elitism towards kinds of sticks is. god its such a big and very explainable and amazing concept

due to sticks just beginning existing in the internet a long while ago and mostly drawn pretty similarly (since most creators were just exploring how to draw them digitally) the race of stickmen that passed down from original stickmen could've been all just fullheads and whiteheads and perhaps hollowheads?.. im really thinking hard about it because. we havent seen hollowheads in the outernet and the fact that orange didnt even know of their existence anywhere else and even WE didnt up until they saw victim (and were probably quite damn shocked) and the fact it was possibly quite a grand moment to them confuses me.

im not sure for what reason, but the number of sticks of the race of hollowheads might have been reduced in present outernet, only having the ones that posses incredible power survive. (yet. also victim. that does not posses such power. but its a whole another idea on that they could've acquired it through different means and not from power coming from their own self)

or, it just is an avam universe rule that users didnt really think of drawing hollowheads when creating first sticks because it was hard for them to keep track of the background besides their damn hollow head and it was easier to have a stick that covered it fully on another layer LOL

either way, coming back to elitism (this sounds funny out of context), due to original sticks being simply drawn as fullheads whiteheads and possibly hollowheads it was the main race that stickmen were used to creating when drawing a new life. but with the progress of their civilization they started to experiment, eventually inventing new kinds of sticks (the kinds of hazard, ballista and paleo). due to some conservative sticks clinging to their roots they didnt like the difference from the norm.

elitism thought.

even with a possible inability to code a stick into doing something by outernet sticks would people still try to draw a stick with a specific build associated with certain jobs and tasks, trying to force them into a mold of who they are "supposed" to be? like, drawing a stick that resembles a sign (like hazard) and having them work for example as an aircraft marshaller or some other job that requires caution and directive? the grey sticks working in rocketcorp, possibly made as clerks and errand dudes?

..could purple be drawn being stronger and having a greater build than a usual stick would have, therefore disappointing navy when they dont match their expectations of a stick they wanted?

would it be a problem that progressive sticks would try to solve? allowing different kinds of sticks to exist, but not forcing them into a certain shape?

another thing. YOUVE OPENED A GATEWAY TO A SEA OF WORMS BY TELLING ME ABOUT POSSIBLE ESCAPE OF VICTIM FROM A YOUTUBE VIDEO.

my previous ramble (rocketcorp, dimensions and virtual reality) made a theory that victim, in one way or another essentially brought pc programs and tech into outernet, thus obtaining power that is, quite literally, linked with their whole creation. (very symbolic considering their whole power is the one that made their life end so fast) and, due to outernet being cut off from programs and powers of internet and pcs, became a being that literally stood higher than the reality and fabric of the outernet realm itself, possesing power that could possibly meddle with it (mercs cannons literally changing structure and whole being of objects like the corndog stand or literally messing with a sticks state and body with chosen). and i have thought that victim is the one that could use internet itself as one of their grand tools.

and. animation vs youtube. we fucking know. that a stick is able to upload itself and break the interface of internet.

no one said that the original ava video on youtube is the whole thing that victim used to escape.

also. remember me mentioning that the original video of animation vs minecraft wasnt shown to be accessed through youtube. this video looked like it was downloaded having a whole different bar at the bottom and everything. couldve it been downloaded by vic or rocketcorp?

(victim interneted the fucking internet and started showing avam series like their own show. by the way its ALSO a potential scenario i talked about before. that due to potential severing of outernet citizens with the internet the recorded adventures of the cg on pc, internet and minecraft (ESPECIALLY considering that minecraft existed as a fun simulation game on a festival) that was broadcasted could've been interpreted by outernet sticks as fiction. but its an independent funny concept to be thought about and i still didnt fully figure it out)

op.

you cracked my mind open like a walnut and i cannot stop thinking about all of your ideas

oh my god this did so much to me. ive been writing for the past two hours due to how much ideas it gave me. im going to pin this ramble because its very important to me and puts a lot of theories and headcanons in stone. you are my saviour cindersnows and you are probably going to be fucking FLABBERGASTED by the length of this post

sincerely yours storgic "the aspiring matpat of the avam fandom" dealer

[nanami-is-nanamean]

I like playing hsr-- as my irls say, im a bit of a grind/build player. I can attest to that, because no joke-- i spent an entire year just grinding and farming for materials for my characters. So you could say that im a bit well versed in how these characters work and run and tick. Of course, when you have two obsessions, its kind of inevitable that youd smash them together like dolls so--

Here's JJK characters typecasted as HSR characters

Please note that im more well versed in the characters as units so im gonna typecast them as such— i know jack about their plot and stories so i may or may not make a part two or more lmao

Lets go-- everything is under the cut

OH-- quick note!! Ill be doing the 06 class first because im more familiar with them, and most of my info comes from my own experience playing, and Prydwen my beloved lmao

- - -

Gojo Satoru:

For Gojo—as a unit, i wanna say that hes either the strongest unit currently or some kind of nuts shielder. Its an either or because duh. Bruv is Quite Literally The Strongest and Quite Literally Untouchable.

If were going with the former, aka the strongest—id say that he would be what is currently considered the meta, which is Acheron. I dont have an Acheron, but my friend does and she lent me her account so i can build her Acheron and other units and LET ME TELL YOU. HOLY SHIT. Even unbuilt, Acheron hits like a motherfucker dawg. Its genuinely crazy. Her Technique as well (heh) also lets her oneshot almost anything which is also inline with how he works. Jeez, i should probably go back to building her account...

If were going with the latter, aka nuts shielder ala Infinity, i was thinking either Fu Xuan or Aventurine—but settled on Fu Xuan as it filled out more of what Gojo could do. While she does actually take damage, as she directs damage to herself, she heals it all back which honestly?? Amazing symbolism for Gojo tbh—considering the fact that hes the most important figure in Jujutsu society, everyone would be fucking gunning for him man. And he'd just as easily bounce back and brush it all off with a quick smile and Purple. And speaking of purple—esteemed colleague, that is Just Her Ultimate.

But yeah—Gojo would be either Acheron or Fu Xuan, depending on what aspect of him were focusing on.

Geto Suguru:

I'm gonna admit—this one was a little hard for me because who tf uses summons. And then it hit me.

Dear lord, my boy is just Topaz. Or Jing Yuan. LMAO—

Makes sense tho mechanically—Geto's technique is all about summoning curses to fight. Either for him or with him. Its just that the choice between Topaz and Jing Yuan capitalizes on what sort of fighting styles Geto wants to use. Topaz is more reliant on Numby doing damage, while Jing Yuan can do damage on his own without the help of Lightning Lord. This means then that Topaz is if Geto wants his curses to fight for him, and Jing Yuan is if he wants to fight with his curses.

Also the fact that I considered Sushang for him just because she summons a giant fucking chicken for her ult is. W o w .

Shoko Ieiri:

Dawg. To be honest with you. I think this is gonna be the hardest one for me to typecast unit wise. Because like—Shoko is a heal bot fr fr. And like—thats literally all the Abundance characters man. I CANT JUST SAY "shes every Abundance character" AND CALL IT A DAY. I mean I CAN but I WONT because I have STANDARDS. So I suppose I'll knock off the ones she can't possibly be unit wise.

Bailu is an Instant No. If she can bring people back from the dead Bailu style, JJK would be a WHOLE DIFFERENT STORY. and YEAH YEAH the Gojo/Yuuta thing is different—Gojo was already super dead, she just transferred Yuuta to Gojos body my guy. Not Gallagher, since w've never seen her in a combat situation and we have no idea what pure RCE can do to a curse—and before you say im wrong, nuh uh dawg—youre thinking about Reverse Cursed TECHNIQUE. I'm talking energy. The two are very different. Thats like saying putting the car in reverse is the same as using diesel instead of gas. Luocha is also a no go since, if she can just cast a Simple Domain that heals everyone in range, JJK would be a completely different story. And, as much as this pains me to say it—she cant be Huohuo either, because if her healing people would also replenish their CE, JJK would be a different story—at the very least with more people alive in it lmao

And so. This leaves us with our F2P basic units. Lynx and Natasha. Which... honestly? Its weirdly fitting and cathartic in a strange sort of way. Its guaranteed they'd be there to help because you receive them as units early on in the game—just as guaranteed that Shoko would be there to help and heal any and all sorcerers who come to her. All units need healing, in any way shape and form—without em making sure our teams our alive, we quite literally cannot get thru half the content of the game. I would know, that friend DID NOT build any of their sustains. Constantly fighting for my life until I built Gallagher lmao.

But yeah—unit wise, it does fit. They both mainly are there to give healing and basic support to the units, without drastically buffing them or debuffing their opponents. Theyre just there to make sure the team is alive, and honestly? 🫡 you go babe. heres a free cigarette, on me.

Nanami Kento:

Immediately I knew what the fuck I wanted him to be. Break effect character. Aka, current meta. So, obviously he'd be Boothill and Robin right?? Well—not exactly...

He'd deffo be Boothill thats for sure, but not so much Robin. Nanami's powerset is pretty simple—he focuses on a target and then, depending on his goal and/or amount of cursed energy, proceeds to put a weak point on them of which to hit. He can't be Robin because of how she works—she needs to transform via Ult to deal that optimal break damage and strike weak points despite whatever shes facing not having a fire element weakness. Whereas Nanami can just hit, without needing to transform into something else or needing a cursed tool or something.

For a little bit there, I considered Xueyi but ulimately said no because of her follow up and her being able to attack multiple enemies at once. While yes, I can flavor the follow up as a black flash or something (even though i really shouldn't since black flashes are based off luck and "being in the zone"), the multiple targets thing I really couldn't ignore because we've never seen him attack multiple targets at once—the closest thing we have is him being fast enough and strong enough to one shot curses back to back.

I was left with Sushang and Luka at this point, and ended up with Sushang. I was already settled with Sushang, when I remembered that Luka existed lmao—but decided to give him a shot anyways. I shouldn't have given him that shot because he doesn't fit Nanami as a unit. He's a Nihility "charge" unit—charge in the sense of, he needs to build up a certain stack to properly break and deal damage. When you relate that to Nanami, it doesn't work. Like I said, Nanami is simple and straight-forward, no muss and no fuss. There's a lot of mussing and fussing around with Luka that doesn't mesh well, along with the whole debuff thing Nihility has going—Nanami doesn't do that kind of DOT damage in the series, and doesn't deal too much of a handicap that I could consider it.

Nanami being Boothill and Sushang makes sense to me too. Nanami is a relatively fast person, being able to kind of run on water, fend off dozens of curses at the same time whilst taking minimal damage, and keep up with a Mahito that transformed himself into being really fast, and hits hard—both with the boost and assistance of his technique and without it. Like—he canonically killed Haruta 6 times. Were it not for his Luck Technique, his skull would've been pulverized by the first punch.

Boothill and Sushang's entire deal is to hit hard and hit fast—or at the very least, stay ahead of their opponents in the turn order via Break—Weakness, Super, or otherwise. Boothill's mechanics are a little more complicated than Sushang's but they're relatively simple and tracks with how Nanami works—he can force element weakness (Nanami's CT), hits really good and really hard to those he's focused on/appiled weakness on (nanami's CT again), and is able to clear out multiple enemies at once/inquick succession despite being a single target focus due to how strong and fast he is (nanami's CT and fighting style in general). Sushang's mechanics are much more barebones—she hits hard and she hits fast, which is basically the essence of Nanami in battle.

Haibara Yuu:

Motherfucker dude, this one is EASY—my boy is OBVIOUSLY Pompom. BUT NO WAIT IM BEING FR THO—we barely see him in both the manga and the anime, and I even looked up whether or not he's a playable unit in JJK Cursed Clash or JJK Phantom Parade. He's not there dawg. He's literally just the mascot—😭😭😭 UGYFHBKSFSBHVDVKFHKSD

And as much as I'd love to make assumptions abt his technique and how he works—aka theorize abt the meaning of his name, make educated guesses with the short screentime he had, I don't think I can make a good guess or assumption on how he works.

So yeah. He's Pompom, he's an NPC KHDFJHGSIDKFX—

Rip Haibara, even in death, you don't due nothing other than change the trajectory of everyone's lives via dying BUKJRNLDFJXB

---

Thanks for reading...??? Genuinely feel like doing a cont to this but like—them as HSR character lorewise, or turning them into actual HSR units, or doing the other characters. Its p fun!! Also let me engage with HSR in a diff way other than me logging on, grinding Robin's domain, getting a bunch of shit artifacts and ignoring the main quest LMAO—

[banes-favourite]

Does Gortash ever ramble about Durge when he's regressed without durge there and he feels comfortable enough? Since durge is pretty much his favorite person. Also I just really like the idea of him rambling about durge to the banites that he knew in the House of Hope, since I imagine they would probably be one of the few people other than durge that he'd feel that comfortable with while regressed.

Maybe at first a few of those banites had doubts about letting durge watch over him when he's regressed since durge is not only bhaalspawn, but is also Bhaal's chosen. But then they hear and see how happy Gortash is while even just talking about durge and they hear about how caring durge seems to be towards him.(And maybe they see durge in an entirely new light, since they've basically gotten a peek at the softer side of them. Durge is likely either seen as a complete mystery or this larger than life religious figure who's bhaal and his will incarnate, so it probably would also be pretty surprising to find out that they're secretly this amazing maternal figure to Gortash when he's regressed)

Maybe they also even watch him and durge interact, and see how he excitedly runs to hug durge and how durge immediately picks him up and makes sure that he's okay. And they realize that durge is one of the best people to have around regressed Gortash and that they don't have to worry at all as long as durge is with him

anon im so sorry for not reading this sooner you are so smart for this fr 🙏

I LOVE the idea that those few Banites are actually worried for him, acting like his concerned parents, until they hear little Gortash ramble on and on about his and Durge's fun trips, the gifts they got him, all the games they played together, and he just seems. so content and happy. Especially when they watch them interact, their black hearts melt cause Durge is so so careful and watchful of him, but also dotes on him like a mother would so they don't have to worry about him anymore.

finally gort is building actual relationships, good for him <3

[corpsentry]

recent stories i have read or watched or vored sexily

1. so yesterday i was on page 139 of gideon the ninth and today i finished it. i did nothing until i finished it. i physically could not stop. i mean i should have known it from the moment it had the most epic characters page of all the houses and each house had cool as balls names like Hope Of The Emperor and Wisdom Of The Emperor and Rose Unblossomed or however that one goes but holy mother of god…………. they did not lie this book went hard as fuck. i was reminded of something and i’m going to reblog it shortly so you can read it but i saw a tumblr post that was talking about dungeon meshi’s character designs versus genshin impact’s and another where an author was like ok but where’s the gross part?? where’s the pathetic in the characters??? and gideon the ninth does this so well. god, gideon and harrow are trying to beat each other into the ground for the better part of the book but then you get this insane 180 flip and they’re in a POOL and mein gotte when harrow said i am undone without you my eyes cried Just A Little. i forget, i think, sometimes, that people are most beautiful when they are wretched and clumsy and honest. i think this particularly because i’ve been on a hetero chinese language dramas and movies binge lately and i turned off the part of my brain that revels in messy honest art and let the part that wants to stare at bailu for 30 hours stare at bailu for 30 hours. but maybe it is time to stop watching things only to look at beautiful women (who are, admittedly, very fucking beautiful). maybe it is time to GO TO THE FUCKASS FARAWAY LIBRARY TOMORROW TO BORROW HARROW THE NINTH. what da hell. the world building in this novel is motherfucking exquisite. you have to work so goddamn hard to make a line like Emperor the Necromancer Divine God Salvation The Resurrection with a bunch of little semicolons in between work but it works, it works because it’s cool, it’s cool because it’s grimey and gross and funny, i would do astounding things for all of these people (except silas, who can get fucked). and gideon is such a spectacular narrator, to be introduced to this world through her eyes is an honor and a gift, and harrow….. HARROWWWWWWW AOUUUUUUUU YAUUUUUUUUUUUU i’m obsessed. it’s over. i am officially down horrendous

2. now i’m gonna talk to you guys about amidst a snowstorm of love 在暴雪时分. my mom keeps being like so are you done with the helsinki drama yet and i have to keep being like no because There Is No Drama but anyway ok i started it because wulei…….. and now i am Bereft and Despaired fr that they put wulei in this when man has so much more to him. listen up my guys. i have never seen or read or heard or played a story that has so little….. story. it is remarkably, devastatingly substanceless. it is like watching a 3 hour chill lofi playlist. every once in a while the dog in the animated background runs around the armchair. the fire crackles through the same 5 frames. otherwise— nothing. i’m honestly amazed that they managed to do this, this, this is Not what slice of life is. this is also not what straight romance is??? i am a longtime purveyor of the hetero romance arts and this is hetero romance sans all of the misunderstandings and miscommunications that generate teary breakdowns and mismanaged fights. there is literally no conflict which can be fine except there isn’t even, like, admiration for the small things in life or familial love or friendship which Does Not A Story Make. now i don’t say this lightly as i am a strong believer that if the plot only advances because the cast is too fucking stupid to talk to each other then it’s a shit plot but for the first time in my life i wish there Would be a petty misunderstanding so we could at least see a fraction of the characters’ personalities. now see the Premise is that the protagonist goes to finland to participate in a 9-ball competition and pulls the brooding grad student she meets there back into the world of billiards or whatever but the 9-ball is just a vehicle in the purest sense for the romance. she will be like i practice now and then go practice and then wulei shows up with coffee and that’s it, the 9-ball table was there so wulei could lean on it and look hot in 4 shots. i’m genuinely astounded. nothing fucking HAPPENS in this drama. literally i will sit through an entire episode and it’s just like, zhao lusi wants coffee…., there is coffee…., romantic moments (6-7) insert song (2-3) close up slow mo gazing (399999). seriously i would commit unspeakable crimes for wulei but even i cannot watch this drama straight without falling asleep. it is the emptiest thing i have ever seen and it is so spectacularly committed to this absolutely void of writing. also wulei’s character is dirt poor but he spends all his money on taking zhao jinmai to expensive ass fuck restaurants and then gets sick from overwork and no one TALKS about it. it’s not even a decent straight romance because there is no communication or anything remotely interesting happening in the relationship. it’s not a drama, mein gott, it’s a medley of cute heartwarming moments between two very beautiful and very talented actors who have been kidnapped and locked in a snowy nightmare where all they can do is smile at each other shyly and sometimes hold hands. crazy…………….. wasted potential for my babygirls………. (bereft)

3. watched episode 2 of oh no here comes trouble不良执念清除师 i cannot get over the fact that pu yiyong draws digital art. it’s just so lovely a detail. the first time they showed his drawing tablet and the tablet pen i was like WOAA…. HES JUST LIKE ME FR i mean he’s just like me fr he has a goofy little mullet and he talks back like it’s his 9-5 it’s brilliant. this is excellent representation for brooding angsty teens who also like to draw with clip studio paint. Possibly watching this at 2 am was a mistake as i am prone to nightmares about godless things but it’s such a fun drama and it handles tonal shifts with a clarity that i rarely see in tv….. also pu yiyong’s actor is just great. i mean god, he has eyebrows and they’re mad at you. good for him. slay

4. we’re on episode, i dunno, 23 of the double墨雨云间 now i think and it’s great but it’s true, especially after binging 80% of gideon the ninth in one day that much like how genshin impact’s character designs are designed to be attractive to as many people as possible, the double’s characters are meant to be perfect and attentive to the maximum number of people. the catharsis of seeing the protagonist triumph over the evil conspiring antagonist is only cathartic so many times, and i think im running up against the ceiling of that catharsis. we know fangfei’s brilliant and we know xiaoheng won’t let anything happen to her so it just becomes 5d chess between the morally black and white chess players, it becomes watching schemes unfold and collapse like origami boats, over and over again. they don’t sink because there isn’t any water. they’re beautiful but they can’t bear weight. and after spending too much time in these homes, in the chinese dramas hole or the kpop gorilla groups hole or the mainstream shounen hole i have to punch myself in the dick and be like ok now you are re entering the world as a person amongst other people, because it gives you tunnel vision! they’re all conventionally attractive queens with snatched waists and perfectly managed profiles, variety show personalities but you see i remembered that I Want Harrowhark Nonagesimus. i want the grit and the dirt and the morning sunlight all at once. what i mean is i will be borrowing harrow the ninth from the public library tomorrow if it means i have to take a train 2 hours out to fuckass nowhere to get it. what i mean is i am going back into the game and i am going 2 Win

[mothermushroomrat]

I'ma be talking about my irl crush ALLOT so here's some lil info's abt us ig :p

AAAAHHH MY CRUSH IS SO CUTE

we'll just call him midevil knight.... MK for short.

Bc his name is often a name people first think of when they think renascence, midevil, yk knight that guards a castle but not quite the one that rescues the princess. Like... His co worker or something 💀

Sooo he's a lil less than a year older than me, has the same B day as my lil siblings, (8yo girl boy twins) he ALWAYS wears hunting camo. I've literally only seen him in something different twice, in the 4-5 years I've known him. He loves hunting, knives, guns, fishing, hiking, yk. Typical outdoorsy kinda guy. BUT he's super fucking shy and cute ^^ I'm quite a bit of a "tomboy" and I really enjoy those things too so we'd get along pretty well:3

If I had to discribe him as a trope, it'd be gentle giant bc he's tall ASF, deep ahh voice, wears knives all the time, LOOKS INTIMIDATING TO STRANGERS but is super shy, sweet, gentle, cute, anxious, and AAHH I could go on forever <3

ANYWAY

Hes the 6th oldest kid out of 9, oldest boy, I'm besties w his younger sister who's very close to him in age, and his sister thats directly above him in age.

I do 4H with him and go to youth group with him and we are both homeschooled :p

We both play video games and have very similar hobbies and interests ^^

He's got such cute habits too ^^

He always looking at the ground, hands in his pockets, mumbling when he talks to me, pacing around, zoning out while staring at me, subconsciously following me, glancing/staring at me, trying to impress me in small ways, looking at me when he laughs at something or makes a joke, smiling and giggling at me when I get hyper and crazy.... I love him so much:3

And he even looks good to boot >////<

Brown fluffy hair, pretty eyes that make me blush like crazy, cute smile, very cuddleable looking, (either that or I'm just a touch starved bitch) I'm the type who likes guys who are bigger than me but not fat or super muscular *cough cough* all might *cough* I also like scrawny fucking skeleton ass bitches XD it just seems like if he hugged me I'd just be able to melt into him and never let go. HE'S SUPER FUCKING STRONG THOUGH LIKE WHAT?? He's got a pretty normal build for our age (little bigger but not in a fat or muscular way just proportionately bigger ig) but he's like super strong somehow? Idk

PLUS his voice is so... ARGHH idk it's just so amazing and I love it -w- I'm a huge voice person ngl UwU

NOT IN A KINKY WAY

Not a voice KINK I just personally like a nice sounding voice ok 😭

It's just sooo relaxing to listen to when he does speak ^w^ (which is rare but still) I love him so much!!!! >w<

And I cannot say this enough

HE'S SO FUCKING CUTE I CAN'T HANDLE IT OR PUT IT INTO WORDSSS AAAAAHH!!!

Its hard to find someone as perfect for you as he is for me and I'm so happy just to know him!!! ^^

anywayss... This is prob it fr now. I'll talk about him allot on here so you'll find more out later XD

Uhhh please send anons w questions Abt him and I bc I am absolutely obsessed and I need to rant about how amazing he is!! ^^

Won't answer anything that invades his privacy a whole lot. If ur unsure on your question just ask anyway I'll prob find a way to answer if you're polite about it :3

[residentraccoon]

Ok we have all the songs, time to make a top, with comments even 😳

1. Norway - I love love love this one, this eerie, thrilling melody mixed with the medieval theme and old norwegian language just makes this song perfect and no other song of this year can come any closer to it. Very unique, true to their homeland, absolute masterpiece. I'm definitely following more of Gåte's discography from now on!

2. Estonia - Well they're singing about drugs here and this song is exactly like a drug - addictive. What sells it is their awesome, slightly batshit crazy energy (I absolutely love it) and let's not forget the traditional instruments. I can see a Trenulețul scenario with this one tbh.

3. Slovenia - Absolutely magical, the structure of this song is pretty uncommon and the lil RRAH sounds are interesting, love how it takes a while to build-up and I just get chills all over. This one is a piece of art.

4. San Marino - This song is destroying my Spotify wrapped and it's not even funny, there's something about this one that makes it instantly addictive. I've listened to Megara since last year when they were at Spain's NF with Arcadia and all I can say is that I love their style. Sassy pink and punk rock with a touch of Spanish traditional sounds during the bridge, they just mesh together so well. I don't understand why it's so underrated (currently last in the odds lmfao) and I'm looking forward to their live performance.

5. Denmark - Generic pop song my beloved, why is it so catchy though? I've said it in a previous post, I just reminds me of songs I'd hear in 2013 or so and I love the "Oh-Oh" parts. Lovely

6. Lithuania - The beat hits, it's just awesome fr. Lovely staging and colors, Lithuanian sounds so pretty and melodic as well as his voice.

7. Belgium - Wonderful build-up, the song at first sounds very chill and gives me Blanche vibes (I looked it up and they have the same composer so not surprised lmao) but man, the climax is greaaaaat!! Especially with that choir in the backing. My only gripe would be that he keeps repeating the title over and over again, which can become a bit tiring. But just a bit. It's still a great song!

8. Switzerland - I don't know whose idea was to mix opera and drum n bass together but they're a genius, this is really cool, like absolutely nuts. I love how the bridge is very soft and quiet, opposing the loud and dramatic chorus, I feel like the song itself is pretty messy and inconsistent but I really like that, it's very out of the box and innovative. Genius entry.

9. Latvia - Underrated, I can see why it might fail to grab an audience in the fandom but I really like this one, especially his voice. The song flows nicely too, I only wish the staging would be a bit more...dynamic though? I really want Latvia to qualify for once, felt like it might have a chance since it could attract some casual viewers (some of my casual friend watchers really liked it!) but seeing how brutal semifinal 2 is (and one spot will be inevitably taken by...yeah won't elaborate) I'm afraid Latvia's out for this year as well. I hope at least for a surprise or who knows. That's only how I feel at this moment.

10. Spain - My biggest grower of this year and a total banger, I don't understand why it slaps so hard it has no business to, the message is SO real and it's so unapologetically sassy.

11. Czechia - Same story as with Latvia, underrated to hell and back, I know the live version is...a lil terrible but the studio one I really like. Love how you can feel the frustration through her shouty lyrics and how she's blaming herself for not loving herself more instead (also the beginning might or might not remind me of Aijā I mean the intro with the drums makes me think of it-) ANYWAY

12. Croatia - Listen I'm very happy for Croatia being seen as a most likely winner of this year, they deserve it, Baby Lasagna is an amazing man and the message is on point, even if it's not exactly my favorite I definitely root for him!! Please meow back if you agree. Besides this, the glam ethno rock sound is just 👌 chef's kiss

13. Armenia - Love love love that they brought something ethnic!! The girl's energy is infectious and she's such a joy to watch, the music video is very pretty and describes their culture so well, overall I adore this.

