#lord lucerys velaryon x reader

[madame-fear]

*ೃ༄ 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐑𝐔𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏 .ೃ࿐

[ one | two ]

ೀ amira speaks! : Based on this plot. Okay,, I know I said I would write it all in one part, but splitting it in two helps me stay motivated to keep writing. 🙈 Smut will be in part two. This chapter only contains Luke being a bit possesive with you. Enjoy! 💕 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ summary : Prince Lucerys had his eyes set on you ever since you were children, and his affection for you grew stronger when you comforted him after losing his eye at the hands of his Uncle Aemond. But when your time of marrying another Lord comes in your early 20s, the now young Lord of Driftmark isn’t happy at all — though, he plans on making you his, as you were always supposed to be. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ word count : 2.1k

˗ˏˋ ꒰ genre : AU, smut, friends to lovers, a bit of an obsessive Lucerys. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ pairing : One Eyed!Lord!Lucerys x (childhood best friend)!Reader

Lucerys Velaryon, your childhood best friend, had grown to be known as the “One Eyed Prince”; or the “One Eyed Bastard”, as many referred to him.

The loss of his eye had been greatly significant in his early life, having lost it after trying to defend his older brother Jace and his cousins from his uncle Aemond. If anything, it had helped to encourage and fuel the resentment their families felt for one another. And you had been there to witness the tense aftermath of the situation.

Your mere presence was enough to comfort Lucerys when you were just young children; you had a shoulder for him to cry on if he wished to grieve his eye, until he became used to living with it. “The loss of your eye is a symbol of the courage you had to confront your uncle, and defend your loved ones,” you constantly reminded him, embracing him tightly whenever he needed you. And the comfort he so desperately sought for, was always found in you.

You had always been there for the Velaryon prince, before and after the incident with his eye. But, there was something in that constant warming comfort you provided for him, that made Lucerys feel as if he could melt right under your love and attention. Perhaps, it was something he had been feeling deep down inside of him without even admitting it to himself, you were supposed to be just a good friend — but during the aftermath of his eye loss, nothing else mattered to you except his well-being.

You made sure to spend as much time as needed with him, offering comfort and love; which made Luke realise, just how perfect you were in every sense. Hardly any other woman could possibly compare to the inner and outer perfection you so gracefully carried.

The years passed by, and his personality simply grew to be more of a cold, and reserved one; compared to the timid, innocent boy Lucerys used to be. You couldn’t complain — his personality around you remained as endearing and gentle as it always used to be, though a bit more overprotective. You had grown to be as delicate as glass, precious as the petal of a flower; how could Luke not be protective over you? Especially since he was particularly fond of you... In more than just a friendly way.

Every boy, Prince, and Lord had their eyes fixed on you whenever you passed by, occasionally getting to flirt with you and making you laugh. Lucerys was never exactly proud of this, especially when another man tried to flirt with you in front of his face. He always kept a close eye on you, and made sure to advert your attention away from those men with any excuse that came to him. Jealousy ran on his blood like a fiery venom, and it was impossible for him to hide it — yet, you never realised the obvious intentions he had of keeping you away from anyone who wanted to compete against him for your affection.

Lucerys’ efforts where never in vain, they worked just the way he wanted. You always gossiped with Lucerys about whatever man tried to woo you, laughing to yourselves at your own remarks — and it never seemed as if you were interested in anyone else, except Lucerys when his presence was near your own. Compared to him, you weren’t exactly discreet when your gaze was fixed on his features, and to him, that was something to hold great pride for.

As you had always done since childhood, you sat under a large tree that you both considered your secret spot. The weight of his head rested peacefully on your lap, with his eye closed. One of your hands held a book, which you were reading outloud to him, and your other free hand mindlessly played with his dark curly hair. Both of you had managed to find a free space between your duties, deciding to spend some quality time together after quite some time of not having seen each other.

He now might be the Lord of Driftmark, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t visit you, and do the same things you had done since children. After all, the responsabilities that came with being a Lord were exhausting — could he not calmly rest with you, the woman that practically owned his heart, feeling your fingers mess with his hair and your soothing voice reading to him?

Pausing in between your lecture, you softly tilted your head towards him, admiring how peaceful he seemed with his head weighing on your lap. Teasingly, your fingers moved from playing with strands of his hair, and they moved to slowly caress the skin on his cheeks. “Have you fallen asleep already?” you inquired, with an amused voice tone and a growing smile at the corner of your lips.

Like your own, Lucerys couldn’t help but immediatly smile, softly chuckling as he opened his eye. “I am very well awake, love, and attentively listening to you.” his green eye stared at you admiringly, appreciating how the sunlight reflected gracefully on your features. The cold, reserved personality he had grown into, fortunately never affected your relationship.

Yes, Luke might have grown quieter and more kept to himself, but whenever you were near him all of that faded away — being the sweet, gentle boy Lucerys had always been with you. Except that, he might be quite a bit possesive around you; with no other Lord or Prince being allowed to flirt with you, just a mere cold glare with his eye as he stood by your side was enough to frighten them away.

A soft chuckle spurred from you as your fingernails playfully scraped on his skin to caress him. His eye felt heavy, feeling as if he could fall asleep right there at the mere sensation of your warm touch. “I have greatly missed you, Luke.” you began speaking, as his grin grew wider. “I’m quite content having been able to sneak away from our duties to be together. Your duties as the Lord of Driftmark are taking your attention away from me.”

Part of you said that as a jest, with both of you laughing softly at it, and another part of you was being wholeheartedly genuine. And having known you since childhood, he immediatly noticed that. Which left him quietly surprised, to hear suh confession — but Luke wasn’t going to deny the fact that he enjoyed having you clinging to him for his attention and care.

“I could say the same to you, byka jorraelagon.” lazily, he raised his hand. His fingertip lovingly caressed you under your chin, fixing his stare on your delicate features. “But don’t worry too much about it. None of my duties as Lord ever take you off from my mind, I can assure you.” a rosy hue smeared across your cheeks, nearly melting as his digit traced your skin under your chin. It seemed as if he knew exactly what to say, and how to touch you. It was satisfying enough for him to see your reaction, which was just the one he wanted.

Softly, you sighed, allowing him to keep stroking your skin. You had always longed for these private moments between the two of you, where you could do or say anything without caring for anything else. The smile that had grown at the corner of your lips dropped faintly, becoming a grimace as you frowned. Your expressions slowly turned into a despondent one, to which Lucerys immediatly noticed as his eye stared attentively at you.

Your own thoughts about enjoying solitude with him, escaping from your own responsibilities just to feel the warmth of each ofher’s presences, reminded you of your betrothal — and you were afraid such compromise would stand in the way of your meetings with Lucerys, in one way or another.

“What’s the matter?” he cooed calmly, noticing the change in your demeanor. You offered him a frowny smile. “Nothing, Luke. Everything is alright. Why?” as quick as you were in dismissing his concern for you, he wouldn’t leave it just there. “I know you. Your face says otherwise, something happened.” slowly, he stopped caressing you under your chin with his fingertip, just to rest his hands on his chest as Lucerys stared at you attentively.

“What happened? I need to know, (y/n).” Lucerys kept insisting, and you knew he wouldn’t give up so easily — not when he noticed something was troubling you. You huffed at the mere thought of it, beginning to shake your head in disappointment. “It’s just...” the words trailed off, hesitating for a moment before continuing. Your gaze lingered elsewhere, feeling how his eye was fixed on you.

“I have been betrothed— And... I’m afraid our moments together will not be as often as they currently are.” you managed to spill out. The words spurred mumbled, but they escaped from your lips, finally.

Moving your stare back to him, his expression was cold — yet, mixed with other emotions. Luke seemed confused, blankless, and yet... So impotent. Betrothals were a duty that no noble could ever from, it was a fate expected for you. But you should be betrothed to him. He could treat you so much better than any other mediocre, arrogant Lord. No one knew you better, than Lord Lucerys himself.

His head weightened further on your head, before he rapidly moved to sit by your side, instead of resting on your lap. His eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Betrothed?” he inquired in a low tone. “Betrothed to whom, exactly?” both your hands now laid on your lap, fidgeting anxiously with your own fingers. Bewilder was expressed all across his young features. Your eyes stared down at your fingers, nibbling on your lower lip discreetly.

“I have been betrothed into House Lannister.” you mumbled, “Specifically to Loren Lannister.” deciding to stare at him, you noticed his jaw clenched slightly. His hazel eye lowered it’s sight to the vividly green grass, thinking quietly to himself. You stared at him nervously, noticing the silence looming between of you, amidst the faint sounds of the birds chirping.

House Lannister. The Lannisters had quite a reputation of their own — he always thought of them as arrogant, petty, and proud of themselves. Out of all the noble Houses that there were, you had to be betrothed into House Lannister? “Velaryon” suits you better, anyways — the young Lord knew he would eventually get away with what was his. You were not getting married to some cheap Lannister, not under his watch. A pretty little thing such as yourself will not go to waste with the One Eyed Lord.

“I see.” Luke coldly retorted. Despite his clear bemuse at the abrupt news, he felt satisfied with himself — he knew how he would find his way to get you out of that dreadful betrothal of yours. And that way, you’d be entirely free for him once again. Offering a warm smile, the One Eyed Velaryon took your delicate hand lovingly, caressing your skin with his thumb. He felt invitingly soothing, making you mindlessly grin and become flustered at the touch of his digit on your flesh. “But don’t worry, my love. I’m certain your betrothal will not affect our frequent meetings.” His hand raised your own towards his rosy lips, pressing them gently against your knuckles to give them a loving kiss. The rosy hue tainted on your cheeks leisurely became a reddish tone, offering him a sheepish smile to hide away your shyness whenever Luke demonstrated tender affection towards you — an endearing type of affection that he never thought of giving to someone else. Doubt overwhelmed you at hearing his confident statement.

“Are you...” the warmth of his lips on your knuckles lingered, as he pulled away, staring at you with his only eye. Gods, how pretty you were when it was obvious you were melting for him. “Are you quite certain about it? What if... What if my betrothed dislikes the idea of us–” the young Lord shook his head, using his other free hand to place it on your cheek comfortingly. You immediatly gave into it, allowing your head to fall against the palm of his hand.

“Your betrothed will say nothing, because I will find a way of being together— as I always do.”

You meekly smiled at him, softly allowing some chuckles to spur from those beauteous lips of yours; clearly content at his determination.

You were endearingly sweet— so innocent. Of course the One Eyed Lord had everything mapped out to find his way to you, as he had always done ever since you were children. Your lame excuse of a betrothed was no challenge to him, as he had exactly planned out how to get rid of him; having you all for himself, without anyone to possibly disturb your relationship.

You didn’t belong in House Lannister, and much less in Casterly Rock. You beloged in House Velaryon — you belonged in Driftmark. And Lucerys wouldn’t have it any other way.

♡ taglist : ♡

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[lady-targaryens-world]

The only Daughter: Prolog

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

English is not my native language!

Pairing: ? x Fem! Targaryen reader

Please like, comment and share ���

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

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

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

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

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

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

y/n Velaryon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[damn-stark]

Chapter 8 Chateau

Chapter 8 of Moonlight

A/N- You and young Rhaenyra would’ve been the bestest of friends.

Warning- Swearing, angst, NFSW, quickie before mc leaves, FLUFF, talks of blood, death, miscarriage, pregnancy, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- 1x08-1x10

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

“…and he said to me, well you’re sort of beautiful. So I look at him confused.” You tell Rhaena and Baela about a memory from your years in Winterfell. “I'm like, I'm either one or the other, tell me if I should be offended or touched.”

Rhaena giggles and leans in closer to you. “What did he say?”

You grab onto the edge of the dinner table and lean in between the both of them to whisper. “He went on to throw up on himself,” you grumble and Baela and Rhaena groan in disgust.

“But! The next day he said the same thing to another girl, so,” you snicker, “my friends and I grabbed him after he blacked out and laid him in front of Astraea. When he woke up he shit his pants in front of all the ladies he had been hitting on.”

The three of you burst out laughing at your story, causing Jacaerys to shove himself between Baela and you. “What’s so funny?” He probes.

You part your lips to answer, but Baela cuts him off. “Lady business.”

You peer over at him and snicker.

“Well,” he counters nonchalantly and smirks. “I suppose I won’t share what I just told Lucerys.”

Your curiosity piques and without an ounce of hesitation, you look back at him, noticing him looking all smug.

However, before he can even try and share his part, the hall doors open and guards carrying your grandfather in a chair walk in, silencing the chatter that fills the room, and making everyone, including you, stand from their seats in respect of the King's arrival.

“Tell us later,” you whisper to your brother.

He leans over and counters. “As long as you tell me what you shared.”

You meet his gaze from the corner of your eyes and nod in agreement. You then return your focus to the King getting carried to his spot in the middle of the table, and only return to your spot beside Aemond once the King is put down.

“How good it is,” your grandfather interjects in his raspy voice. “To see you all tonight…together.” He finishes strong and takes a moment to examine everyone gathered around the table.

“Prayer before we begin?” Alicent cuts in.

Your grandfather turns his head to look at his wife and nods. “Yes,” he whispers.

You sigh and clasp your hands together over the table, but you don’t close your eyes like Alicent and her family do.

Even if you do follow the Old Gods, you don’t much pray to them over dinner, nor do you make it your entire personality like Alicent with her New Gods, but out of respect you do stay quiet and listen to her.

“May the Mother smile down on the gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for too long.”

You slowly drop your head and roll your eyes at her comment because after all, who’s fault is this strain exactly? Your mother was nothing but patient during the years she lived here with you and your siblings; the boys only messed around with one another because they were just children messing around. The only reason you don’t like Aegon is because he’s a creep with the ladies, and you, but the hostility? The name calling? That was all Alicent.

So can she please stop acting?!

“…And to Vaemond Velaryon, May the gods give him rest.”

Okay, now that time has passed you have to admit even if you don’t want to…what Daemon did to him was…well deserved. You won't praise the man to his face, but it was impressive. After the disgust and horror passed of course.

“This is an occasion for celebration, it seems,” your grandfather interjects once the prayer is done, pulling your gaze back over the table—“My grandsons, Jace and Luke will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena.”

You smile at the newly betrothed and reach over for your goblet.

“Further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young Princes…and their betrothed.”

A grin spreads on your lips and you don’t fret to raise your cup to all of them.

“Hear, hear!” Daemon exclaims.

As you take a sip from your wine you reach over and interlace your fingers with Aemond’s as you remember your own wedding. He proceeds to immediately glance over at you, finding you a hundred times more interesting than the people he’s forced to break bread with and puts his goblet down to lean over and press a kiss on the side of your head, making you smile and tighten your hold around his.

“Let us toast as well to Prince Lucerys,” the King adds. “The future Lord of the Tides.”

You raise your cup again and this time you exclaim. “Hear, hear!”

Lucerys gaze finds you and a thankful smile shows on his lips before he drifts his gaze to Rhaena.

“You’ll be great,” you hear her compliment him, making you smile softly with joy because you're happy she's showing him a gentle kindness. He deserves someone kind like her.

“It both gladdens my heart,” your grandfather keeps speaking, but this time he stands on his feet so everyone can look at him. “And fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world…yet grown so distant from each other…in the years past.”

You swallow thickly and begin to caress the back of Aemond’s hand with your thumb.

At the feeling of the soft pad of your thumb caressing his skin, his eyes fall on you and linger while you watch your grandfather with hesitation as he begins to take his mask off.

You have seen him without it on a few times, but seeing the muscles of his cheek stick out still brings you goosebumps—Not his eye socket though, Aemond and him share that similarity, and you’ve helped Aemond clean his fleshy eye socket before, but the flesh on your grandfather's cheek is not the same.

“My old face…is no longer a handsome one…if it indeed ever was. But tonight,” he mutters. “I wish you to see me…as I am. Not just a King…but your father. Your brother. Your husband…and your grandsire. Who may not, it seems…walk for much longer among you.”

You let out a deep breath and avert your gaze to avoid having them cloud with tears. Aemond notices and pulls your hand to his lap so he can hold it with both of his hands.

“Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts,” he goes on and slams his cane against the floor. “The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances, if not for the sake of the crown…then for the sake of this old man, who loves you all so dearly.” He lets out a heavy breath and sits back down, letting your mother abruptly stand up with her goblet in the air.