14. Netherlands - GREAT I relistened to it so I can rank it and now I have Europapapapapapa stuck in my head how wonderful. This tells me already that this is such an infectious bop that will never leave your head. Possible televote winner, love the quirkiness and Joost is really goofy we stan.

15. Greece - Welcome to Greece, everyone who visits the country is obligated to listen to this the moment they step out of the plane- /j It's so Greek, so fun, so ethnic, geez what's happening with everyone being so diverse and true to their culture this year? This song screams summer vacation in Greece and I'm here for it.

16. France - The raw emotions in this...he sings with his heart and soul, his voice is very deep and gruff which feels a bit unusual to hear such an intimate and emotional ballad from him, but this is what makes the song special.

17. Italy - Love her attitude and how she sells the song, it's very sassy and fun, won't be surprised to see Italy get yet another Top 5 finish with this.

18. Ukraine - Interesting mix of melancholic pop and energetic chanting and rap. Alyona just nails the rap part perfectly. Overall nice song, grew off me but still great.

19. Ireland - This makes me have chills all over my body. It's very haunting and suspenseful, I love the uncommon unique sound and how they recite the lyrics as they are a poem/creating a curse, I simply love how avant-garde Ireland are this year! Finally they're taking a risk and even if the song is unconventional i hope it will have a following that will help them get through the semi! 🤞

20. Poland - Oh look another grower, it's such a cute song for some reason and her voice is so pleasant to the ears.

21. Serbia - At first I thought it's a bit boring but now I find myself mumbling "Lila Ramondaaaa", like it has a hook even if it's a melancholic ballad.

22. Portugal - The emotions in this are immaculate, she conveys all her struggles in life so well into a ballad that's somewhat soft-sounding. Epic.

23. Australia - For some reason this song takes me back to 2015-2016 and I don't get why?? Maybe I heard music that's similar to this in that period, who knows. That chorus slaps immensely, as well as the didgeridoo(I hope that's the instrument), but I'm not extremely head over heels about it. It's enjoyable still!

24. Malta - Contrary to popular belief I enjoyed the revamp, she made it easier to sing live and it just has more oomph, good job, Malta.

25. Finland - The whole 3 minutes are absolutely batshit insane and I love it fr, these dudes are a delight to watch. The song tbh I like it but not that much to rank it higher, but I appreciate the craziness, the message, what sells it is definitely the staging and the guys' stage persona.

26. Austria - Mmmmm I know it's a fan favorite but I'm not a big fan of this, like I've said before in some other posts. The hype at first was highly irritating (especially on twitter, dear god 💀) for such a...just okay/good song? First of all I appreciate the throwback to the late 90s/early 00s eurodance/synthpop music that was popular back then, I think it does a great job imitating the vibes of it, but at the same time is it just me or this song feels so...calculated and has this eurovision-specific formula in its structure/sound? It was definitely made for it being performed live and to pander to the yass queen slay ate and left no crumbs-side of the fandom? Which honestly kinda drags it down a lot for me.

27. Sweden - I can't unhear parts of Air in this, well actually that's their style, neat electro pop tbh, I can bop to this, pretty enjoyable.

28. Moldova - Falls flat but what makes it a bit stronger is the vocalisations in the chorus, as well as the lil ethnic sounds. That drum is also quite catchy. They have to pull out a wonder-staging for this to qualify.

29. Georgia - If Georgia isn't qualifying with this one then that means their only hope is borrowing Loreen at this point. It's a competent girl bop with powerful vocals, that has a dedicated following, but I appreciate that even if it's a girl bop it's not so aggressively in your face like...other examples I've seen before. I'm personally not big on it, but it's nice.

30. Azerbaijan - Oh? Azerbaijan sends something in their language, what is this 2050? And not with a melfest reject? For the 2nd year in a row? I'm very impressed, but even with all these I don't feel that attached to the song, just glad they took a risk instead of renting a swede for safe qualification like they did in the past years. I love the ethnic touches though.

31. Luxembourg - Cute and peppy french bop, although a bit generic and that's about it, no strong feelings.

32. Cyprus - Mmm your regular girlie pop of the year, unsurprisingly from Cyprus as well. Pretty catchy, has a cool vibe but I'm not feeling anything about it.

33. United Kingdom - Just a competent mid-tempo boy bop, honestly nothing much to say since it kinda failed to impress me. Good effort though.

34. Albania - I don't get why they changed it into english, why they turned it more upbeat (I liked the balladier version more) and the rap part feels disjointed. Albania wanted to relive their 2016-2017 era I see.

35. Germany - I'm sorry but this song bores me to death and can't listen to it without zoning out which is a shame because he's a competent singer (his voice is the best thing about Germany this year) and I'm afraid they're again heading for a bottom 3 finish 💀

36. Iceland - Mmm this isn't is, Iceland. Very sorry. Sounds like it would get 13th in 2004, it's a very by-the-letters eurodance.

I will not rank Israel here. It's still mind-boggling that they're still allowed to participate.

[an-abyss-of-stars]

He saw her at daybreak - Part 6

Summary: Rhaena is now five if not six moons along with her pregnancy and she's beginning to feel the weight of it all. She's hungry all of the time, she's craving odd things, she's irritable and easily upset, incredibly horny and Aemond has begun to become a touch too overprotective…

Warnings: SMUTTTT SMUTTY SMUT! This series is explicit fr tho.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3.1 | Part 3.2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Ao3

Tag list: @minim236 , @bohemian-nights , @neocil , @nettysnest , @avidreader73 , @jordanjanellejoyy , @azaleapotterblack , @yourlittlehoe , @partypoison00 , (feel free to tell me if you want to be on the taglist or not)

P.S. I have returned!!! (Yet again!! I'm so sorry!!)

This is the "world-building" chapter, and I want to say that's why this took so long for me to finish/post it. But I'm also going to blame the next upcoming chapter for that! LMAO look out everyone, I've finished writing ch.7 and it's literally 30k in length, fucking hell.

But for now, enjoy this cute little "day in the life of preggo Rhaena" chapter!!

-

☾

THREE MOONS LATER 

It was a grey rainy morning, but it was there that Rhaena found herself tucked safely in Aemond's tight heated embrace. With her back pressed against his warm solid chest, his firm strong arms wrapped around her with his large hands splayed across her now rounded belly. How he managed to keep such a protective hold over her even while he was soundly asleep would never cease to amaze her. 

It was in this protective hold, where she felt the most at home. Always relishing in his closeness, the strong security he always provided for her. Especially now that Rhaena was five…if not six moons along, her belly had grown immensely in that time and several other things had changed as well. 

Three moons ago, Rhaena and her husband were officially crowned the Princess and Prince of Dragonstone . 

They were given a true ceremony, where the whole of their family was present, as well as an audience of all the noble Lords and Ladies of the realm. With Rhaena's mother, Rhaenyra, sitting upon the Iron Throne. Rhaena's father, Daemon had stood steadfast by her side as he always did. Both Rhaena and Aemond had knelt before them, before the Queen of the seven kingdoms. And Rhaena was happy to do so of course, but she'd known then that it still must've been an odd position for Aemond to willingly submit himself to. 

Though he'd made his choice long ago, the night he chose Rhaena to be his bride…was the night he solidified the side he wished to be on. And so on that day, he knelt before his eldest sister, his Queen, right alongside Rhaena, his wife. 

There Queen Rhaenyra spoke grandly, letting the spoken vow be known to all, before Aemond repeated the words as did Rhaena herself after him. 

Once they had, Aemond had been presented with the legendary Blood Moon , the Valyrian steel sword that once belonged to Daenys the Dreamer . It was an impressive long sword, the black blade held a dark reddish glint seen only in the moonlight or sunlight, it had razored ridges all along the sides down to the tip. While down the center of the blade lay shimmering engraved Valryian runes that read: Valyria may burn, yet, the blood of the Dragon shall walk through the flames . The hilt was curved and crafted like the wing of a dragon, gold and steel, the handle was black leather bound. And finally, there was one rounded ruby embedded dead center on the hilt, surrounded by a row of obsidian gems. 

Truly a blade made for her beloved dragon. 

It was just as dark and gleaming as he was, if not a tad overly jewelled for his liking, but either or, Rhaena knew Aemond would come to love the blade no matter what. She couldn't help the small smile that graced her lips then, the look on Aemond's face had been priceless. The pure awe that shone in his eye and on his face entirely, she knew it meant the world to him to finally be in possession of such a blessed and historical Targaryen artifact. Much more than that, he finally had a true Targaryen sword , a real Valyrian steel blade that had been passed down from ancestor to ancestor. 

That day had meant so much to him. 

Just as well, it made her heart soar to witness it with him. 

After he was handed his sword, Rhaenyra had slowly placed a crown upon Rhaena's head. Rhaena had recognized it immediately, from the deep dark pure red rubies which encrusted the golden crown along its spiked edges to the dotting shards of the purest obsidian which graced the peaks of the crown. It was archaic and ruthless in its beauty, sharpened like the fangs of a dragon, but graceful in its sway as it was made for a Queen . This was the crown of the great Conquering Queen Rhaenys . 

Yet another incredibly prized symbol of the House of the Dragon.   

With the fondest look on Rhaenyra's face, Rhaena had felt her mother's warm pride wash over her. And with a glance to her father, she could see a very similar look on his face as well. 

In part, she liked to believe her birth mother, her true muña , Lady Laena, was looking down on her with pride as well. For while she knew her mother spent the rest of her eternity flying amongst the ancestors in Balerion’s beautiful fated realm…it still only felt right to imagine that she was allowed to bear witness to the important things in her life. Such as her Valyrian wedding and now this ceremony…and soon enough, Rhaena hoped her muña would bear witness to the birth of her first child.

In the end, once the vows and blessings were bestowed, both Rhaena and Aemond were told to rise, proclaiming to the audience of nobles and family alike, that Prince Aemond Targaryen had now become the Prince Of Dragonstone and that Princess Rhaena Targaryen had now become the Princess Of Dragonstone . Sworn to the crown, sworn to Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen and King Daemon Targaryen, rulers and protectors of the Seven Kingdoms and the realm.

They now guarded and Lorded over the ancestral home of House Targaryen. They held authority over the keeping of the legendary Valyrian military post known as Hell's Edge , home to specially trained warriors subservient to the crown known as the Hell's Legion . 

They would also rule over the two ancient towns that rested on the island's lower region. The bustling port town, Dracaena and the quiet farming village, Tegun Skrykos.

They'd be the main ruling authority over hearings and petitions made by the towns’ common folk, small isle folk and the complaints of minor Lords of lesser importance, even major Lords with complaints that could be handled without meeting with the Queen herself. Depending on the severity of criminal cases, and attacks on the crown, they'd also have the authority to commit executions and or pardons. 

A part of the job Rhaena knew her husband would relish for certain…the execution part of things at least. 

And now that they were three moons into their position, Rhaena could say with certainty, Aemond most certainly loved a good execution. 

Any execution really, but that was besides the point. 

Dragonstone was a functioning castle and court once again. And while Aemond might bask in his new found authority here, Rhaena basked in ruling over the court here. 

But in the mornings, she mainly let herself melt into the warmth her husband provided for her. Still tangled up together in one another's arms and overall coziness, the previous night had been an eventful one. If Rhaena ever doubted that her husband would find her just as appealing as he had previously…compared to now, as she grew rounder with his child…well all such doubts evaporated day by day. 

If anything, Rhaena dared to think his arousal for her had only increased ever since her belly had begun to grow larger. 

She knew for certain that her own needs had increased tenfold. If she felt ravenous for him before, she found herself even more starved for him. Just yesterday alone she'd pulled Aemond into several partially secluded alcoves, obscure archways in the depths of the gardens, Gods she'd even managed to pounce on him in-between scheduled hearings. All solely to satisfy her ever growing needs, her body ached for satisfaction during the days, and she knew her dragon was the only one who could deliver such pleasure to her.

And he did, happily so. 

It never took anything more than a look, a curve of her lips, something in her eyes must've told him what she needed. And he was always ready to oblige her. 

This morning had been no different. 

It was pouring outside, harsh and windy, the droplets battering against the windows of their chambers. The greyish light of the early dawn had already begun to bleed into their rooms, faintly illuminating the surfaces, creating a slightly gloomy if not still cozy, hazy ambiance. 

Soft as she could, Rhaena tried to turn herself around without jolting her husband awake. 

Yes, she craved his love and attention at this very moment, but she still had her sense about her. She wanted to wake him gradually, she knew he was a very light sleeper, and the slightest touch could and most likely would wake him. But whenever she could, she still liked to see him in the mornings. Aemond never looked as blissful as he did when he was fast asleep. He'd say he was at his most vulnerable whenever he wasn't wearing his sapphire, but Rhaena would say he seemed far more vulnerable when he was relaxed and resting. 

Slowly, she tried …

"Mmm...are you trying to escape me, zaldrītsos ," little dragon , his voice rasped in a low sleepy grumble as his hold around her tightened. 

Her dragon was clearly an incredibly light sleeper, she'd barely nudged him and he'd awoken, she would've never succeeded in turning over completely to face him.

Smiling softly, Rhaena tried to glance back at him, but he was only snuggling himself closer to her, breathing lightly her voice lilted, "of course not, my love. I was only going to turn over," her own voice was still a tad bit groggier than she'd thought it'd be. 

"What for," Aemond hummed as his lips softly trailed a heated path along her neck, his hands caressing her stomach lovingly so. Slipping up to tenderly hold and squeeze her swelling breasts, they were slightly tender but Rhaena couldn't deny the sensation his hands gave her. She was also quite sure she could feel the great length of his extremely hard cock pressing against her plush bottom, making it rather obvious what he was after this morning. 

Thank the Gods, for she was desperate for it as well. 

Reaching her hand back behind herself, she carded her fingers through his silky hair, closing her eyes as she melted into his affectionate hold, "because...you look so peaceful when you're asleep, and I just wished to see your face," truly his face looked beautiful and rather adorable when he was asleep, but she'd never be able to tell him that so boldly…at least not at this moment. So she simply bit back a smile, noticing how he stilled against her for only a moment. 

She'd caught him off guard yet again...small moments Rhaena had found she truly relished. 

Though it did not last long, soon enough he was growling against her, his large hands sliding down from her breasts over her curves and down to her hips. Causing soft mewls to fall from her lips as he began to lightly grind his hips against her bottom, a wordless prodding question, his body already clearly begging for her to give into him. 

Rhaena wouldn't bother fighting against it; she wanted what he was offering. Though she supposed sometimes she liked to let him think it was his idea initially. 

Each warm kiss he peppered along her neck then shoulder just made her body shiver with the burning desire for him to enter her. 

"Mmmm Aemond, surely you don't plan to tease me so early," the words had slipped in a half moan half groan, her hand slipping from his hair and moving along his jaw. She felt the moment his clenching jaw softened at her touch, how he slipped a kiss to the palm of her hand as he pulled his hips back enough to guide his tip towards her entrance. 

Just like she wanted. 

Thankfully no begging was needed.  

Though Rhaena could wager Aemond wouldn't possess any such willpower when he'd only just awoken as she had. His primal urge would win, and thank the Gods because her own primal urges wanted him desperately. 

As the cool morning light bathed their room, he slowly thrusted into her from behind, deep and perfectly placed. Rhaena's teeth were still biting into her lower lip when the sweet sensation of his thick cock pulsed within her, coaxing a breathy moan to force its way from her throat. 

Gods, he felt so good, all thick and lengthy, stretching her already soaked cunt so perfectly. 

There might have been words she wanted to say but her mind was melting too much by the second. 

Paired with the searing feeling of his teeth grazing and biting her neck, he licked and kissed the areas making semi-permanent marks for his possessive enjoyment. And she loved every second of it, but the calming pace at which he thrusted into her was driving her mad. Her legs were squirming and itching to kick as her hips rocked in sync with his. 

All the while she only felt Aemond's lips spread into a knowing smirk against her neck, "so impatient, my sweet little wife," he chuckled against her skin. As one of his hands slipped under neck, reaching around her, sliding between her breasts and clutching one of them. Holding her flush against him as his other hand slid up and over her hip, then down between her thighs and towards her wet center. 

She knew what he was going to do before he did it, the moment his index and middle finger began rubbing crucial circles against her clit was the moment Rhaena's entire body began to hum and tingle. She was sobbing sweet moans every time his thrusts moved in sync with the friction his fingers caused her. Rhaena's hands were desperate to find some sort of purchase, one hand gripping onto his elbow as the other slid behind her and gripped onto his hip, her nails biting into his skin making him groan lowly right by her ear. 

"Dōna byka ābrazȳrys...ōregon ñuha riña isse aōha iemny," sweet little wife...carrying my child in your belly , his warm breath trailed along her skin, his voice sounded like smooth silk, "gūrogon ñuha orvorta sīr sȳrī...rual nyke naejot leghagon ao...qogralbar aōha ȳrda byka orvorta...mirre ñuhon," taking my cock so well...allowing me to fill you...fuck your tight little cunt...all mine. 

It wouldn't have mattered what language he said those words in, but the added fact that he'd chosen High Valyrian made her body feel like it was prime to blow, spontaneous combustion felt imminent. Rhaena couldn't manage anything beyond moaning his name, each lick of his cock only made her hips rock faster, her slurring moans begged him to fuck her with more intensity.

And thank the Gods he did.

Rhaena was trapped in a haze, early morning couplings always felt like the sweetest of dreams. As if she was in a daze yet somehow still wide awake, her mind was clouded with the overwhelming level of immense pleasure she was experiencing but even still her dragon's blood felt like it was calling to his. The ravenous beast that only he could unleash within her. His words only spurred her on, his praise always made her feel so complete, so wanted. 

Within the momentum, Aemond had managed to prop himself up on his elbow, leaving enough room for Rhaena to back just enough to see him leaning over her. Just as she always thought, he always looked like absolute perfection in the mornings. A glistening Valyrian God of Old, his long pale hair seemed to shimmer even more in the muted grey light of this morning. His indigo eye was a vibrant thing of beauty, while seeing his vacant socket gave her body an added surge of heat. Such sculpted cheekbones and full inviting lips…it was instinctual, her need to reach for his chin, to pull his lips down to meet her own. Her need to taste him most fervently, to breathe him in, to feel him with all of her senses as he continued to ram his cock into her.

When that all encompassing spark finally ran through her, her pleasure bursting over the horizon nearly in time with his. Rhaena felt herself slumping back, collapsing back against their bed in a sea of bliss of burning satisfaction. All the while, Aemond lowered himself back down, scooping her back up into his arms as he sweetly whispered her name, his teeth grazing her neck as his fingers circled her sensitive little bud in time with her moans. He rode her orgasm just as his came through for him, spilling his heated seed comfortably into her. 

He'd moaned her name with such a divine rasping baritone.

"Mmmm, I think this is proving to be a very good morning already," Rhaena sighed contentedly, quivering slightly as she felt Aemond's cock still twitch within her. She'd since let her hand reach back into his hair, caressing the unruly strands away from face as his arms tightened around her once more. 

With a low hum, he nodded against her neck, whispering back, "a perfect morning," allowing her body to turn just slightly towards him, while he stayed within her. Enough for her to turn her head just enough to reach his lips once again, capturing them completely, roving her tongue possessively over his. 

She'd wanted to taste him from the moment she'd woken herself this morning, and now she was truly soaking it in, and it made her feel whole again. 

Pulling back just a bit, Rhaena let her lips brush along his, smiling as his lips chased hers, "sadly, we can't lay here all morning-" 

He'd caught her lips before she could finish her sentence, his hand sliding between her legs once again, toying with her clit just enough to draw soft moans. He'd swallowed the sounds happily, smirking against her lips, "and why can't we. We, Lord over this castle now, I don't think anyone would dare interrupt us, especially not a Princely Lord spending time with his pregnant Princess of a wife. I'm in no mood to move now and I don't want you to move from this spot either." 

The sentiment was endearing, but if Rhaena knew Dragonstone and she did, there was far too much to do, far too many tasks to leave unattended. Surely there were several petitions to hear from, hearings to sit through, ceremonies to bless, livestock to bless and or reimburse…Sheepstealer was always causing some sort of trouble. 

As far as she knew it, her husband shouldn't have been too bogged down with duties today.  

But she'd have to double check with their Wardeness, Aelaera, as she kept a daily schedule, account, and management of their, well more specifically Rhaena's, full activities and duties. In the case of Aemond, Maester Varion, the current Head Maester of Dragonstone as Maester Gerardys had been appointed to King's Landing to serve the crown truly. In his stead here, Maester Varion was just as qualified and capable, and took to his new position seamlessly. He kept his logs and accounts, scheduling efficiently of every duty Aemond was to complete daily. 

Both Maester Varion and Wardeness Aelaera would usually brief Aemond and Rhaena in the mornings either before or after breakfast, and then the two would go off to do their duties.

Rhaena felt that after three moons of working together in these daily tasks that kept this castle and this island as a whole running properly…she dared to say they were doing a wonderful job. Her mother and father wrote to them constantly, mostly addressed to Rhaena, but Aemond was always mentioned heavily in those missives. And while some of the courtiers and town folk found Aemond to be a frightening Lording Prince, they did find him to be dutiful and proficient. As well as their growing adoration for Princess Rhaena herself, those parts of the missives never truly surprised her, as she'd only continued to do what she'd always done.

Treat people kindly and listen intently to their issues no matter how large or small they may seem. 

And it seemed the people appreciated that. 

But for the moment, Rhaena wasn't exactly against allowing her husband to lavish her in their bed this morning. The attention felt lovely, and so she'd happily soak it all in. 

The grey morning light made telling the specific time of morning rather indiscernible, it was something about the way the hard island rain rattled against the glass of the windows and stone walls of the castle. The sound was both calming and numbing, it only made one wish to waste the day away even more. 

"All of this love and attention so early in the morning, is it solely for me or it is because of the babe in my belly," Rhaena teased as his lips trailed heat along her jaw, kissing her favoured spots purposely as he slowly pulled his cock from her. Allowing her to lay flat on her back as he lay on his side, leaning over her just slightly. 

Aemond's deep Indigo eye cut through her so hypnotically, she might have nearly missed the way his jaw had tightened at her jest, "ñuha prūmia," my heart , his low voice stilled her jesting mood almost instantly. As his hand warmly caressed the growing curve of her belly, slowing and holding her possessively there, "my love and attention is made for both of you."

Rhaena felt her throat run dry for just a moment, swallowing thickly as she let the incredibly sultry tone in his voice float through her. It shouldn't have been this easy for her to find herself so aroused all over again. 

Slowly she slipped hand up to caress his scarred cheek, gazing comfortably into his vacant socket, as his sapphire was left on her bedside table. She sighed a sweet contented smile, her thumb tracing his scar with fine familiarity before she allowed her fingers to dip through his incredibly soft hair in her own possessive gesture. 

God's, mornings like these…Rhaena was certain life had never felt so perfect. 

Well…aside from the babe inside of her pushing down on her bladder, making her desperately need to relieve herself suddenly. 

Thankfully it seemed he could tell from the shifting blissful look on her face that now sunk into pure discomfort, he removed his hand from her stomach and instead cupped her cheek. He drew her in, softly pressing his lips to her forehead, "I see our child has decided to spoil our mood once again," she could hear the smile in his tone.  

"Oh, my love. I'm incredibly close to changing my term of endearment for this babe," Rhaena grimaced as she dared to rub her belly gently, "our little one seems intent on souring my mood whenever possible, I'm nearly certain I'm growing a little gremlin," 

She hadn't intended on pouting then, but her lips had done the gesture all on their own. 

Making Aemond chuckle in earnest as he began to pull himself from her. She certainly mourned the loss of his heat, but she casually enjoyed the sight of her bare naked, toned dragon walking across their chambers. Happily watching as the muscles on his back stretched and flowed as he reached for a pair of breeches and the sleek way he bent over to pull them on. 

What a lovely thing it was to know that this being was all hers. 

And hers alone. 

Soon enough he made his way back to her, taking her hands and arms, as he gently helped her out of bed. As she stood against him, her hands slid from his hands, to his forearms, to his biceps, to finally landing sturdy on his shoulders. 

But GOD'S how she needed the toilets. 

She'd squeezed her eyes shut by then, wincing and whining as the pressure within her pressed harder against her bladder. 

Thank the Flames, her loving husband was here to help her waddle over, allowing her to lean all of her weight against him as he guided her to their bathing ensuite of their chambers. The moment she sat upon the marble stoned toilet fixture, Rhaena was sure there was no sweeter release than loosening the pent up pressure from her bladder.  

All the all while, Aemond only leaned against the door frame, watching her fondly with a knowing smile. 

Once she no longer felt as if she were primed to explode, Rhaena rolled her eyes and smiled back, "what is it now, my dragon?" 

"Oh nothing," he smirked, crossing his arms casually, "I only wonder if there will be any clues or signs as to whether our little gremlin is a boy or girl."  

Rhaena couldn't help but giggle at the sound of him using the humorous term she'd referred to their babe as just moments ago. 

"Boy or girl I couldn't be certain, but either way I'm beginning to think they have far too much of you in them already," she smiled, wiping herself clean with a soft clean cloth. She then pulled herself to her feet, washing her hands in the basin before Aemond helped her into one of her crimson red silk robes. 

Somewhere in-between he'd managed to steal a soft beaming kiss from her, grinning against her lips, "well surely you should have expected that, sweet girl." 

Rhaena wanted to bat him away, but her heart was swelling far too happily to let her complete the motion with any real force. Instead she'd end up looping her arms around his neck, leaning her forehead warmly against his. Breathing him in for a just moment before she sighed, "hmm, I suppose so. I also suppose you should summon my chambermaids and ladies maids, we do have to officially start the day." 

"If we must," he smirked, guiding her back to sit on the edge of her bed. 

Reluctantly, yes, it was indeed time to start the day. 

☾

Rhaena's days usually started the same way, similar to most, but there were variations. 

She supposed it usually depended on how Aemond's morning started. For the most part, she could count on her husband's tendency to rise early in the morning. He seemed to always rise with the sun, something Rhaena could never really be counted on to do on purpose. On days like those, he'd awaken early, slip from their bed and head down to the training yard. Intensively training his body, until his muscles burned from the strain, he was always aiming to improve his skills and his techniques. 

He'd explained it to her before. 

And while Rhaena could say that she somewhat understood what he'd meant...she did wonder why he felt it so necessary to work his body so brutally. They had their own guards now, ones they specifically chose themselves. They weren't Gold Cloaks or former King's guards or rejected Queen's guards. 

As was historically customary, Rhaena and Aemond had chosen several knights from the Hell's Legion themselves. The age-old military post that had been established by Aegon the Conqueror and his conquering sister wives Rhaenys and Visenya. To weaponize the land of Hell's Edge, inhabitable as their ancestors once thought it to be, it was the conquering Queen Visenya who saw its potential and fortified it into its full potential. Creating an army full of Valyrian soldiers who were subservient to the crown and to the true blood of the dragon, house Targaryen. 

Every initiate had to have a recognizable amount of Valryian blood within them to be welcomed, bastards and dragonseeds were all welcome to join this noble outpost, even certain Targaryen Princes of the past had chosen the noble right to serve this ancestral post. 

Every six months dozens of initiates were welcome, and for three months those initiates would be trained brutally. Extensively pushing their bodies to limit, testing their resolve, their loyalties, their integrity. Quests and tests of all varieties were tasked upon these initiates, any who died during these tests were deemed to not have been worthy to begin with...and any who survived only had one final test to pass to truly be welcomed into the fold.

The dragon test. 

The final initiates would be brought to the castle to be introduced to the ruling Prince of Dragonstone. There they would all stand before Prince's bonded mount, upon the sacred Dragon Mound. This was deemed a blessed ceremony of sorts, to stand before a Dragon Prince and his beast, there to be deemed worthy of entry or to be destroyed. The Prince would ask one thing of his dragon, to determine who was truly the blood of Old Valyria. If the dragon deemed them worthy, deemed their Valyrian blood to be enough, then the knight would survive...if not...the Prince would not stand in the way of allowing his mount to burn and devour the unworthy initiate. 

Hell's Edge could only accept the best of the best. For the Knights who passed this final test would be knighted truly by the Prince of Dragonstone, finally welcomed to the Legion. Those knights would then be given the rights to learn age-old techniques and magics, alchemy and healing. They'd be taught by surviving Maesters and scholars, within the posting, their libraries full of tomes and archives on all manner of specialized practices in those fields. With hidden  secrets and relics to defeat any creature, beast or otherwise

In all honesty it was fair to say a lot of what Rhaena had known of that place had been read in texts and scrolls, if not told to her and explained to her by her father. Daemon was a relic of Old Valyria himself in a sense, and it was not unsurprising to raise a question of any sort on the topic to her father, for he usually had the answer and knowledge on it. 

What she knew of the Legion, was what mattered most. 

They were ruthless and their loyalty could not and would not stray.

When a King or Queen of old declared war, they called upon that army, they would unleash the “Hell's Legion” as they themselves rode upon their dragons and reigned fire down upon their enemies. 

It was always the custom for both the ruling King and Queen to appoint their King's Guards from this legion. Rhaena’s uncle Viserys had not done so...and unfortunately he somewhat paid the price for hiring Knights who were not succinctly loyal to him and his family above all else. 

Rhaenyra had not made this mistake. Yes she kept Rhaena’s kepa's Gold Cloaks close, but she'd made sure to appoint her chosen Queen's Guards from the Hell's Legion as was always the custom to. 

Just as Rhaena and Aemond had here. 

A knight of the Hell's Legion was easy to spot, while not all of them carried the tell-tale Valryian pale hair or specifically varying purple or unnaturally bright blue eyes...it was always a variation of these features that graced these knights. Their armour was solid black, dragon-esque in its design, with engravings and ridges made and designed for close-range combat should a soldier ever lose their sword or weapon. They wore either solid black capes, for Dragonstone, or black capes that bled into deep Targaryen red at the tips as members of the Queen's Guard. 

Their center emblem is the three headed Targaryen Dragon, but the whole chest plate and armour is  welded and molded to look like the chest ridges of a dragon. 

While they all wielded dark blades, made from the volcanic rock of the Dragon Mount, and forged with the heat of the volcano. Very powerful and durably made steel, it was not quite Valyrian steel, for they are not forged with dragons' fire...but they were still superior to the average steel made elsewhere. 

They rode to war on armoured black horses, like a true legion from the depths of hell themselves. 

Was it any wonder they were one of, if not, the most feared army of all probably next to the truly formidable Dothraki hordes. 

Suffice to say, here in the Dragonstone castle, they had nearly fifty knights posted to serve and protect the grounds. With six personal Prince and Princess Guards who guarded Aemond and Rhaena...well mostly Rhaena, especially now in her pregnant state. 

If it was up to Aemond he wouldn't have any of the six personal knights guard him at all, initially he wanted all six just to guard Rhaena...a matter on which she was quite adamant that her husband was being a touch too over protective. She needed guarding, sure...she did not, however, need all of their guards to guard her though. 

She tried to reason that he should at least keep two with him throughout the days, especially when they were apart. 

He'd agreed in the beginning...and then he tried to narrow that number down to one. Though, most days, Rhaena managed to convince two to stay by side, leaving four guards to walk the grounds behind her during her daily tasks. 

The only time Aemond was everkeen to keep two knights with him was when he wished to train. He'd purposely face off against and train with either one, if not, more often now, two at once. If he was feeling bold he'd enlist a third or fourth knight to train with him. 

He never wanted them to hold back against him, he wanted their best, and if they bested him, that only meant that he'd spend the next day training even harder...and harder. 

The amount of mornings in which her husband would return to their chambers, return to her, all battered and bruised. It ached her greatly, but he always seemed the better for it. Energized and excitable, there was usually an equal chance that he'd most likely return to bed to take her eagerly or more calmly he'd summon a bath for them and bathe with her. 

In their bathing chambers here as the ruling Lords of this castle, their large tub was a stationary one, white and gold made of smoothed marble stones. 

Those baths were always Rhaena's favourite, leaning back against her dragon, allowing him to gently care for her. As, ever since her belly had started to show, he'd become increasingly more and more protective of her. Wanting to have her to himself as much as he possibly could, he barely wanted Rhaena's chosen chambermaids to attend to her some days. Bathing with her, so that he could hold her himself, he'd even learned of the method in which she used to wash and care for her curls just so he could do that for her as well. And Rhaena could admit, being lavished with such care by one's husband held a far sweeter flavour to her mornings then the usual methodical approach of one's chambermaids. 

But unfortunately, this wasn't that sort of morning. Aemond had opted to stay abed with her this morning, waking to her nice and slowly. That choice alone meant he'd have to alter his schedule to fit his training in afterwards, meaning...this would have to be one of those mornings where she bathed alone. 

It wasn't all bad, Rhaena had liked her chambermaids. In fact she liked the vast majority of her staff here, she'd been given such free range, to interview and appoint her own inner circle. From her chambermaids to her ladies maids, and even her four new companions, four specifically chosen Ladies-in-waiting. 

But everyday started with her chambermaids, three girls, Kiera, Allyria and Cass, who were from common if not impoverished backgrounds who were tasked with preparing Rhaena in her bathing chambers. 

Kiera, who was from the free city of Braavos, had arrived with her elder sister Myria for positions in a royal household. Escaping the lowly choices available to them there, they were hoping Westeros had more to offer them...and they were right. Kiera would be chosen as a chambermaid, as she already had experience in the area, while Myria had been positioned as a ladies maid, where her skills were suited better. 

They both had rich brown sepia-toned skin, dark brown eyes, and thick dark chocolatey brown curls that formed a more fro-like shape, like some of Rhaena's more Velaryon featured cousins. They looked quite alike, but Myria's face was indeed slightly slimmer, her cheekbones slightly more pronounced as well as the fact that she wore more piercings than her sister. A fashion the Free Cities seemed to appreciate. One above her left eyebrow, and several teal studs upon her ears. Kiera for her part, had slightly darker hair, and her face held a softer, rounder appearance. 

Allyria, was a bastard-born girl from the Riverlands. With pale peach-toned ivory skin, and soft facial features. Wavy reddish pale brown hair and pale blue eyes. Her mother had operated out of a whorehouse in Riverrun, and by all likelihood, she was probably a bastard child of either house Tully or house Greyjoy, but she could prove neither. And so, the majority of her life she'd spent on her back at the mercy of men, good or cruel, so long as they had good coin to pay her...to pay the whorehouse at large. It wasn't a life she thrived in, so she made her escape...heard of the crowning of Princess Rhaena of Dragonstone...and made it her mission to secure a position. As she had succeeded in doing. 

Finally, Cass, a lowborn daughter of the Vale. She had warm ivory skin, which contrasted greatly with her pin-straight dark brown, nearly black hair. Cut short to her neck, with thin veiled bangs, her face held sharper features. A pointed jaw and chin, but her cheeks and eyes were soft. Greyish hazel eyes that spoke of wisdom beyond her years. She was incredibly intelligent and pragmatic, and in truth Rhaena alternated her position with other ladies maids quite often, as Cass was great company, truly. She was well read, and quite knowledgeable on most things. If anything, Rhaena had her as her chambermaid solely to start her day with good conversation most of the time. 

As Rhaena soaked herself in the steaming hot water of her bath, all three girls entered her bathing chamber, announcing themselves duly before entering. They curtsied and bowed before Rhaena, before they took their positions, Cass knelt to Rhaena's right, Allyria to her left, while Kiera knelt behind her. Cass and Allyria would scrub and bathe Rhaena while Kiera washed and cared for Rhaena's hair. 

It was a team effort, befitting the station of a ruling Princess. 

But Rhaena could admit that some days it felt like far too much pampering. 

Some days she'd dismiss the girls just to have the freedom of bathing herself. But it wasn't something she did often, she knew these girls were only doing their job, and if she dismissed them too often, it would make it seem as if their jobs were not needed...and they'd be let go. Which was not an outcome Rhaena wished to cause. 

Besides that, as the moons rolled on, Rhaena's pregnant body was working against her. The aches and soreness, along with the added weight the babe gave her...and had her put on, it wasn't as easy to lift herself in and out of the tub anymore. She already spent her days waddling from place to place, she was beginning to realize she'd have to accept a great deal of the help offered to her.  

"Tell me, Cass," Rhaena spoke casually, leaning back as the nimble fingers of Kiera worked their way along Rhaena's scalp and through her long silvery-white curls, "it seems today we shall have a great deal of stormy weather, do you still believe the same amount dignitaries shall come?" 

Yesterday, Rhaena's Wardeness, Aelaera, made mention that there was a great possibility that Prince of Volantis might make the journey to Dragonstone. He had no interest in joining the realm of Westeros as a whole, but it seems his wife had recently birthed him a son, and he was looking to secure a future Valyrian bride for his child. 

As Baela had birthed a son herself, the Volantis' Prince's hopes were dashed to marry into the Targaryen family. 

That was...until Rhaena's own pregnancy was announced to the realm. 

As the moons had passed, they'd received many a letter of possible marriage pacts for their child...even though none of these Lords knew the sex of their child just yet. No one did, the babe wouldn't be born for another 2 or 3 moons.

Aemond had become quite irritated with the letters, he cared very little for these offers, both because their child had yet to enter this world yet...and more than likely, he dismissed most of these offers because they were not Valyrian offers. 

If Rhaena knew her Valyrian purist husband well, and she did, she knew he'd want their children to marry Valyrian. Which unless he intended to marry all of their children to either Volantis, or the Celtigars or the Rogares...he'd have to square up to the fact that their children might marry some of their cousins. 

Either Jace or Luke's children to be, a fact that overjoyed Rhaena, and made it entirely comical whenever she mentioned it to Aemond. He still grimaced at the acceptance of that fact. 

"Well, my Princess, I've yet to see Aelaera this morn, so I could not be certain," Cass began, her slightly scratchy voice flowed softly, "but I'd assume the Prince of Volantis would not miss a chance to greet and dine with both you and Prince Aemond. Any royal family or Lording House would wish to create a marriage pact with House Targaryen, or course." 

Of course. 

Cass did spend a great deal of time with Aelaera, almost as if to be a Wardeness in training . Sadly, Cass held no Valryian blood, so she could not hold such a position here, even if Rhaena's mother was implored by Rhaena to make it so. 

Tradition ruled against it.

But, that didn't mean that Cass couldn't work alongside with Aelaera. 

It posed a great question for later. 

She'd broach the topic with Cass on her own, promote the girl to a newly created assistant role for Aelaera to divvy her lesser duties for Cass to handle. 

And then Rhaena would simply fill this chambermaid position with another. 

Yes, perfect.  

"Your Grace," Allyria's kind voice broke through Rhaena's train of thought, "the Harvest Festival is take place in two days time..." 

"Oh yes!" Rhaena smiled brightly, her body warming at the thought of all there was to do and prepare. But as Rhaena glanced over at her docile maid, she realized the look on the girl's face was far more sullen than she expected, prompting her to ask, "oh...is there something the matter with the Harvest Festival?" 

"I just...all staff are meant to accompany you that day, or so I've heard...but I'm not very fond of blood...or the sacrifices..." Allyria stumbled her way through her explanation, squinting her eyes and flinching as if she expected to be berated or hit. 

It was something Rhaena had noticed before, a reflex the girl must've picked up from a previously abusive position she must've held in another Lord's home or so. 

With a soft sigh, Rhaena gently took Allyria's hand and smiled, "there is no worry, Allyria. Contrary to how it may be in other households, you needn't accompany me throughout the entire day. The ceremony at the Temple of Elaena, is only attended by the royal family. Aemond and I shall go there by carriage and meet with the Priestesses there ourselves to bless the harvest. You shall not have to witness any sacrifices." 

The Temple of Elaena was an age-old sacred temple that lay in the old farming town , Tegun Skrykos , which translated to  'Land Of Shrykos' or 'Shrykos' Land' , both translations had always been accepted. This town is located on the western side of the island, in the lower regions, where due to years of volcanic shakes and previous eruptions, the land is slightly separated there. 

"Thank you, your Grace," Allyria breathed happily, accepting Rhaena's gentle hold. 

"What if I wished to attend," Kiera grinned, breaking the tensions of the room, "I should like to see a true Valyrian ceremony and sacrifice from up close. I've read about them before." 

Rhaena smirked at the comment, jokingly batting her hand at her, "shush Kiera, you cannot be so bloodthirsty this early in the morn," 

Once her bathing was complete, Rhaena was assisted out of the tub and patted dry with the softest of cotton wraps. Afterwards, she'd have Kiera add the finishing touches to her hair. Lathering in, massaging into the roots of her hair, slicked down the tips, was a white thickening mousse like cream popularly used by Pentoshi women with curls like Rhaena's own. Its rich syrupy sweet scent was one Rhaena was incredibly fond of, as well, she enjoyed just how much the sweet scent drove Aemond mad. Like a pheromone that attracted a bee to honey, on the days Rhaena washed her hair, it was usually quite hard to keep Aemond at bay. 

The mousse would be rinsed, and then a golden coloured moistening oil would be dripped into her roots. Kiera would skillfully massage and scrunch Rhaena's curls to hold the oil thoroughly. Once the process was completed, and her hair had dried, her silvery-white curls would be full and defined, beautiful, silky and bouncy ringlets. Ready to be styled up by one of her Ladiesmaids. 

While all of that was happening, Allyria would be tasked with moisturizing Rhaena's body, with a thick cocoa based butter-like creme that left Rhaena's skin smooth and gleaming. 

It was around this time that Rhaena would have liked to have her Wardeness summoned to her, knowing that by the time both girls had finished with Rhaena's hair and her skin, she'd be ready for her Ladiesmaids to dress and style her. And in that state of being partially dressed, it was the perfect time for Aelaera to inform Rhaena of her tasks for the day. 

So Rhaena sent Cass to retrieve Aelaera for her, and just as she planned, by the time they returned, Rhaena had already donned her undergarments as she stood in her bed chambers with her Ladiesmaids. Myria, Layna and Samantha. 

Layna, a pretty girl who sadly seemed to have a very similar past and upbringing as Allyria had. A former whore, who did as she had to, not as she wished to. A past Rhaena cared not to hold against any woman. Her skin held a similarly pale peach-tone to Allyria's, but her features had a far more Dornish...if not Velaryon quality to them. With shapely lips and a slightly flatter bridged nose. Her hair was pale brown, borderline blonde, with thick long bouncy curls and mischievous green eyes. She was a comical girl, and whatever her experiences were... she'd seemed to take them in stride. Never looking back, only looking forward. 

Samantha or Sam as she prefers to be called, was a kindly girl who actually used to work in the capital as a ladies maid. She used to serve Helaena, and by proxy had a slightly frisky consensual relationship with Aegon for a couple of years. It wasn't a matter or an issue, Helaena and Aegon may remain married on the face of things, but the whole family knows that they don't treat their private lives as such. Aegon has his mistresses, a fact Helaena has given full consent to, while Helaena keeps to her own private vices. Sam only wished to leave because as her relationship with Aegon came to mutual end, she wished to separate herself from him...in a perfect opportunity, Helaena suggested Rhaena take her on. As Sam was both skilled and experienced in this line of work. 

She had long straight raven black hair, pale porcelain skin and misty hazel eyes. Plump cheeks and plush lips, she claimed to be from the Stormlands, but there was something about her facial features that at least spoke to some sort of Free Cities' mixture. 

Like a swap of a shift, Allyria and Kiera tended to cleaning the bathing chamber, emptying the used bath water, cleaning the tub and putting away the various utensils. All while Cass tended to another errand Rhaena sent her on. 

But now that Aelaera was here, Rhaena prepared herself to hear of her activities for the day. 

Aelaera was an older woman, older than Rhaena's mother Rhaenyra, but most likely a bit younger than grandmother Rhaenys. Aelaera on the whole actually reminded Rhaena of her Lady grandmother a great deal, perhaps that is why she felt so comfortable with the woman. She held the same sort of stoic dutiful demeanor, with very Valyrian features, pale ivory skin and pale blondish-white hair. She held bright Valyrian blue eyes, and as Rhaena knew it she was most likely a lower born member of the Celtigar house. She'd fostered here with Dragonstone Maesters for the majority of her life however, so she was beyond skilled and experienced for this position...hence why Rhaenyra had appointed her. 

As Rhaena chose the pale lavender silk gown she wished to wear, Sam and Layna began to loosely work Rhaena into her underskirt, then her corset, tied lightly so as not to constrict the babe or cause discomfort. Myria tended to Rhaena's hair, as Rhaena had given her maid free reign on the styling she wished to do. She watched as her maid skillfully wrapped and beautifully piled her curls atop her head in a graceful style. Leaving tendrils of curls down to frame her face, braiding the ones by her ears in a specifically Valyrian style of braid. 

"My Princess," Aelaera greeted Rhaena properly, standing off by her right, keeping perfect contact, "on the list for this morn, you have decorations and menu items to approve of for the Harvest feast. Suggestions and ideas have already been listed down for you, your final say and or direct changes are needed to be finalized for today. There is a due rest break for you, then you have petitions and disputes from Dracaena and Tegun Skrykos. Dracaena has two port Labour law disputes to settle, while Tegun Skrykos has a neighborly disagreement settlement and Sheepstealer has once again devoured the livestock of another farmer…" 

At first, Rhaena was nodding and humming along, keeping a mental note of each activity and task. 

But then the petitions and disputes portion began and Rhaena had begun to notice a pattern that had befallen her yet again. It happened yesterday...and the day before that...and the day before that...

"Wardeness," Rhaena cut Aelaera off just as she began mentioning the late afternoon portion of blessing new born babes, "where are my hearings? For the past...week now, I haven't had a single hearing to attend to. Am I not meant to attend them with my husband? The Prince and Princess are meant to both preside over the hearings, for true impartiality." 

She said impartiality , but what she really meant was she knew she needed to be present so that her husband wouldn't simply get annoyed with a man's tone of voice and decide he was guilty because of it. Rhaena's goal was always to keep her husband's murderous rage at bay, but if she wasn't there to do that...who would? 

When Aelaera didn't answer in her usual timely manner, Rhaena found herself glancing over at the older woman. A slightly worried emotion flashed over her face before it returned to its usual steel-like resonance. 

This was not inspiring confidence. 

"Aelaera," Rhaena prodded more directly, "what is it? What is going on? This isn't just a coincidence is it," 

"No, Princess, it is not," Aelaera sighed, her eyes watching carefully as the Ladiesmaids finished lacing Rhaena into her gown. Applying the final touches, Rhaena's amethyst earrings, her Valyrian steel sapphire and amethyst necklace, as well as her varying sapphire and moonstone rings. 

Rhaena could see this was a topic Aelaera wished to broach with privacy, true privacy . 

Once Rhaena was certain she was presentable and ready, she dismissed her maids and gave her full attention to her Wardeness. 

"Princess, your...Prince Aemond doesn't seem to want you to attend any serious hearings in your current... condition ," Aelaera's surprisingly apprehensive tone told Rhaena that Aemond probably told this to her personally himself. Accompanied with a very serious death threat, if she knew her dragon well. 

With a heavy sigh, Rhaena worked to suppress her growing annoyance at the situation. 

He was doing it again. 

"What's brought this on? My listening and sitting through hearings is of no danger to the babe," Rhaena replied, stepping off her cushioned fitting platform, "I know he means well, but this is surely an unnecessary overstep." 

Aelaera's face gave nothing away, as she eyed Rhaena, "Princess, I would not blame him entirely. Maesters are incredibly over zealous at the worst of times. He's most likely been advised that any stressful activity or situation could harm your babe, and he's taken that to the literal extreme." 

Rhaena huffed at that, for even if Aemond had been instructed as such, he'd taken this advice to the extreme now. If, according to him, she was no longer able to handle hearings, soon enough he'd take petitions off of her plate as well. He already ensured her guards keep an even closer watch over, had insisted she minimize her steps around the castle, let maids fetch and do more for her...the other night he was incredibly close to suggesting one of her maids or guards should double as her official taste tester . 

It was becoming a lot. 

And yes, she loved him for caring as much as he clearly did. 

But she did not need this much pampering. 

No, she'd settle this now. 

And she would succeed with this, she wouldn't cow to his sultry voice or affectionate touches, she could get over his intense levelled gazes. She'd push through the overall inticing nature of her husband and get him to yield to her wants. 

She wanted her duties back. 

She did not need him to handle them for her. 

She could do this. 

"Aelaera, my husband, where is he," Rhaena started, making her way towards her bed chamber doors. She knew where Aemond most likely was, more likely than not, he was still training, but it didn't hurt to be certain. 

Her Wardeness was quick to follow, "in the training yard, Princess. But I would advise against this, surely the Prince only has the best intentions for why-" 

"I mean no disrespect, Aelaera, but I care not for advice on this matter," Rhaena smoothly replied as she opened her main chamber doors. Making her way down the corridor, her four knights immediately moved after she did. She waited a minute, for their usual formation to take hold. Two knights walked five paces ahead of her while two knights walked five paces behind her. 

Aelaera had hurried to keep herself in pace with Rhaena, for surely this was the fastest she'd moved since her belly had grown as large as it had. 

"Princess, with the lessened steps the Prince wishes for you to have during the day," the Wardeness spoke with slight gasp of air, she certainly wasn't used to walking at this speed with Rhaena, "surely this would exceed them, to walk down to the training yard and then to have to return up the number of stairs and steps again. Shall I not just summon him to come to you?" 

Rhaena was barely registering the idea, she didn't want him summoned to her, that would only prove his point. That she needed to be wrapped up and protected, catered to, when now more than ever, she wanted tasks to occupy her time. 

"No," Rhaena simply replied, "Aemond responds to shows of force. I need to meet him where he is, so he might take my complaint seriously," 

Now, Rhaena could understand Aelaera's apprehension. Most Lord husbands, when they made a decision or proclamation, their Lady wives' were meant to simply obey them. To take what they were given without question, without recourse or rebuttal. 

Even some Targaryen marriages could be seen with such a dynamic. 

But Aelaera should also know, that while some Targaryen wives may have been content to follow their husbands word and rule without question. 

Most Targaryen would not. 

The blood of the dragon bit out in various ways and forms. 

For as docile and sweet as Rhaena was by nature, she was not and had never been afraid to face Aemond when she needed to. Even now, as she'd been married to her wedded husband for a grand total five moons now. If she didn't agree with him, if she needed to confront him, depending on the situation she may have had her own level of apprehension. 

But she'd always find a way to confront him. 

To face him. 

Aelaera would not make a fuss over it, once she was sure Rhaena wasn't going to take her advice anyhow, she simply walked with her. Accompanying her down to the training yard. 

They passed the guards standing guard by the entrance to the Dragon's hold. Making their way into the more common areas of the castle. Where they passed by several courtiers who now resided within these castle walls as a sign for a more unified realm, building furthering relationships with the next generation of Lords and Ladies. 

Rhaena would only faintly greet each noble she passed, smiling softly with nods of recognition, as she followed her guards down the main grand staircase. The main level of the castle was a lot more lively, the hustle and bustle of the many maids and servants shuffling to reach their posts to complete their own tasks. More nobles making their rounds as they strolled the halls and hoped to greet their Lording Prince or Princess. 

Rhaena kept her persona as crisp as she always did, for whatever emotions she saw fit to share with her trusted Wardeness...the collective courtiers of the castle could not be privy to it. 

Once they rounded their way towards the southern exit, Rhaena motioned for another maid to follow with a tall rain repellent covering to hold over Rhaena and Aelaera as they stepped outside. For while the rain had lightened, it still drizzled and spittled down from the heavens. 

As they grew closer to the training yard, the sound of clashing steel and whirling sharp blades echoed out. 

Every step was drawing slightly more trepidation from Rhaena, as she'd initially moved to argue with her husband on pure impulse...and as she walked passed the beautiful southern garden her father had once commissioned be up kept for her mother, one part of a vast lovely garden that covered the grounds...a garden Rhaena now took comfort it having kept nicely. She'd watched as all the green plants and previously blooming flowers slowly died due the time of year,, the ninth moon of the year, wilting stems and fallen petals and leaves, all soaked and watered with the rain. 

All the while...she grew closer to the training yard. 

With the dawning realization that she hadn't exactly planned ahead of time what she wished to say to her husband. 

She couldn't let Aemond have the upper hand in this, so she'd just have to rely on her gut instinct yet again- 

Without a word, her knights halted...and then so did the three knights her husband was training with. 

The movement was so perfect and precise, but their body language must've been the give away her husband needed. As he only chuckled and twirled his sword in his hand, without even turning around to face her, it seemed he already knew. 

Aemond's pale hair was tied back into a low ponytail, although it was all damp and drenched along with his back breeches, all due to the rain. He remained shirtless, his pale back completely exposing the faint scars he had along his flexing muscles. 

Rhaena took this time to step past Aelaera and two guards who stood in front of her. Slowly stepping forward with her maid holding the repellent cover still overhead. 

Rhaena watched as Aemond barely turned back, from the side of his face, she could already see his signature smirk forming, "mmm, skoros maghagon ao naejot nyke, byka ābrazȳrys," mmm, what brings you to me, little wife?

High Valyrian was meant to be their intimate choice for private conversations, but in moments like these, where they had Valyrian taught guards and servants present. It really served less of a point if everyone present could, for the most part, understood what they were speaking of. Surely their royal dialect of true High Valyrian would keep their guards and servants at bay, they most likely spoke and understood a lower dialect of it…but Aelaera was as good as any Maester, she would know. 

Although, Rhaena supposed, it wasn't really about that. 

It was about the intimacy, it was the fact that Aemond surely knew what this did to her. How hearing his low smooth voice speak their ancestral tongue so perfectly...how it made her body tingle and shiver, how her blood sang at the sound of it. 

"Jaelan ñuha valzȳrys naejot ivestragon nyke skoro syt issa meddling lēda ñuha tubis," I want my husband to tell me why he is meddling with my day, Rhaena swallowed, her throat drying...there was a problem growing on the horizon. Her body was beginning to ache for something else. 

Food . 

She hadn't had a morsel to eat all morning, and the babe wanted nourishing...she could feel it. Her stomach was primed to growl at any moment now, so she needed to speed this conversation along. 