“I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen,” your mother interjects, catching you off guard. “I love my father, but I must admit that no one has stood…more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended to him with…unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude…and my apology.”

You grab your goblet again and take a small drink.

“I also would like to add,” your mother says a bit softer this time, and with a smile, she directs at you. “How thankful I am to my daughter and Prince Aemond, you have made me a grandmother…”

You smile brightly and share your glee with Aemond.

“…I am thankful for that every day. To Aerion, may he continue to grow and be happy.”

“Hear, hear,” Alicent says quietly, whilst Aemond, you, and everyone around the table take a drink.

“I will also like to add,” Alicent continues to say. “That your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess. We are both mothers…and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow.” She goes to pause so she can stand up and raise her goblet. “I raise my cup to you…and to your house. You will make a fine Queen.”

You bring your cup to your lips and take the last sip of wine before you stand up as well, causing one of your hands to slip off Aemond’s. “I would like to toast to my mother and family. Six years was far too long and I'm glad to see you all again, I missed you all—And to my brothers.” You smile, whilst a servant refills your goblet. “And Rhaena and Baela, may you share a loving and fruitful marriage.” You sit back down and take a drink at the same time your family does too.

Silence falls after that, letting you reach over to grab some fruit from the trays. When you sit back down and plop a grape in your mouth, suddenly Jacaerys slams his hands on the table and gets up, pulling the attention of everyone to him, and bringing a deafening silence to the table.

You raise your eyebrow and squint your gaze in confusion, but Jacaerys just clears his throat and only provides you with more confusion. However, that confusion quickly washes away as Aemond stands up and stares your brother down.

“Aemond,” you whisper and take his hand.

Said man keeps his glare on Jacaerys, adding tension to the table. You follow his line of gaze and watch your brother playfully hit Aegon's arm before raising his cup and meeting your husband's gaze.

“To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond…”

You swallow thickly and look up at Aemond again to plead. “<Aemond, my love, please.>”

Aemond blinks and meets your gaze briefly. You think he'll overreact, so you prepare yourself to try and calm him down, but he seems to find a solution to his conflict in your pleading gaze and sighs before he slowly sits back down to just listen.

“We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family's good health, dear uncles.” Jacaerys makes a friendly toast and raises his cup, followed by Baela.

The awkward tension doesn't leave but you slowly drink to your brother's words while you wrap your hand around Aemond’s arm.

“To you as well,” Aegon adds awkwardly.

Now you want this to come to an end before things turn bad. Aemond is already more upset than he initially was. And you can’t just see it in his stiff body, and pursed lips, but he gives his emotions away by pulling his arm from your grasp, letting you know he’s upset that you were trying to stop him from overreacting.

You howbeit don’t take offense to his petty act, you find it funny and immediately put your hand over his again. Aemond slowly drags his eye to the side in annoyance, and you slowly do the same but shoot him a playful smirk when you meet his gaze.

Aemond sighs and looks away as he takes his hand away again, but you pull his hand down and rub his hand against your thigh before you lean close to his ear to whisper cockily. “You can be upset all you want, it makes for a more entertaining night.”

The corner of Aemond’s lips twitch to a smile, but he doesn’t let it show in front of the others.

“Just a little longer, okay?” You assure him and then press a kiss on his cheek before you look to your other side as Helaena gets up too.

“I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena,” Helaena says. “They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad. Mostly he just ignores you…”

Aemond grips onto your thigh before you both share awkward glances due to his sister's speech.

“…except sometimes when he’s drunk.”

Scattered laughs spread around the table, but you just blink and glare over at Aegon.

“Let us have some music,” your grandfather brings an end to the toast, letting you turn to face Aemond.

“So I thought,” you tell him, gaining his full attention. “If my family doesn’t end up staying long, after Aerion and I come back from Dragonstone, we go to the vacation house. We can present Aerion to the countryside, just be alone and have calm nights, hm?” You share your idea.

Nevertheless, Aemond’s attention drifts behind you rather quickly, you follow his line of gaze and notice Jacaerys and Helaena starting to dance.

“Aw.” You grin. “How adorable.”

Aemond hums dryly, letting you know he didn't like it one bit, so you block his line of gaze and distract him. “So what do you say? After I come back, do you want to take a nice trip?”

Aemond sighs. “All right,” he agrees as he holds your gaze.

You beam at him and steal a kiss from his lips before you face the table again. Yet just before you can grab any food, a shadow gets cast over you, and Aemond’s grip on your thigh tightens.

“Sister,” you recognize Lucerys say, making you look over at him standing beside your chair with his hand out. “Would you like to dance?” He asks and slides his gaze to Aemond at your other side to shoot him a small smirk. “If that’s okay of course.”

Even though he is playing some stupid game to annoy Aemond, you gladly take your brother's hand and don’t even ask Aemond for permission because Lucerys is your little brother. You don’t need permission to dance with him. However, as you do follow Lucerys out to the floor you do feel Aemond’s gaze on you. When you come to a brief stop and grab your brother's hands, you look back and see exactly that, Aemond watching Lucerys and you carefully, as if your brother was going to suddenly just steal you or something.

Thus just to reassure Aemond of his ridiculous concern you offer him a soft smile before you begin to follow Lucerys’s lead.

“You’ve come a long way from dancing on my feet,” you tell Lucerys as you pull apart and continue to dance. “I’m impressed.”

“There’s not much to do at Dragonstone,” he comments whilst you both hook your arms around each other to spin slowly to the beat. “Besides, mother made us take lessons.”

You giggle. “Well, you’ll make your future wife very happy. It’s always impressive when a man is a willing dance partner.”

“Is it?” Lucerys asks curiously and steals a glance at Rhaena.

You nod. “It is. It’s a way to a woman’s heart. For some anyway.”

He laughs and meets your gaze with a serious look in his eyes. “What’s the other?”

You grin in awe and respond honestly. “Attention, so don't make her feel alone. Listening. Affection and humor.”

Lucerys hums softly before you link arms again and begin spinning slowly once more.

“Dragonstone wasn’t the same without you,” he says again. “We missed you.”

You hold his gaze and offer him a sweeter smile. “I missed you. I’m happy you haven’t changed, don’t let anyone change you.”

You proceed to grab each other's hands and dance around Helaena and Jacaerys before you turn back to back, lift your arms as if forming wings, and then pull away to turn to face each other again.

Before you can finish your dance though, you both come to a slow stop as you notice your grandfather getting carried. When he's being taken away, all you hear him do is groan in pain and you can't help but feel pity that he can’t be the man he once was.

At least he got to witness a part of this family dinner. As tense as it has been, it must've been nice after only seeing the same four walls, and laying in bed all day.

Nevertheless, after he is taken out of the room, a higher tension fills the room at the same time a roasted pig is brought in. Thus you don’t continue to dance in a tense-filled room, instead, you point to the table.

“Let’s go eat some dinner, hm?” You suggest.

Lucerys nods before laughing as he walks you to your chair. “You sound like mother.”

You flash him a simple happy smile before you take your seat beside Aemond and watch your brother return to his seat across the table. And now that you are seated, Aemond fixes his chair to the way it was before.

“I’m still here,” you tease him and take his hand once again. “But if you were so worried you should’ve danced with me.”

Aemond hums, making you snicker before you change the subject. “I have something I want to give you later. It…took me a long while to perfect, but I think you’ll like it.”

Aemond blinks in surprise before he turns his head to face you with confusion and curiosity. “What is it?” He asks.

You shrug softly and bat your lashes. “You just have to wait and see. Or I’ll tell you now if you dance with me?” You tease him with a smirk. “Hm?”

Aemond looks at the dance floor that Jacaerys and Helaena still occupy before meeting your gaze and letting out a deep sigh. “Fine.”

You blink in surprise and pull back. “Really?” You ask him now. “You’ll dance with me?”

Aemond nods. “I will.”

You beam at him with awe and excitement, but…just as you stand up, and before you can pull him up, his gaze drifts away for a second, only a few moments, but it’s long enough for him to catch something that pisses him off so much that he rips his arm from your grasp and slams his hand on the table, cutting off all noise that traveled within.

“Final tribute,” he interjects. “To the health of my nephews.”

Your smile fades completely and instead, you begin to nervously bite the inside of your cheek.

“Jace,” Aemond names. “Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…” he trails off and takes a long pause while he stares Lucerys down again.

“Aemond,” you warn him without an ounce of softness in your tone this time.

But of course, he ignores you. “Hm,” he hums. “Strong.”

You clench your jaw and fill with anger; not because he dared to say that to them, there’s no need fueling those comments. You're mad because he ruined this supper. Couldn’t he just hold it in and silently just glare and hate? That’s what you’re doing with Daemon.

“Aemond,” his mother attempts to stop him too.

“Come,” Aemond continues and ignores Alicent as well. “Let us drain our cups to these three…strong boys.”

“I dare you to say that again,” Jacaerys snaps at him angrily.

“Why?” Aemond counters and faces him with his cup raised. “‘Twas only a compliment.”

He breaks away from his spot and passes you to stride to Jacaerys. “Do you not think yourself strong?”

You know Jacaerys has a short temper, you know Aemond doesn’t hold back, so you slowly follow after him and try to plead again. “Aemond, please stop.”

Yet now rather than ending up being hit after trying to stop a fight, Jacaerys swings his fist across Aemond’s face.

Your eyes widen in shock, and you reach your hands out to help your husband, but nevertheless, the punch doesn’t seem to affect Aemond, he doesn’t even drop his wine or sway. So you have to admit that it's impressive, it really impresses you, but now isn't the time, besides as Jacaerys and Aemond confront each other, from the corner of your eye you catch Aegon slamming Lucerys face into the table.

Now rather than staying put and trying to plead, as if triggered by your brother's pain and the anger Aemond made you feel, you charge at Aegon without hesitation and quickly slam your hand on the back of his head and clutch a chunk of hair. You then grab his shoulder and yank him back harshly. When Aegon finds his footing he looks at you bewildered, but that expression is quickly wiped away as you proceed to swing your right fist across his face harshly, causing him to stumble back.

“Try that again,” you snap at Aegon.

Guards head over to you to try and stop you, but before they can try and touch you, a threatening “don’t,” is snapped at them.

You quickly dart your gaze to the side and see Daemon stop by you, challenging the guards with his glare alone.

Of course, the guards don’t dare and move toward you now, nor do they hold Aegon back—Not like he made any attempt to hit you back, he just holds his cheek in complete surprise. When he catches your gaze he pulls his hand away and you notice a small bleeding cut under his eye that you had made.

You should feel bad, but you don’t, you actually feel proud that you managed to hurt him. Besides Aegon doesn’t seem at all affected, he notices the blood and begins to chuckle before he walks away.

You scoff and roll your eyes, catching the guards failing to hold Jacaerys back now.

“…Though it seems my nephews aren’t so proud of there’s!” You hear Aemond exclaim, and when you look over you see him stride to Jacaerys, so you quickly turn around to face the scene, but before you can even think of getting in between them, your mother's hand falls on your wrist, stopping you.

“Wait! Wait!” Daemon interjects and nonchalantly strides in between both young men, making the both of them stop in their attempts to continue fighting. He then proceeds to face Jacaerys and walks him back without the need to say anything.

“Go to your quarters,” your mother orders your brothers and cousins behind you. “All of you. Now.”

You glance over your shoulder and watch them all leave. When they’re gone you focus back on Aemond and see him challenge Daemon’s glare in silence.

You tighten your hold around your mother's and watch them both carefully in anticipation, readying yourself in case either of them snap.

However, Aemond then hums and walks away, bringing the entire supper to a dramatic end.

“If you still wish to accompany us to Dragonstone, my Sweet,” your mother interjects. “Pack what you need, we’re leaving tonight.”

You watch Aemond leave out the hall before you look at your mother and nod in comprehension. “I will. I’ll see you in a bit.”

She nods in comprehension and lets you let her go so you can leave the hall after Aemond. Yet when you see him walking toward your chambers you make no attempt to pick up your pace to catch up to him, you keep your own pace behind him, and try to calm yourself down before walking into your shared quarters.

Nevertheless, you ultimately fail when you are in the privacy of your chambers. You don’t speak to another right away. You let a tension fill the room since Vanessa walks in only a few minutes later.

“Pack for two week's worth,” you let her know as you walk to your closet. “We won’t stay long. After that please put Wolf in his crate, we'll take him too, and then take Aerion, we’ll ride with my mother and dare I say it…my stepfather.” You sigh deeply.

“Right away, Princess,” Vanessa says and walks up behind you to take the gowns you were picking out from your hands. “Should I pack riding outfits?”

“Hm.” You think for a second and briefly glance at her. “Yes, just two.”

Vanessa nods, but she then stops what she’s doing and meets your gaze. “I can do it. I know you well, I won’t be long.”

You share a soft and relieved smile before you let her do her job. Yet now you return to the tension, but! Of course, Aemond doesn't look bothered by any of it!

You can be upset at one another and he always looks nonchalant, and it irks you! You want him to be mad at you, you want him to react, not just sit there and brood in front of the fire.

“Whatever it is you want to say,” Aemond suddenly makes you jump. “Say it. You’ll bleed if you bite your tongue any harder.”

You clasp your hands together and slowly begin to fiddle with your hands as you begin pacing with your mouth shut. Vanessa is still here and you don’t want to have an audience.

“Unless you want to leave upset,” he adds and keeps looking at the fire.

When you don’t respond, he presses as he finally peers back at you. “Hm?”

You stop pacing behind him and let out a frustrated breath, but don’t start just yet, you wait. It's not until Vanessa is out and no longer in the hall that you start and give him what he wants. “Why did you do it?” You mutter out in frustration.

Aemond remains as he is and gives you what you want. “I didn’t do anything, I gave a toast, your brother—”

“No,” you cut him off and storm around him to stand in front of him so he can see your anger. “No, don't bullshit me, Aemond. Seven hells, you antagonized them.”

Aemond finally meets your gaze, and you deepen your scowl.

“He hit me first,” he spats but in a very collected manner. “Or are you choosing not to see that?”

You shake your head. “I’m not siding with either of you. It was stupid that he hit you, and it was stupid of you to provoke him.”

Aemond blinks in surprise and finally chooses to slowly stand to his given his height as if trying to intimidate you, but you aren’t at all affected.

“I try to be understanding, I always have,” you continue to argue and step back as he steps forward. “I never try to take sides or try to tell you how to feel, but when you provoke them I can’t help but get mad at you. I told you to wait it out, just for dinner, but…” you trail off and shake your head. “You can’t even do that.”

“He hit me first, what did you want me to do?” He argues and takes a step towards you again, this time you stay put, this time you’re the nonchalant one, making him finally give you a reaction that you want because your calm demeanor pisses him off; you can tell by the way he clenches his jaw, flares his nose, and curls his thin lips.

“You hit Aegon, do you hear me remarking on that?” He spats.

You scoff. “I don’t give a shit about Aegon. Your brother is a bad man, he deserved it.”

“Did I?” He cuts in bluntly.

“No,” you quickly assure him. “No. But I wanted you to just listen. To me. I told you to sit through it. I didn’t say get over it, but you started it,” you stop again to catch your breath before you turn away to avoid shedding angry tears. “If you have so much hatred for my brothers then,” you pause and huff, shoving away all your anger with that huff of air and leaving yourself vulnerable. “…how can you honestly love me?”

Aemond hears the quiver in your voice and sighs, losing all his will to argue with anger, and growing weak and gentle at the mere shift in your emotions.

“You aren’t the same as them,” he says softly and grabs your shoulders.

You want to say what he’s thinking; a bastard, but you can’t, so you bite your tongue and watch the flames as if you’ll find your solace amongst them.

“You never have been,” Aemond continues. “You’ve never been cruel to me, not when we were kids. You never laughed at me because of what I lacked. Even when I lost my eye and people looked at me with disgust, you never scrunched your nose. When we got older and I was distant you still picked me.”

…well…

“That’s why I love you,” he says and turns you around to lift your head with his knuckle so you can meet his gaze and show you that he's being honest and vulnerable with you. “Forgive me for upsetting you. I won’t apologize for what I did, I would be lying if I did.”