Aemond handed his training sword to one of the Knights to put away, walking over to the slightly shedded weapons area where he snatched a clean dry cloth to wipe his face with. 

His leather patch looked damp now as well...ugh... FOCUS. 

Urging her maid to follow her as she moved towards Aemond, Rhaena crossed her arms overtop her belly as she eyed her husband. 

His smirk grew larger, as if her clear annoyance was just harmless entertainment for him. Which, surely it was, but that was not the effect Rhaena wanted to have right now. 

"Ivestragon nyke pār, skorkydoso emagon nyke gaomagon sīr," tell me then, how have I done so, he tossed the cloth to the side, crossing his own arms loosely, casually leaning back on his leg as he eyed carefully. 

His eye held both great amusement with a slight tinge of concern, Rhaena could see the gears turning in his head, he was beginning to think there was something wrong with her or the babe. 

"Ao-," you , Rhaena paused and decided she was in fact too annoyed and hungry to play this back and forth game with him, so she switched to the common tongue, "you took away my hearings! You've just unilaterally decided I'm no longer able to handle them? Without me? You didn't want to consult me on that decision? I noticed days ago...and I thought it was maybe a coincidence that I had something happening that day that conflicted with the times of the hearings...but no, you've specifically made that choice for me." 

There, his smirk faded as he exhaled heavily from his nose. 

"Rhaena, it's for the best," his tone wasn't harsh or sharp, but it was a solid low tone that spoke of a cemented decision he wouldn't budge on.  

That wouldn't do.

Rhaena took several steps closer to him, a dangerously close position, for this was we're she could be most susceptible to his charm. A charm she used to be able to work against, but ever since this babe started growing within her, a simple look from him made her want to tackle him and take him almost anywhere. Caution to the wind, she'd melt, she'd keen, she'd grapple and tear into him. 

No...she just needed to remain focused. 

*Growl* 

Oh, Gods. 

Her body was once again working against her, her stomach growling something fierce now. 

Which only brought Aemond's smirk back, as whatever worry he had...it seemed he now settled on the fact that the babe was likely fine, his wife was just hungry. 

"Ignore my stomach," Rhaena nearly pouted, growing annoyed with herself that she couldn't find it in herself to focus at all. She wanted him and she wanted food...and she wanted a drink, she was terribly thirsty now. Her feet felt slightly achy now, fuck, maybe Aelaera had been right about the amount of steps. 

But if Aelaera was right, then that would make Aemond right...and Rhaena didn't want to admit to that. 

"I can handle the hearings, Aemond," Rhaena pushed through, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to will away the feelings of hunger she had, "they're not too stressful for me, I am capable," 

Oh, please little babe, I'll feed you soon enough. Can't you work with your mama for once, instead of always working against me?

"Last week, a man from Dracaena was tried for killing a shopkeeper and stealing his products," Aemond replied matter-of-factly, stepping the final few steps in front of her, with ease he slipped his hands on her waist and pulled her close, "he was sentenced to death, a fair punishment for his crimes. And you burst into tears." 

Mmm...okay...yes, she had done that. 

The memory of it was coming back to her.  

Rolling her eyes slightly, she bit her lip, "yes...I recall that," 

"Mmm, a few days ago a farmer's hand was brought to trial for assaulting a farmer's daughter," Aemond started, and sadly she knew where this memory was going, "he was to be jailed, his bits severed from him...you cried."

Surely this wasn't a viable excuse as to why-

"Yesterday, a kitchen maid was caught trying to steal jewelry from our very rooms, and you told me to 'give her a second chance' as if she shouldn't have been jailed and fired at the very least, hands severed from her body automatically," Aemond's expression spoke of a man who felt he had no need to explain his thoughts on the matter for any longer. 

This wasn't fair. 

She wasn't choosing to be overly emotional about these matters, she'd handled them before.. .

"Ñuha jorrāelagon," my love , Aemond's tone had softened for her, as he drew a hand up to caress her cheek, "I'm sure it's due to the babe, but these hearings...they're making you emotional-" 

"Do say that again, please, I’m very much in the mood to run you through myself right now," Rhaena squinted her eyes up at him, sadly her challenging tone only made him chuckle. He pressed a kiss to her forehead as his thumb stroked her cheek affectionately. 

"I know you dislike this, but I've only removed the most stressful part of your day," his indigo eye searched hers for a nonverbal cue, an understanding that proved she understood him and agreed with him.

She did not. 

Or...she didn't want to. 

But it wasn't as if she could prove that she wouldn't feel emotional during the next hearing. 

In the end, Rhaena did her best to stand firm...and Aemond sighed in return, "do you really wish to fight me on this now? When, instead, you could be eating breakfast." 

Rhaena twisted her jaw at that, her lips folding as she pursed them. 

Fuck. 

He could see right through her. 

With a charming grin, he simply added, "I'm sure both you and our little gremlin is in need of nourishing." 

"It's not fair," Rhaena finally groaned as her stomach growled yet again. 

Reluctantly so, she finally relinquished. Letting her husband tip her chin up as he stole a kiss, before he began guiding her back towards the castle. With their guards in tow behind them, she knew she'd have to brace this topic with her husband again...another time.

When she was well fed. 

Maybe then her babe would let her win something. 

☾

'I know you dislike this, but I've only removed the most stressful part of your day,'

The arrogance of him.

How could he?

Well... mayhaps it wasn't strictly arrogance , clearly he did care. Maybe Rhaena was strictly ignoring the obvious fact that perhaps...in this specific case...he may...be...

... correct.

Ugh .

No.

It ached her to even think it, to even relinquish this victory to him mentally, was upsetting.

But even so, she'd allowed him to escort her back to their private dining hall, where a rather delightful spread was already prepared for them. A vast variety of mostly Rhaena's favourite breakfast foods. 

"Ipradagon," eat , her dragon's voice had been firm and direct, as if he knew she'd fight him on this as well...and she might have wanted to, "nyke'll sagon arlī isse iā moment," I'll return in a moment.

As he left with only one guard tailing him, Rhaena was left with the five remaining guards. Three standing guard outside of the doors, and two standing inside with her. 

It would be a slightly lonely breakfast if she had to wait for Aemond to finish bathing and readying himself before he joined her. They usually had their meals together, save for midday tea-times or lunch, it wasn't uncommon for Rhaena to share those moments with her Ladies-in-waiting. 

*Growl*  

In this case, it wouldn't be possible for Rhaena to wait. Her stomach felt as if it was caving in on itself, her babe must've been furious with her for eating nearly an hour later than her usual timing. 

So, Rhaena hoped to remedy that. Quickly filling her plate with bits and pieces of the abundance laid upon the table. Berries, and pastries, sausages and bacon, poached eggs. The greasier foods would fill her faster, and hopefully reach her babe and satisfy the little one. The pastries and the fruits slightly more for herself, but she was certain her little gremlin liked raspberries. 

It came as a shock though, as Rhaena had begun scarfing down her eggs and salted meats…it had tasted bland . Not unseasoned…just…not salty enough. 

She wanted more salt. 

It came across as a feeling, biting into her custard tart, it tasted perfect…sweet and creamy, just like heaven.

Then she bit a piece of her bacon…and it tasted…savoury…but bland . 

She wanted it saltier.

Why she couldn't say. 

But it was a feeling in her gut. 

So she reached across the table and practically battered her meat in salt…and then her eggs as well.

She was dangerously close to sprinkling salt over her bowl of berries when one of her guards spoke. 

Ser Garin Tanner, a young, commonly handsome looking knight. With curly walnut brown hair, nearly Valryian blue eyes and a sharply angled jaw. He usually guarded Rhaena closely, he was only a couple years her senior, he reminded her fondly of Jace in some ways. 

"My Princess, is the meal not to your liking? Should I have a maid send for something else?" Ser Garin questioned, his boyish tone quirked in the question, he was clearly concerned as to why his pregnant charge was pouring salt all over everything. 

Honestly…Rhaena was beginning to question herself as to why just as well. 

Slowly, Rhaena gulped down the salty mouthful she had in her mouth, locking eyes with her knight, "I am…no! No, all is well. Everything is…fine." 

That wasn't very reassuring. 

Another knight, Ser Drako Maar, who looked like the picture of Valyrian blood. With pale golden blonde curls that swooned by his neck, a playful smirk, a strong jaw and icy blue eyes. He was believed to be one of the best from Hell's Edge, hence why Aemond appointed Ser Drako to be one of Rhaena's personal guards. 

"But Princess, you've added a great deal of salt to everything, surely it's not been seasoned to your liking," Ser Drako let a slow smile grow upon his lips, Rhaena knew her staff was far more comfortable to be themselves in her presence than they were in with Aemond around. 

Sipping her spiced Lyseni tea, Rhaena only batted her lashes, "at ease boys, I am well. The babe craves salt, what am I to do for it." 

Ser Garin's lips twitched for only a second, before he folded them over in an effort to remain neutral. 

"It's not funny, Ser Garin," Rhaena nearly giggled, herself, before she pulled herself together, "shush, the both of you, I am trying to eat." 

"As you wish, Princess," Ser Drako, smiled with a shallow bow. One that Ser Garin mimicked immediately before returning to his impeccably straight solid posture. 

If they didn't have these modes of immature brotherly behaviour, she'd have thought them solid stone-like beings. A state they could remain in, and one Aemond always expected them to remain in. 

But Rhaena liked conversing with them in a far more relaxed sense. 

They were her guards, here to serve and protect her, yes. 

But they were kind, respectful, dutiful men, and it was nice to treat them as such on occasion. 

Soon enough, the dining hall doors were pulled in as Aemond sauntered in with purpose. Freshly groomed, dressed in his signature all black attire, his hair neatly combed as always, the silky sheen catching the grey morning light.  

He made his way to the empty end seat of the table, which was of course right next to her seat. Both knights nodded towards his entrance and took his presence as their signal to step out into the hall. 

Once the doors closed behind them, Aemond gazed over Rhaena, eyeing her plate as she'd managed to nearly inhale the majority of the contents. 

"Emagon ao geptot mirros syt nyke," have you left anything for me, his brow quirked playfully as his lips curved up, "Īlva rūs ēdruta emagon issare merbugon," our babe must have been hungry.

Rhaena bit back a smile, trying to remind herself that she was in fact still annoyed with him, "Īlva rūs ēza issare kreni," our babe has been satisfied.  

He hummed at her response, filling his own plate with salted meats and crisp fruits, "se skorkydoso iksis ñuha ābrazȳrys, iksis ziry kreni?" and how is my wife, is she satisfied?

Rhaena took another bite of her now incredibly salted eggs, the bitter tang soothing something within which cried for it. For several beats, she just let the silence hang in the air, not for dramatic effect…but solely because she wasn't sure how to word things. 

Outside in the training yard…she'd managed to fumble the situation, she'd gone to him, with what she thought was the upper hand. 

And yet…Aemond had managed to thwart her point with such decisive ease. 

So now, she was certain that she needed to be precise…she was no longer starving, so perhaps her mind could remain focused on the task at hand. 

Swallowing thickly, Rhaena ran her tongue along her lower lip, tucking a dainty braid behind her ear…as her eyes trailed up Aemond's chest, then pale neck…curving jaw and defined cheekbones. His silky hair clouded her mind yet again, she was in the mood to touch it…he hadn't braided it today. He'd done his old usual look of having it be half up and half down. 

But Rhaena wanted to braid it- 

For fucksake, the hearings! Focus on the hearings!  

He was looking at her now, another faintly stoic concerned eyebrow raise. 

"Jaelan ao naejot…Nyke jorrāelagon ao naejot…" I want you to…I need you to… ,Rhaena found her voice trailing off, she wasn't sure how she was meant to ask for this very same thing over again. How she intended to prove that she could handle the hearings without becoming overly emotional. There was heat brewing in her chest, rising with each breath she took. It was weighted, like a stone…and it made her heart hurt…made her cheeks burn. 

Am I going to cry? 

Now!?

Quickly, Rhaena bit her lip in an attempt to hold the emotional barrage at bay. This was such a simple question…he'd asked such a simple question. And the answer itself shouldn't have been difficult either. 

"Rhaena…" his smooth voice had struck her heart, maybe it was the hardened concern on his face, the emotion was obvious and clear…and then…he slid his hand over hers. 

Her fork had been trembling in her hand and she hadn't even realized. 

WHAT IS HAPPENING?

The internal screaming only grew louder as her throat grew sore and her body grew cold, her lower lip had begun to tremble, and then…

Her eyes began to fill with tears. 

"Did one of the guards say or do something?" Aemond's voice had hollowed out and hardened, his immediate reaction to seeing her in any sort of pain he couldn't explain, was to be on the offensive. Ready to pounce, maim, or slay anything or anyone who might have caused her pain. 

But what was upsetting could not be explained so easily. 

"No…no…the knights were fine, they didn't do anything," Rhaena slowly breathed, desperate to clear their names before Aemond thought to have any of them executed, "I can't explain it…"

It wasn't really about the hearings…deep down Rhaena knew it wasn't. 

She was more than likely, six moons along…in another three moons this babe would be ready to enter the world. She'd have to submit to the will of the Gods, to the fates, to nature…for…her birth mother did not survive the birthing bed on her third attempt. Baela and Rhaena, herself, had been her muña’s only successful births. 

How many Targaryen women failed to birth their babes and instead parished alongside them. 

Maybe it wasn't that at all either. 

Maybe it was just the grievances of growing a little dragon within her. How angry, annoyed…tired and achy she felt. Her mind was always a-scatter these days, her stomach always aching for more food…for odd foods. 

This time last moon, she'd only wanted sweet things. And now, all she reached for was bitter and salty.

She wanted to hit something, she wanted to return to bed. 

More than anything her lower regions raged for attention, attention she wasn't even sure could be satisfied like it normally was. 

How was it possible that she wished to fight her husband nearly as much as she wished for him to simply push his seat back so that she could climb atop him. 

A heavy sigh broke her concentration, Aemond had indeed moved from his seat, instead, opting to kneel down beside her. A gesture that drew him closer to her as he turned her seat to face him properly, making sure her direct line of sight could easily gaze down towards him. In the soft quiet of the moment, he reached up to brush away her tears with the smooth pad of his thumb, "ivestragon nyke," tell me.

Rhaena huffed, sniffling softly as she shook her head, "Nyke kostagon daor, nyke ȳdra daor know-" I can't, I don't know-

"Sylugon naejot," try to, he'd cut her off before she could flounder her sentence any further. With his hands sliding over and rubbing soothing caressing strokes along her thighs, Rhaena found her body had begun to warm again, her blood had calmed with his direct touch. 

"I feel like I'm going mad," she mumbled softly, her voice trembling as she closed her eyes, "I'm upset about everything. About the hearings…and about how I only wish to eat salty things now, and I think that custard tart I just had is making me feel ill. But I love custard tarts, and now the babe no longer wants me to eat them. And I hate how tired I get even though I only spend the majority of my days sitting in throne rooms, listening to other people talk and complain. I hate Lord Celtigar's perfume, I only passed by him this morn but it was so strong and pungent it made me feel ill…and Lady Vance gave me flowers the other day that were meant to smell of honeysuckle, but this morning the colour of them bothered me for some reason and the scent just made me feel sick. Most of all…I hate how upset I'm getting over all of this, which is nothing…all of it is all so inconsequential. Normally, I'd never cry over something so ridiculous. But you're right. You were right earlier, all I do is cry now and I don't know how to stop it…" 

More tears had fallen down her cheeks as she'd all but sobbed out a list of incoherent complaints. 

To his credit, Aemond hadn't arisen from his position. 

In fact, he actually chuckled. 

Might've been more of a genuine laugh really, when Rhaena peaked her eyes open to gaze down at him. He rubbed his eye delightedly, with that sweet honest smile on his lips, the one that made his cheeks form faint dimples, that only a rare few were ever privileged enough to see. 

Even so, his beautiful smile aside, Rhaena found it all confusing. 

She knew pregnancy brought on a great many emotions. 

But she couldn't recall it being all of this…or maybe her sister and her mothers' had just done a better job of keeping these overwhelming feelings hidden than she was currently able to. 

"What is so funny?" Rhaena's voice had slightly cracked in her query, while eyeing her husband closely, hoping to catch any minute detail she might've missed earlier when she'd been sobbing with her eyes closed. 

Instead, his smile stayed etched on his face as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her swelling belly, the warmth of the gesture spread throughout her as she watched him slowly rise up to his feet. Tipping her chin to look up to him, he gently wiped her tears, "it's not funny per se …but it is amusing…" 

She'd glared at him just slightly.

And he chuckled as he amended his sentence, "you're not going mad, sweet girl. Helaena had moments like this as well. I'm sure Baela did too." 

So he says…but for some reason while Rhaena could remember her sister being irritable…she was sure it was not this irritable. 

This was surely different.

Maybe …or maybe her mind was just being selective now that she was experiencing it for herself. 

"Well…either way…what am I meant to do? I can't sit and do nothing, I need to keep busy or I'll dwell on things," she pouted, leaning her head against his stomach. She knew exactly which type of things she'd begin to dwell on, and she was still far too frightened to let those fears seep into her fully.

Soon it would become unavoidable. 

But until then, she'd soak in her husband's reassurance. For, Aemond hadn't hesitated to rub soothing circles along her back. 

As if he was thinking deeply or just as equally relishing in their quiet moment here before he'd have to leave her for the day so that they could both complete their duties. 

"I maintain that hearings would be far too stressful if not emotionally taxing on you," he sighed softly, leaning down, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, "but the rest is simple enough. Sit through as much work as you wish to, and when you're tired, leave the rest to me or your Wardeness, she is capable of temporarily covering your position. If the Lord Celtigar's perfume offends you, I'll order that he change it. If all you want is salty foods, then that's what you'll have. And if next week you only wish to eat lemons or honeycombs…I will ensure that you have as many and as much as you could want for." 

At that she gazed up at him properly, somehow still in awe with the extents he'd go to for her when it mattered. 

Rhaena never doubted that she'd married the right man…but little moments like these certainly cemented the fact that she had, for her. 

"Avy jorrāelan," I love you, Rhaena sniffled as she smiled up at him. 

"Sȳz," good , Aemond smirked, leaning himself down enough to kiss her sweetly, "avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrīzes," I love you, my dragoness. 

☾

The problem with having a lack of hearings filtered within her daily schedule...was that it made the day go by incredibly fast. 

Planning for the harvest festival and the harvest feast, settling petitions and settlements. Sure, it used up the majority of her day, but by late afternoon, Rhaena had collectively managed to power through all of her duties. Now she sat lazing in the gardens, her favourite place to be in her in-between lulls of the day.

For all this free-time granted to her only gave Rhaena a great deal of time to think about the things moving and going on in her life. 

With the Harvest Festival only two days away, it was customary to have the celebration in the capital, in King's Landing at the Red Keep. But it was also entirely customary for the ruling Prince of Dragonstone to host festivities on the island. For the townspeople here, of both Dracaena and Tegun Skrykos, would never make the voyage to King's Landing. 

For all the towns and cities across the realm, many Lords who did not frequent the capital or Dragonstone at this time, saw fit to host their own fetes and festivals. 

There was to be a grand feast on the day of, when the moon aligned with the sun in the night... creating a bloody red, orange-like glow upon the great harvest moon.

To the beliefs of the Flames, this was meant to be an incredibly powerful time of year for the Fourteen Flames. The Gods energy surged, the stars grew closer in the night, as if the Gods had filtered down onto the ground of their children...now waiting and ready to bless and bear witness. 

Many towns folk and commoners who still believed in the Gods of old would make their pilgrimages to the sacred Temple of Elaena. This pilgrimage was widely inclusive, people travelled a long way to visit, pray and make sacrifices at this temple. People sailed in from Braavos, Lorath, Norvos, Qohor, Pentos, Myr, Tyrosh and Lys. 

The Temple of Elaena being one of the first Valyrian temples created in Westeros after Great Valyria burned . 

There was meant to be another. 

The Hall of Daenys . 

Supposedly it existed beneath Dragonstone, within the volcanic rock, beneath the castle. Rhaena's father had spent many years looking and searching for it, but in the ten years they'd lived here as a family...Daemon had never found it. 

One day...Rhaena hoped, perhaps she and Aemond might uncover it's whereabouts, before they declare it to simply be a myth or a tale.

In either case, the Hall of Daenys would not have been a temple open to the public. Most likely it was a truly holy, sacred temple for the Targaryen family only. 

While the Temple of Elaena was open to all who believed. The Gods would recognize anyone whose blood hailed from old Valyria. This was a time of year when the Gods were most accepting of prayers, it was why there must be a great sacrifice. In the days of old, a blessed individual would be free to offer themselves as a human sacrifice, to be given to the Gods along with a horrid despicable criminal. 

A sacrifice willingly given and a sacrifice forcibly taken. 

It was the duality of Old Valyria. 

Such violence could not be justified now. 

Though in the cases of horrid despicable criminals who were already sentenced to death...their deaths could be made as offerings to the Gods. Along with offering livestock.  

On the day of the harvest moon, things will be different, the pilgrimages cease the day before. For on the true harvest moon, the temple shall be closed to the public, only open to the royal family. That is when Rhaena and Aemond will make their way to meet with the Fourteen Priestesses, one who serves each of the Fourteen Flames specifically. The sacrifices will be made along with a prick or a cut from both Rhaena and Aemond. 

And then they would be permitted to ask the Gods for whatever they wanted.

In that time, they will bless the harvest. 

And then they will both be able to ask for anything, and Rhaena was sure she knew what they'd both want most of all. 

To ask for the safe and healthy birth of their babe. 

Once their prayers were complete, they'd be free to return to the castle. To ride through the city of Tegun Skrykos, and as Rhaena remembered it from her childhood days. The city would be draped in red and black silks, streams of yellow and gold, with beautiful torches lit, as music claimed the air. People would run through the streets, dancing and singing, screams and laughter. The air would be magnificent, electric. 

She was sure Dracaena would be very much the same way by that time of night. 

Once they'd return to the castle, the ruling Prince or Princess of Dragonstone would mount their dragons and fly into the night sky. Let their bonded beasts breathe bright flames, illuminating the darkness, a glorious spectacle for their subjects, while also showing the might and the power of house Targaryen. 

That part of the evening was not a must, it was as much a spectacle as it was anything else. 

But there were four festivals of this nature, the Blooming Harvest Festival for the spring moons, which took place during the third moon of the year. The Summer Nights festivals during the hot summer moons, which took place during the sixth moon of the year. The harvest festival for the chilling of autumn, which took place now, during the ninth moon of the year. And finally, the ice winter festivals for the cool moons, which took place during the twelfth and final moon of the year. 

Although the harvest festival would always reign supreme in Rhaena's mind, it had always been her favourite celebration. 

"Princess?" The voice was instantly recognizable as that of Lady Lelia Lannister, one of her key Ladies-in-waiting. She'd quietly interrupted Rhaena's peaceful thoughts, by now Rhaena had taken to laying out on a soft quilt upon the smooth grassy knoll of the eastern gardens. The rain had truly subsided, and the weather was not too cool or too warm, perfect for sitting...or laying outside. 

The sun had finally burst through, warming Rhaena's skin and body. In the clean fresh air, with the sea breeze that rose up flowed along the garden's edge. 

What a peaceful tranquil place, only Dragonstone's gardens could give such an aura. 

Rhaena didn't peek her eyes open just yet, assuming that if Lady Lelia had come to join her, then most likely, her three other Ladies-in-waiting must have done so as well. 

Lady Lelia was much like an elder sister, at the age of five and twenty, she was eldest of Rhaena's Ladies as well as being the eldest daughter of Lord Jason Lannister and his wife the Lady Johanna Lannister. 

She was a beauty, in the conventional sense and all, she was the sort of Lady any man with eyes would want for... barring they could not have a Targaryen Princess. With pale ivory skin, long wispy bright blonde hair, sky-blue eyes that would normally would have hypnotized the strongest of men with a playful almost flirty smile always gracing her lips. Tall, radiant and slimly curved. All this and yet...she could not seem to marry. 

She had the terrible misfortune of becoming a widow at the age of twenty when her husband, a respectable if not still inconsequential knight, died of sudden causes . It's been long since rumoured that she apparently murdered the man, with poison or black magic. It had earned her the moniker "The Black Widow Lioness" . 

Even though ever since she'd become Rhaena's Lady-in-waiting, the truth of the matter was that her husband only choked on his morning breakfast, eggs and dry toast. It had made all of the girls laugh when she told them. But it seemed her parents never cared to announce that fact, they failed her by letting the wrong rumours spread, and now no matter how many horrible matches they tried to set up for her...Lord or knight, they were always far too apprehensive to trust her. 

To wed her. 

Lord and Lady Lannister had all by begged Rhaena take their most beautiful daughter into her court before she was labeled a true "spinster" . Their hope was that if their daughter could gain Rhaena's own favour, along with the royal family on the whole...then maybe she'd be lucky enough to find a good match. 

Truthfully the Lannisters had gone to Baela first, and there, Rhaena's sister had no problem choosing to spite the Lord Lannister for his plots of near betrayal and near treason. 

Rhaena on the other hand, might have wanted to spite Jason Lannister...but once again, in the most unlikely of people, she found Lady Lelia to be a kindred spirit of sorts, and accepted her into Dragonstone. 

"Lelia, I know what you intend to ask me, and so I shall answer before you ask it. I am well," Rhaena sighed wistfully, because she was fine. She wasn't uncomfortable, or hungry, or sore, or in any sort of pain. 

There was an ache within her...but she couldn't name it...so she wouldn't. 

It was in an instant, but she felt a weight join her on the quilt beside her. Laying down soundly with a waft of mildly scented peonies. 

Lady Ellyn Baratheon, another of Rhaena's close and personally chosen Ladies-in-waiting. 

Lady Ellyn Baratheon had been another odd choice, mainly because there was a time when Rhaena's husband was quite close to being forced into a marriage with Ellyn's younger sister, Floris, Lord Borros Baratheon's favourite daughter. When the war was avoided, he'd asked Rhaena to allow Floris a spot in her court, as one of her Ladies-in-waiting.

Rhaena... might have blamed her hormones at the time, because just hearing the name Floris had enraged her. She knew it wasn't the girl's fault, but even so they idea of having Aemond's "almost wife" here in the castle made her jealous, annoyed, and quite irritated above all else. Besides it all, the girl was only four and ten, what need did Rhaena have for a companion so young. 

Or so she reasoned with herself. 

Aemond could have cared less for allowing either a Lannister or a Baratheon to be a part of their court, much less as Rhaena's personal own Ladies. But he reasoned the choice was hers, and so Rhaena opted for the cynical, sarcastic, articulate elder sister, Ellyn Baratheon instead. 

She had no real basis for her choice in this case, politically it would do well to have a Baratheon in her court, Rhaena knew that. 

For a house so rooted in Valryian ancestry, with Lord Borros' own great-ancestor having been the great Lord Orys Baratheon, while his grandmother had been Lady Alyssa Velaryon. 

It was obvious that it would benefit Rhaenyra's reign to keep this fickle Baratheon Lord in good spirits. 

But that never meant bowing to his demands entirely, he was only a Lord. Not a member of the royal household, so Rhaena chose who she wanted. 