You scoff and roll your eyes.

“But,” he adds and cups your face to keep you looking at him. “I am sorry for upsetting you.”

You hold his gaze and then can’t help but glance at his lips after those words leave his mouth, feeling a spark of desire coil inside you.

“Say you forgive me,” he whispers. “I don't want to leave things like this.”

You draw in a deep breath and touch his chest. “Just,” you breathe out. “Please stop provoking them. Stop with the snide comments. It’s okay to still be upset, I could never understand what you feel, and I could never ask you to forgive him, but please for me, for Aerion, just leave them alone,” you plead and press your other hand against his jaw. “You are better than that, Aemond. I know it. You have a good heart, you always have.”

Aemond’s gaze softens and he immediately presses his forehead against yours, letting you then slide your hands to the back of his head.

“I’m sorry too,” you add. “I shouldn't have gotten so angry at you.”

Aemond shakes his head and assures you softly. “There’s no need for apologies, not from you.”

You flash him a grin and then gently press your lips against his.

He actually doesn’t kiss you back right away, he savors the taste of your kiss since you’ll be leaving him for two weeks. It’s only when you’re about to pull back that he pulls you back in, leading you into a slow and gentle kiss that neither of you try to rush and instead let fuel your burning desires. You let your affection and need for each other control you. All you know is that you were going to be late meeting your mother and the rest of your family.

“I,” you say between the slow kisses. “I’m not bleeding. It was a false alarm. We can do this. I want you, so I can remember how you felt when I’m alone.”

Aemond chuckles softly and meets your gaze with a smirk. “I wouldn't have cared if you were.”

You mirror his gesture and before long those slow and sweet kisses turn rougher and sloppier, lighting your body on fire with desire, and putting his member at attention for you to drool over.

When he notices your hungry gaze he grabs the back of your hand and presses your palm over his clothed member. You smirk and turn your wrist to grab a hold of his aching cock, but leave him craving your touch, and instead, you strip down to nothing, making him walk back to sit on the couch and watch how the firelight captures your body so perfectly for only him to see.

When you’re left with nothing on but the jewelry you wear, you walk to him and simply unbuckle his pants and pull them down and let his cock spring out and fill your mind with so many dirty thoughts.

Unfortunately, most can’t come to flourish today though, you have to satisfy yourself with one thing so you’re not left in shambles without him in Dragonstone. Thus you saddle his hips and press a kiss on the corner of his lips.

Aemond groans in complaint as he wants more, and wants nothing more but to make each other one, but you must want to keep people waiting because you begin to leave a trail of kisses down to his neck, making a chill travel down his spine, and a wicked smirk to play on his lips.

“Fuck me,” you demand him. “So I can go to sleep tonight thinking about how good you make me feel when you’re inside me,” you whisper so seductively that his breath hitches and his hands fall on your hips to push you down to his aching member because he can’t go on not feeling you gummy walls.

He wanted you since the moment you placed his hand on your thigh, but he kept his patience, and now that you’re in the privacy of your room and he’s no longer bothered by the mere sight of the visitors around the table, all he wants is you; your lips, your breasts, and your aching cunt that weeps for him, that squeezes him so tight he groans in your mouth.

You’ve felt him many times before, but still, each time his cock goes in it’s like the first time; he’s so long.

“Wait, wait,” you pant and take his hand that he keeps on your hip, and bring it up to his face. When he figures out what you want, he grabs his eyepatch and pulls it off his head. Once the firelight gleams against his sapphire you smile sweetly and give him a taste of what he wants by rolling your hips, making him push himself deeper inside you as his breathing falters and his hand slides back to grab a handful of your ass.

“Aemond,” you can’t help but moan.

He bites his lip and once he has his composure he captures your lips and rolls his tongue inside before he starts thrusting his length inside you, making you stop your attempts to suck on his tongue and instead claw his shoulders.

Now that pleasure that coils feels like wildfire. You’re overwhelmed with pleasure in the best way possible, not being able to think about anything but the way his cock keeps rubbing against your walls as he moves in and out of you even if you’re the one on top

You don’t even want to lose touch with his wet lips because it adds to the sensation and the pleasuring fire, but you can’t hold it in, and he’s not moving his lips anymore because he’s so lost in his pleasure; you pull back, but stay connected by a string of saliva for a moment as you catch your breath before you throw your head back and start to moan his name like prayer as his cock keeps penetrating you roughly.

“So perfect. So perfectly made for…me,” he babbles on with a half-lidded eye. “Fuck,” he hisses and grips your ass, leaving marks that you can’t feel because of how lost you are in the sensation of his cock bullying inside you.

You don’t bother to do any work until he fits himself all the way inside and hits that heavenly g-spot.

“Aemond, please,” you beg before you lean back and grab his thighs to start bouncing for him, leaving you in a perfect angle for him to watch how your tits bounce with your delicious movements.

He could keep watching you all day, but you have him too fired up, his insides are turning and threatening to snap, and two weeks without your touch is hell, so he cups your breasts and begins messaging them as he thrusts up to meet your hips, creating obscene sounds of skin slapping that echo around the room.

“Aemond,” you whine, making him moan to the ceiling and move faster.

You keep whining his name as the tip of his cock keeps hitting that perfect spot that is about to tip everything over and bring an end to this quick goodbye sex. And hearing him heave and moan your name isn’t helping, you begin to squeeze tighter, driving him further to the edge, and only fueling his roughness.

You want to prolong this moment, keep feeling him inside your guts, but the time is ticking and they will leave you behind, so you lean in and continue to kiss him, finding his weakness by pushing your tongue in his open-mouthed kiss.

Aemond lets out a throaty groan and starts rolling your hips for you, bringing you to a stop as you can’t hold it back anymore, a blinding pleasure slams in you, and all you see are stars as you drown his cock with your warm cum. He doesn’t last longer either, he grows sloppier, and his breathing grows ragged until he snaps and moans inside your mouth as he spills his hot seed inside you.

After a few sloppy thrusts, he falls back on the couch and you fall on his chest and hang your hands around his neck.

“I will never get tired of this,” you murmur as you caress the back of his neck and lose your gaze on the fire in the distance that makes you both gleam because of the sweat that sticks to your skin. “This is better than flying.”

Aemond chuckles. “I have to admit it is,” he says in that low voice that works to lure you and tempts you to go for a second round. But you hold back for the sake of your waiting family and instead smile and press a kiss on his shoulder before you pull back to face him.

“Once we move to Dragonstone, you will get tired of me.”

Aemond scoffs. “I never could. Never.”

You offer him a soft smile before you grab his shoulders as you remember something. “That’s right! My present!” You giggle and then slip off, making you both groan and leaving you both feeling empty.

Even so, you take no time to think about the chill or the good way you ache, you excitedly run to the chest in your room.

Aemond watches your naked body with a smirk and a craving for more.

“Since we did get married so suddenly I couldn’t have this made before, but…” you trail off and pull out a long-sheathed weapon. “…I do have it now. That’s what counts.”

You turn around and show off the sheathed sword. “This is for you, my love.”

You rush back to him, but he meets you halfway after pulling his pants on so you won't have to carry it all the way to him.

“I do hope you like it,” your voice grows quieter with worry and insecurity. “And any adjustments you may need let the smith know.”

Aemond takes the sheathed weapon from you with hesitance as if he doesn’t believe you’re being honest.

“Come on,” you encourage him. “Open it.”

Aemond takes a moment and looks at you first with awe before he unwraps the pommel first, showing off a dragon's head that is shaped like Vhagar.

You can’t contain your excitement even if you don’t know if he’ll like it, and point at the gems where the eyes are meant to be. “Tiny green emeralds for the eyes because your dragon is green,” you grin and shake his arm. “Go on, reveal the blade!”

Aemond drops his gaze and can’t hide his grin as he unsheathes the long blade that glimmers brightly against the fire's light.

“Now,” you add as you wrap your arms around his neck to admire the silver metal mixes with the dark metal that is Valyrian steel. “I know it isn't fully Valyrian Steel, but…I used my chain necklace to mix some in. Now you’ll always carry a bit of me with you, even when we’re apart.”

You look at him and admire him using his finger to trace the dark metal elegantly swirled in the blade.

“Do you like it?” You whisper and watch for any slight twitch on his face that could give away that he doesn’t.

However, Aemond doesn't let you read the side of his face too long at all because he lifts his gaze as he puts the sword down and turns around to face you with a soft awestruck smile that he only lets you see.

He's usually so stiff and nonchalant because there’s almost always people around, but when it’s just Aerion, and you, he lets go, he laughs with such deep and genuine amusement and lets his blue eye glimmer adoration that makes it hard not to fall in love with him.

“I love it,” he says before he kisses you. Yet it doesn’t last long because he pulls back and whispers against your lips. “I love you.”

You smile with awe and don’t hesitate to repeat those words that once tasted bitter when you spoke them to him. “I love you too. Now and forever.” You mean your words of affection. Truly.

“Now and forever,” he repeats.

With one more kiss from his lips, you then quickly dress yourself and fix what was messed up. Before leaving to meet with your mother though, you prolong the moment longer by bringing in Aerion.

“Now my sweet boy,” you tell him. “Say goodbye to your father.”

Aerion eyes fill with tears and his pout trembles as your words make sense in his mind.

“You’ll sleep again soon enough,” Aemond assures the cranky baby. “I’ll see you in two week's time.” He presses a kiss on Aerion’s head of curls and caresses his cheek one more time before he gives you attention. “Send a Raven if anything happens. I’ll write to you later.”

You nod and steal one more kiss, but linger in each other's taste before you pull away and force yourself to leave before you change your mind and stay with Aemond.

Once you finally meet up with your family to leave, Jacaerys groans. “What took you so long?” He complains.

You shoot him a glare and shake your head. “Don’t worry about it,” you brush him off.

Since your mother is already waiting in the carriage you quickly climb in with Aerion and apologize to her only once you’re sat down. You completely ignore Daemon.

“Sorry,” you breathe out. “We can leave now.”

The carriage door closes behind Lucerys and both of your brothers squeeze in with you even if there’s more space in this moving carriage beside your mother, or quite literally on the same bench.

“Come on little prince,” Jacaerys says and reaches over to take Aerion from you.

Aerion frowns at him albeit and looks away.

“Oh, I see,” Jacaerys murmurs and hits his hands on his thighs. “He takes after his father then.”

You scoff and shake your head. “No,” you counter quickly and smile at your baby boy. “He just got woken up from his slumber. He’s just cranky, aren’t you? But after he gets his sleep then he’ll let you carry him.”

You lift Aerion to get him comfortable, but before you can cradle him in your arms, your mother interjects. “Give him here, I can put him to sleep.”

“Okay,” you whisper happily and hand her your baby.

You expect him to cry or try to reach out for you, but his eyes just water for a moment before he exhales deeply and gets comfortable in your mother's arms.

“He just didn’t like you,” Lucerys teases Jacaerys. “It’s a you thing.”

You snicker and both Lucerys and you nudge him.

“Sure,” Jacaerys grumbles and rolls his eyes. “Anyway!” He speaks louder and hits his thighs again. “Let’s change the subject to what I heard happen tonight.”

They heard Aemond and you making love?

Couldn’t be, they're not on the same floor—seven hells. Your balcony door was open though…

“I heard you punched Aegon.”

Oh, oh! Good. That was scary for a moment.

“Yes, she did,” Lucerys cuts in with excitement. “That ring of hers cut him.”

You begin to smirk. “He deserved it,” you say smugly. “But I can’t brag…he’s a weak fighter. You can even take him,” you playfully jab at Jacaerys.

Your brother shoots you a pointed look, and Lucerys snickers.

“How did you learn to hit like that?” Daemon interrupts, causing your amusement to flicker with annoyance and distaste—“the swing seemed practiced.”

“From lurking in the shadows like a creep,” Jacaerys blurts to try and get back at you.

You roll your eyes and push him away. You don’t want to answer, but your mother is here and she’s also waiting for your answer with Aerion falling asleep in her arms, so as to not upset her, you spare one glance at Daemon and respond.

“I learned when I was young…since I’m a Princess I wasn’t allowed to train like the boys, so,” you sigh and smirk at him. “I watched everything they did and taught myself to do it better.”

A proud smile tugs on your mother's lips, and even if you don’t want to notice, a smirk flashes on Daemon’s lips.

“Besides,” you add and grin brightly. “Ser Harwin always said that nothing is more powerful than a strong right hook. He taught me how to throw a punch.”

“We’ll see how good you are with a sword,” Jacaerys taunts you, pulling your attention to him.

“Yeah,” you give in to his offer smugly. “We’ll see.”

——

*A DAY LATER. DRAGONSTONE*

Every day at King’s Landing can never measure up to moments like these with your family. You’ve missed it, all of the chaos and the comfortable atmosphere. Even if you have your differences with Daemon, his presence doesn’t bother you as much—you don’t let it bother you as much anyway.

At King’s Landing with Aemond’s family, it’s always so awkward, they’re never together as one. They spend breakfasts apart, dinners are hardly eaten together and there’s always some kind of uncomfortable tension. It’s why you just spend time alone with Aemond and Aerion, being with the Queen, her father, and the other kids is awkward. Besides, no one at King’s Landing besides Vanessa knows how to style your hair.

“Higher. Raise your blade higher!” Jacaerys scolds Lucerys.

“Mother,” you break your silence and look away from your brothers sparring to mindlessly watch the sand.

She hums in response, letting you continue.

“In our family history,” you pause and blink to glance over at Rhaena playing with Aerion. “Has there ever been Targaryen’s who may be…immune to fire?”

There has to be an answer for the impossible things you’ve noticed. A small mention in your history books.

“Hm, not that I can recall,” she responds and reaches down to pick up a golden cuff from your palm to put it on your hair. “We are known to tolerate heat more than an average person can, but no, there haven’t been any fire-immune Targaryen’s recorded. If there had been we would have known, right?”

Nothing but more questions.

“That’s right,” you agree softly and return your gaze to your brothers.

“Why?” She asks and leans closer to you. “Any particular reason?”

You debate telling her what you have been discovering about yourself lately, but you can’t tell her what you aren’t sure of yet, you'll sound mad without hard proof. What if you just have a higher tolerance than others who have come before you? You need to learn more before you can tell her or anyone else.

“Just curious,” you simply avoid the truth.

“Well you can always try the library,” she offers some aid as she reaches down to grab the last golden cuff from your palm before parting her lips again. “You can also ask Daemon those questions. He knows a lot more than I do. He spends a lot of time reading about our history.”

She’s attempting to have her husband and you bond again. She started this ridiculous mission when you climbed on the ship to come here.

And as thoughtful as her attempts are, she can wipe your father's blood off Daemon's hands, her attempts are futile, but you don’t want to discourage her yet so you just hum to keep her assured.

“Princess,” a different voice suddenly interjects, pulling the attention of all four of you seated on the sand—“A raven came to you from King’s Landing.”

The maester approaches your family and much to your surprise he comes to a stop beside you with the small scroll in his hands.

You immediately smile since you know exactly who it’s from, and quickly push yourself to your feet to gently take the scroll from his hand. “Thank you, Maester.” You tell him sweetly before sitting back down to read what Aemond wrote.

“My love, I write to you urgently to command you to return home at once.

Aemond.”

“Oh,” Baela says teasingly. “A raven from your beloved. What does he say? He beckons you home already?”

You blink repeatedly in confusion, finding his urgency concerning. Yet you don’t feel rushed to return home to him; you just arrived at Dragonstone and you told him two weeks. Besides, what if he’s just being difficult because of his indifferences with your family?

Tsk. He can wait.

“He just misses me,” you retort with a smile and roll the scroll back to tuck it in the bracelet cuff around your bicep. “He can stay missing me for the next two weeks.”

Baela snickers.

“I'm glad you can bring out something good from him,” your mother interjects. “Gods know how much Alicent poisons them.”

You mindlessly begin to fiddle with your ring around your finger and query. “You really think so?”

“Yes, I saw it, the way he looks at you. The eyes never lie.”

The corner of your lips tug to a soft flattered smile and your heart skips a beat.

“You!” You hear Jacaerys exclaim, and when you lift your gaze you see that he’s pointing at you.

“Come spar against me,” he taunts you and lowers his arm. “You keep saying you’re good, but I have yet to see it. Your words mean nothing unless you show us.”

You share an amused look with Baela before you shrug nonchalantly. “I’m not so sure now. I wouldn’t want to hurt your ego in front of your betrothed. Just…believe me and leave it at that, dear brother.” You tease him lightheartedly as you cross your legs over the other and lean back on your hands.

“Then you’re not good,” he counters smugly, knowing how to lure you in. “Accept my challenge and show me you are this great swordsman and I will shut up about it. Or don’t and I will annoy you forever and you reign you a liar.”

You roll your head back to pretend that his plan didn’t work the way he wanted it to, and quip, “you already do annoy me. But,” you sigh and sit up. “Fine, only so you’ll shut up about it.”

You walk to your brother nonchalantly as if you're not excited to show your skill, or happy that he wasn't a stickler for stupid sexist rules. When you pass by Lucerys you motion him to give you his sparring sword.

“Be careful,” your little brother says over his shoulder.

“You won’t change?” Jacaerys points to your gown.

You shake your head. “Don’t need to. I can beat you with it on.”

You shoot him a smirk and choose to stand across from him on the sand. “I won’t go easy just so you know,” you let him know. “I will play by your training rules though just so you won’t get hurt.”

“As if,” he grumbles while he fixes his grip around his blade.

You roll your shoulders back and shift your feet in the way Aemond stands. You then narrow your gaze on your brother and wait for his first move.

Thankfully, he grows impatient right away so he comes charging at you right away. When he gets close he swings at your neck, but you duck and then spin around him quickly.

Jacaerys watches you get away and quickly tries to meet your next move before you can give it away, but you surprise him by clawing one hand on his shoulder and using your other hand to grip his arm to shove him down.

Right away rather than staying down and giving you a path to a quick feat, Jacaerys rapidly pushes himself up and thrusts his sword at your side, but you manage to block him and then use your leg to kick him back.

Jacaerys glances down at his throbbing chest and quickly finds you again to flash a bothered frown that he's holding back from showing his impressed smile. You on the other hand shoot him a smug grin to work him up.

And just like you thought, he can't stand your cocky smile, it offends him too much so he comes at you again, and swings down this time, but you avert his blade by turning to the side.

That swift move infuriates him more so he uses his anger to keep swinging, but you just keep swerving his swings.

“Fight back,” he growls.

You click your tongue and roll out, “fight better.”

This time, however, you actually do as he says and charge at him before swinging up. Jacaerys brings his sword over to block you, but at the last second, you trick him and end up spinning around him, managing to hit his arm harshly with your blade before you face his back.

Your brother hisses and grabs his arm, but doesn't stop from trying to attack. You don’t let him move though, instead, you kick him down to the sand and proceed to stride over to him to flip him around and point your sword at his throat.

“What do I win?” You ask proudly.

Jacaerys huffs out in annoyance and throws his sword aside, letting you do the same to offer him your hand.

“Come on, get up,” you offer without that teasing air in your voice.

Your brother sighs deeply in defeat and seems to hesitate, but he ends up taking your hand to let you help him back to his feet.

“You did good,” you compliment him seriously. “A lot better than six years ago that’s for sure.”

Jacaerys snatches his hand away from yours and glances behind you, you follow his line of gaze and catch Daemon is now watching, but you ignore him and focus on your mother's smile instead while she holds Aerion now.

“You…did good too,” Jacaerys redirects quietly as he scratches the back of his head.

You giggle and shove past him to pick up the sword from the ground.

“You did good, Princess,” Daemon interjects, interrupting the pleasurable moment you had been sharing with your family. “But you can do better.”

His footsteps hit the sandy surface and approach you. When he stops near you his shadow casts over you, and your anger breaks out of that little box you wanted to contain it in for the purpose of this trip to go well.

“I don’t need your help,” you snap at him and don’t fret to meet his gaze with a burning glare.

You would have snapped at him and called him a murderer, but you don’t have evidence and you still don’t want to ruin this trip, so you just clench your jaw and stab the sword in the sand before you shove past him and stomp over to your son.

Your mother calls out to you and tries to talk to you, but you just gently take Aerion from her since your anger is not directed at her.

“Come on baby, let’s get you inside,” you whisper to your baby boy and then storm away.

Your mother calls out to you desperately, but you ignore her, and instead of going inside as you said, you take a detour to the hill by the castle when you catch Astraea resting.

“<Hello, girl,>” you greet the dragon as you press your forehead against her jaw.

Astraea growls softly and leans against you, making you smile softly and that frustration melt away.

“Do you want to feel her?” You ask Aerion and then grab his little hand to press it against Astrea’s hard purple scales.

Aerion grins brightly and kicks his feet, he tries to laugh, but he can’t do so just yet so he just gapes like a fish.

“<Goodgirl.>” You praise your dragon in High Valyrian before approaching footsteps interrupt your peace and work to deteriorate all the joy had felt.

Albeit when you check who’s approaching you’re relieved to see it’s just your brothers, and ashamed to say you got worked up without looking at who it was.

“I won’t apologize,” you mutter, knowing that your mother probably sent them to address your previous dramatic scene. “I just need time.” You say and turn to drag yourself down to the ground beside your dragon's head.

“We aren’t here you tell you to apologize,” Jacaerys rebuttals as both he and Lucerys slow down to a stop before you and Aerion. “Nor do I think Daemon cares if you do.”

You turn Aerion around so he can face you, and begin making faces at him so he can smile.

“We've come to tell you that we understand,” Lucerys shares, making you blink repeatedly. “We understand your anger and distance.”

You keep a lighthearted expression for Aerion’s sake, but your voice tells your anger and sadness. “How can you do it? Look at him in the eye every day after what he did?” You can’t help but ask without even a little explanation, you were angry, but they’re also old now, they grasp things better, they understand a lot more than before, and they must suspect what you do.

“What did he do?” Lucerys asks innocently, but you don’t hold back for his sake.

“He killed father to marry mother.”

“Your father,” Jacaerys deadpans. “Laenor was only your father.”

You snap your head to the side and look at him with a pointed glare. “Does that matter? He still raised you, he was still there and Daemon took him away. So how can you do it? Because I can’t…look him in the eye without thinking of father, without wanting to kill him.”

Jacaerys and Lucerys share a brief look before they sit with you. They remain silent for a while, most likely trying to find what to say to try and ease the pain you express to them for the first time.

“I can’t say I haven’t thought about that,” Jacaerys admits softly. “I don’t trust Daemon, but there’s nothing we can do about theories. We have no evidence, and he…makes mother happy.”

You sigh deeply and look down at Aerion watching you. “I know,” you whisper and look up at the sky to avoid crying. “I just have to suck it up. But…you don’t think I’m mad for holding that against him right?” You can't help but ask and look at both of your brothers and wait.

Lucerys meets your gaze and a variety of emotions run behind his eyes before he slowly shakes his head. “No, we—I understand why you’re angry, and it’s okay. You can be mad at him all you want.”

You hold his gaze before you share a soft admiring grin. “You've really grown up, huh?”

Lucerys scoffs softly. “It’s been six years,” he says timidly nonetheless.

You nod slowly in comprehension and glance down at Aerion with a soft smile before you glance at your brothers. “Thank you for coming up to talk to me, and trying to understand.”

Lucerys offers you a soft smile, and Jacaerys averts his gaze to interject. “We stand with you, sister. We need you to know that.” He goes quiet and slowly lowers his gaze to lock his eyes on you and finish. “On this matter, and all the others you may face.”

Lucerys nods in agreement, making your eyes fill with happy tears. “Thank you,” you mewl.

“Don’t cry,” Jacaerys mumbles uncomfortably.

You laugh and shake your head. “I won’t.”

You wipe away a stray tear and hide your face by looking down at Aerion putting a strand of your hair in his mouth. “Just let me enjoy this moment.”

At least now you know you don’t stand alone in the anger against Daemon.

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

The difference between Jacaerys and Lucery's fighting style is that Lucerys is a bit too gentle and too slow, and Jacaerys is too angry and doesn’t try to be tactical. Jacaerys puts up a fight unlike Lucerys, who leaves himself too open. It’s why you find a way to shove his dominant hand before you raise your leg and kick him back on the sand.

“Lucerys,” you breathe out slowly.

Said boy groans and manages to hastily push himself up. “I know,” he grumbles in disappointment.

You walk over to him and grab his arm to help him to his feet. “You left yourself too open,” you point out the mistakes you caught. “Don’t think too much about it either, or else your enemy will get you a lot faster.”

Lucerys nods in comprehension and you can't stay too stoic, you offer him a small smile and pat his shoulder. “You did better this time though.” You assure him before you walk past him.

“You are speaking to him too gently,” Jacaerys scolds you as he takes your spot across Lucerys. “He won’t get any better that way.”

You spin around as you walk past him and shrug. “He won’t learn anything if you’re mean either,” you counter and plop yourself on the sand to watch Jacaerys spar against Lucerys now.

Once again Jacaerys is too aggressive, and Lucerys is too slow to catch up to his brother. It’s almost too hard to watch, you hate seeing Lucerys get hurt, but you watch for his sake so you can teach him his mistakes in ways Jacaerys is too impatient to do.

“What. Was. That?” Jacaerys spats as he shoves Lucerys to the ground.

“I'm sorry,” Lucerys grunts.

“You might go easier on him, my Prince,” an older Kingsguard knight interjects as he walks to your brothers. “So he can learn what you’re trying to teach.”

You hum in agreement.

“Your lady mother needs to see you!” The sound of your grandmother's voice carries out through the wind, stealing everyone’s attention and catching all of you by surprise. “The three of you!”

You had seen Meleys arrive not so long ago, but her armor wasn’t something you expected her to be wearing. Nor did you expect her to come see you all so soon. Should it be concerning?

“Is everything all right?” You ask your grandmother once you reach her under the cave.

Your grandmother Rhaenys lets out a deep sigh and points to where the castle is. “Go on, she needs you.”

That didn’t help anything whatsoever.

“All—”

“Have you received any news from your husband?” She cuts you off.

You blink in confusion and answer quietly. “No. Just a raven to demand me back home…why?”

She simply holds your gaze and answers nonchalantly. “I’m sure your mother will explain. Now go, all three of you.”

You share a concerned look with your brothers before you hurry into the castle and do as she says. Once inside you look out for anything suspicious, but Dragonstone is quiet as usual, there’s nothing out of the ordinary.

That is true until you begin to approach your mother's chambers because as soon as you get close you hear grunts and cries of pain echoing out. When you make it inside her quarters you instantly freeze as you notice she’s in a birthing gown, bathed in sweat, and grabbing onto her waist to ease whatever pain she can.

“Mother?” Jacaerys calls out because you can’t muster even a breath.

“Fuck,” your mother groans.

The babe isn’t meant to come out yet.

“Princess,” Maester Gerardys calls out to your mother distracted by her pain.

When she slowly turns to face you and your brothers, you let out a shaky breath and climb down the stone stairs to fall by Jacaerys side and be under your mother's gaze as well.

“Your grandsire, King Viserys, has passed,” she announces with strain, making you gasp.

“V-Viserys?” Lucerys repeats in disbelief, whilst you try to progress the tragic news in silence.

Is that why—Aemond knew, didn't he? That’s why he wanted you home only a day after you left. He knew and he didn’t say a thing.

“The Greens have repudiated the succession,” your mother adds what was beginning to come across your mind. “And claimed the Iron Throne.”

The maester leaves hastily, and more grief piles on you, making it hard to breathe properly.

“Aegon has been crowned King.”

That drunk, rapist with no sense of any kind of responsibility?

“What is to be done about it?” Jacaerys asks what ran through your mind.

“Nothing yet,” your mother says.

“Where is Daemon?”

“I don’t know,” your mother's voice quivers. “Gone to madness.” She shakes her head. “Gone to plot his war.”

“Leave daemon with me,” Jacaerys cuts in and turns on his heels to storm off, taking Lucerys with him, while you stay there frozen to your spot, trying to wrap your mind around your grandfather's death and Aemond’s betrayal.

“Jace,” your mother calls out, but he doesn’t stop—“Jacaerys!”

You blink and slowly look at the entrance and watch him stop and turn to face your mother.

“Whatever claim remains to me,” she says through her pain. “You are now its heir. Naught is to be done but by my command.”

Jacaerys nods stiffly and lingers there for a few more seconds before he walks away to do as he had thrown out moments ago, and you…you look back at your mother and feel your heart sink. Whatever grief and anger you feel over the news, you shove that aside for now and rush to her side.

“I’m here,” you assure her as she begins grunting and crouching down. “I’m here.”

You grab her arm and hook it around your neck. “We should try sitting down, or lying,” you suggest.

Your mother shakes her head and clutches onto your shoulder as another wave of pain hits her.

What could you do to ease her pain? What can you do to make her feel more comfortable at this very moment? She cries and groans, she paces mindlessly trying to relieve herself of the pain, but the babe refuses to come out.

You’ve been through the pain of birth now, you know how much it hurts to have someone come out of your own body. You’ve also witnessed it after Lady Arra suffered through it for hours, but at this very moment, as your mother suffers through early labor, labor is still something you can’t comprehend, something you can’t find words for.

No matter how much you plead to let her ladies-in-waiting help her, she refuses. She refuses water and doesn't let you lay her down. All you can do is walk with her, hold her as she pushes, and hear her as the pain seems to become worse. She even calls out for Daemon, probably so he can comfort her, or so she can give him orders, but he never comes.

Not like that surprises you, not because of how you think he might be, but because he is a man. Men aren’t usually a part of the labor process, Cregan wasn’t there for Arra, and Aemond only came to you after you asked for him; you were so afraid you were going to die and Alicent refused to let your mother go to you, so all you wanted then was Aemond.

You can’t lie and say Cregan didn’t come to mind, he always had a way to comfort you with so much ease. He didn’t struggle like Aemond did, but you never let his name slip when you were on your birthing bed. And when Aemond was there you were grateful that he was and that he found it in himself to try as best as he could. So maybe that’s all you can do now too, try your best for your mother.

You rub her back and move her hair behind her shoulders so it isn’t bothering her. You let her squeeze your hand as hard as she wants and never let her go. There comes a point through her painful pushing that she finally lets you drag her down to the ground, but you can hear her cries are full of much more heightened pain, and the blood that stained the bottom half of her body becomes much more.

“Princess let us help you,” her handmaiden, Elinda pleads, but your mother doesn’t pay them any attention.

“Get out!” She bellows as she lifts her gown. “Get out!”

“Princess please.”

You slide your mother's arm off your body and crawl forward to help her, but she pushes away from you.

“Mother,” you beg between tears you try your hardest to fight away.

“Let us help you,” Elinda continues to press.

Your mother reaches out for your hand, and you quickly return to her side and let her clutch onto you as she screams sharply while she pushes out harder.

Now, however, with this push, blood pours out from her, surrounding your feet and staining the sheer white gown you put over your black training outfit. You want to help her pull the babe out, but she refuses your help and pulls out the baby herself with a long and painful cry.

The moment the baby girl comes out, that pain that riddled her body seems to ease, but the grief that hits her upon seeing the babe is probably worse than her pain.

The babe is so small, her bones are clearly prominent against her skin. There’s bumps you can’t identify poking out of her head, and her skin is…scaly, unlike anything you’ve seen on a human child; It looks like a dragon's skin. Yet throughout all that observation, you still search for a sign of life, you wait to see your baby sister's chest move…but her eyes never open, and a cry never fills the room.

It’s so deafeningly quiet now, your mother doesn’t cry anymore and the handmaidens don’t plead to help. And the baby, little Visenya is so still, so incredibly still. There’s nothing you can do now but be there and cradle your mother as she cradles Visenya’s body.

You don’t say anything, quiet tears stream out of your eyes—tears brought by your own grandfather's death, by the betrayal jabbing your heart, and by your sister's death before she could even take her own breath.

Even so, as paralyzed as you are, you find the strength to press a gentle kiss on the side of your mother's head and let her rest her head against yours as she sits there.

Who knows how much time passed before you moved, but even then your mind is moving too fast to grasp anything at all. It feels like you’re outside of your body just watching it move throughout the castle halls. And funny enough, the only person you want to comfort you is Aemond; the man who helped his brother usurp your mother's throne. You want him with you, hugging you and telling you that it will all be fine, you want him with you.