And in the end her choice had been the right one, Lady Ellyn was an interesting woman. One and twenty years of age, she was an often overlooked third daughter. 

But as far as Rhaena was concerned, Ellyn was every bit as lovely as Floris was, maybe even more so due to the way her faint Valryian genes had struck her so. Her eyes may have been a remarkably common grey shade, but her chestnut brown hair was streaked with pale Valryian silver strands. Starting from the roots, it gave her a most interesting appearance. Her pale olive-toned skin glowed more than her sisters, and her face held such lovely regal features. She was about Rhaena's own height, only slightly more toned, as Ellyn was an avid horse rider. 

"Princess, if the lack of attending hearings bothers you so, why not ask the Prince to reconsider?" Lady Ellyn softly nudged Rhaena's arm, playfully begging her to engage with them. The girls must've been greatly worried in order to do so. 

"Exactly!" Lady Victaria chimed in, kneeling down on the other side of Rhaena's quilt, "Prince Aemond treats you as if you were a moon Goddess herself, I know I've not seen another man more in love with his wife...save for your father, the King with the Queen. Bat your lashes a bit and the Prince shall be putty in your hands. No one else could command him so," 

Lady Victaria Greyjoy, a girl of twenty years of age. She might've been Rhaena's favourite amongst her new companions, probably because she always had the nerve to just say whatever it was she was thinking. She reminded Rhaena of her sister, Baela, at the best of times.

Victaria was Dalton Greyjoy's younger sister, rumoured to be his bastard sister, but the claims were never proven to be true. Their father, Lord Greyjoy, and subsequently Dalton himself, had always claimed her to be legitimate...and so she was. Although, like Rhaena's own brown-haired brothers, it was Victaria's features that gave way to suspicion. Deep and dark nearly ruby red auburn curls, with peachy nearly deep beige skin, plush shapely lips and a structured rounded nose. She was a toned yet curvy girl, with an incredibly narrow waistline and wide hips, thicker thighs and a full chest...she, alongside Lady Lelia were two Ladies Rhaena was certain would find husbands soon enough.

But all the same, her features spoke of the possibility of having a Dornish mother...or possibly from another Free City.

A speculation Rhaena would never voice, for she knew how it was to have people constantly guess and whisper about one's parentage. She'd watched it happen to Jace, Luke and Joff whenever they were not in the presence of just family, especially once they had returned to King's Landing. Rhaena would never subject Victaria to such ridicule. 

Instead, she was happy to welcome such a bright outspoken girl to her court, Aemond had not been as enthused when Dalton arrived with his sister...but Rhaena was able to curb that conversation in her favour

"Maybe so, Victaria," Rhaena giggled lightly at the choice of words the Greyjoy girl had chosen to go with, "but even my Princely husband has his limits. Besides, I've already attempted to have him reconsider. And by it all now... I've come to think he may have been right in his original decision. I'm far too emotional to sit and preside over weighted hearings such as those. To remain impartial and calm...it is impossible with this babe inside of me." 

Saying the words, it weighed on her chest all the same to admit that she had to forfeit this part of her duties due to the little one within her. 

But all the same, she found herself fondly gazing down at her rounded belly, softly caressing the curve, as if she thought her words too harsh and wished to apologize to her unborn babe. It wasn't her child's fault...not really. 

"Then there must be something else we can do? Find another way to fill your time and cheer you, Princess," Lady Kyra quietly added, she hadn't moved from her seat on white stone bench that faced the gardens. But she had placed her novel down beside her, her eyes wide with concern. 

Lady Kyra Tarly was the youngest amongst them, only recently turned six and ten, she was a rather neglected fourth born daughter. Supposedly deemed "unattractive and dumpy" by her parents, solely due to her rather plump curvier body shape. She was a quiet, awkward, bookish girl who did not exude the appearance of "dainty sophistication" as most noblewomen were meant to. But these were not faults in Rhaena's eyes, when Kyra’s mother, the former Lady Tarly, brought her four daughters to Dragonstone in hopes that Rhaena would choose her one of her elder, supposedly more conventionally handsome daughters. 

Rhaena sought to do the opposite. 

She had no need for Ladies who'd discuss vapid empty topics with her, Rhaena dealt with enough of those women regularly. No she wanted companions, women she could truly hold personal if not interesting conversations with, women she could grow to trust and count as true confidants. 

And Lady Kyra held such a personality in Rhaena's eyes.

Besides it all, Rhaena supposed there was something soft and sweet about the girl that made Rhaena want to protect her. She hadn't liked the way Kyra's elder sisters or mother spoke to her, berated her. Her soft featured face, with faint reddish freckles splattered across rosy beige skin. She had big pale green eyes and rather unruly pale copper red curls. 

She felt like a little sister, adorable, soft and caring, so of course Rhaena was happy to take her in...just her though, the other three Tarly daughters could turn elsewhere for positions in court. 

"Well, dear Kyra, I am all ears to any suggestions you may have, any of you, really," Rhaena smiled, settling herself back against Ellyn. 

She could hear soft hums, followed by the tranquil silence of the gardens. Birds fluttering about through the flower beds and hedge bushes. 

It was clear, none of these girls had an idea between them.

It wouldn't really matter, as in the end, she wouldn't actually need their help. Her mind had been plaguing her with the same vague thought all day long now. Ever since her slight meltdown at breakfast, the feeling had only grown more intense. With each passing hour, it was becoming increasingly harder to ignore. 

Her body hungered for her dragon Prince. 

It was such an odd thing, one Rhaena had noticed gradually. The stark differences...they seemed to be ever-changing. The way Rhaena hungered for her husband now as opposed to before. When they'd been engaged, when he was only her betrothed , sex had been new and exciting, all-consuming and enriching. She wanted him as often as her body would allow her to, in every possible location they could steal away to. 

Then once they were wed, she thought she'd grasped a handle on it, a happy medium, where as ravenous as she may have felt for her husband. There was a level of control... slight...level of control. To be honest they were still sneaking around corners and abandoned hallways, secret passages and tunnels just to spend a moment pleasing one another. 

But this was different now. 

Last moon had unlocked something within, something volatile and urging. As if there was no way of fully satisfying the beast within her that craved his attention and his body. A moon ago, she'd all but stormed into a settlement hearing, dismissed everyone else and lowered herself to her knees for him. He might've questioned her for only a moment, before he leaned back and allowed her to undo his breeches. Desperate to taste him then, she'd let her tongue run along the length of him before she happily took his thick member into the heat of her mouth. 

She'd been sated then. 

But it wasn't the last time she returned to him that day. 

Or that week...or moon. 

Rhaena thought she might have needed to reign these feelings in, surely it couldn't have been healthy to seek so much... lovemaking ...from one's husband. 

And she would've kept a better handle on things today. 

But even now, here on the ground in the gardens, she couldn't help but think of his silky hair yet again. The arousing way his adams apple drew her in, the ghosting feel of his lips trailing down her throat. She wanted to feel his hands roaming her body, her breasts, her bottom. She wanted to feel the heat of his breath on her neck and the hard wanting of his cock. She wanted to feel him inside of her, stretching her deeply, fucking her soundly.

Rhaena didn't care where they did it or who saw them, heard them. Whether they managed to return to their chambers, for simply fucked in the dining hall... maybe even the council room...one of the throne rooms.

She cared not, so long as he wasn't gentle. 

He'd been sweet and loving this morning in bed, and she'd loved it then. But now she was desperate and hungry for him, she couldn't handle his usual teasing or his recent displays of wholesome lovemaking. 

She'd climb atop him as he sat the throne if she must. For Rhaena was aching, a needy heat pooling in her lower regions. She needed him to please her as only he could. 

Her mind could picture him so clearly, she knew where he'd be, listening to hearings in the eastern throne room...he wasn't far. One flight of stairs and a few steps and she'd be with him. 

And if she knew her husband, as much as he meant to shield her from anything that might stress her, he didn't much enjoy listening to people plead their cases to him. If it was up to him he'd simply execute the vast majority of people who vexed him. 

So by now he'd be in want of a distraction...one she was sure he'd welcome since it was coming from his wife. 

This was it, this was how she'd spend her time today. 

She'd go to him. 

And if anything, this was his fault to begin with.  

He'd been the one to plant this babe within her. And now because of it, she wanted for things at such an extreme rate. 

Besides, he'd also all but told her this morning that he planned to indulge her. Whatever she felt, whatever upset her would be banished and whatever she craved for would be fulfilled. Rhaena could reason such things would not just stop with food cravings and Lords' colognes.

As Rhaena continued to caress her belly, the soft motions only solidified her feelings. Surely it felt just a tad bit odd vividly imagining scenarios in which her husband might fuck her roughly out here in the gardens with her Ladies. 

But what could she do? At this very moment she craved her husband and nothing or no one else would do in his place. 

If she could, she'd want Aemond to lay here with her, to hold her...to caress her...to touch her...wreck her right here, right now. 

As opposed to this morning, where Rhaena could remember just how sweet and warm their lovemaking had felt. She wasn't sure if she wanted that exact feeling right at this moment, but she wanted him in some sort of capacity. 

So, abruptly, Rhaena began to push herself up and off of her quilt. She wouldn't wait any longer, she'd take what she wanted. It was what dragons did best, and Rhaena was a dragon in her own right. So she let her present maid, Allyria, who'd joined her outside, help her to her feet. Followed by her four personal guards, Rhaena made her way back towards the castle. Without really glancing back at her Ladies, Rhaena called back, "it is fine if you don't come up with anything, I think I shall just go and see my husband." 

"Shall you need backup? Moral support of a kind?" Lady Kyra innocently responded. 

Rhaena held back her own laughter at the thought of her Ladies rushing behind her, following her all the way only to realize their Princess wished to engage in very private explicit activities with her husband. She smiled warmly at her young Lady Kyra's innocence. 

And it seemed she wasn't the only one who found it amusing, as Rhaena made her way towards the castle, she could hear the other three girls giggling as Lady Lelia's delighted voice replied, "oh sweet one, I don't think she'll want any help with this particular encounter." 

It had made Rhaena's smile widen, as it seemed all of the older Ladies knew exactly what Rhaena was after, other than poor Kyra. 

The look of determination must have been a clear one. 

From the moment Rhaena stepped into the castle, nobles and servants made way for her to reach her destination expeditiously. Gliding through the exquisite stoney halls, the floors smooth and marbled as were many of the surfaces here on Dragonstone. The afternoon sun poured in through the many high placed massive arched windows. 

Draping the castle with a crisp classic yet ethereal White glow. 

In formation, Rhaena's four guards Ser Garin, Ser Drako, Ser Miklaz and Ser Moredo walked with her through the halls. She'd let Allyria return to whatever task she saw fit to continue or enjoy some free time for the moment. 

Ser Miklaz Rhonoq was a Myrish knight, with faintly visible Valyrian features and possibly Summer Islander ancestry as well. With dusky Blondish/pale brown curls, pale-cinnamon brown skin and pale blue eyes. He was stoic but kind-hearted, handsome yet far more humble about it than Ser Drako. 

While Ser Moredo Sand was a Dornish bastard-born knight, his Valyrian ancestry was far less visible than the others. But he did in fact look quite Tyroshi, nearly sandy-brown complexion, with dusty copper-ish brown hair and green-ish hazel eyes. He remained a quiet dutiful knight, rarely breaking his stoic duty to even just converse freely with his sworn royal charges. 

The eastern throne room was close enough, just up the grand steps, down a couple of turns and straight ahead. 

Close...but not close enough. 

The Eastern throne room was essentially the main throne for the ruling Prince or Princess of Dragonstone, it was where Aemond sat for most of his duties. Whether they be hearings, vital petitions, or larger settlements, this throne room is where this business was to be held. It was where Aegon the Conqueror once sat before he and his sister wives began to plan and plot how they'd conquer the whole of Westeros. The room was crafted with black stone, for the walls, the floors and the ceiling, the throne itself seemingly carved directly from black obsidian stone. It had the appearance of being melted and formed with dragons' fire,  four pillars spiked, with an oozing melted look to it, it would shimmer in the light...if such light was permitted. 

But this room was made to be dark and intimidating. Foreboding for all who were not of the blood of the dragon. There were eight windows in that room which allowed daylight, but by ceremonial principle, four were to have curtains drawn over them. Allowing for the room to need candle light, to keep the Dragon Lord in control of the emotional state of the room. 

Or so it is to be believed. 

Daylight calms people... daylight invites the idea that one is safe, safe to make claims and voice their opinions. But in the darkness, one might remember to remain humble...to fear the dragon that sits before you. 

Ambience and all aside, Rhaena was certain Aemond Targaryen needed no such help to exude such a feeling to his subjects. 

But she digressed. 

In Rhaena's own case, she essentially had her own throne room as well. The Northern throne room, was as its name suggested, in the Northern part of the castle. Far less dreary than its Eastern counterpart, its eight windows were allowed to be open. Encouraged in fact, to illuminate the white stoned room, a bright encouraging environment. The throne in that room mimicked the melting stone appearance of the Eastern one, only it was glossier with white marbling stone, it shimmered with iridescent beauty when any natural light shone against it. 

Once belonging to Rhaenys the Conqueror, she was the brightest, the most vivid in her beauty in comparison to her two other trueborn siblings. And so her throne room was meant to be a place where subjects could freely voice their concerns and opinions to the lovely counterpart of their Dragonlord. For Rhaena's own tastes, she might have added a great many green plants and boldly colourful flowers to the decor of the room. Adding colour and life to the place she was meant to think of as her daily setting. 

Harkening back to the days in which Rhaena would fill her own chambers with plants and floral vines, an extension of her personality that always made her feel at home no matter the place. 

There was also a third throne room...the Western throne room, in the western wing of the castle. It had once belonged to Visenya the Conqueror, but Rhaena had yet to have need for it. So she hadn't ventured to it as of yet, though she was sure Aemond must have already by now. Much like Aegon's former throne...she imagined the room to be a dark foreboding place...possibly far more blood red than dark and black. 

But who was to say. 

As Rhaena arrived at the doors of the Eastern throne room, she simply nodded towards the two Knights guarding the doors. 

Familiar choices for their castle wide guards...but as neither were amongst Rhaena's personal six...she couldn't say she'd remembered their names all too well as of yet. 

One knight deigned to speak to her, "you Grace, the Prince Aemond it currently presiding over a matter with Lord Celtigar and-" 

Her eyes lowered and rolled at the robotic regurgitated words the man seemed to think necessary in repeating to her. She already knew what her husband was doing, and was largely unsurprised with the fact that his hearing should be with the young Lord Celtigar. 

As per Dragonstone's court, they were not the Capital, whereas in King's Landing, the Red Keep may host the direct Lord and Lady of each house should they need to. Here in Dragonstone, they were hosts to direct heirs of a great few houses, soon-to-be young Lords and Ladies. From House Celtigar, Rogare, Darry, Vypren, Rowan and Vance. These Lords were insurance policies, direct lines to their Lord fathers' who could and would communicate with their heirs to make deals and alliances with the crown directly when they themselves could not make the journey. 

This idea went just as well with the many Valyrian based Free Cities. Although, as many of those cities had monarchies of their own, or elected officials, instead of heirs...they sent dignitaries. So Dragonstone played host to dignitaries from Lys, Volantis, Tyrosh, Pentos, Qohor, Norvos and Lorath. 

Hence the rather boisterous court Dragonstone held within its walls. 

In the case of House Celtigar, they'd been stalling on a rather important response to which Aemond was indeed tired of waiting for. 

Even through the closed heavy oak doors, Rhaena could hear the temperature rising from within the throne room. 

"For fucksake, Clement, I tire of your rambling! That old fuck of a grouchy father you have has managed to evade decisions long enough. Send a raven, sail to him if you must, grab him by the shoulders and get a fucking clear answer from the man. Before I think to send a 'message' of my own to him," Aemond's rough voice had seethed something dark by the end, he was making threats once again. 

Oh, by the Gods.

THIS was why Rhaena's presence for hearings such as these were necessary. 

Her husband was one snap away from drawing his sword on the hapless young Lord. 

She could hear the poor man of stammer through a muffled response, "m-my Prince, my father refuses to see reason, n-no matter what word I send to him-" 

"Would he see reason if I sent back his only son to him bit by bit, as severed limbs and pieces all stuffed and crammed into ornamental chest-box," Aemond growled loudly, "or maybe your dear wife would be a better a threat, or your children perhaps-"

OKAY...that was enough. 

He was clearly enraged, and now he was threatening the lives of this one man's entire family. 

With a pointed regal glare that spoke of the superiority and power she held in this castle, she burned her sight down onto the guard that dared to block her entrance. Adding on a sweet little smile as she said, "now, shall we make this easy, open this door. Before the head of Lord Celtigar is resting on your conscious. For I assure you, my parents, the Queen and King of Westeros, will not be pleased if you stood in my way when I could've just as easily stopped this. It would call for a very easy, very swift execution for you my good Ser."

She couldn't have been sure if it was her own glare that won the knight over, or if possibly the four knights behind her had joined in on her intimidation tactic. But either way, both guarding knights opened the doors for her in one synchronized motion, letting her glide inside with pristine grace considering the ravenous state her body was in just moments prior. 

Once inside, it was just as she feared, Lord Clement Celtigar stepping back apprehensively with his own valet and representatives from House Celtigar. All critically and fearfully watching as Aemond rose from his seat in a flash, drawing his dark red gleaming sword from its sheath. 

"I'm certain Blood Moon thirsts for noble blood," he snarled cruelly as he advanced upon the unprepared Lord, Clement Celtigar's own sword still sheathed and untouched. 

"Konir sagon mirre, valzȳrys, " that is enough, husband, Rhaena calmly stated as she fearlessly walker closer to the unfolding tension filled room, "lo ao ossēnagon zirȳla, īlon iēdrosa kessa daor emagon se udligon jaeli," If you kill him, we still will not have the answer we want. 

It was best to approach her irate dragon with a calm tone, speaking with that calm tone in Valyrian also helped to snap him out of his red vision just as quickly. She'd seen him in far worse states than this, it was nothing she could not handle. 

Even if her guarding knights seemed ready and willing to draw their swords to protect her should they need to. 

But she only glanced back at them, smiled sweetly with a gentle nod, to show them she was fine and did not need their assistance. 

Not here, not for this, and certainly not for her husband. 

She may not have had a true bonded dragon...but that didn't mean that she did not understand how to calm and tame the most wild amongst them. 

Rhaena watched as Aemond reluctantly halted, his shoulders rising and lowering, his heavy intakes with each breath he took. 

But his sword was still drawn, so unpredictability was still a possibility. She'd have to secure Lord Celtigar's safety in this moment with something more concrete. 

"Gīda ñuha zaldrīzes," calm my dragon , Rhaena softly spoke, sweetening her tone as she slowly walked towards him, acting as if there was no one else in the throne room, "rughagon zȳhon ānogar kessa daor mazverdagon se uēpa āeksio celtigar paktot lēda se pāletilla," spilling his blood will not make the old Lord Celtigar side with the crown.

Finally she watched as he growled, sighing heavily as he sheathed his sword again. Grinding his teeth as he took viciously precise steps back to his throne, with that Rhaena subtly ignored the soft whispers of gratitude Lord Celtigar and his team whispered to her. Instead she took her seat beside him, an ornate red with black floral throne chair that existed solely for their shared hearings. 

Aemond hadn't met her eye, not from the moment she walked in …and not even now. But he had clearly heard her, he'd instantly stopped and listened to her. He was just opting to be grumpy and petty about it all because she hadn't allowed him to kill the Lord. 

Rhaena could see Aemond's left foot vigorously tapping as he waited...and for a moment, Rhaena wondered what he was waiting for. 

But then it dawned on her, she'd essentially waltzed in and stolen the breath of the room, leaking all of the tension out and away. Aemond had no interest in this situation anymore, so much so, he didn't even care to end it properly. 

So Rhaena would, with a light sigh, she looked over directly towards the Lord, "Lord Celtigar," she started with a warm smile, grabbing his attention to solely focus on her, "my husband, Prince Aemond is correct. In that, you should reach out to your father once more. At your own digression, you may decide what would be a more efficient method, whether another raven would suffice or if you yourself must greet him in person. But this matter must be settled before the next moon ends. The crown needs to know if House Celtigar intends to stand with them, and by extension House Targaryen in this endeavor with the Stepstones." 

Breathing soundly, she watched as Lord Celtigar breathed a sigh of relief, dealing with the calm approach of the dragon Princess as opposed to the hostile nature of the Lording dragon Prince. 

With a bow he quickly replied, "yes of course, Princess...Prince. Ravens' have not sufficed, so it is probably best that I make the journey personally. I know how important securing and solidifying the Stepstones is to her and his Majesty." 

"Good, make your preparations, and inform us of the specifics of this trip," Rhaena gave a simple nod, "you are now dismissed." 

Rhaena patiently waited for Lord and his posse to exit the throne room, only truly breathing once they had left the room vacant with only servants and guards. 

"Nyke gōntan daor jorrāelagon ao naejot interfere, ēdan ziry gō control," I did not need you to interfere, I had it under control, Aemond finally grumbled after a beat of silence. 

Rhaena huffed a laugh at that statement, pulling herself up to her feet and stepping right in front of him. She placed her hands directly onto his wrists, pressing them down on the arm rests of the stone throne, leaning over him just enough to force his attention.

For his gaze could not remain on the floor forever. 

The moment his dark indigo eye locked onto her pale violet eyes, she felt a lovely heated shiver run through her body. There was something so dark and dangerous in his eye, inviting a threat…a command…a wanting of sorts. 

She couldn't claim to be sure of what this expression on his face truly read to be, but she was happy to risk the outcome. 

"Ao ivestretan nyke īlen se hakotan mēre, se yet, ao jeldan naejot gūrogon ānogar sīr nāqopsir ," you told me I was the emotional one, and yet, you wished to draw blood so easily, Rhaena breathed, a soft alluring sound wrapped itself around the pronunciation of each Valyrian word. 

From that his only response formed itself as a devious smirk that grew on his lips, an expression that only worked to entice her further. 

"Mmm, udligon nyke bisa," mmm, answer me this, his voice sounded so velvety smooth, nearly enchanting her to abandon all thought of decorum and-, "skoros emagon ao māzigon syt, byka ābrazȳrys?" what have you come for, little wife?

That alone might have been enough- 

But in that moment, Aemond hadn't waited for her response. With a swift sleight of hand trick, he'd managed to pull his wrists free whilst grabbing ahold of hers. Pulling her closer, inviting her to climb atop him. And as her lust for him began to cloud her mind once again, she allowed it. From the moment he released her wrists in favour of securing her waist in his hands. Rhaena made the comfortable choice to rest her hands upon his broad shoulders, her knees slipping into the space around his hips, straddling him truly before she seated herself down atop his lap.

Once she was seated upon his warm sturdy thighs she felt her blood tingle and shiver, her heart hammering soundly at a speed only he caused within her. 

"Nyke missed ñuha zaldrīzes iksis mirre," I missed my dragon is all, Rhaena softly hummed, pressing herself closer, finally drowning in that calming clean citrusy scent of his. Mixed with that cedarwood undertone that made her head feel light and dizzy, she found her arms wrapping tighter around him. Her fingers sweetly combing the smooth length of his hair as her nose reached and nuzzled against his. 

She could feel his previous hostility towards Lord Celtigar slowly dissipate and fade, however tense his body might've been moments ago, it was now open and inviting her to him. 

"Kessa nyke remedy bona pār," shall I remedy that then, were the last words he'd said before his lips claimed hers. It was as if she were swallowing flames, the instant heat that spread from her lips, down her throat and coursed its way through her entire body. The shivering satisfaction of feeling his tongue entangle with hers, tasting every last part of the molten heat of his mouth. She let herself melt against him, letting the dream-like feel of his large hands roaming her hips, her waist, her lower back and then round her bottom. 

So comfortably free of formality, both of them knowing exactly who they belonged to, who had claimed them, forever and always. 

In the melting frenzy of her wanting, Rhaena's hips had already begun to slowly grind themselves against his, already feeling the peaked hard rod of his cock buried within his breeches. 

And she knew she was making it worse for him, purposely teasing him with what she herself was already in desperate need to have. In that desperation, she held him tighter, kissed him harder…rougher, her teeth grazing his lips as she all but bit and possessed him. She was moaning so sweetly for him, she'd completely forgotten about any and every servant or guard who might've still been present in the throne room.   

For, indeed the word, ravenous , was most certainly the best word to describe her need at the moment. 

All the while, it seemed Aemond had happily embraced this vigor of hers. Pulling her just as tightly against him, smiling and chuckling as he groaned against her, "you should have told me you were starving for me, I would have come to you sooner." 

"I was just trying to put it off…" she panted heavily, kissing him soundly just as quickly. 

As he lifted her closer, his grip purposely squeezing and gliding along her bottom, he grinned, "never put me off, I'd rather this sort of distraction over anything else." 

Such a simple response had made her body electrify in an instant, making her already soaked cunt quiver at the sound of her husband's demand. Her hips only rolled more intensely against him, her desperation and want for him only growing, burning brighter. 

Gods, how she wanted him…she wanted him inside of her that very instant. 

She couldn't say what it was about this dimly lit setting that had only added to her arousal. A room that was meant to convey fear and foreboding…now only made her want to ride her husband till completion. 

And she would.  

Although it seemed they couldn't have pulled apart for the decency of relieving their staff, and oddly enough, Rhaena might not have cared to do so at that moment either. The quiet audience that probably wished to exit but were simultaneously compelled to stay, unsure of what their next move could possibly be for so long as they didn't infuriate their Targaryen Lord and Lady they would be fine. 

They would be safe. 

But that also meant no one could truly interrupt them either. 

Whatever shared looks and glances they may have been sharing, throats clearing in an attempt to draw either Rhaena or Aemond's attention long enough for them to be dismissed…all went unheard and unseen. 

For both Rhaena and her dragon were far too occupied with one another to care for anything or anyone else. 

With those sets of multiple eyes somewhat made to witness them, it all made Rhaena's body feel like it was transcending, so much so that she'd barely missed a beat when her fingers nimbly began to unlace Aemond's breeches. Pulling his hard cock free to the sound of a raspy groan from her husband, she wasted no time shuffling beneath her skirts, shifting her underclothes just enough to guide his thick throbbing member to her drenched opening. 

She'd felt the deep sultry whine that bubbled in the recesses of her throat before it threatened to burst out and echo into the throne room. Before the entire sound could resonate, she'd managed to catch Aemond's lips. Allowing him to swallow the sound, just as she swallowed his reverberating moan as she sank down onto his length. 

"Oh my Gods," Rhaena had whimpered against him, the words had simply slipped away from her and there was no returning them. 

Only matched by Aemond's own smirk at her sentiments, "fuck, you were already so wet for me…how long have you been missing me," 

"Since breakfast-" she moaned just as he thrusted his cock deep within her, stretching her cunt for his own thick size to snugly occupy. 

It was then that the doors to the throne room had been opened, it sounded so faint, so way off in the distance. But by the resounding sigh of recognition, she could just barely comprehend that it must've been Maester Varion. A man who'd had the apparent displeasure of catching Rhaena and Aemond in the act several times before. 