Flying home even crosses your mind, you want to run into his arms and let him hold you, you want to breathe in his charming scent, and tell him that you’re not really mad at him for what Aegon did, you know the influence his mother holds, and that poisoned him at a young age. You don’t blame him for Aegon’s coronation, you’re just upset that he didn’t say anything.

You still wouldn't side with the Greens though, not only because Aegon makes a terrible ruler, but because your mother is the true heir, your grandfather deemed it that way and never declared otherwise, his word is law and they broke it.

So much for following the rules.

Alas, Aemond can’t be here, and you can’t leave. Your mother needs you, and…if it’s a war that will break out then you want to fight for the right side.

So after a short bath and a change of clothes, you and your three brothers walk out and join your mother and Daemon for the funeral on a stony hill. Other people stand behind your mother and Daemon too; the other residents who live here, a couple of workers, your cousins of course, and your grandmother stands behind the crowd watching the pyre burn in silence

The moment is quiet, deafening so. You can even hear the flames from where you stand, the gentle breaths of your brothers near you, the waves lapping in the distance. After a while though, the sound of swords unsheathing breaks through the grieving silence. You break away from your stupor and see a knight of the Kingsguard who's not a part of the three that were already here walk up the hill.

“I mean no harm, brothers,” the man announces before he takes his helmet off.

Since you stand to the side it’s hard to identify who he is, so before your curiosity can kill you, you step forward and that’s when you see that it’s one of the twins; Ser Eryyk. He kneels before your mother and takes out…your grandfather's golden crown from his satchel.

“I swore to ward the Queen,” he doesn’t wait to proclaim loudly and with confidence. “With all my strength, and give my blood for hers….”

You gasp softly in disbelief, but you can’t help a proud smile from forming on your face.

It’s good that someone isn't afraid to break away from the man who calls himself King, that someone is loyal to your mother; the true Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

“I shall take no wife,” Ser Eryyk continues to preach his oath. “Hold no lands…father no children. I shall guard her secrets…obey her commands, ride at her side, and defend her name and honor.”

You look at your mother and watch Daemon approach her with the crown. For once you watch him with pride and glee as he sits the golden crown over your mother's head before he kneels before her.

Your mother does seem a bit shocked that she’s getting crowned, but when it seems to pass you catch her eyes lift to the crowd as they start to kneel before her and declare their loyalty. Her eyes then find you and your brothers, and they proceed to bend the knee too. When her eyes then lock with yours, you shoot her a small proud smile before you lift your skirt and bend the knee before your Queen, making your choice between both sides clear to her and everyone else. She is your Queen from now and until the end.

——

*LATER*

There are words in high Valyrian that are often used in Velaryon funerals, “From the Sea we came, to Sea we shall return.”

You never really found deeper meaning behind those words, not even when your aunt Laena died. They were beautiful, and a part of your beliefs as a Velaryon, but they were words until your father was the one who returned to the Sea.

Now all you do is desperately look for him. He wasn’t put to rest in Dragonstone, he was put to rest in the sea around Driftmark, next to his sister, but he became one with the sea after death, he is everywhere the water touches, from here, to the coldest waters far North, beyond the tall wall.

Yet no matter how long you stand in the dark waters, all you feel is cold water hitting your legs and weighing your gown, you just feel the cold wet sand between your toes, and a sharp, unfriendly breeze sway you back. There’s no sign of your father's presence to comfort you when you need him the most.

Can't he see that you still love Aemond even if he betray your mother and in turn you? Doesn’t he know you lost a sister, and your mother got her throne usurped? Doesn’t he know you need him now?

Why can’t he be here to embrace you? Why can’t you feel his presence in this vast Sea? You ask yourself in your mind as if a response is given to your inner thoughts, your name is called out and travels over the sound of crashing waves.

You peer back and see your grandmother watching you with a hint of pity and also a bit of disbelief as she recalls his son within you.

“It’s cold, come out,” she urges and only takes a step forward so she won’t get wet.

You look back at the endless Sea, letting the breeze blow through your hair and over your face; drying the tears that roll down your cheeks. You hope to feel a sliver of your father's presence but…you’re left feeling empty, so you trudge out of the water and get met with hands on your shoulders.

“I miss him now more than ever,” you tell your grandmother with a quivering voice.

Your grandmother lets out a deep breath and nods gently as she moves her hands up to cup your cheeks and wipe away your tears.

“Me too,” she makes you feel less alone in your longing. “I’ll say that I see him in you all the time. And in your son. He’s still with us.”

You slowly meet her gaze and offer her a faint smile. Can you say you feel completely and totally comforted? No, nothing can ever heal the wound your father's loss left, but her words do bring you peace.

“Can I ask how you’re feeling? You must be torn,” your grandmother asks out of concern.

You sigh and shrug. “I know my side,” you confess that confidently, but you avert your gaze when it comes to bringing up Aemond. “But when I think about Aemond, my heart still races, and I'm still riddled with my love for him, but…I know where his loyalties lie and that he’ll never change and that confuses me because I want to be with him, but also support my mother…I don’t know what to do.”

Your grandmother caresses your cheeks and then slides her hands to cradle your shoulders and keep you facing her. “I could tell you to run back to his arms, I know love. I know you want to be a family for your son.” She nods softly but narrows his gaze to show determination. “But this strain right now will turn into war. You must think if you want to be locked inside a cage of their making, or be free here.”

You don’t want to be locked away, and you know…you can be certain that returning to Kings Landing will guarantee you a seat in a golden cage where Helaena sits because you can’t see Aegons council trusting you. Aemond would trust you after you took a moment to talk, and whisper sweet nothings in his ear, but he’s still no king. And you can’t see yourself soaring free unless he somehow takes control, or has a hand in controlling Aegon, otherwise they would most likely lock you away, and you can’t accept it. You won’t.

But Aemond…you want to see Aemond again…

“I see,” is all you can find yourself to tell your grandmother, and she doesn’t seem convinced but it can’t be easy coming to terms with your choice when there’s someone on the other side pulling you back.

“Let’s head inside the meeting should be starting soon, that’s why I came to fetch you,” she changes the subject so you wouldn’t be thinking about the subject a moment longer.

But you still have a lingering worry about Aemond so before you can walk inside the meeting room you share it with someone you know you can trust. “What if they demand Aerion’s return? Or worse they come and take him? He is Aemond’s son after all.”

She faces you with a smirk on her lips and she grabs your hands to reassure your concern. “They can try. They won’t reach my great-grandson, or you.”

You offer her an appreciative smile and walk inside reassured. You know she hasn’t faced war before, but she’s still fierce and a dragon rider you’d trust with your life.

“Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen,” Daemon announces while your mother enters the hall with four guards stiffly around her. “First of Her Name. Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”

You bow your head after he finishes, like everyone else in the room.

“Your Grace.” Daemon addresses her.

You lift your head and watch her approach the table shaped like the Westeros map, but then see her come to a stop as Rhaena approaches her with a goblet. “Wine, my Queen.”

You see your mother hesitate before she takes the goblet from Rhaena. “Thank you, Rhaena. Come,” she points to the table.

When she passes by Baela, she motions her over as well, letting her fall right by your side while you stand by your mother when she reaches the table.

However, when your mother does reach the table she stands in silence, you look over at her out of curiosity, thinking that maybe she’s taking in the markers on the map, but her gaze is taking in everyone around the table first before she finally breaks the silence.

“What is our standing?” She asks.

“We have a hundred crossbowmen, and 300 men-at-arms,” Daemon shares confidently. “Dragonstone is relatively easy to defend, but as an instrument of conquest. Our army leaves a lot to be desired. I sent word to my loyal men in the City Watch. I’ll have some support there, but I cannot speak for numbers.”

He speaks with so much ease, it honestly makes you feel some sort of confidence even if your numbers aren’t impressive.

He’d never hear that from you though. Tsk.

“We already have declarations from Celtigar and Staunton,” the Maester cuts in. “Massey, Darklyn, Bar Emmon.”

Not much.

“My lady mother was an Arryn,” your mother interjects as you watch Jacaerys place markers on your curtain allies. “The Vale will not turn cloak against their own kin.”

“Riverrun was always a close friend to your fathers, Your Grace,” the Maester points out. “With Prince Daemon’s acquiescence, I already sent ravens to Lord Grover.”

Oh by Daemon’s acquiescence? Who gave him permission to do such matters? Your mother when she was in labor?

“Lord Grover is fickle and easily swayed,” your mother argues. “He’ll need to be convinced of the strength of our position, and that we will support him should it come to war.”

You lift your gaze off the table and drag your eyes to Daemon, knowing her comment was directed at him.

“I’m going to treat with him myself,” Daemon volunteers himself and keeps his gaze on your mother. When you glance back at her she holds his gaze as if challenging him and arguing over what he did while she was abed.

“What of Storm’s End and Winterfell?” Lord Darklyn asks, making you snap your attention to him at the mere reminder of Cregan.

Now Cregan is someone who would never betray his oath, he’s a Stark, and he’s simply Cregan; he’s loyal and you can swear by that.

And well he would also never go against you regardless of how things are between him and you currently.

“There has never lived a Stark who forgot an oath,” Lord Bartimos defends Lord Stark. “And with House Stark, the North follows.”

You smirk faintly at the table and mindlessly watch the part of the map where Winterfell is marked.

“Lord Borros Baratheon will need to be reminded of his father's promises,” your mother inputs, causing a knight to put a marker over Winterfell, while Jacaerys puts one down too.

“What news from Driftmark?” Your mother asks your grandmother, turning everyone’s attention to her.

“Lord Corlys sails for Dragonstone,” your grandmother simply says.

“To declare for his Queen,” Daemon assumes, boldly at that.

“The Velaryon fleet is my husband's yoke,” your grandmother counters. “He decides where they sail.”

You scoff smugly and pass a glare to Daemon before looking back at the table.

“We shall pray for both you and your husband's support,” your mother says. “Just as we prayed nightly for the Sea Snake’s return to good health. There is no port on the Narrow Sea that would dare to make an enemy of the Velaryon fleet.”

She then turns and drifts the subject away to a different point. “And our enemies?”

“We have no friends among the Lannisters,” Daemon says. “Tyland has served the Hand too long to turn against him. And Otto Hightower needs the Lannister fleet.”

“Without the Lannisters, we are not like to find any allies west of the Golden Tooth.”

“No,” Daemon quickly agrees before ducking his head and continuing. “The Riverlands are essential, Your Grace.”

“Pray forgive my bluntness, Your Grace,” a Lord cuts in, “but talk of men is moot. Your cause owns a power that has not been seen in this world since the days of Old Valyria. Dragons.”

You pick up your gaze and remind the lord of your similarities with the Greens. “The Greens have dragons as well. Older dragons.”

“They have three adults,” Daemon keeps cutting in. “By my count. We have Syrax, Caraxes, and Meleys. Your daughter has Astraea, and your sons have Vermax, Arrax, and Tyraxes.”

Tyraxes? He’s a baby and too small, as well as Joffrey. He can’t possibly want little Joffrey fighting against three old and experienced dragons.

“Baela has Moondancer.”

“Daemon,” your mother argues. “None of our dragons have been to war.”

Without addressing that comment Daemon keeps going about more dragons. “There are also unclaimed dragons. Seasmoke still resides on Driftmark. Vermithor and Silverwing dwell on the Dragonmount, still riderless. Then there are the three wild dragons, all of whom nest here.”

“And who is to ride them?” Your mother asks what you’re thinking.

“Dragonstone has 14 to their 4. I also have a score of eggs incubating in the Dragonmount.”

And what good will that do? Does he want his toddler sons and your infant son to control hatchlings? Tsk, please.

“Now,” Daemon continues as he grabs a marker. “We need a place to gather. A toehold large enough to house a sizable host.”

He places the marker down and without as much as counseling the Queen he shares his plan. “Here, at Harrenhal. We cut off the west, surround King’s Landing with the dragons and we can have every Green head mounted on spikes before the fucking moon turns.”

You swallow thickly and even if it’s absurd you still worry about Aemond.

“Your Grace,” Ser Eryyk interjects as he strides over. “A ship has been sighted offshore, a lone galleon, flying a banner of a three-headed green dragon.”

The Greens.

“Alert the watchtowers,” once again Daemon gives commands as if he’s King or hand of the Queen. He’s nothing but the simple Prince Consort—“sight the skies.” He takes his sword and storms out, leaving your mother behind.

“Mother,” you say and turn to face her.

“I’ll have Aerion brought in,” she tells you right away while she turns to face you. “I doubt there will be any sort of force, but we need to be assured and I will feel safe if you and Aerion stayed with Jacaerys and the guards.”

You sigh deeply and don’t feel unease until she leaves. Of course, only minutes later Vanessa is brought in with Aerion, but you only grow more worried. You do feel safe with Jacaerys, and you can protect yourself too…unless it’s against Aemond, but it’s doubtful he’ll make an appearance today.

You wait and watch the skies for Vhagar, from a nearby balcony, but as expected he doesn’t show. Your mother eventually returns and brings with her a list of commands given by Lord Otto, and amongst those demands is the immediate release of Aerion and you, as if you were captive here with your mother.

Ultimately though it is up to you, your mother gives you the choice to return to King’s Landing. But being loud and intrusive as he is, Daemon refuses to give you a choice, he finds no need for you to make a choice, or a “stupid choice.”. You’re needed here, he says.

But maybe he just wants to use you because he knows how important Aerion is to Aemond.

Your mother sees right through her husband but says nothing in that regard, at least not in public.

You could run away, you don’t want to be used by Daemon, and he wouldn’t be able to stop you. You can’t imagine it’s that hard to sneak out of Dragonstone. It’s true you don’t know the layout of this castle-like you know the Red Keep, but it can’t be hard.

But you don’t run away even if you’re tempted to go to Aemond. Not to join his side, but to talk to him about all this madness, to well…ease some sense into him.

But you don’t go. Eventually, morning rolls around and you sneak off for a short flight, but you still don’t leave, even if the sky is open and Astraea will do as you please.

“Again!” Jacaerys’ annoying and scolding hits your ears. “This is the third time Mother has sent me to come fetch you.”

You roll your eyes and spin on your heels to skip over and hook your arm around his to lead him to the castle. “Relax, brother, I was just walking and catching some air.”

“In the skies,” he spats. “You were flying on Astraea all morning. Mother told you to keep out of the skies. Have you even gone to see Lord Corlys? He’s here you know.”

You nod. “I know, but he was asleep. I was waiting until he woke up to visit him.”

“Well,” Jacaerys scoffs. “Now you have to wait until after the meeting. Mother is expecting you.”

You sigh. “I know, I know, I’m sorry.”

“You said you wanted to be a part of this,” Jacaerys continues to use that stern voice on you. “Well be a part of it.”

When you enter that hall though you’re consumed by the chaos you just wanted a small escape from. Everyone is talking over one another, pacing around the table, and shouting ideas. It doesn’t come to a stop until Ser Erryk cuts them all off with a booming announcement. “The Lord of the Tides, Lord Corlys Velaryon…”

You lift your gaze and see your grandfather on top of the stairs with a cane and a bandage around his neck. It’s an odd sight seeing such a great man wounded, but it’s the reality of war. He’s lucky he even lived.

“…and his wife, the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen.”

You clasp your hands in front of you and begin to fiddle with the ring around your finger as you watch her, your grandfather, and your cousins trailing behind them, walk down the stairs so formally.

“My lords,” your grandfather greets the men around the table once he’s down the stairs.

“Lord Corlys,” your mother greets the Lord. “It brings much relief to see you hale and healthy again.”

“I’m very sorry about your father, Princess,” he says, “he was a good man.” He then turns and faces the painted table to look around at all the faces gathered. “Where is Daemon?” He asks.

“There were other concerns which demanded the Prince’s attention,” your mother responds.

Your grandfather simply hums and passes your mother without as much as bowing, or addressing her as her proper title; Queen. He just walks past her as if she’s another one of the men.

“Your declared allies?” He points out to the few golden markers.

Your mother nods and approaches the table once more. “Yes.”

“Too few to win a war for the throne.”

Your mother spares him a quick glance before countering. “Well, we would also hope to have the support of houses Arryn, Baratheon, and Stark.”

“Hope…” your grandfather cuts in. “Is the fool's ally.”

You stop fiddling with the ring and lock eyes with your mother before she returns her gaze to Lord Corlys and hardens it. “Both Arryn and Baratheon share blood with my house. But all of them swore oaths to me.”

“As did House Hightower,” your grandfather points out. “If I remember.”

“As did you, Lord Corlys,” your mother redirects with some spite that makes you proud.

Said man stays quiet for a moment, he looks back at you, your brothers standing by you, and your cousins standing by their betrothed for a brief second before focusing back on your mother.

“Your father's realm…” your grandfather interjects loudly. “Was one of justice and honor. Our houses are bound by common blood and common cause. This Hightower treason cannot stand,” he makes clear as he proceeds to fix his stance. “You have the full support of our fleet and house. Your Grace.”

Finally.

You can’t help but share a small, faint smile at the sound of his words. Knowing the man he is, and how it’s rumored his son died, you didn’t think he’d bend the knee to your mother, but he did. Thank the gods.

“You honor me Lord Corlys,” your mother thanks him with a much softer look. “Princess Rhaenys,” she says behind her. “But,” she once again addresses the crowd. “As I said to my bannermen. I made a promise to my father to hold the realm strong and united. If war is first, stroke is to fall, it will not be by my hand.”

“You do not mean to act?” Your grandfather questions.

“Taking caution,” your mother clarifies. “Does not mean standing fast. I wish to know who my allies are before I send them to war.”

Your proud smile for your mother widens at the sound of her determination.

“The consequence of my…near demise in the Stepstones…is that we now control them,” your grandfather announces. “I took care to fully garrison the territory this time. A total blockade of the shipping lanes will be in place in days, if not already. The tiarchy has been routed. The Narrow Sea is ours. If we…further seal the Gullet.” Your grandfather points to the areas on the map. “We can cut off all seaborne travel and trade to King’s Landing.”

“I shall take Meleys and patrol the Gullet myself.” Your grandmother volunteers herself, seeming to surprise your mother that she did not need to command her, that it was out of her free will.

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

It’s easier said than done, isn’t it? Aemond has the biggest dragon who has seen and been a part of war. Aegon, you must admit, has a good bond with Sunfyre, and Daeron…well you don’t know him well, but his dragon can be as impressive. You’ll have to deal with them first.

“If we are to have enough swords to surround King’s Landing,” your mother inputs. “We must secure the support of Winterfell, the Eyrie, and Storm’s End.”

“I’ll prepare the ravens, Your Grace,” the maester assures her, albeit you aren’t convinced by that or sitting at home, and you know your brothers feel the same.

“No,” you break your silence, “we should bare those messages. In my five years at Winterfell, I grew to befriend Lord Stark, and become familiar with Winterfell, I’m sure I can speak to him and gain his support.”

“Besides,” Jacaerys stands tall and finishes your sentence. “Dragons can fly faster than ravens and they’re more convincing. Send us.”

Sure you said that you needed to leave Cregan alone, but this is war and he is a loyal man so if it’s sides he needs to choose, he might sway easier to yours if you speak to him.

“The Princess and the Prince are right,” your grandfather supports your suggestion, surprisingly enough. “Your Grace.”

Your mother holds your gaze and her eyes soften. She lingers in silence as she watches you and your brothers before she gives her answer. “Very well. Prince Jacaerys and the Princess will fly North...”

You and your brother share a brief proud look before focusing back.

You meant to go to Cregan by yourself, but Jacaerys might help calm your temptations.

“First to the Eyrie to see my mother's cousin, the Lady Jeyne Arryn,” your mother adds. “And then to Winterfell to treat Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the North. Prince Lucerys will fly south to Storm’s End and treat Lord Borros Baratheon. We must remind these Lords of the oaths they swore. And,” your mother exhales. “The cost of breaking them.”

You smirk proudly and nod in agreement.

——

*LATER*

“We’ll just go on a small trip,” you tell baby Aerion. “Your uncle Jacaerys, you, and me.”

Aerion breathes out loudly and his blue eyes seem to search the room with a sad frown. He’s been…upset it seems today, he’s been crying more than usual, and squirming around in your arms. It frightened you at first but it then hit you, he misses Aemond. This is the longest he’s gone without being with him, and Aerion loves his father. He must be so confused as to why he hasn’t seen him, felt his warmth, or smelled his scent.

But as much as you want to cure your son's longing, he needs to wait a bit longer.

“We’ll see your father soon,” you assure Aerion. “I swear. After we return from Winterfell.”

Aerion simply blinks, making you smile at him. A silence once again fills the chambers, but it then is broken by the sound of your name coming from your mother at the entrance.

You turn around and face her with a smile. “Mother,” you greet. “I’m sorry I just came to pick up Aerion.”

Your mother blinks in confusion. “Pick up? Why ever so?”

You swallow thickly and sigh. “If the Greens find out I left him here all alone, I’m sure someone will come and take him. I can’t risk that.”

Your mother nods and then breaks away from the entrance to reach you and grab your hand. “My sweet, leave Aerion here, we will protect him. You won’t take long but with the way things are it’s too dangerous for him to accompany you.” She presses her reassurance as she cups your cheek and caresses it gently. “We swear it.”

You let out a deep breath and nod slowly before you look down at Aerion with sadness. “I’ll return to you, my boy. Soon, I promise.” You lean down and press a gentle kiss on his forehead.

Aerion reaches out to grab your face, so you let him touch your cheeks.

You giggle and then can’t help but snuggle him against you. “Oh, I love you. I’ll see you soon.”

Before you decide not to leave or sob you place him back in his cradle and walk out with a heavy heart.

For however long you’ll be gone is the longest you’ll be without Aerion since he was born. When he was first born even being apart from him for just a couple of minutes pained you, and now? You’ll be gone for days, you’ll probably die.

Yet the promise of seeing Cregan does excite you even if it shouldn’t. Even after the promise you made yourself.

How will he react when he sees you, you wonder? It hasn’t been long since you stopped writing to him, he probably hasn’t grown concerned as to why he hasn’t gotten a response from you, but will he know of your attempts?

You did write back with short sentences last time with attempts to stop yourself from talking to him, so will he know? Will he be upset?

Hopefully not.

Alas, before you could attempt leaving Dragonstone to be one mile closer to Cregan, your mother asks to speak to you and your brothers first before your departure.

“It’s been said that as Targaryens, we are closer to gods than to men,” your mother says. “The Iron Throne puts us a touch closer, perhaps. But, if we are to serve the Seven Kingdoms…we must answer to their gods. If you take this errand, you go as messengers…not as warriors.” She shakes her head. “You must take no part in any fighting. Swear it to me now, under the eyes of the Seven.”

Ser Eryyk brings forth the holy book of the Seven, and Lucerys has no hesitation to respect your mother's wishes. “I swear it,” he assures her.

Jacaerys and you hesitate, however. Only you don’t hesitate because of any objections to her demands, it’s just why those gods?

You don’t have faith in the New Gods, but if it’s what she wants. “I swear,” you assure your mother after Lucerys, leaving only Jacaerys left. He hesitates for a moment longer, but he then leans in and presses his hand on the book.

“I swear it.”

The book is then pulled away, letting your mother continue with the matter at hand. “Cregan Stark is,” she says, making your breath falter. “Closer to your age than to mine. I would hope that as men you can find some common interests. And well, as friends,” she shifts her attention to you. “You’d find no trouble.” She finishes and hands Jacaerys the messages.

“Yes, your Grace,” you assure her confidently.

Her attention then slowly drifts to Lucerys and her gaze softens at the obviously worried look on your little brother's face.

“Storm’s End is a short flight from here,” she assures him softly. “You have Baratheon blood from your grandmother Rhaenys. And…Lord Borros is an eternally proud man. He’ll be honored to host a Prince of the Realm and his dragon.” She hands Lucerys the scroll and holds onto his hand a bit longer. “I expect you will receive a very warm welcome.”

Lucerys nods. “Yes, mother—y-your Grace.”

You share a teasing smile with Jacaerys at the sound of your brother's stammer. When he does return to your side though you caress his shoulder and assure his concerns.

“Go to it then,” your mother orders softly.

You offer her one last smile before you head to where your dragons await for all of you. However, before you can climb on Astraea’s back, you also assure Lucerys.

“Be careful, okay? We’ll see you after we return, hm?”

Lucerys glances at Jacaerys and then at you and nods softly.

You shoot him a grin and pat his shoulder.

“You be careful too,” he redirects.

You scoff softly and walk back to Astraea. “Always, baby brother,” you counter sweetly with one last glance at him.

Now when you turn to face your dragon you can’t help but fill with excitement to see Cregan again. You shouldn’t, but you can’t help it.

.

.

.

.

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans

[darklinsblog]

Anomaly | Lucerys Velaryon Imagine

Summary: Years have passed since you created the nexus event, only this time, you and your family must visit King’s Landing, but Lucerys hasn’t forgotten of you.

Pairing: Lucerys Velaryon x Morpheus!Daughter reader

Part I

Author’s note: I promise after this we go back to on-scheduled Morpheus fics BUT I NEEDED TO WRITE THIS PART EVEN THOUGH THE FIRST ONE DID LIKE ABSOLUTE SHEE- okay thx ✨

It had been six years since you saved Lucerys from an imminent death, creating a Nexus event, resulting in your whole family, keeping tabs on the boy as his destiny became uncertain due to your accidental intervention.

The rest of the events went accordingly, but with the death of each loved one of Luke’s life you saw the poor prince being tormented by his immense losses.

He even had to watch, alongside his younger brother Aegon how their mother was viciously eaten by a dragon.

As well as practically being kept locked away as war kept going beyond the walls. When Aegon II died due to poison, and since he had no male heirs to inherit his throne, Lucerys was taken as next in line.

He had taken his place as the next king at the young age of fifteen, and regardless of other’s second-guessing. The king did an outstanding job, taking into consideration the post-war context of his reign.

Shockingly enough, Lucerys did not take Rhaena as his wife, but being a man, his decision to wait to marry wasn’t put onto the question.

Although, your father Morpheus knew better than anyone at the King’s court why he chose not to marry.

It was because his mind was fixated upon you, Y/N the girl who, so mysteriously saved his life. Truth be told, he had spent years searching for you on the low, but of course he had no luck finding you.

You didn’t admit to it even as the years passed but you would think of him too. A lot.

The Endless were going down to the Waking World, they would check upon the young king every once in a while, making sure everything was in perfect balance.

This time, as your father was to departure he stopped by at the gardens, where you spent an awful lot of time now.

Your dear father Dream sat beside you upon the grass, inspecting the view of The Dreaming.

“You may come if you please” your father spoke calmly, while you looked at him with your eyes wide open.

“But Destiny-“ you said nervously and Morpheus’ eyes softened.

“Leave your uncle to me, only be mindful of your distance with the boy” he advised you, while you nodded fervently and excited hugging your father tightly.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” You repeated as you hurried towards the veil at full speed now.

The Waking World felt so different now, more sober. Which was understandable given that this people had survived a war.

You were dressed up as nobles and tonight the kingdom was hosting a ball to reunite the noble houses. Thankfully your aunt had an eye to eye relationship with Mr. Cregan Stark so it was easy to blend in.

Every member of your family went in diverse directions including your father, not before he grabbed your arm softly.

“Please remember” he warned

“Father, I know. Maintain distance” you said annoyed

“Distance is no longer an option as he stands mere feet away from you. Only careful” your heart skipped a beat as he spoke such words, you turned but he was long gone and your eyes finally fell on Lucerys “The Dignified” Targaryen.

If you hadn’t spent all these years watching him from a far, you swore you wouldn’t have recognized him, he had grown taller and more muscular, his eyes seemed darker now.

Perhaps from all the horrors he had witnessed; but nevertheless, it was him. With that perfect golden crown contrasting his raven locks.

But the world stopped when he looked at you. The young king was looking at you, much worse, there was a sense of recognition in his eyes.

Panic flowed through your body as you tried to get lost in this sea of people and you almost managed to get through the door, but a hand caught your wrist.

Your breath hitched, you shut your eyes, maybe thinking if you did it would all go away but it didn’t.

Because truly you had no other choice but to face him.

When you did, Luke was still holding your wrist but it was almost as if he was trying to engrave your features in the back of his mind.

“Is it you? Y/N?” He asked trying to contain his excitement, his need, his hope and your eyes glistened.

“I didn’t think you would remember me…” you whispered softly but he heard you still, so he smiled softly.

“How could I not remember the girl who’s the sole reason of me standing here?” He spoke with such longing now making your knees tremble, he pulled you closer, placing a hand on your upper back, like a fine gentleman.

“Luke…” he smirked at the way his name rolled out of your tongue.

“I see you haven’t forgotten of me either” now he draw closer to your ear till you could feel his hot breath on your ear. “It’s been long since I’ve heard anyone call me that”

You would’ve already fell to the floor if it was for Luke’s strong arm holding you up.

“Please, come with me” he pleaded and you looked down, you were weak under his gaze and you knew it. “Please” he begged once more.

At last, you gave in and Lucerys guided you upon the palace gardens, you were quiet for awfully long, but you could feel the king’s gaze upon you.

“Y/N…” he chanted your name

“Don’t, Luke” you responded rapidly, Luke grabbed your waist and swiftly spoon you around, his hands were holding you firmly, so you could not escape as easy.

“Listen to me, only hear me if your heart calls for me, the way mine roars upon yours” he begged and you could only breathe heavily

“Your memory was the only thing that kept me sane, I even dared to hate you, wonder why you saved me, wonder if you were just a fabrication of my tortured mind to endure the pain” your eyes watered at his words, you wished you could be with him in all those moments he needed someone, anyone.

“Luke, meeting you was the most wonderful thing to me, but even this moment, is stolen, not supposed to exist” you were holding back the tears as you closed your eyes.

“Y/N, Y/N!” He said cupping your face in his hands, and you had no other option but to look at him.

“I do not care if the soil beneath our feet turns to ash. If the world implodes in on itself, I would give away my realm, my crown, if that’s what it took to have you by my side”

“Luke, listen to yourself you sound mad!”

“Do you love me?”

“LUKE!”

“DO. YOU. LOVE. ME?”

“YES!” You exploded “LUDICROUSLY. IRRATIONALLY. I AM… hopeless beyond repair…” you trailed off, surrendering to the want for him, because you couldn’t hold yourself any longer.

You were breathing on each other’s mouths heavily, his eyes diverted to your lips, you were mere millimeters apart and it was driving you both onto utter madness.

“Then I beg you… choose me. Set me free of the torment of this suffocating distance that burns my very soul”

Maybe he was right, maybe the world would implode in on itself, maybe Hell would freeze, maybe the Earth’s crust would separate in two.

But you were tired of running from your desires, you just wanted to fall deeper in love to this king, to the sweet boy you met all those years ago.

Maybe it was a mistake.

But mistakes could not have felt this good. Could they?

Taglist: @emiemiemiii @ladyfairenvale @hungrhay @aurorarevenclaw1927 @adishax @meganmayhem89 @mrs-captainsteverogers @hb8301 @bambooing-shenanigans @queenshelby @characterxreaderimagine @emarich7 @carolcrysis @coolsnowker @jesllianaquilesrolon @supermegapauselouca @1950schick

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

I love Lord Corlys.

Because no matter what and even though he knows Lucerys and Jacerys are not his blood grand children, he loved those kids

No matter what when he said his grandkids he meant ALL

[jamieclearwater2314]

Also can anyone make it 10 chapters like the 10 episodes please and thank you because I'm STARVING 🙏 I beg of you

[nebulaafterdark]

The Rats Pt. 2

Aegon Targaryen ii x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Summary: Aegon attempts to make peace with Rhaenyra after being forced to usurp her throne. Lucerys’ death complicates things.

18+ ONLY, MDNI

Part 1

“Princess Y/N of house Velaryon.” The guard announces.

Rhaenyra’s heart skips a beat, surely he is mistaken.

“Mother,” Y/N says, racing toward her. “Your grace,” she corrects herself.

Rhaenyra wraps her eldest child in her arms. “Mother will do just fine.”