He never spoke of it afterwards, never acted the slightest bit surprised or cross when he came face to face with their actions. 

He only ever did their staff the courtesy of dismissing them from the room. Just as he did now, he must've quickly and quietly motioned for all, including Rhaena's and Aemond's personal guards, to leave the room.

Rhaena only knew it to be true, once her growing pleasure rose to an unmatched peak, the fire stoked within her, her blood trilling and singing to the synchronized bliss of fucking ones dragon mate. She'd pulled her lips away from his, enough to quickly glance around the room before letting her hands grip into his hair as she pulled tightly. Relishing the strangled husky groans and wincing that fell from Aemond's lips.  

"I don't care, whenever you feel you need me…whenever you wish for me to take you… please you…fuck you senseless," he panted as his forehead rested against hers, "you find me…send for me…and I will come."

God's he looked like absolute perfection in this golden light. The orange candlelight paired with the faint daylight that peered through the windows. His striking curvilinear features, on display just for her. 

Oh how she tried to focus on his words, the most important being, if she wanted him then he'd come to her . 

So she'd keep that in mind. 

But for now, she purposely fought the urge to tuck her face in the crook of his neck, no she wished to see him when she came. Each perfectly timed stroke made her feel drunk and frazzled, her own movements had become erratic, burning with the speed in which her hips snapped against his. In her heat for him, she'd snatched his leather patch off. They were all alone now and she wanted to see everything, moaning simply because she'd realized he hadn't worn his sapphire today. The sweet bliss of truly seeing the real him at this very moment, when she was already so close. 

"Harder, ñuha dōna zaldrīzes ," my sweet dragon , Rhaena begged in a mixture of languages, her back already arching so nicely for him in his hold, "I need you to hurt me," 

It was all the command he needed, as his hand reached under her skirts solely so he could feel the heated smooth skin of her bare thighs and hips. Gripping violently hard into her skin, with the clear intention to bruise her, to give his hand a rougher purchase on her body. While his other hand under her arm and around to the back of her neck, squeezing her tightly, holding her rigidly. She barely winced at the recognizable sweet ache, only focusing on the delicious pleasure it gave way to as he thrusted into her even harder…deeper. 

"Qogralbar, dōna riña," fuck, sweet girl, Aemond groaned roughly as he thrusted so deeply into her that her cunt clenched tightly around his cock, "ñuha gevie byka ābrazȳrys," my beautiful little wife. 

Gods…how she loved him. 

He had to know how the sound of his voice…how his gravelly Valyrian seeped into her skin and roused her entire body. 

So much so that Rhaena couldn't even bear to think of a response, her mind had long since melted and turned to mush. 

She couldn't control her body anymore, as she threw her head, arching back as she writhed viciously. It made her own grip tighten in his hair, as one of her hands gripped so hard against the cotton silk of the shirt beneath his doublet, against his shoulder where she let her nails dig in and bury themselves against his skin. By then Aemond had leaned down over by her neck, his teeth grazing and the soft tender skin of her throat, probably breaking the skin if only slightly as he soothed the burn with his tongue. 

It was in that space, the place between immense pleasure and pain, where Rhaena felt that electric fire build and build until it peaked over a near ethereal horizon. 

In the dark bliss of perfection, she felt her dragon merely thrust twice more before he joined her in groaning aloud their shared pleasure…and now satisfaction. 

As he spilled his heated seed within her, Rhaena felt her body go limp as she collapsed against him. Resting her head on his shoulder as her chest heaved with every deep panting breath she took. A sense of calm clarity washed over her as she loosened her grip in his hair, lowering her hand to caress his chest before she gently raised her hand up to cup his scarred cheek. Nuzzling her nose against his neck, breathing in that savory citrusy spiced cedarwood scent of his that both calmed her and aroused her, as she let her thumb trace over the scar that travelled down his left cheek. 

"I never thought a throne room would lend itself to such a pleasure," Rhaena breathed, smiling softly, content in the bliss of this quiet moment, "we should convene here more often." 

Aemond had chuckled warmly and she soaked in the lovely sound, "I'm certain I've invited you to use this room before," 

"Surely not," she playfully disagreed. 

"Definitely have…but it matters not. Should I be trapped here again," he grinned, kissing the crown of her head with such warmth and love, "then do me the honour of interrupting me… distracting me…" 

Rhaena smiled at that, humming sweetly as she nodded her head, "as you wish, my love."

-

P.S. I hope this was a fun little smutty one!

LOOL I had fun with this one, the idea of Aemond being overprotective but also being right, but also being wrong (because he was not handling things well with Lord Celtigar near the end there).

Expect more of that in the next chapter! The main "issue/conflict" for the next chapter really hinges on them both being as equally right as they are wrong, I think so at least LOOL

I'm also trying to keep track of the kinks I'm checking off as I go, this chapter definitely had horny Preggo Rhaena and a bit of their exhibition kink!

Ch.7 will have a bit of the food kink/whip cream kink as well as a bit of bondage. Ch.8 is where the Lactation kink will finally come into play! As well as an anal scene!!

Shit's ramping uppppppp…and baby #1 is so close to getting here, in ch. 9 as far as my notes are concerned!!

[dckweed]

@multifandom-world8 babes i am so sorry, this took me an embarrassing amount of time, but, here it is, and there will also be a second part as well !

my loves, it's been a hot minuet..but hi, hey, I'm here. Idk about yall but i had a kick ass weekend. Currently recovering from whiplash and fucking up my throat at a rock concert on Sunday (escape the fate, Hollywood undead, falling in reverse, and papa roach ((loml)) fr those wondering) that was so fucking amazing. How was yalls weekend? Everyone blow up the comments !

PLEASE NO ONE SPOIL THE TEENWOLF MOVIE! i have yet to watch it, and im sure there are others who haven't as well. Please be respectful in not spoiling anything on my posts.

I am aware that there is a paragraph that's darkened out and I have no idea how to fix it, for that, i apologize.

warnings: minors should not read this, but i know that i cannot stop you from opening this, so please, if you're under the age of 18, read at your own risk. this fic contains smut, maybe a bit of angst, biting, AGE GAPPED READER! reader was 19 when bitten, and in her 20s in the fic. Peter himself is a warning because guys look at him.

california dreamin'.., peter hale

Five years. Five long, fucking years of being stuck in this bullshit ass town, cleaning up supernatural mess after supernatural mess. You couldn't help but to wonder if the founders of Beacon Hills truly understood the irony of their towns name, it truly was a Beacon.

You suppose that was how you'd wound up in this mess anyway, the town being what it was and all, the werewolf population had gripped its claws into you and had never let you go. You had been a sophomore when it all happened, roped in by association with Stiles and Scott, and much like Stiles you had stayed human for most of it, until Derek's uncle had decided to use you as the main pawn for one of his stupid ass revenge fantasies. You hadn't taken it well at first, the bite completely destroyed you and it took a long time to build yourself up again, and by the time you had, you were much too late to do anything else with your life, and so, you had elected to stay behind and help keep the town out of trouble while the rest of your friends went on and lived their lives. 

Working at your family's business wasn't that horrible you supposed, you could make your own hours, and being the owners child, you got paid just slightly more than the others did, which was definitely on your pro list. As was your weekly meeting with the man who had turned you. Typically, Peter came in for lunch or maybe dinner (depending on which shift you were working) and while you worked, the pair of you would talk about any odd goings on, and catch up on what everyone was doing out in the world. It was also your allotted time to ogle the man. 

Maybe it was the loyalty you still felt to him after all this time from the bite, or maybe you were just really fucking lonely, but good god you couldn't deny that the man was the definition of sexy..

You had seen him today, during the lunch shift and though it had been brief, it had been long enough for your mind to wonder to dangerous places, wild thoughts running loose in your mind, the slight scar on your shoulder throbbing as they did, reminding you of the night he had given it to you..

It was cold, fall was beginning to set in to Beacon Hills once more as the seasons changed. You were 19 now, barely scraping by in highschool as it was, caught between the drama of your friend group and the drama of the supernatural beings that inhabited said group and tonight? Well, tonight you were quite literally the drama. 

Peter had lured you to his loft, you had thought that you would be meeting the entire pack there, and therefore hadn't thought to text any of them and after arriving, you quickly realized how wrong you were. Peter had answered the door, much too friendly than he had ever been towards you before with a smile on his usually scowling face. 

"I didn't think you'd actually show up." He says, opening the door just enough to let you slip in, your body brushing against his ever so slightly, shock of electric tingling down your spine as you did. You had always felt that way around him, but you just assumed it was a you thing and didn't notice the way that his hand tightened its grip on the door, or that his body went rigid, nor did you hear the sigh that escaped his lips. 

"What exactly is the emergency, Peter?" You ask, turning to face him when you realize the loft is empty. He had sent you an urgent text, the kind that usually went out to the entire pack, and you were in partial disbelief that you would have been the first to show up, or the first texted. You were human, which meant you were far down the chain of urgency list in emergency werewolf situations. 

"Sit." He says, eyebrow quirking and a slight thrill spreading through him as he watches you drop immediately onto the couch, almost mindlessly, eyes trained on him, wide and curious. He takes a seat on the chair across from the couch, launching into what was meant to be a proposal, a deal if you will..He was in one of his revenge fantasy phases, and was trying to willingly enlist your help, because for some reason (both Supernatural and logically), you weren't the person he was intent to have helping him. 

Peter knew why he felt the way he did when you brushed against him, it wasn't the first time and it certainly wasn't the last. He was a smart man, and it wasn't too hard to piece together for him. And in all honesty, at first he wanted to protect you from it, from him, and for a while it worked. But now? Now he wanted to be selfish. He needed to be selfish, even if it meant bringing you into the mix. 

"Absolutely fucking not." You say abruptly after a brief moment of silence once he had finished speaking, explaining to you what was going on in his mind. "No..just..no. ive seen what Scott and Liam go through, and yeah maybe it has cool perks but no just..why would you even think that I would go along with something like that Peter?" 

He could hear in your voice how desperately you disagreed with his idea, and a part of him wants to let you walk out that door and forget that this whole thing happened to begin with, but that selfish side wins. He stands as you move towards the door, and in two long, powerful strides, he pulls you back against his chest, arms around your torso pinning your own to your sides. 

"Peter! Peter let me go!" You yell, struggling despite the electric shock coursing through you once more. His grip only tightens on you, and you feel his breath on your ear as he brings his mouth down, can feel him breathing in your scent. 

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but this isn't optional.." He whispers, feeling you start to struggle more. He growls a little, his werewolf side coming out. His hold on you strengthens enough to be able to hold you still as he licks the area of exposed shoulder that your sweater had slid off of, his teeth grazing the skin ever so slightly. He debated letting you go, he didn't like the way that you were crying at all, you were going to hate him for this. 

He had already gone too far to turn back though. Before he can talk himself out of it, he bites down on your shoulder, trying to be as gentle as possible so as not to hurt you too much, but also trying to make sure it would take. He can't help but to savor you for a moment, the animal in him going absolutely feral over scent alone, he could do this for hours, he thought and happily he almost does until he realizes that your crying has stopped and you are now slumped against him. 

It had been the longest couple of years after that. You had just barely been able to graduate with your friends, nearly having to take a sixth year of highschool, though if that had happened you probably would have just dropped out. You had already taken freshman year twice, you couldn't go through senior year again. 

You had been so mad at Peter for the longest time, though you were still doing everything he asked of you. Scott and Derek had said it was the alpha bond, but personally, you felt like it was different than that because if was like your entire judgement was clouded over when it came to him, and honestly it still was though you had learned to look through it and use your own logic. 

Even before the bite you had been strangely attracted to Peter, though it definitely intensified after and you were certainly no stranger to fantasizing about him, so, as your shoulder throbbed ever so slightly, you let yourself fall into one of those fantasies, you were the only one in the front of the diner anyway, the late shift never being busy save for the occasional drunkard, you needed some form of entertainment. 

The fantasy was much like your others, though more intense than they normally were..peter was leading you up to his loft, your hand in his as he practically dragged you up the stairs, a girly little giggle escaping you as you run after him, your heels sounding on the ground and the skirt of your dress swishing around your bottom. 

Peter had gone full on foreplay in the car on your way back from your dinner date, his hands in between your legs, his nails ripping the fabric of your panties to shreds before pumping his fingers in and out of your dripping, aching core, clenching around his fingers as if begging for something more. 

The sound he had made when he felt you was almost feral, it ripped right through to your core and you could've cum from that alone, but alas, Peter had other plans for you. The door to his loft is barely even closed before he has you pressed up against it, his large, firm hands pressed tightly on your thighs as he hoists you up, letting you wrap your legs around his waist, your mouths moving against each other's with an urgency that you'd grown accustomed to when it came to him, as if the two of you could never get enough of each other. 

"Jesus.." You groan, the feel of his hard cock pressed against your bare mound sending shockwaves through your aching body, lust taking over your entire train of thought. 

"You and I both know I'm the farthest thing from holy, sweetheart.." He whispers, voice breathless as he makes his way down your throat, the stubble of his five o'clock shadow tickling your skin in the most delicious of ways, edging you halfway to insanity. 

After a few moments longer he removes you from the door, carrying you to his bed. His hands are on your bare ass under the skirt of your dress, squeezing the flesh appreciatively before giving a nice slap, throwing you off of his body and onto his mattress. You bounce, staring up at him through lust filled eyes as you watch him take his V-Neck off of his torso, tossing it to the ground before he gets to work on his jeans. You kick your heels off, they clunk to the floor before you shimmy out of your dress, the fabric falling off your body as you lift yourself off of the mattress the slightest bit. 

You realize as he gives you long, gazing look over your body that you are embarrassingly desperate for this man to even breathe in your direction, let alone fuck you, and yet here you are, on his bed, laid out all nice and pretty as you watch him fist his thick, deliciously long cock in his hands a couple of times, groaning at the thought of it inside of you. 

"You coming?" You ask, teasingly as you spread your legs for him, biting your lip. His shoulders slump as if in defeat and he let's out one of the prettiest sighs you think you've ever heard in your life. 

"Sweetheart, i hope not for a long while." He says finally and you giggle, before screeching in surprise when he grips your ankle and pulls you down to the edge of the bed, wrapping your legs around his hips as he teases your aching cunt with his cock, dragging up and down your sopping slit, once..twice..three times before he pushes himself into your tight, warm hole.

The noise that escapes your mouth is one of pure filth and it seems to be all the urging on he needs as he pumps his hips in and out of you. You watch as his face contort with each thrust deeper and deeper into you, your pussy clenching onto him with need he'd never felt before, your hips rising up off of his bed as if to beckon him in to you farther. 

You were already so over stimulated just from being horny that you knew you didn't stand a chance of lasting nearly as long as you could have, and you had a feeling he knew it to because the more sounds you made for him, the more one of your hands tugged at your own breasts and the other pawed at his forearm where his hand gripped your hips so meanly, the harder he fucked into you. 

It was almost painful, and you knew that if you hadn't been a werewolf it probably would have been. You wouldn't complain though because something about him being the one to bring on that kind of way in the sinfully delicious way that he was doing it, was absolutely glorious to you and dear God you basked in the absolute pleasure it brought you. 

Peter grunts as your pussy grips him, the sound of your skin slapping together and the squelching of your wet cunt sucking him back into your pussy every time he pulled out was filling the room, a beautiful music to his ears, as was the high pitched groan that escaped your throat as he gripped your hips harder, angling them up off the bed. He could feel himself hitting you at a deeper angle and just the look on your face as he did was what was going to make him finish, the way your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your mouth hung open in a silent moan, your tits bouncing every time he fucked into you..you were the perfect sight..

"So fucking perfect for me, y/n..y/n..

"Y/N!" Peter brings you out of your day dream, snapping his fingers in front of your face. You squeak in fright, heart racing and face flushing as you realize the man you had been fantasizing about was standing before you. 

"Jesus fucking Christ Peter!" You yell, calming yourself down. You glance at the clock behind him, noting the time. "It's almost midnight what the hell are you doing here?" 

The man looks at you as if you were insane, which, honestly, you had to wonder yourself if you were..nothing else could explain the way that you felt about the man that barely looked at you some days. "I told you at lunch I was going to pick you up tonight, remember? You said your car was broke down.." Truthfully, you hadn't thought he was serious. Peter hardly ever did anything with you outside of your meetings and occasionally running into him at the store..

"Oh.." Shit. How the fuck were you supposed to survive an entire car ride with him when you knew he could smell the horny radiating off of you? You were about to tell him that you were fine to walk when you realized it was raining pretty hard out, because of course California would decde to ends its drought right now. Fuck me up a goddamn river. 

"Give me a minuet.." 

[laskyy]

At it again because yes. I will support you till I die and you cannot stop me 😤!

Ok so! SKZ request yayayayaya!

Quokka man! (Han)

So, reader is a mentor in JYP and since JYP (the dude not the whole ent) makes stupid ahh decisions, he decides that Han needs to work more and overworks him, so one day really late at night, as Han is about to leave he hears reader arguing with JYP (Stan reader FR) and tryna knock some sense into him and manages to get JYP to let them help Han and have him work less. And bam, Han is in love👌🩶

(no idea how I manage to come up with these tbh)

Back at it again with the amazing ideas I love iiit!! First stray kids request!! I hope you like this one! And thank you for giving me work to do I really appreciate it ❤️ Happy reading <33

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Out of it

Genre: f2l (we love f2l in this house 😤) Idol! Han, rapmentor/producer!GNReader

Contains: crying, Han being stressed, yelling, JYP

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You loved your job as a mentor in JYP, it was something you worked really hard for and you were happy your hard work paid off.

You thought you worked hard until you met Stray Kids, more speciffically Han Jisung.

The boy was constantly in the studio or in the practice room, you actually wondered if he got any sleep in the last couple of months.

Now you were in the studio helping the boys with a segment of the song that seemed quite diffucult as none of them seemed to be able to do it.

"Maybe breathe in more in the beginning of the verse and try to get your words out while exhaling the amount of air you have evenly so you're able to carry the entire verse without any breaks!" You advised Chan who was always ready to listen to advice.

He rapped the verse and it was a really good so recording was it for him and the other members had to do their parts.

One by one they were getting it done perfectly and the last one to go was none other than Jisung.

"So for this part you're doing well, but to elevate it you could try to bring more energy to it but in a way that's not like in your face, because the vibe isn't that aggressive." You tried to explain to him but he just stared at you with the sleepiest eyes you'd seen from a human being.

"Jisung are you listening?"

"What sorry?" He said or better slurred.

"Listen, I know you guys want this done as soon as possible but I'm going to have to make you stop and get you to rest otherwise you can't focus!" You said as you guided the boys out of the studio to the exit of the company building so they could get some rest.

The next week you had a meeting scheduled with the members of Stray Kids, the other mentors that worked with them and JYP.

"So I think this month is going well in terms of work, but I feel like for the other groups we have I'm going to need help producing songs for them so I'm going to ask Han to work on that since he doesn't seem to be that busy! Alright that's all for today, get back to work!"

Jisung just stared at JYP with the meanest stare ever and you couldn't help but feel bad for him, he was working so so hard and it was actually making you scared for his well being, so you decided you were going to watch how he was doing every day.

It had only been two days since the meeting and you saw it wasn't doing Jisung any good.

The boys from Stray Kids were supposed to rehearse for you but Jisung was nowhere to be seen so you went looking for him.

You passed by the practice room he and the members were usually at and heard crying so you immediately went in thinking it was him and yes, you were right.

"Jisung, what's wrong?" You asked as you kneeled to his level and patted his shoulder softly.

"It's just that I have so much to do and I feel incapable of doing anything at all!! I'm so useless!" He cried harder.

"Listen to me, you are one of the most talented and hardworking people I have ever met and you are capable of doing so much and you have done so much! But you feel like this because you are tired, both physically and mentally and you need to get rest urgently! So why don't you calm down and come to the studio so we can get your parts done quick and you can nap?"

"But I have work to do I can't-"

"You are going to take a nap and when you wake up you can thunk about working ok?"

"Ok I'll do that, thanks y/n" he said as he suddenly hugged you.

"Y-you're welcome Ji"

After all that he got his parts done you took him to a practice room and stood there with him until he fell asleep and then you got down to business.

You were walking through the whole building so fast and with such a strict expression on, that no one dared to look at you in the eye.

You finally found who you were looking for in his office all smiley unaware of the chaos that was about to happen.

"This has got to stop! You are so clueless I cannot believe you have one bit of humanity inside of you!"

"Excuse me? What are you on about?"

"You know what I am on about, you are overworking Jisung! The poor boy can barely practice any basic functions because of how exhausted he is!"

The argueing and yelling went on for a while and on the other side of the building was Jisung who had already woken up from his nap and decided to work on a song for a little bit.

"Well since it's already 3 am I should probably head back to the dorms" he said to himself while stretching.

He packed his things and walked to the exit, but before he left he heard yelling and what seemed to be your voice?

"IF YOU CAN'T UNLOAD HIS WORK THEN AT LEAST LET ME WORK WITH HIM SO HE DOESN'T HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING!"

"Since you're so eager to work why don't you produce the songs he's supposed to produce for other groups uh? Maybe that will shut you up?"

"I will gladly do that since someone in this company has to care for him and that person certainly is not you" you said as you walked away from his office.

As Jisung heard your footsteps he hid in a corner so you wouldn't see him, and when you left for the day he couldn't help but think about how you stood up for him, nad those thoughts made butterflies erupt in his stomach.

The next day you got up super early to get to work on some of the songs for other groups so Jisung wouldn't have to do that.

"Good morning! I brought breakfast!" Jisung said as he laid a paper bag on the table next to you.

"Good morning and thank you!"

"No, thank you! If it wasn't for you I would have probably quit everything by now!"

"Oh don't be silly I haven't done that much for you!"

"Y/n I heard you and JYP yesterday."

"Oh you did?" You asked concerned.

"Yeah and no one has ever stood up to me like that before, I don't know what I would do without you!" He said as he hugged you really tight

"It's the least I could do because you looked so out of it all the time!"

"Well I'm doing a little better today! Let's work on the song?"

"Yeah" you said as he gave you pat on the shoulder.

At the end of the day you guys went through 4 songs in total meaning you got more that half of Jisungs work done.

"We really do make a great team I should treat you to lunch for this!"

"You don't have to"

"But I want to, so tomorrow at 12:30 meet you in the restaurant in front?"

"Yeah I'd like that!"

"Good, I'll see you tomorrow cutie" he said and then smiled ar you and kissed the corner of you lips, needless to say you were the one that was out of it now.

[derangedthots]

What made you decide to ship Jace and Aemond of all things? Idk what is was for me tbh but I couldn’t jump on the Lucemond wagon completely and then I saw Jace and him fight and I was like….am I into these two idiots being together? Yes, yes I am.

Not to say I don’t like lucemond, they have a few great fics I’ve read bht Jacemond has my complete heart like Rhaewin did. Your fic is making me love Daemyra just as much tho cause I love how you write them

i have a history of shipping rarepairs (an honest to god track record extending across multiple fandoms, it's a problem fr) and idk apparently i like making things difficult for myself bc i immediately saw why fans might ship lucemond and my brain said "no, not that one, that one's for other people but THIS ONE this one's yours" and then honestly the more i really looked at them and thought abt their different positions in life, the roles they have within their family and larger realm, as well as their own ambitions and desires and overall personalities the more i was like "this is actually gold, this is a goldmine" so i busted out my pickaxe and started digging😭😭 (that being said they do also have fantastic fight chemistry fjsks)

we were so thoroughly robbed of rhaewin content in the show (emma and ryan did amazing with what they had but still, we and they deserved more) and even tho FMF/CTF take place after harwin's death, their relationship is never really absent from the larger narrative just bc of how much it influenced and continues to influence jace

that being said, i also find daemyra really interesting as people and as a concept. i haven't read fire and blood but i've read the wikis and seen some quotes during my research so i feel like, while my understanding of their dynamic is definitely far from perfect, i'm trying to build what i think would be a believable romance from the differing canons, all the empty spaces george has left, and the kind of people i think they are. i'm glad i'm getting you to love them bc that means i've done my job lolol and tbh i think i felt the same the more i wrote about them.

((i also really wanted to include the fire and blood canon of rhaenyra/daemon/laena but then i realized i kinda wrote myself into a corner bc i'm leaning more into the show's timeline. let me tell you my heart broke a little bc laena is amazing and i feel like that throuple would've made for such interesting writing🥲))

[just-some-random-blogger]

Wtf

Your honor she's the best girl

The maids pick a pretty green dress, that looks like a miniature of the ones your mother wears. You feel really pretty in it, so you give a few spins, shrieking with laughter at how the silk skirt opens up like a flower in full bloom.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, and pretend you are a Queen, too. You puff up your small chest, and push your shoulders back.

“The maiden will be taken.” Helaena mutters, a chubby fist coming to grasp your skirt. You pull away.

“Of course.” She gives her blessing, carefully tracing the Seven Pointed Star on your forehead. “Aemond and you are just like your uncle Gwayne and I used to be.”

GIRLLLL ALICENT SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

Alicent pulling her hair fr PLS LISTEN TO HELAENA also she so cutie with her chubby fist

The trips outside the nursery are novelties for you. As you grow old, you will come to realize your mother was frightened by Helaena’s odd behavior, and didn’t want to let you out of her sight for very long in case you turned out like her. But unlike your siblings, you are no dreamer and you are no dragonrider.

Alicent: let me shelter my child to keep her safe. This will be ok. Kekeoksksksk doomed by the narrative

“Run off!” Your mother orders. “Before I regret it.”

Famous last words

You will build wings of your own, one day. But you do not yet know that, do you?

ICARUS DONT

Your own protector is Aemond. He says one day he will grow into a knight and slay all those that mock you for not having a dragon. You love your brother. He has kind eyes, and steady hands. He never minds playing dolls with you.

😭😭😭😭😭😭 WAIT I LOVE AEMOND I STARTED THINKING THIS WAS AN AEMOND FIC

You take pride in imitating mother. You wear her slippers, sometimes, and practice your curtsies until they look just like the graceful drop she does when you see the King. One day, you will perfect them, but for now, your tiny knees and short legs don’t quite allow it.

😭😭😭 THE POISON DRIPS OR WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT MEANS

You stare at the boy with interest. So this is Aegon.

It makes so much sense that she doesn't know aegon 😔😭

“Is Helaena coming too?” Aegon drawls. He doesn’t seem much enthused by the prospect. Probably because he thinks girls are icky. Aemond has told you so, especially when you want to cuddle.

You get the feeling he might be one of the boys that Aemond intends to slay when you are older. You are not too sure why Aegon would mock him for not having a dragon. No one mocks you, and you don’t have one either.

She is so precious I fucking love stories in childrens pov. me writing a fic like this when (spoiler: no)

“Oh, Cole, let the boys have their fun.” The tallest, hugest man you have ever seen, says. He appears to have just entered the courtyard, and you watch, amazed, as he squats next to you. “Aren’t you going to be a little heartbreaker when you grow up?”

HARWIN STRONG MENTIONED RAAHHHH THEY SHOULD HAVE GIVEN US MORE OF HARWIN AND RHAENYRA AND I WILL NEVER FORGIVE THEM FOR IT

“Here.” The giant says, and very delicately cuts a strip off your sleeve. You watch in amazement as he twists it and turns it into a ribbon. He presents it to you with a flourish.

🤨🤨🤨😱😱😱😰😰😰 FUCKING HELL WHAT THE FUCK WHY DID HE RIPPPPP HER FUCKING DRESS HARWIN HELLO???????? POOKIE THAT IS A CHILD'S TOP HELLO THAT IS NOT OK SO WHAT YOURE STRONG I WILL BREAK *YOUR" BONES

“One for me, too. Wish me luck, sweet sister.”

🙄✋🙅‍♀️🤽‍♀️

She had always thought she was sparing you, by keeping you unmarried. After seeing Helaena’s misery in her marriage to Aegon, and her own torture at Viserys’ hands, she had hoped to save you from that same fate. Things would have been so different if she had married you off.

THE POISON DRIPS OR WHATEVER THE FUCK or actually idk lol

You would be safe. Either in a castle far away from King’s Landing, or under your twin’s watchful eye. Aemond had grown into a violent man, a terrifying one, but remained loving towards his sisters. Aegon would have had better luck stealing you from the Cannibal than from under his vigilance.

DAMN.

But Viserys is dead. Alicent won’t be silent any longer. She grasps a lantern, and her sturdiest boots, and begins to patrol King’s Landing herself.

Alicent they could never make me hate you

They will say later that the Queen dowager walked a thousand days and a thousand nights, searching for her daughter. And that she never stopped lighting the candles on your windowsill, not even when Queen Rhaenyra took the Red Keep, not even when the Prince Aemond was vanished after telling her upsetting news. When asked why, her words were simple.

MSKIEKEDKKSMSKKSOEKEKKE GIRLLLLLL NAUR THIS ALONE COULD BE AN INCREDIBLE FIC WHY DOES ALICENT LIGHT A CANDLE KEKSMMSMSMSM HOLY FUCKING SHIT WAIIIIT I HAVE AN IDEA 😭😭😭

Do you ever feel like you need to run away from everything?

AEMOND IS TASKED with finding you, a task that enrages him and fills him with pride in equal parts. He is torn between the hash feeling of your betrayal, of your abandonment, and the fact that he has been tasked with something of such importance. Finally, time for him to prove his worth.

I understand him actually but also take it down 10 notches this aint about you

All the time, sweet sister.

I.m f1n3

With Aegon dead, he would force you to wed him, saving you from dishonor. It would be your punishment for leaving. Aemond would enjoy your enraged face as you were forced to sit with him on the Iron Throne. Unlike Aegon, he didn’t want to bed you, but he enjoyed annoying you for sport. Nothing would annoy you more than being forced to be Queen.

💀💀💀💀💀💀🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️ AEMOND???????

You had gotten up so you could pass the bread to your mother, when Aegon glanced at your prone form, and gave you a hearty slap on the arse.

The dress had elicited mixed reactions. Your father and grandfather had both stumbled, as they were seeing a ghost. But Aegon? Aegon loved it.

I LOVE THIS FOR THEM A REMINDER THAT ALICENT WAS ONCE A GIRL WHO HAD A MOTHER AND THEY BOTH TAINTED HER FUCK THEM

🧍‍♀️ I just know that shit echoed when the room went silent

The rest of the guests watched, before laughter rang across the silent hall. It was Daemon, lifting a cup to Aegon. The other guests followed in the merriment, laughing at the fondling you had just received.

Daemon shut the fuck up challenge failed fuck you white ass rat dafaq

Your newest game consists on slipping him notes during the day, exchanging them in the corridors as you bump shoulders and pretend not to know each other, or tucking them in the pockets of his doublets. Aegon even slips you some back, into the pockets of your cloaks.

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭😭😭✋✋✋✋✋ that's so fucking cute of both of them what the fuck 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 rip aegon you would have loved doing this fr fr

It's wrong. Aegon is a married man. And yet… Yet. You have always been the perfect daughter, mirror to Aemond in your dutifulness. A pious lady, respectful of the Seven and her elders. You can have this small thing, surely.

Even now only women suffer fuck that shit helaena I'm sorry

“Does father? Grandsire?” You challenge.

🤨☝️ viserys said him and daemon went through all the brothels at like 16 or whatever the fuck

The eve before Queen Alicent’s death, something compels her to get out of her bed and search your old rooms. The pain doesn’t let her sleep, tortures her at night. Her own mind is a labyrinth that traps her, filled with monsters that will kill her.

“And I swear, your sister has the prettiest teats in the Seven Kingdoms!” He bellows, before burping.

I am once again asking men to gouge their eyes out

😀 she died. She died of a broken heart. 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️ Wow so this is what it feels to be at the receiving end of angst... 😫🤣👍 NICE DELICIOUS HAHAHHAHA SLAYEDDDD

Daedalus (Aegon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: On the eve of Aegon’s coronation, both of you disappear. Your mother imagines a thousand scenarios. But were you really abducted by him or is it a simple coincidence?

Warnings: Pretty mild. Aegon. Some mentions of marital rape (Viserys, we are looking at you) Mature language. Infidelity (Poor Helaena) Fluff.

A/N: My first Aegon fic! Whoever manages to catch all my Greek mythology references will get a gift ;) Try to claim it in the asks, replies or reblogs.

“THE INVENTOR IS trapped.” Helaena says, sitting down by your side with her doll. She drops it to the floor as if it means nothing, and you hurry to pick the babe up. You cradle the doll in your arms and give it a toothy smile.

Your Lady Mother sighs. It’s a long-suffering sound. You are too young to understand the why, but she is looking at Helaena in a weird way.

“Why don’t you go get dressed and ask your maids to take you to the courtyard?” She asks, tapping your head with a gentle finger. You jump up, overjoyed. You have been begging your Lady Mother to go out for ages! Your twin, Aemond, is always allowed out of the nursery, but for you, it’s a rare luxury.

In your excitement about finally going to see what he does when he is not visiting, you forget about Helaena’s words.

The maids pick a pretty green dress, that looks like a miniature of the ones your mother wears. You feel really pretty in it, so you give a few spins, shrieking with laughter at how the silk skirt opens up like a flower in full bloom.

Helaena blinks from her place on the floor.

“I am scared.” She says, tugging on your mother’s skirts. “There is a beast beneath the floorboards.”

Your mother’s gaze shift from you towards Helaena. Her face twists.

“It’s fine. There is nothing there.”

You stare at yourself in the mirror, and pretend you are a Queen, too. You puff up your small chest, and push your shoulders back.

“I want to see my knight.” You say, placing your hand inside one of the hand of the maid. The woman smiles, indulgently.

Your mother laughs.

“Of course.” She gives her blessing, carefully tracing the Seven Pointed Star on your forehead. “Aemond and you are just like your uncle Gwayne and I used to be.”

“Why is he not here?” You ask her, full of youthful impertinence. You cannot fathom why your Uncle Gwayne is apart from Mother, if they are like you and Aemond. Your twin and you can never be parted, for you are two halves of a whole.

“Because, sometimes, girls are sent away from their families, to start a family of their own.” She explains, brushing your hair back.

“I will not! I will stay with Aemond.”

Your mother sighs. She looks between Helaena and you.

“The maiden will be taken.” Helaena mutters, a chubby fist coming to grasp your skirt. You pull away.

“Run off!” Your mother orders. “Before I regret it.”

So you do. Your maid takes you to the courtyard, where Aemond is training. She gestures to Ser Cole, to notify him of your arrival, and the knight bows his head in acknowledgement. You change hands as fluidly as silver dragons do.

Ser Criston is careful to prop you up a set of stairs, from where you can safely observe what your twin is doing. At eight summers, you are a quiet but cheerful girl, who doesn’t dare stray from what she knows.

The trips outside the nursery are novelties for you. As you grow old, you will come to realize your mother was frightened by Helaena’s odd behavior, and didn’t want to let you out of her sight for very long in case you turned out like her. But unlike your siblings, you are no dreamer and you are no dragonrider.

You will build wings of your own, one day. But you do not yet know that, do you?

Currently, you do not dare stray away from the perch the ever watchful Ser Criston has placed you in. You like Ser Criston. He is a knight, and wears your mother’s favor each time there is a tournament. You find him very handsome, and like the idea of your mother having a protector on him.

Your own protector is Aemond. He says one day he will grow into a knight and slay all those that mock you for not having a dragon. You love your brother. He has kind eyes, and steady hands. He never minds playing dolls with you.

He is now busy playing with his own dolls, though. You feel a bit confused because you would never treat yours like that. He hacks at them with his sword, whacking them so hard some straw starts to come out of them. You frown.

Aemond will later tell you these are not dolls, but rather practice opponents, filled with the righteous fury boys get when accused of acting like girls. You do not know what is so shameful about it.

As you watch him, oblivious to the rest of the world, a heavy hand falls on your shoulder, making you jump.

“So mother finally left you out of the nursery, huh?” A boy, older than you and Aemond, ruffles your hair. You squeak, trying to get away. You had sat still for nearly an hour for the maids to braid you a crown like the ones your mother wore. He isn’t going to ruin it.

You take pride in imitating mother. You wear her slippers, sometimes, and practice your curtsies until they look just like the graceful drop she does when you see the King. One day, you will perfect them, but for now, your tiny knees and short legs don’t quite allow it.

“Prince Aegon!” Ser Criston interrupts, rescuing you from the older boy. “Leave the Princess alone! Come, you and the other… Princes are late.”

You stare at the boy with interest. So this is Aegon. Your older brother, the one that never bothers with visiting the nursery. Your mother and grandsire speak of him in hushed tones, and Aemond is much more open about his disdain. He is meant to be a rowdy boy, forever teasing him.

You get the feeling he might be one of the boys that Aemond intends to slay when you are older. You are not too sure why Aegon would mock him for not having a dragon. No one mocks you, and you don’t have one either.

“Is Helaena coming too?” Aegon drawls. He doesn’t seem much enthused by the prospect. Probably because he thinks girls are icky. Aemond has told you so, especially when you want to cuddle.

You pout. No one is paying attention to you, Aemond too focused on his exercises and Aegon and Ser Criston carrying a whole conversation over your head.

“No, Princess Helaena is…” But whatever Ser Criston is about to say is interrupted because two brown haired boys are running in, carrying their swords. His face sours, twisting in the same way mother’s does when Helaena says something strange. “You are late.”

“Hello!” The bigger boy says, stopping in front of you. He has dark eyes and hair, so different from your siblings and Ser Criston. He looks a bit like mother, actually, and it makes you jealous. “You are Aemond’s twin?”

The mention of your beloved brother brings you out of your sulk.

“I am!” You are proud of your older brother. So much, you do not even mind being known as his twin. He is an accomplished prince, and very nice to you.

“She does have a name.” Aemond steps in, setting down his sword. Always your protector. “And it should be Princess to you.”

“I am a Prince too!” The boy is very cheerful. The notion makes you frown. You do not know a Prince or King with dark hair, but you have heard in Dorne there is a royal family who has it, so maybe he is from there. “Will you stay to watch us train?”

“I came to see Aemond.” You explain, meeting his eyes over this other prince's head. Your brother gives a smug little smile. “I’ll stay if he does.”

“In that case, can I have your favor, my Princess?” The other prince asks you, face serious. Ser Criston looks like he is tasting something bitter. You aren’t too sure why.

“This is not a tournament. Now, if we may begin…”

“Oh, Cole, let the boys have their fun.” The tallest, hugest man you have ever seen, says. He appears to have just entered the courtyard, and you watch, amazed, as he squats next to you. “Aren’t you going to be a little heartbreaker when you grow up?”

He boops your nose, making you giggle. You find you like his eyes.

“Of course you are here, Strong. Late, too.” Ser Criston looks even more annoyed. Aegon giggles. Aemond continues hacking at the doll. You wonder if you asked, they would let you try. “I am not bringing the Princess to practice again if the boys can’t focus.”

That makes you sad. You wish to come back, especially because you had never thought the world outside your nursery could be so fascinating. There are foreign princes, and giants, and knights, and Aemond. You have to know more.

“It’s not her fault.” The giant defends you. You decide that you like him already. “Prince Jacaerys is just curious. Let’s indulge him. You favor, little lady, to your knight?”

You giggle. The thought of giving your favor is an exciting one. You will be just like mother with Ser Criston, even if this is no real tourney!

“Are you serious?” Aegon asks, to no one in particular. “This is foolish.”

You check your pockets, but you have nothing beyond a few dust bunnies.

“I don’t have a ribbon. Or a handkerchief.”

“Here.” The giant says, and very delicately cuts a strip off your sleeve. You watch in amazement as he twists it and turns it into a ribbon. He presents it to you with a flourish.

“You cannot do that to the Princess!” Ser Criston intercedes, picking you up. He places you against the wall. His face is angry. “Enough!”

Suddenly, a guilty thought strikes you. Aemond is still hacking at his doll, shoulders set in a tense line. You came to watch him, not this boy. You have to support your twin.

“Ser Criston?” Your voice is small. You fear upsetting the knight further. “Can we give half my favor to Aemond?”

Aegon looks at you. He steps closer, and examines your face as if you are a particularly interesting creature.

“Why would you want to give your favor to him?” He complains. “He doesn’t even have a dragon, and he is at most four feet. Not much for a knight, is he?”

It angers you, how he dares make fun of your twin. Aemond suffers deeply the lack of a dragon, just as you do. Your jaw clenches, baby teeth clanking together with how hard you grit them.

“He is mine.” You turn towards Aegon, words failing you to convey exactly how much you support and root for your brother. “I am sure he will win.”

Something passes in Aegon’s eyes. Something like the look Aemond gets when there are talks of dragons, or the one you used to get when thinking of spending time outside the nursery and lessons. But it only lasts a second, and then he is tugging on the strip of cloth that has been cut from your dress.

“One for me, too. Wish me luck, sweet sister.”

“THE CITY HAS been turned upside down, my Queen.” Ser Criston says, frowning. “There is no sign of them.”

Alicent collapses in her loveseat, her knees falling to hold her. Her poor, precious girl. The one more like her, the kindest one. The perfect half and companion to Aemond.

Aegon had taken you, in an unexpected show of wickedness. Oh, that devious Aegon. She would say the crown had gone to his head, but he had barely had time to learn of his father’s death before fleeing the Red Keep.

It was all her fault. If Alicent had been firmer, if she had put a stop to his transgression earlier, he would not have dared abduct you. But she had been too lenient, excusing his deviance in his Targaryen blood, and refused to act when she found him touching himself in windows, or fondling the serving girls.

Oh, but to take such liberties with one’s sister! Oh! He would have never dared, had she not encouraged the match with Helaena. It was no wonder he had turned towards you, and thought himself with the right to take. Alicent herself was to blame. She should have never allowed it.

She lifts her hands to her temples, massaging them.

“Good Gods, what will we do?”

Where are you? Where has he taken you? Some coin is missing, and so are some of your cloaks and dresses. Your wretched brother, impulsive as he was, had planned this to the detail.

The clothes suggested something long term. Permanent. Alicent can’t bear the thought. What depravities does he plan to subject you to? Is he beating you? Threatening you? Keeping you bound? Her mind is driving her mad, imagining scenarios upon scenarios, each worse than the last.

“I think we should inform the Lord Hand.” Ser Criston hesitates. Alicent understands it all too well. Her first instinct had been running to her father. With his resources, he was bound to find you faster than the ragtag team of Ser Criston, Aemond and her. But then, she had thought of what he would do when he had his hands on you.

What is a Princess to a King? What is a girl to the Iron Throne? Her father had already answered that question once, and Alicent had suffered greatly for it. He had been willing to risk her honor to place her sons on the throne. He would torch yours if it meant sitting Aegon in that ugly chair.

She had always thought she was sparing you, by keeping you unmarried. After seeing Helaena’s misery in her marriage to Aegon, and her own torture at Viserys’ hands, she had hoped to save you from that same fate. Things would have been so different if she had married you off.

You would be safe. Either in a castle far away from King’s Landing, or under your twin’s watchful eye. Aemond had grown into a violent man, a terrifying one, but remained loving towards his sisters. Aegon would have had better luck stealing you from the Cannibal than from under his vigilance.

It was all her fault. If she had married you to him, you would be here, with her. If she closes her eyes, Alicent can see you still. Sitting on the windowsill, humming a catchy tune from Volantis. Mending your brother’s shirts alongside her. Laying with your head on her lap, talking about the latest developments of the Citadel.

But instead, you are the Seven know where, being brutalized by your older brother. On your hands and knees, or with your head shoved in a pillow, crying as he does as he pleases with your body and unable to run back home.

“Has Aemond found out anything?” Alicent asks Criston, as he offers her a handkerchief. She had not realized tears were leaking down her cheeks. Embarrassed by her display, she wipes them angrily.

“The Prince… The King is not at his usual haunts. Prince Aemond offered to scour Essos, but I fear…” The knight looks clearly uncomfortable at the thought. Alicent understands. If Vhagar is seen over Essos, both continents will know something is amiss. Not to mention, the essosi won’t take kindly to dragons in their sky. Some wounds are too fresh to be truly forgotten.

“We won’t be able to keep it concealed if we do.” Alicent purses her lips, trying to find a suitable solution. When she comes up blank, she decides she has no other choice. They are wasting precious hours already, precious hours Aegon might be using to brutalize you, or to take you further away from House Targaryen’s influence. “Inform the Lord Hand. Tell him the King has taken his sister, and that both Prince Aemond and Princess Helaena will scour Essos.”

“But that means leaving the Red Keep unprotected!” Ser Criston protests. Alicent stares at him. She had known that the succession issue might turn into war for quite some time, but she cannot bring herself to care about it now. The threat of Rhaenyra seems far away, not quite real. A villain from a storybook. It’s much different from the actual threat on your life. Aegon.

Alicent had never thought she would have to fight her son to spare the rest of you. You, from dishonor. Helaena, from the embarrassment and shame. Her grandsons, from the rumors that will sure surface.

But it has come to this. And let it be known that when Alicent Hightower goes to war, she does so in bright-green flames. There is no hiding, no pretense. She will send her best soldier, and sniff Aegon out like the dog he is.

“If Dreamfyre is left behind, it’s the same as if she goes. My daughter is no warrior.” She is referring to Helaena, but deep in her heart, she knows neither of you are. Alicent is frightened by the thought of you breaking and her finding you too late to stop it. “Perhaps, both dragons will find them faster.”

“The Lord Hand will not…” Ser Criston says, uncomfortable. Alicent shakes her head. Despite his help all these years, he is no parent. If he were, he would realize that it doesn’t matter, whether Rhaenyra decides to burn Westeros to the ground or take the Red Keep. Alicent only cares about her children’s safety.

“I do not care. We will bring them back.”

Ser Criston makes a face.

“Perhaps it would be unwise to say that the King took his sister. We do not know if she…”

Alicent sees red. Does he dare deny it? Does he dare place the blame on your shoulders?

“The King took his sister. My daughter is a dutiful young woman, just like her twin. I will not have you drag her name through the mud!” She shrieks, slamming her hand down on the table. “How dare you!”

It’s a universal truth. Kings are born with grasping hands, and the thought that everything is theirs to take. And when you are a woman, no matter how modest, you cannot escape their attention once you are set in their sights. Alicent had tried once, to escape a King’s notice. But his hands had been too big, and she so small, and he had grasped at her, squeezing until she was unable to move.

Ser Criston looks concerned. He takes the verbal lashing without complaint, even if his eyes tell her he disagrees. But Alicent knows the truth, and it is enough. He is not a woman. He is not a mother. His opinion doesn’t matter.

“Of course.” Ser Criston bows his head, and begins to exit the rooms. “I’ll inform the Lord Hand, my Queen.”

The platitude sounds empty in her ears. Man that he is, he is no longer concerned with your honor but Aegon’s. Your grandfather will be the same. They will destroy your reputation only to save his.

It won’t happen again. Alicent thinks of Viserys’ hands, grasping her hips. Of how she had cried, forced to engage in acts no maiden should be exposed to. Of how she had to keep quiet, carry this great shame of hers because it was her King who ordered it.

But Viserys is dead. Alicent won’t be silent any longer. She grasps a lantern, and her sturdiest boots, and begins to patrol King’s Landing herself.

They will say later that the Queen dowager walked a thousand days and a thousand nights, searching for her daughter. And that she never stopped lighting the candles on your windowsill, not even when Queen Rhaenyra took the Red Keep, not even when the Prince Aemond was vanished after telling her upsetting news. When asked why, her words were simple.

“So she can always know her path home.”

THE WEDDING FEAST is not as grand as the one celebrated when your older sister married, but it is to be expected. Aegon is not heir to anything, regardless of your mother and grandsire say.

You had watched the whole ceremony from one of the benches inside the City’s Sept. Aemond had sat by you, tenderly holding a few handkerchiefs, just in case you started bawling. Most of them have been used by your mother, but you thank his gesture regardless.

There is not much to cry about, truly. Aegon and Helaena are nothing like the pictures of happiness mother described to you when talking of newlyweds. In fact, as Aegon changed Helaena’s cloak, she looked ready to bolt. And he looked miserable.

“Do you think we will marry too?” You ask Aemond, quietly. Ever since he has claimed Vhagar, he has grown more serious and brooding, shedding the last of his childhood innocence. He is a bit terrifying, now, which you think is wicked.

Your Strong nephews no longer mock him so easily. You are all the more glad for it. He would make a worthy husband, capable of protecting you. Or so mother says.

“If we are ordered to.” He answers, squeezing your hand. His face contorts into a strange mix of unbearable fondness and disgust. “Is it such a bad prospect? I heard talk of betrothing you to a Lannister.”

That had been your grandsire’s suggestion. Pawning you off for gold. Literally. At ten and two years of age, you were considered a comely maiden, with the regal Targaryen hair and none of the strange habits of your older sisters. It made you quite a commodity.

“Better a dragon riding husband than a lion of the Rock.” You smirk at Aemond, voice pitched low enough no one can hear you. “We could ride on Vhagar and find out if the world is flat or a sphere, as some Maesters say.”

The thought is enticing to you. A life spent learning the mysteries and secrets of the world that surrounds you. Getting to see far beyond the walls of the Red Keep.

Once, your prison had been a nursery. Now, it was a labyrinth made from red stone.

“I want more glory for my life than being a traveler. I want to leave fame and memory when I die.” Aemond complains. “Besides, the Lannister marriage may do you some good. You would be a Queen in everything but name. A much more secure….”

You shush him before he can say it. Your mother sits on his other side, absorbed by the wedding taking place, and ridding Aemond of the handkerchiefs he had brought for you. It would do no good to point out her failures when she is already that emotional.

Still, Aemond’s words linger around the two of you, silence charged. Marrying a Lannister would be a more secure position than the one afforded to Helaena.

“I like you better.” You finally say, before your mother can notice the lapse in conversation between the two of you.

“I suppose, if I had to… I rather it be you.” Aemond sounds still a bit disgusted by the notion. You know it has less to do with you, and much more to do with his inability to admit he has emotions. Knowing that trying to wrangle an admission of fondness out of him is useless, you decide to focus on the new couple.

“They don’t seem as comforted.” You point out, watching them exit the Sept hand in hand. Helaena is deadly pale, probably at the thought of consummation. You think if it were you marrying Aemond, you wouldn’t be as worried as she is. Being a twin means your built is pretty similar, so he cannot make cruel jokes about your appearance without insulting himself.

Aegon, though, seems much more cruel.

“Yet again, they are not us. We are closer.” Aemond takes your hand and helps you get up from the bench. The two of you wait patiently for the Sept to empty a bit before trying to make your exit. If you have one thing in common, it is that you both despise crowds.

“Wouldn’t that make it harder?” Because you think of having to muster up arousal to bed Aemond, and suddenly, the thought of marrying him doesn’t seem as palatable.

But before Aemond can answer you, probably making a mockery of your sentimentality and your inattention to your lessons, your grandsire interrupts you. He waves a hand to both of you, enthusiastically, as if you were about to run off.

Aemond and you exchange a glance. Your mother stops sniffling.

“What are you two youngsters up to?” He asks, as he reaches you. He gives each a little shove, and you grit your teeth not to let your annoyance show. “Come, to the carriages. You must attend the feast.”

“We know, grandfather. Aemond was escorting me.”

“Of course, young Aemond, ever the dutiful brother.” Your grandsire claps his hand on Aemond’s shoulder. “And you, my dear, the spitting image of your mother. Some could learn from you.”

He gives a glance to the entrance of the Sept, but the couple has already departed. You eye him in suspicion. Otto Hightower never says things without a reason. He must want something.

“Well, it is no matter. You should sit at the newlyweds' side tonight. Perhaps you might curb your siblings' impulses.” And there it is. You fight the urge to roll your eyes. It would be unladylike.

“It shall be done as you say.” Aemond says, and begins leading you to a carriage. He helps you up, careful not to let your puffy green skirts track into the mud. You are wearing a new dress, cut similarly to the ones your mother wears. You have recently flowered, and are enjoying the novelty of wearing grown up styles. The two of you settle across your mother and grandsire.

The night goes downhill from there. Aemond ends up seated next to Helaena, his intimidating figure helping ensure she doesn’t run and no one tries anything funny during the bedding. You end up next to Aegon, with the difficult task of stopping him from getting drunk.

You had heard once a story about a man condemned to roll a giant rock up a mountain, only for it to fall back down when he was reaching the top. The memory feels fitting. You imagine he must have been as miserable as you are. As soon as you snatch a goblet from Aegon’s hand, he is reaching for another.

The mummers are boring, the same old spectacle seen in all Westerosi weddings. A play about the Conquest, with a man who looks nothing like the Conqueror as the male lead. With how loud the musical parts are, you cannot even converse with Aegon.

So when you are at the edge of your wits when it comes to methods to stop him, you gesture for a servant to bring you parchment and a quill. Aegon pauses his drinking, if only to observe what are you trying to write during a wedding.

The note is simple, and prompts a scowl out of him.

Stop drinking. You are embarrassing Helaena.

For a second, it seems like he is going to ignore you. Then, he yanks the quill out of your hand, and messily scribbles.

Mother, you mean.

You have to lean in to write on the parchment, since he is childishly refusing to let go of it. Your eyes meet his. It strikes you, then, how young he looks, despite being the eldest. He has one of those faces, round and sweet, just like your mother’s. When he smiles, half drunk, he reminds you of a deviant cherub.

In a year’s time, you could be welcoming your first nephew. Aegon looks barely out of childhood himself. Even Aemond looks more grown up.

Her, too.

Aegon notices you are studying him, and looks away, uncomfortable. He still replies.

Why do you think I do it?

There is no longer any space in the parchment, so you take out a fresh one. You pen with careful letters, trying not to waste as much space as you did with the previous one.

Do you ever feel like you need to run away from everything?

All the time, sweet sister.

You stare at the words, feeling like you have discovered something you cannot yet name. But before you can match the intuition to an actual concept, someone is calling for the bedding, and Aegon stands up, mask firmly on. He makes a show of it, leering and hooting, much to Helaena’s discomfort.

The moment of vulnerability is lost, and all that is left is the note you hold inside your clenched fist.