Y/N buries her face in Rhaenyra’s shoulder.

“How did you get here?” Aegon would never let her go of his own free will.

“Daemon,” Y/N breathes. Knowing that her stepfather will owe her for the half truth.

“Where are the children?”

“In King’s Landing.” Y/N tells her, “to keep Aegon’s wits about him in my absence. He wants to come to an agreement, he’s more than willing to bend the knee. I only ask that he and Helaena be spared…as for Aemond Targaryen, he is a murderer.” Y/N’s voice breaks, “we will avenge the murder of my brother.”

Rhaenyra’s strokes a hand over her hair, feeling the dark waves that remind her of Lucerys. “Aegon and Helaena will receive full pardons based on your testimony. Rest assured I appreciate what you have done on my behalf.”

“Thank you.” Y/N pulls back marginally, realizing her mother’s pregnant belly should be between them. “Where is the babe?”

Rhaenyra shakes her head.

Y/N covers her mouth with her hand, “I am terribly sorry.”

“It is no fault of yours, darling girl.”

“I should have been here with you.”

“When I offered your hand in marriage, I had no idea Aegon was capable of love. It has complicated all of this.”

Y/N nods, “speaking of my husband. I should send word that I am well, lest he take out his frustration on Dragonstone.”

Rhaenyra taps her chin, affectionately. “I will fetch a scroll.”

————————————————————————-

Aegon’s youngest son is the only one of his children to share Y/N’s dark locks. His wife insisted they name him Aegon. After my dearest love. She said.

Aegon agreed of course as he can deny her nothing. The child wails nonstop, in the absence of his mother. At all of four months old, Aegon is the only one who can quiet him besides Y/N. As such, the King is now attending the small council meeting with a babe in his arms.

Their daughter, Dahlia, the eldest of the twins will sit the iron throne one day, through his line of succession and Rhaenyra’s. At all of six, she is sitting at the table. His other children Visera and Laenor have not been properly protected under the guard, they too must stay in his sightline.

“Gods be good.” Alicent frowns at her son.

“What is it?” Aegon huffs, arching a brow at her.

“The small council is no place for children, your grace.” Alicent explains. “They would be better tended by their maids.”

Aegon nods, “right. As you all know, two nights ago, the Princess Helaena was attacked in the children’s chambers. Our heirs were threatened and Queen Y/N was taken from us. During which time, not a single guard could be found on the entirety of the royal floor! Because you were-”

Aegon looks to his children in turn, “cover your ears my darlings.” He smiles, waiting until they have done as they’re told, holding his own hand over his infant’s ear. “Where were we, mother? Oh, that’s right, no one was guarding my children because you were fucking the royal guard.”

The council members lower their heads in acknowledgement.

“The men who carried out this attack, entered under the guise of rat catching. I want them found and swiftly executed.” Aegon demands, patting his sleeping son’s leg.

“We have been interrogating rat catchers for days, thus far we have no leads.” Otto explains.

A slow smile spreads over the King’s face. “Then hang them all.”

Alicent blanches.

“Anything else?” Aegon asks, watching Visera begin toying with Otto’s chair.

“A letter arrived from Dragonstone, your grace.” Lord Tyland informs him.

“Oh?” Aegon says, “from Rhaenyra?”

“From Queen Y/N.”

Aegon swallows, “did you read it?”

“No, my King.”

“Good,” Aegon reaches for the rolled parchment.

‘My dearest Aegon,

Please know that I am well. We would like to begin negotiations to end the blockade and create a peaceful transfer of power. This will require your cooperation, I hope you will meet me at Dragonstone to discuss this matter farther.

Forever yours,

Y/N’

Aegon exhales, sharply.

“What is it, your grace?”

“The children and I are off to Dragonstone.”

“Whatever for?”

“To negotiate the terms of Y/N’s return.”

“My King…”

“And if you cannot agree on said terms?” Alicent asks.

Aegon frowns, lifting a shoulder. “To war then.”

“He is unhinged,” Otto whispers to his daughter.

“As I warned he would be.” Alicent rises from her seat. “He is quite…devoted to her.”

————————————————————————

“It has been three days since you sent word to King’s Landing. We must assume Aegon’s silence is his response.” Daemon seethes, around the drawing table.

“Give it time.” Y/N insists, “you owe me that.”

Daemon smirks, “I owe you nothing, spoiled thing.”

“Mmm,” Y/N hums. “My mother does not yet know how I came to be here.”

“And you are not going to tell her. Otherwise, my distaste for your usurping cunt of a husband will be demonstrated at length.”

Sunfyre roars, calling their attention to the nearest window.

Daemon huffs, “I’ll be damned.”

“And he’s brought the children.” Y/N rejoices, running out to join her family.

Jacaerys is already helping to unload her children from the makeshift carriage on the dragon’s saddle.

“Mother!” Dahlia and Visera charge Y/N nearly knocking her backwards.

Laenor runs after them with his little legs as Aegon the fourth, stares at her, babbling in his father’s arms.

Y/N is moved to tears, “you came.”

“You didn’t think I would?” Aegon cocked his head to the side.

“It’s a rather large ask,” Y/N explains.

“For you, the world.” He replies, with a kiss to her temple. “Now, where is Rhaenyra? We have much to discuss.”

“Her grace will join us soon.”

Aegon nods, “I request a small audience, before the council.”

“That can be arranged.”

“After which your brother might tend the children whilst you show me your quarters.” Aegon whispers.

Y/N smirks, “of course.”

Part 3

Taglist: @minttea07 @callsignwidow @fallout-girl219 @syraxnyra @vickynephilim @jeondeluxe111 @geeksareunique @arya-brooke @7minutes-tomidnight

[pogueprincess]

My Sister’s Keeper

summary: Aemond intends to send you away to protect you after he starts the war, but Aegon isn't ready to let you go.

pairing: Aegon & Aemond x Sister!Reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: Explicit smut, mention of death, incest, threesome, p in v sex, oral (m&f receiving), voyeurism, male masturbation, infidelity (reader is married to Aemond), lactation kink, choking, cum play/eating, spit, Aegond kiss!! (oop) 18+ MDNI

note: Uhhhh. I'm sorry??? I feel like I just breezed through this, idk I was horny lol. Feedback is appreciated!

You’ll never forget the look on Aemond’s face when he first arrived back to the Red Keep from his journey to Storm’s End. Your family was desperate in the inevitable, upcoming war against Rhaenyra so Aemond had been sent to help strike up a proposal between one of Lord Borros’ daughters and the youngest son of the late king Viserys, Daeron Targaryen.

Sitting in the large bed of your shared chamber, you had been anxiously awaiting his arrival, chewing your fingernails down to bloody nubs.

“Aemond!” you practically leapt into his arms when he appeared sopping wet in the doorway. Overjoyed to see he’d returned in one piece, but something was off, something was wrong. He was vacant, like he had seen a ghost.

“Lucerys Velaryon is dead.”

With that simple sentence you knew your lives would be changed forever.

“You cannot just make me disappear,” you said to your husband through gritted teeth, as your voice trembled, lump in your throat forming as tears threatened to fall from your eyes.

“If we are not here they will just go looking for us.”

“Anywhere is safer than here, my love.” Aemond answered coolly.

“If you think this decision was not difficult to make, you are wrong. It is simply what's best for the both of you. You and the babe will be staying in Dorne until I know for certain that it is safe for you here.”

“But –”

“But nothing! This is not up for debate,” he growled at you, “the decision has been made and it is final!” His words cut through you like a knife.

“You cannot make a decision like this. You are not the king.”

“No “ he retorted, “but I am your husband, therefore, when it comes to you and my child, what I say goes!”

You got up and exited your shared chambers with haste, not wanting Aemond to see you cry.

Your bare feet padded against the cold stone floor of the Red Keep, the walls echoed and groaned as you made your way to your eldest brother’s chambers.

Aegon’s head perked up when he heard you come in. He stared at you sheepishly from behind his goblet of wine.

“Has he told you?”

Letting out a deep sigh, “he has.”

“I cannot leave you. I will not leave you, Aegon.”

“I know, I know,” he says, patting the spot next to him, motioning for you to come and sit.

“Our half-sister is unpredictable,” he replied calmly, “there’s no telling what she might do… not to mention, Daemon.”

As much as you did not want to admit it, both of your brothers were right. Accident or not, Rhaneyra’s son was dead. You would be a fool to believe she wouldn’t be out for blood.

Aegon pulled you into his lap, his cock already half hard. You kissed him deeply as he grinded his hips up into yours. You ran your fingers through his unruly silver hair, enjoying the feel of his mouth on you. Completely lost in the moment, you hadn’t heard Aemond enter the room.

He cleared his throat loudly to make his presence known.

“Aemond!”

Your brother-husband stalked into the room, his violet eye scanning over you with amusement.

“Oh please, do continue.”

Your chest rose and fell as you struggled to find the right words to say.

“Did you not hear me? I said continue,” Aemond repeated, as he approached you and Aegon.

“Aemond, this is not what it looks like —“

His brow furrowed at you as he gripped your chin forcing you to look him directly in the eye.

“Do you mistake me for a fool? You believed me to be unaware of your little arrangement?”

Still at a loss for words, you and Aegon just stared at your brother nervously. Aemond moved away a few inches and started to remove his tunic and his trousers. His cock strained hard against his small clothes, which he removed not long after. You gawked at him as he pumped his cock in his left hand, making his way back to you.

Aegon’s violet eyes beamed with excitement at this, pupils blown with lust. He took no time to nip at your neck, your earlobes, grinding against your core once again.

“I fear this is inappropriate,” you began.

“What’s inappropriate is you sneaking away from your husband to come fuck this wastrel,” Aemond began, his words thick with venom.

“Clearly, you want the both of us. So have us… while you still can.”

A slight moan left your lips as you tilted your head to the side, allowing Aegon easier access to your throat, your gaze never leaving Aemond’s, his expression unreadable as he nodded his head at you.

Aemond had his hand wrapped tightly around his cock, the tip bright red, lushed and angry, his arousal already dripping from the tip.

Aegon leaned down and wrapped his lips around your nipple, and began to suck harshly. Being that your babe was only two months old, you were lactating. A loud moan escaped your lips as you felt the milk begin to flow.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, “just like that. You’re doing so good.”

You could feel his cock twitching against your leg at your praise as he continued to ravenously lap at your breast.

As he switched to your other breast he sucked harder at your stiffened peak, the milk coming almost instantly. He palmed your abandoned breast with his large hand, squeezing gently. Shivers ran down your spine as the sweet feeling of relief washed over you once again.

A growl erupted from Aemond’s throat and he unexpectedly pulled Aegon away from your chest. To your utter surprise, he crashed his lips against Aegon’s, tasting your milk on his tongue. You watched with bewilderment as your husband passionately kissed your brother, tugging at his unruly hair, moaning into his mouth. Arousal seeped from your core and onto Aegon’s thighs. Aemond broke the kiss abruptly and stared at you.

Aegon’s hands gripped your waist, flipping you around so you were underneath him. Your eldest brother positioned you so you were laying on your back comfortably against the pillows. He nestled himself between your thighs and hastily hiked your nightgown up over your waist. You shivered as his warm breath fanned over your folds. Before you could blink his tongue was prodding at your entrance. Your hands flew to the back of his head on instinct, pulling him closer into your center.

Aemond approached you carefully. He tapped his cock against your lower lip a few times, a signal for you to open your mouth. Just as he did so, Aegon’s tongue had reached the right spot, causing your mouth to gape open as a loud moan escaped your lips. Aemond took this as an opportunity to forcefully shove his cock into your mouth. You felt a rush of pleasure as Aemond's cock filled your mouth. You began to suck and lick it, eager to make him moan even louder. Aegon's tongue continued to explore you as you pleasured Aemond, and you felt your body quiver with pleasure.

If you knew being with another man in his presence would have this effect on him, you would have brought your affair to light long ago.

With a low groan of your name he pumped in and out of your mouth mercilessly, the salty taste of his precum evading your tastebuds. The air left your lungs as you gagged around him. You could feel the pent up anger Aemond held for the entirety of the situation with each brutal buck of his hips. Ever so slowly he pulled back, giving the you the illusion he was going to give you a break. But before you were able to catch your breath, his cock found his way to the back of your throat again. The faster he went, tears began to stream down your face.

As bubbles of spit began to form around the corners of your mouth, you hollowed your cheeks to the best of your ability. With Aegon now three fingers knuckle deep in your cunt it was almost impossible for you to focus on Aemond; but as the pace of his thrusts quickened you knew he was going to cum soon. You moaned around his length, the vibrations making his cock twitch, you could feel every throb of the thick vein that ran along the underside of his cock.

“No,” Aemond growled as he pulled himself from your throat, “I need to feel your cunt around me.”

Aemond all but shoved Aegon away from you, almost knocking him off the large bed. Aemond lined his cock up with your center and sheathed himself inside of you with quickness.

As Aegon now sat on the upper left corner of the bed, he watched intently as Aemond’s cock disappeared into you repeatedly. One hand tugged at his painfully hard cock and the other wiped the tears from your cheeks.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he cooed, “look at how you take him so well,” he praised.

You nodded your head at him enthusiastically, pleasure overwhelming you. Aegon hooked his thumb into your mouth and you sucked and nipped at it intently.

There was no doubt that Aemond enjoyed the praise as well, snapping his hips even harder into your own. His cock bullied your sweet spot mercilessly. Your body tingled with a mix of pleasure and pain as Aemond's thrusts intensified; pressing hard against your cervix. His large hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing gently. The overwhelming sensation sent waves of ecstasy coursing through you, making it difficult to focus on anything else but the raw desire consuming your every thought.

“Fuck, Aemond, I’m going to cum!” you screamed as your hot waves of pleasure coursed through you.

Aegon watched intently as your orgasm wracked your entire frame, his own following not long after. He let out a loud groan as he came into his hand. He flashed an evil grin at Aemond as he brought his fingers to Aemond's mouth, shoving them down his throat.

Your husband gagged around his digits, sucking Aegon's release from them.

As the aftershock of your orgasm continued to pump though you, your cunt squeezed around Aemond’s cock. The depravity of it all overwhelmed him and Aemond cum with a shudder. With one final thrust and a loud grunt, he was spilling himself inside of you.

As Aegon removed his fingers from your husband's throat, Aemond leaned over you, his cock still buried deep inside you.

"Open up, baby," he said before spitting directly into your mouth, a mixture of his saliva and Aegon's cum evident on your tongue. You swallowed with a contented hum.

Aemond pulled himself out of you and got up quickly.

You curled up in the bed next to Aegon, Aemond’s seed seeping out of you onto the sheets, sleep finding you almost immediately.

“She can stay here for the night,” Aemond said as he leaned down to kiss your sweat-drenched forehead.

Aegon frowned at his brother.

“Aemond, we cannot make her leave,” he rasped, desperation clear in his voice.

“I think she needs to leave now more than ever, brother. To ensure nothing like this ever happens again.”

A loud sigh escaped Aegon’s lips as he diverted his gaze from Aemond to you, pushing your hair out of your face, admiring your beauty.

“Enjoy your time with her tonight. She will be on her way to Dorne by morning.”

[dolicekiss]

A debt

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen X Velaryon niece!reader

CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+, mdni please), dubcon, lucerys velaryon reader (basically reader is lucerys velaryon but female), toxic aemond, threats, unprotected sex (p in v), near death experiment, hair pulling, rough making out, attempted sexual asssult, breeding, virgin!reader, bickering, mentions of blood, tension, kinda angsty

SYNOPSIS: Aemond could never forget that you had taken his eye out, so when you both cross paths at Storm’s End, he demands for what was taken from him. Things went haywire when a sneak attack lead you to fall from your dragon and be swallowed by the large waves. Only that you didn't die, as Aemond finds you and saves you. With nowhere to take you, the prince takes you to a brothel hoping Sylvie would keep you safe there. Little did be know, a beautiful girl such as yourself was not a thing to be put in a brothel.

“I want you to put out your eye, as payment for mine.”

Blue sapphire sparkled in the hollowness of Aemond’s eye when he peeled back his eye patch and revealed the wound you had left behind as a little girl. A regret at best but not anymore. You swallowed, heart thumping in your chest. You possessed no desire to fight him, nor did you wish to indulge with him.