AEMOND IS TASKED with finding you, a task that enrages him and fills him with pride in equal parts. He is torn between the hash feeling of your betrayal, of your abandonment, and the fact that he has been tasked with something of such importance. Finally, time for him to prove his worth.

But oh, your betrayal stings. It’s not like he is surprised, having known that you intended to travel the known world, but he is bothered that you didn’t seem fit to inform him. Aemond is the other half of your soul, after all.

At least you had taken Aegon with you, removing an obstacle for his path to the Iron Throne. When he caught up with you, he might forgive you only for that. He had the best motive, after all. Protecting his sister was an honorable excuse to save him from the title of Kinslayer.

With Aegon dead, he would force you to wed him, saving you from dishonor. It would be your punishment for leaving. Aemond would enjoy your enraged face as you were forced to sit with him on the Iron Throne. Unlike Aegon, he didn’t want to bed you, but he enjoyed annoying you for sport. Nothing would annoy you more than being forced to be Queen.

His sweet sister. His milk and cream sister. Aemond had been so worried at first. He had bought on Mother’s crazy theories, thinking you were abducted against your will or whisked to a pillow house in Lys, like it had happened to that Swann lady a few years back.

Then, he realized the absurdity of it all. He had checked the dragonpit first when sent to pursue you. Sunfyre was gone, and Aemond had known this had been your plan all along.

Truly. How foolish Mother was, to think you, Aemond’s other half, could be subdued by Aegon. You were not Helaena. You were made of sterner stuff. Pure Valyrian steel.

Besides, he had heard all about how you needed a dragonrider to take you around the world during your childhood. You had proposed it to Aemond plenty of times. If anyone was abducted, it was probably Aegon. In a strike of brilliance, you had strengthened your beloved twin position and got to take the vacation you had been moaning about ever since you knew how to talk.

His biggest clue about it had been the lack of clues left in your wake. The escape had been too well planned to be born out of Aegon’s head. No dragonkeeper recalled unchaining Sunfyre, yet it was clear someone did because dragons don’t take flight on their own while chained.

No key was missing. No one saw anything the night the two of you vanished. Aemond decides to check Flea Bottom, but he already knows that no trace of you will be found there. This has your fingertips all over it, and even if it didn’t, Aegon was too devoted to you to take you there. He was no Daemon Targaryen, no matter what your mother thought.

This is how he knows it: A secret he has kept for years because it had suited him to do so.

When both of you had been four and ten, your mother had taken you to visit Daeron in Oldtown. Since neither you nor her were dragonriders, Vhagar had been left behind. The journey had taken weeks, almost an entire moon. And there was, of course, the three moons you had spent there, exploring your mother’s childhood home.

The months of the road had changed both of you. During that time, Aemond had actually needed to begin shaving, if he didn’t want to walk around with three miserable hairs on his chin. He had also hit a growth spurt, shooting up like a weed, and his shoulders filled.

In contrast, your changes had been much more dignified. You had stayed the same height, a fact he had used to mock you for ages. Your hips had filled, and you had suddenly grown teats.

The night of your arrival, you had been upset. There had been a mix-up, and the dress commissioned for you to wear on the welcome feast had been made to your old measurements. You had not been able to squeeze into it, and had cried ugly tears in Aemond’s bedroom, refusing to leave because you had gotten fat.

Your mother had solved the problem, of course. She had dug out one of her old dresses, belonging to her mother before her. It was a black one, sequined and embroidered in such a manner it emulated the flames of Hightower. You were enchanted. Called it a priceless heirloom, and danced the night away.

The dress had elicited mixed reactions. Your father and grandfather had both stumbled, as they were seeing a ghost. But Aegon? Aegon loved it.

You had turned into a woman, and looked and behaved so much like mother….

He had been unable to keep his eyes from you during dinner, salivating over you despite having his lady wife next to him. Helaena had been uncaring, not particularly interested in what Aegon did. She had done her duty, having birthed him babes already.

Helaena had been happy to see you, and told you all about the collection of bug-embroidered napkins she had been making for you in the meanwhile. Perhaps your excitement over getting a gift from your sister, prompting you to chatter endlessly with the couple, had been what confused Aegon.

Aemond had kept a careful watch on his brother, noticing that for once, he seemed to be drinking little. A measly two goblets, when usually, he took four. Instead of gorging himself on the drink, he had been gorging himself in you.

His eyes wandered all night. Drinking in your new teats, still blossoming for you were just a girl. Your pretty arse, thanks to the days spent riding horses to get back home. And he had thought himself entitled enough to do the unspeakable.

You had gotten up so you could pass the bread to your mother, when Aegon glanced at your prone form, and gave you a hearty slap on the arse.

The noise had resonated in the hall, making everyone freeze. You had started crying immediately, embarrassed, while Mother berated Aegon. Helaena and Aemond had exchanged a look, both too stunned by the display to speak.

The rest of the guests watched, before laughter rang across the silent hall. It was Daemon, lifting a cup to Aegon. The other guests followed in the merriment, laughing at the fondling you had just received.

Your face had crumpled. More tears fell, face red from public humiliation. It was a feeling Aemond was intimately familiar with, and couldn’t stand to see in his beloved twin’s face. You gathered your skirts and fled the hall, your perfect night ruined.

Aemond had lunged then, grabbing his brother by the collar.

“How dare you dishonor our sisters so!”

But Aegon was standing already, and running after you. He was a tad uncoordinated from the wine, but managed to catch up, Aemond hot on his heels.

Oh, when he got his hands on him, he was going to kill him, Aemond had thought. Daring to pursue you to humiliate you further!

You were huddled in an alcove, hands pressed to your mouth to muffle your cries. At the sight of you, Aegon had looked like someone had struck him.

“I… Apologies, sweet sister… I…” Aemond had never heard him stammer such, much less apologizing for his deviant behavior. He had even leered at Helaena during his own bedding, by the Seven! “I confused you with a serving girl and I…”

You had looked at him, eyes full of betrayal. It was how Aemond imagined he must have looked just before he had lost his eye. You had not spoken a word, shoving both of them in favor of running off again.

Aegon had never touched another girl after that. No longer servants were being dismissed from the Red Keep, with small cups of Moon Tea. No longer Helaena cried because he had visited her drunk. Even the whoring had gone down to reasonable levels.

It was why Aemond doubted you were in as much danger as your mother thought.

YOU BEGIN TO spend more time around Aegon. After that upsetting night, you had chosen to believe in his apology. It hadn’t been as bad, really. Just a spank, that had blown out of proportion when your uncle had laughed.

Your mother had noticed that Aegon had reacted to your consternation in a manner he had not to her scoldings over the years, so she had asked you to keep an eye on him. You find out it is no hardship. He cannot anticipate your every thought like Aemond, but it is expected. He is not your twin.

He is much more fun, willing to engage in any silly games you come up with. Aemond no longer has the patience for them, but Aegon does. Or perhaps he is just feeling guilty. You do not particularly care, as long as you get a companion.

You sit next to him at meals, and ask him to join you for tea in the gardens daily. He stops complaining about there not being any wine after the first moon of your routine. Exercise and sunlight do wonders for his mood, too.

Your newest game consists on slipping him notes during the day, exchanging them in the corridors as you bump shoulders and pretend not to know each other, or tucking them in the pockets of his doublets. Aegon even slips you some back, into the pockets of your cloaks.

You love it. You feel like you are partaking in some sort of courtly intrigue. Exchanging secrets while no one looks, carrying a conversation no one is privy to. You should burn them afterwards, Aegon says, to make it more real, but you find yourself holding on to the notes and saving them.

You will show them to Jaehera and Jaehaerys when they are older. Perhaps the twins will develop a secret language of their own, like Aegon and you. Or perhaps they will become more like Aemond and you, twisted mirrors of each other. Whichever they are, you are sure they will be great. The coin flipped right with them, you can feel it.

Aegon waits patiently for you to tire of playing spies, like you do from all else. You do not have a good track record, with a short attention span and an overeager imagination. You have ceased in your attempts to learn to play Cyvasse, invent a card game, and implement a new communication method using kittens. You had even attempted once to train a bird, but had grown frightened when it started bringing you rats as presents. This, too, shall pass.

He is mistaken. Three moons go by, and you are still at it.

“Isn’t it a bit silly?” He asks you, when it's clear you weren’t going to tire of the game soon. “Passing me messages as if we are spies, when you could just speak to me?”

You cannot explain to him the secret thrill you get every time you see him, the swooping feeling in your stomach when he appears in the hallways and calls you his sweet sister. Much less, how at night you lay in bed, and hold the notes tight against your chest, close to your heart.

How you reread the jokes and the compliments, and imagine him next to you, speaking them into your ear.

It's wrong. Aegon is a married man. And yet… Yet. You have always been the perfect daughter, mirror to Aemond in your dutifulness. A pious lady, respectful of the Seven and her elders. You can have this small thing, surely.

You cannot voice it. He would find it odd, he would no longer want your company. So instead, you give him a secret, coquettish smile. It’s an expression you have seen on your half sister’s lovely mouth, when she bends men to her will. You have stolen it, sharpened, made it deadly.

“Indulge me, brother.”

And Aegon looks at you, and his breath catches. It’s only for a second, but it feels like an eternity. You hear it, the pause of his even breaths, his pulse quickening. You would know him by heartbeat alone, this brother of yours.

“You are a child.” Aegon complains, after clearing his throat.

“Yes. And so are you.” You poke him in the ribs, forcing him to jump to avoid you. It makes you laugh.

“I am a man grown.” Aegon argues, trying to sound dignified.

You pause. You remember your mother’s words, asking you to guide him onto the right path. He is just a boy, underneath it all. Young, foolish and hurting. No one has ever paid him attention, so he acts out to obtain it.

Aemond and you resort to other, more unconventional methods. Both of you do everything right, and pretend not to need anyone.

To this day, your father hasn’t noticed either of you.

But perhaps, you can help him. Give him what he requires and help your mother too.

“I will believe you when I see it. Whoring, drinking. That is not what men do.” You scold, softly.

“Daemon does.” Aegon’s brows furrow, as if sensing a reprimand. You can tell that if you do not hurry, he will sour to you as he has to your mother.

“Does father? Grandsire?” You challenge.

“I do not want to be like them.” He confesses. You take his hands in yours.

“Neither do I. But if we wish to be different, we need to be sober.” And while Aegon looks unhappy, he still squeezes your hands back. “I need you to be.”

He has to do it for himself one day, but for now, he can do it for you.

HELAENA AND AEMOND give chase for days. Their mother sends them in the same direction, but with opposite instructions. While Helaena is not supposed to venture too deep into Essos, Aemond is supposed to scour the farthest Free Cities.

Their meeting date is two weeks into their travels, in the last of Helaena’s destinations. Volantis is as colorful as it is beautiful, and Aemond finds himself fascinated by the sights. He has to agree with you, the world is full of wonderful places just begging to be seen.

Helaena has stationed Dreamfyre at the edge of the city. She comes with a few trusted guards, while Aemond travels alone. He doesn’t need protection when he has Vhagar.

“No success?” He asks her, as he dismounts. They do not dare go further on dragonback, as to not upset the citizens. Starting a war with the Free Cities is the last thing they need right now.

“I heard a rumor.” Helaena says, sliding off Dreamfyre’s back as if it were nothing. Aemond marvels at it. Despite being so ungraceful on land, Helaena looks like a true queen on dragonback. Like she belongs here, and not like she walks a path between realms that would be unfathomable for any man. “About a silver girl and her gold dragon.”

“What do you make of it?” Aemond asks her, hoping she will speak plainly. He also hopes she is not hurt by the news. He was never good at comforting people.

Helaena isn’t the most affectionate of his siblings, but she loves in her own way. Aegon is the father of her children. Some love might be there. Any woman would be furious to hear her husband has run off with her sister. It’s an insult so low, Aemond wonders how she is keeping herself together.

“The rats won’t come for us now.” She answers him, cryptically. Her expression is calm. If she is bothered by what her siblings have done, Helaena doesn’t show it. “Best to keep them there. They can’t touch them there.”

“Who is they, Helaena?” He prods, gently. His sister doesn’t answer. She pets Dreamfyre and gets that faraway look she sometimes wears, when a picture it’s forming in her mind and she can’t quite express it.

Aemond remembers a story about a seer, cursed to walk the earth sprouting prophecies no one believed in but that always ran true. He wonders if dragon dreams are a curse of their own, making those who see the future unable to communicate it.

“I want to find them.” He pleads, holding her by the shoulders. “Please, Hel, this is important.”

Helaena looks at him. Or through him. Aemond doesn’t know. What does she see when she stares at his features? What threads of fate do the Seven weave for him? Helaena can probably read his tapestry, but she would never tell him.

She takes her time, examining his features in search of something. Her shoulders slump under his hold.

“Spare them their chains, Aemond.”

So Helaena knows where you are. They. Aegon and you. But this time, it is not that she cannot tell him. It’s that she won’t.

“Just to see them.” He lets go of her shoulders to grab her hands instead. Helaena’s hands are cold and clammy under his. Aemond knows physical contact bothers her, but he cannot help himself. He needs to know. There is a hunger in him, gnawing at his bones, consuming his flesh. It might devour him alive, if he doesn’t make sure you left willingly. “Will I succeed?”

“The maiden no longer walks alone. The King has taken her. Now she is a Queen, and feasts in a garden full of delights.” Helaena squeezes his hands. Do you understand? Her eyes seem to say, do you understand what I am telling you?

Solve my riddle. Figure it out. For I cannot, I will not tell you more.

Aemond knows this story too. About an older man, who nobody loved, who takes a younger woman and makes her his Queen.

“Did she go willingly?” Aemond asks her because the versions of the story vary, and he doesn’t exactly know which one she is referencing.

Helaena smiles at him, full of pity. Poor man, who understands nothing.

“You may walk out of the Seven Hells, after seeing the one you love. But you will turn back.”

Aemond stares. Helaena climbs back up on Dreamfyre and departs, leaving him standing there.

YOU LAY IN the gardens, feeling sun drunk. Your cheeks are red from the heat. The grass is staining your dress, but you do not care. The warmth feels so good against you, so nice and inviting. Your eyelids drop. Resting your eyes for a few minutes can’t hurt, right?

“Again?” An amused voice says. You open your eyes to look at Aegon. He carries two goblets in his hands.

“It’s so warm.” You mutter. You don’t question how he has found you. Earlier this morning, when you slipped him a note, you mentioned you would be in the gardens. In the Red Keep, immense as it is, that could mean anywhere. But you always find yourself under the same trees.

Your spot, as Aegon calls it. You like it because the trees are positioned just so as to protect your eyes from sunlight, but not the rest of your body. You can read without being blinded, but also nap in the sun.

“Mother says princesses shouldn’t tan.” He sits beside you, handing you a goblet. It’s full of cold water. “You are not some commoner working the fields.”

“Mm.” You mutter, still sleepy. You understand cats so well, sleeping under the sun rays. You wish you were a cat to nap all day in a windowsill and be hand-fed morsels. That sounds like a great life.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Aegon sounds amused, and it’s then you realize you didn’t share those thoughts with him. Did you spoke them aloud? “Yes, you did. Get up, you are getting heat stroke. Drink your water.”

You obey him, sipping at your goblet. The coldness from the water helps you clear your head, and notice that your face feels hot, and your chest is red.

“Not again.” You complain, tucking yourself more into the shadow the tree produces. Aegon simply watches you, a smirk on his lips. “Mother will murder me.”

“I warned you.” He laughs at your expression, a petulant mix of a pout and a scowl. “Drink. I want to teach you a card game while you cool down enough to be presentable.”

Aegon aids you drink from your goblet, careful to not let the water spill. He tucks your sweaty hair behind your ears. Meanwhile, you marvel at how much he has changed, during these years.

He is still undeniably fun, much more than Aemond or you. But he is no longer drunk all the time, and spends his time trying to get you to lighten up and learn new diversions. You like this version of Aegon, who calls you his sweet sister still, but whose face has lost the bloated look alcoholics have. He looks healthier, hair thicker, dark circles less pronounced.

You have been trying to make him work on his tan. He refuses. Your serious nature has not rubbed on him, but he is healthier and treats you with the utmost kindness.

“I would like to learn how to bet.” You tell him, confidently. Truth is, you want to go for another ride on Sunfyre. He has grown just enough to carry two riders, and you miss flying. Aemond no longer takes you in Vhagar, more focused on martial exercises.

If you manage to win a bet, perhaps you can claim a ride on Sunfyre as your prize. Aegon is wary of taking you again because last time, mother had caught you and scolded you until your ears were ringing.

“Betting, sweet sister…” Aegon sips from his goblet, giving you a half smile. “It’s an art one cannot learn in one afternoon. Depends on the game you are playing.”

“An art? By the Seven, I never knew Flea Bottom was full of artists! Someone should tell Daemon, for he has been a real patron of the arts and never knew.” You say, tone flat.

Aegon snorts so hard, the water comes out through his nose. You laugh.

“As I was saying, depends on the game. With cards, you look at them, but if there are cocks involved…” His tone turns lecherous. You gasp, outraged. You are not a prude, but dirty jokes still embarrass you. Were it not by how sunburned you are, you are sure a blush would already be present on your face.

“Um, hello, as in the animal!” Aegon tells you, as if it were obvious. There is a telling little dimple in his face, though, one he gets when he is fighting laughter. “Get your mind off the gutter. What would mother say?”

“Oh.” You say, eloquently. Is he being serious? He has not burst out laughing yet, so he might be, and his amusement could be out of your dirty thoughts. You feel even worse. Perhaps your mind is really in the gutter.

“Those, you choose carefully. Look for the bigger. The girthier…” You shriek in indignation, not allowing him to keep speaking. You hate being so gullible. He always gets you.

“Shut up! I thought you were being serious!” You tackle him, beginning to tickle his sides. When the two of you stop laughing, Aegon places his arm for you to use as a pillow and you curl into him. The two of you nap under the trees the rest of the day.

He has found out a better way to get drunk by the end of the afternoon.

ALICENT IS AT the end of her tether. She hasn’t slept in days. Every time she lays down, she imagines the terrible violations you must be being subjected to. Her poor girl, forced to submit to her deviant brother’s whims.

The pictures in her head won’t let her sleep. They remind her of another young girl, barely of age, taken by a Targaryen King. Being summoned, asked to lay still and spread her legs. To bear it with a grin. To sacrifice herself for the good of the realm, for her family.

Her honor, broken. Her sister believing her a whore. Warming the bed where another bleed.

A dutiful daughter. A dutiful wife. A dutiful whore. Nursing him by day, working over him at night, until her thighs hurt, and she thought, is this what being a Queen is like? She had not felt Queen of anything, except the Seven Hells.

Whore, mother, daughter, wife. It makes no difference. Girls, all over the world, were just vessels for men. Even Princesses, even Queens.

Despite Aemond’s reassurances that you are probably fine, and that Aegon would never hurt you, Alicent cannot stop herself from worrying. Aemond doesn’t know what she does, after all.

Deep within her heart, to take to her grave, she carries a secret. A dark secret. One Aemond is not privy to. Alicent doesn’t dare tell him, either. It would mean further stain on your honor, and more anguish to your twin.

It’s better only she knows. This way, it’s her burden alone. It will not drag you down, or worry your siblings. Safe within the confines of her mind, the secret cannot hurt anyone.

Inside Oldtown, there is the Hightower. In the highest tower there is, next to the powder used to change the color of the flames atop the beacon, is another box. The box has three locks, and a chain wrapped around it, for good measure. It’s made of pure valyrian steel.

Inside the box, Alicent keeps the secret: She had caught Aegon kissing you once.

It had been shortly before your father’s death. You had been helping with the preparations for receiving Rhaenyra and her sons, overseeing the cleaning of the locked rooms. Alicent had tasked you with the responsibility, and you, her brilliant, dutiful girl, had not disappointed.

She doesn’t remember why she had been looking for you. Perhaps, to ask you about where you intended to place the babes, if in the old nursery or in the rooms set aside for their parents. She does remember it had been early afternoon.

The door had been open, so Alicent had not knocked. Alicent had entered Rhaenyra’s old chambers to find your brother crowding you against a wall. Aegon held you in a passionate embrace, his hands helping themselves to your hips and buttocks.

Your dress was bunched up around your waist, and your hips darted nervously from side to side, surely trying to avoid his touch. You were yowling like a kitten, hands pushing on his shoulders.

Alicent heard your distressed cries, your twitchy little movements, and saw red.

“How dare you!” She screamed, uncaring if someone else heard her. Aegon jumped away from you as if your touch burned you.

You had wiped your mouth, face red.

“Mother… I… I am so sorry…” You were so ashamed, so small, and you had reminded her so much of herself it hurt her. The nights where her father ordered her to go to the King, and she couldn’t refuse. How she had been told fighting wasn’t ladylike, that she had to submit to men, let them throw her around as if she were a thing and not a person.

It filled her with rage. It made her want to scratch Aegon’s eyes off with her own nails. Throw herself to the floor, and scream loud and never stop.

“Don’t say a word, my love! Aegon, how could you!”

It was anger, and pain, but also guilt. Guilt, because she knew what Aegon had been up to with the serving girls. Because Alicent had encouraged him to see his sister as a woman, and not a simple sibling. Because she had taught you the same things that she had been taught, that you weren’t to resist or fight, that you were to bear it all with a grin.

Her poor, poor girl. If she had given you a sword, would you have defended yourself? Screamed? Pushed him off?

But instead of a shield and a sword against the world, she had handed you a mirror and forced to make your peace with it. Only Alicent was to blame.

“Mother…” You tried again, tears coming to your eyes.

“Go to Aemond. Now.” Alicent had ordered. She had then berated Aegon until he confessed everything was his fault, and slapped him for his attempt on his sister’s virtue.

She wished she had gelded him, then. A King with no heirs would have been one of the usual tragedies, just like girls being hurt were. None would have merited more than a footnote in the history of Westeros.

YOU ARE COMING of age, and the whole realm is celebrating. Twins are unusual, and the royal family being blessed with two pairs in two generations merits some celebration.

Both Aemond and you have managed to survive until adulthood, a marvel on itself. Sometimes, it felt as if you wouldn’t make it. Especially Aemond, after claiming the biggest dragon in Westeros and losing his eye. You worried about your twin, sometimes.

As always, you embrace the frivolity with gusto. You commission a gown for the occasion, and dance with every single person attending the feast. Not even your father had been spared, holding you close and swaying to the music before growing too weak.

Your grandsire, despite his objections, had been dragged into the merriment too. As had Daemon, your nephews, your twin, your brothers, your friends, and your sister. Twirling in the makeshift dance floor, you had been the life of the feast, allowing Aemond to quietly brood.

Everyone was enchanted by the beautiful princess, and her joyful manners. There was already talk of how lovely a bride you would make, and how happy your future Lord Husband would be with you by his side.

But you wanted none of it. You had started to develop conflicting feelings for Aegon, and wished to untangle them first, before thinking of marriage.

In truth, you didn’t imagine a life outside the Red Keep, one where you had children and stayed in the same place forever, even in death.

When you dared to dream, you always saw yourself on dragonback.

When Ser Martyn Reyne asks you for a dance, you do not hesitate. You agree to let him twirl you between the tables because he is a friend of Aegon. Even if you do not like the way he smiles at you, like he wants to eat you whole.

It is then you hear it and your smile freezes.

After you dance, you go get a refreshment, and noticing you haven’t danced with Aegon yet, you approach the group he is with. Ser Martyn is also there, well on the way to being drunk.

“And I swear, your sister has the prettiest teats in the Seven Kingdoms!” He bellows, before burping.

You cannot see Aegon’s expression from where you stand. His back is turned to you. The other men have not noticed you yet, so you creep closer. Has he gone back to his old ways? Your heart feels like it’s breaking, but you need to know. Especially if these new feelings are what you think they are.

He had started kissing you, recently. But you cannot tell if this is just a game to him or if it is more. You cannot risk it. You have to know. Your childhood infatuation with him has grown teeth, nails, and become a monster that threatens to devour you. He is a married man, but the heart doesn’t know of vows or Septons. It only knows of want.

“Bet she is a little freak, just like your brother. I know her cunt must be so sweet, too. Princesses are meant to be.” This is Eddard Waters. You know he is one of your brother’s friends, and even more boisterous than the others.

“And you intend to sample her, then?” Ser Martyn asks him. You make a face. As if you would let any of these fools between your legs.

“You know what they say… The wettest the cunt, the…” But whatever rude thing Water was going to say is lost because Aegon punches him in the face.

It’s glorious. It’s ridiculous. Your brother fights like a commoner, slamming the wine jug on his friend’s head. A brawl breaks out around you, more people jumping in trying to separate the Prince from the knights, as he screams, bites and trashes.

“My sister is off limits!” He screams, fiercely. Aemond materializes by your side, tugging you away from the fight that has ruined your nameday feast, but you stay there.

Even as he throws you over his shoulder, and gets you out, not hesitating to unsheat his sword to get you to safety, you stay there.

Looking at Aegon holding his knuckles, probably having broken them. He has never been good at fighting.

Looking at Aegon, standing up to his friends for the first time in years. For you.

It strikes you then, standing in the middle of the Hall, as if it were lighting. You love him. You love him.

Love. You love him, and it changes everything.

How can people speak of love as a choice, when in reality it is an arrow that strikes you, lighting hitting you in the middle of a storm? When it roots you to a spot, and shatters all your bones? Choice. As if. You do not choose Jaehaerys, you do not choose your Daemon. You do not choose the rain that will soak you to the bone as you leave the hall.

WHEN AEMOND FINALLY finds you, you are holding to Aegon’s hand as the two of you stroll through a market in Braavos. There, your features aren’t as recognizable.

He sees it, then. Not with his eye, but with his heart. Out of all the possibilities, he had been right.

The silver girl, with her golden dragon. Spurring him up, higher, faster, further. And while wax melts, dragons do not burn.

You look happy. There is a playful smile on your face, when you tug on Aegon’s hand and force him to run, Aemond hot on your heels.

He vows to remember you as you are, his fierce, brave twin. Your ferocious grin as you disappeared into an alleyway, twisted towards a gate, whistled loudly.

“Tell mother I chose to run. Not Aegon.”

And then you are running towards Sunfyre, Aegon helping you mount. Aemond, having not dared bring Vhagar inside the city, doesn't follow.

He has to inform his mother. She refuses to believe in his words, thinking he is doing her a kindness, fabricating the story of a couple in love, of a runaway Princess.

But with the clarity of death, she decides to visit your rooms one last time. Despite her aches and pains, and the recommendations of the Maesters.

The eve before Queen Alicent’s death, something compels her to get out of her bed and search your old rooms. The pain doesn’t let her sleep, tortures her at night. Her own mind is a labyrinth that traps her, filled with monsters that will kill her.

The first one reads:

Everything is as you had left it. In this place, no time has passed. And beneath the bed, in a box, she finds it. The tale of your romance.

Do you ever feel like you need to run away from everything?

Underneath your elegant scrawl, Aegon’s chicken-like letters answer,

They say she died of a broken heart, in her old age. But perhaps, and just perhaps, knowing the truth set her free.

All the time, sweet sister.