You were only a messenger here.

“One would serve.” Aemond softly spoke, as you watched him reach for a dagger. “I would not blind you.”

The piercing sound of the dagger being tossed at you was more pellucid against your ears than the gushing rainstorm outside. Patterning aggressively on the cobblestones, striking thunder tearing through the sky. The seven were definitely upset, for what was about to take place. An ominous feeling looming over your head, putting your heart in a state of unease.

“Plan to make a gift of it to my mother.”

There was no way he could expect you to take out your own eye. You had acted upon impulse but you were right to do so. He was going to injure your brother and you, that stone in his hand a vivid image embedded in your mind from childhood.

You held your head high, fierce gaze focused on him. “No.”

Aemond seemed disappointed by your response. “Then you are craven as well as a traitor.”

You could hear Lord Borris’ rebuke in the back but it mattered little to Aemond as he marched towards you abruptly, causing you to retreat back. “Give me your eye, or I will take it, bastard!”

“Come fucking take it then.”

Swords were unsheathed and the sound of it echoed within the halls of Lord Borris' castle.

You were filled with panic, your long black braid moving behind your back when you took haste steps back. Before bloodshed could happen, Lord Borris stepped in and sent you back to your dragon. You were thankful for that as this could lead to something worse.

You went out, going to your dragon, Arrax who seemed in quite distress. You patted his back, once or twice and commanded for it to calm down in high valyrian but nothing seemingly worked. Rain had soaked into your clothes and the thunderstorm only grew heavier witch each second. As you mounted it, your gaze set on the empty space where Vhagar once sat.

You made it your goal to reach dragonstone safely and convey the Lord’s message to your mother.

As Arrax flew up in the grey sky, you looked around hoping to not find Aemond but when the massive shadow of Vhagar flew atop you in the clouds, your blood froze. Panic rising up and you knew very well that fighting Aemond in a dragon combat would end with you losing since he had claimed the largest dragon in all of Westeros.

You could feel your dragon’s uneasiness, same as yours and that was not a good sign.

Aemon had disappeared for now and you released a breath of relief, turning your dragon to head for dragonstone.

Only then Vhagar came in front of you, out of nowhere, with its wide mouth open sending your dragon in pure disarray. You tried to control it, in hopes that things will calm down if one dragon is calm enough but no.

Aemond’s laugh echoed in the open sky and it was enough to fill you with chills. You felt Vhagar right behind you, its loud roars having the same affect as Aemond’s malicious laughs. You saw a narrow pathway between two stones and went inside, knowing Vhagar would be incapable of fitting in there with its large size.

Your commands to calm your dragon down were pathetic and useless.

It was scared, as were you.

You could hear Aemond’s deep voice, and it terrified you.

“Jemēla gēlyēni enkā, riña.” Those words, you knew what they meant and you knew Aemond would only calm when he has ripped out your eye from your socket, a vision you would be.

Fearsome was the thought.

Your vision had blurred due to the constant pouring of the rain and your own head was everywhere. But then, out of nowhere your dragon spots Vhagar and in desperate need to protect itself, flies at the beast and breathes fire into her face.

“Lykiri, Arrax! Lykiri!” Your command in high valyrian flies over your tense dragon’s head as you fly away from Vhagar.

You can hear Vhagar losing its calm too, as Aemond’s high valyrian commands roared along with his dragon. You turned around, looking down but there was no sight of Vhagar chasing after you now, so you flew higher.

You broke through the barrier of the dark, looming clouds and when light greeted you, relief washed over you. False assumptions that everything was calm now became the reason of your fall as Vhagar out of nowhere leaped from the side, biting Arrax‘s head into two.

“Vhagar, no!”

Your eyes widened in horror, gaze locking with Aemond as you lost balance and fell down.

That was all you remembered, as you passed out due to the panic and lose of hope. You knew from then on, you were better off dead but what broke your heart the most was the gruesomely demise of your beloved dragon.

Aemond knew he had to find you.

Vhagar had missed you by an inch and the chances of you being alive were somewhat there. He did not wish to start a war, not like this, not by killing off his niece when she was at her weakest.

He had the advantage by being in the possession of the biggest dragon and he knew it was not fair to you.

Aemond dived in, lowering his dragon to the sea, in hopes that he would find you. Endlessly searching in the water, letting out frustrated grunts when he didn't find you. He flew over the shore, all deserted and he noticed something. Bringing Vhagar closer to it, he jumped off her back and ran towards your passed out body.

Thankfully you had washed up on the shore.

Your long braid wrapped around your stomach, the side of your head bloodied and Aemond fell to his knees, reaching for your face.

You were as lifeless as a corpse.

He checked your pulse and relief washed over him. You were alive, although unconscious.

Aemond buried his arms beneath your soaked body, lifting you up and taking you over to Vhagar. He somehow got you on his dragon’s back and tied you to him, your back pressed against his chest and head leaned over his shoulder.

“Fuck, what do I with you now?” He whispered, a mix of worry and frustration donning his face.

He couldn't take you back to the red keep, as they would capture you and hold you hostage. He didn't want that, not when he had not captured you with honor. Aemond was not some monster without morals but he sure could not take you to the blacks, knowing it would put his life in danger.

There was absolutely nothing he could do than fly around Westeros with you on his dragon.

An idea infiltrated the prince's mind.

There was only one place where he could keep you, without bringing you harm and that was the brothel he often visited. Under Sylvie’s care and under her orders, she surely would protect you and keep you safe.

He sighed, flying to where Vhagar usually rested. He allowed her rest while taking a horse, putting his hoodie over your very bright and pleasant features to conceal you.

The realm had seen you, he did not wish for people to take notice of you. Aemond pressed you into his chest as he rode in King's landing, making way to Sylvie’s brothel.

That was the best place to keep you.

As his own hostage.

For no one else to hurt, no one else to lay claim on you.

Sylvie was surprised to see the prince with an unconscious woman in his arms. Aemond only had to glare at her and she allowed him in. Thankfully it was broad daylight and there were not much customers — giving the young prince enough room to smuggle you in the confinement of a room in a secluded area of the brothel upstairs.

“My prince, who is she?”

Aemond sighed, tiresome all this was but it was his fault and deep down he knew that.

“Just know that she is mine and I am entrusting her to you.” Aemond said, staring at your unconscious body laying on the soft bed. “If harm comes to even a strand of her hair, I will behead you and your girls.”

Sylvie was terrified and it was rare of her to be this terrified of Aemond. His tone was dark and she knew that this woman, whoever she might be, was definitely not to sell to her customers. All the woman could do was nod at the prince, obeying his each and every command.

“Trust me, my prince. Rest assured. I shall take care of her like she is my own.”

Aemond was pleased. “Tend to her wounds, clean her and change her clothes. Give her your most expensive dress.”

Sylvie nodded, eyes lowered to the floor as Aemond continued analyzing you. You had the most longest hair he had ever laid eye upon. A long braid which reached your calves and it was as dark as a raven. You surely were no velaryon, as much as you went around parading it like your mother.

But you surely were a Targaryen.

He departed from the brothel, writing a mental note that he would visit again tonight.

Hours passed by and when you finally regained consciousness, it was not in the arms of death nor the waves but on a soft mattress, surrounded by candles everywhere and the strong sweet scent of oils and perfumes.

Your gaze fell on your attire and it was something you would never in your seven lives wear.

A long sleeved dress, made of sheer material, enough to expose your small clothes. Your shoulders revealed and glistening from the oils that had been rubbed on you. Your hand reached to feel your thick braid but instead wavy strands awaited you. Cascading down your back, surrounding you like a fucking gown. You were in a completely different attire than before.

Soft music orchestrated by someone unknown made its tunes inside the room you were in.

It was small, with a bed and a table side. A chair was also in the corner and you sucked in a deep breath, eyes flitting here and there to analyze the room further.

The door soon opened and it revealed a woman, in her mid fourties and you blinked upon seeing her disheveled state. She was practically naked and slowly the realization began to sink in.

“Is this a brothel?”

The woman had the sweetest smile on her lips as she nodded, in her hand a jug you assumed filled with wine. In her other, a golden cup. A grimace made its way on your face, disgust evident but there was also unmatched anger. You were going to slaughter whoever that had brought you here.

Had they sold you?

Did Aemond do this? It would not make sense at all since you knew he would have abandoned you the moment you fell off your dragon. There was no way he would search for you but if it wasn't him then someone else had found you and put you here.

Your head felt like it could burst at any given moment and you realized how bad of a throbbing pain was in the side of your head. It ached and when you reached for it, you flinched.

“By what means am I here? I need to know who put me in such a horrible filthy place.”

You watched with a sharp eye as she poured the liquid into the cup, extending it out for you once finished. You blinked, shaking your head. “I demand answers, not wine.”

“I'm afraid I'm not allowed to answer those but he will be here soon.”

You snatched the cup of wine from her hand and tossed it across the room, watching as the glass made contact with the wall and collapsed in the corner. The woman’s grin grew wider as she realized you were no low born for sure. The amount of money she could make off you was unmatched but she knew better than to defy Aemond’s orders.

“You have the temperaments of a high born lady.” Sylvie said, head tilted as she admired the beauty you were blessed with. “No wonder I was told to take care of you.”

There was not a mark on your face, like you'd been blessed by the seven themselves. You were a piece of art and how she'd gotten you ready only made you appear like Venus, the goddess of love and sex, fertility even.

Sylvie left the room, to attend to her guests but not before warning you. “Do not leave this room, girl. There are wolves out there and they won't hesitate to rip you to shreds. You are safe here.”

You felt chills at her words, well aware of the atrocities men committed here with women.

You chewed on your lip, knees brought to your chest as you hugged them tightly while your arms wrapped around them. You wanted to cry, you missed your brothers and your mother. Being her only daughter, you knew her whole being resided within you and you wished to send a letter at least about your whereabouts.

She surely would come to save you.

Confused, scared and cornered, you stayed glued to your position.

Then the room door opened and a man entered. Your head lifted up from your knee pads and you backed into the wall seeing how drunk this man was. His wobbly walk told you he had more than enough to drink and now he was staggering towards you.

“I knew that bitch was hiding something here.” He said, a sick grin on his face and your eyes widened upon catching a glimpse of the man's hands that were extended to grab a hold of you. “Such a pretty girl like you should be downstairs, not here. But then it's good you're here. I get to have you all for myself.”

“Touch me and I will make you wish you were never born.” You spat, a venom in your tone as your posture shifted.

You were on guard and you had always trained under your step father, Daemon. You knew how to defend yourself, as well as take down a life if you had to. There was nothing in this world that you would not do to protect yourself and when the man's flimsy endeavor to grab you slipped, you rolled over the bed to reach for the cup of wine.

You swallowed.

You had trained but you never once had to fight someone to save your life, dignity and honor.

This was real, this was what you had trained for.

Adrenaline pumped through your blood, since the man was evidently twice your delicate size. You watched with a sharp gaze as he scoffed, reaching for you. Before his hands could come in contact with your exposed shoulders, you struck down the man's hand with the sharp edge of the wine glass.

He let out a scream, nearly succumbing to his knees. “You fucking bitch.”

You stared as blood soaked his clothes, the cut deep and brutal on his hand. This only encouraged his lust for you, an anger igniting in his eyes. He seemed pretty sober now as he got back up and slammed you against the wall with newfound force.

“Fucking whore. You don't have to act this hard to get. I swear I'll pay more than what the others do.” His words were like salt to the wound, as he held you over the wall. You had nothing on him now, as the man buried his face into your neck.

He sniffed, satisfied with the scent of the oils staining your skin. Before his lips could come in contact with your skin, the door slammed open and you saw Aemond.

The moment he laid his gaze on you, in such a horrible and disgusting situation, something inside him snapped. His jaw tightened and Aemond forgot that he was in a brothel and causing a scene could put you in danger.

You felt the force of the man disappear as Aemond pulled him off you, pinning him to the ground with his knee into his neck. You watched as your uncle delivered punch after punch, ruining the set of very basic features on his face.

“How dare you lay your filthy hands on her? On her, of all people?” His voice was loud as for each word, a taut punch was sent to the man's face.

Sylvie entered the room, in a panicked state, witnessing the disheveled state of both Aemond and you in front of him. She recognized the man as one of her clients and when Aemond caught her in his eye, he stood up and grabbed the woman by her throat, pressing her into the wall.

He leaned in, darkness imposing a threat. “I gave you one fucking job, and you failed.”

“I-I swear I don't know how he found her. My Prince believe me, I-I would never misplace something you told me to take care of.”

You watched the whole scene unfold, with blurring tears in your eyes, a soft sniffle escaping you. The man's touch was disgusting and it still lingered over your shoulders, the stains of blood tainting the purity of your skin. You could not believe what was going on, all you knew that Aemond was aware of your whereabouts which could only mean one thing; he himself put you here. Was this how low the Greens were willing to go, to win the war? By tainting the Queen’s reputation and putting you in a brothel for commoners to use and throw?

“Get out of my fucking sight and hand this fucking filth to my guards. I will see what it is to be done of him.” Aemond elucidated each word for the woman and she nodded, grabbing the man and dragging him out. “And bring me some water and a clean cloth.” His head turned in your direction, gaze locking with your blurred one.

You were still frozen in that position, not being able to move an inch. Your body had stilled from how sudden and scary everything was.

Aemond took a step towards now that you two were alone and you flinched. “Please don't.”

He stilled, staring at you. You were close to breaking apart, he could see it. Tears falling down in small streams, glistening over the golden glow of the candle casting on your face.

“I would never force myself upon you.” He said, almost offended that you would expect something like that from him in the first place. He was cold, stoic, he knew but did you really see him in such a horrible light? It bothered him when it should not have, it shouldn't matter what you have got to say or think about him.

“Did you throw me in here as revenge for your eye, Uncle?” You spoke, throat feeling like it was being prickled by needles because of how much you were holding yourself back from breaking into a fit of sobs and tears.

He raised a brow and then proceeded to scoff. “You really do see me as some tyrant.”

“You chased me on your dragon and made me fall, I could have died!” You shouted, taking a step forward. Your sadness had transformed into anger, and now your tears were flowing freely. A ton of emotions overwhelming your little frame and Aemond saw it.

The tick in his jaw grew, fists still clenched and blood dripping from them. “But you didn't. I found you and I brought you here to keep you safe—”

“Safe? Safe?! You brought me here, to this god forsaken place to keep me safe? Just say it, Uncle.” You fumed, stepping up to the man you once feared. “You wanted to humiliate me. You want me to get used, be some common man's whore.”

Aemond’s patience was running thin and when he imagined you as a whore, it ran out right before you. His feet moved with such ability as he marched in your direction, slamming you against the corner, palms glued to the wall. He breathed down your face, his sharp chin brushing against yours.

Your breath hitched, being this close to your Uncle was completely new and you were rendered speechless.

“The greens will hold you hostage.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “They will parade you around on a fucking horse for the whole of King's Landing to bear witness.”

You stared into his one eye, chest rising up and down as suddenly your body had forgotten how to lure in some air. “Could've taken me home.”

“They would take me hostage for the cause of your injured state.” He whispered, in a much softer tone. “There was nowhere for me to take you in your current state, only here.”

“A brothel, Uncle.” You said, tears once again threatening to spill and they did. Your soft sniffles echoing in the room, remembering what the man had done and how filthy his touch felt. You felt defiled and he hadn't even done something worse, something that could never be taken back. Your bloodied shoulders shook violently from how much you were crying, body going slump and Aemond quickly held you in his arms, not allowing you to succumb to the floor.

His strong arms held you — with overbearing strength, holding you whilst you cried.

In truth, you hated every bit of this war. Things were much better before the death of your grandsire, King Viserys. The crown made people greedy, the more they looked at it. It possessed the type of power which was too overwhelming for anyone and everyone. Like a curse, it slowly poisoned the mind of its bearer. The same was happening with the Greens as they had usurped your mother's throne.

“You should've left me to die.” You managed to say through your broken cries.

Aemond released a bated breath. “It was never my intention for something as grave as that to happen. It was merely an attempt to intimidate you.”

You understood him. Despite all this fucked up shit, you did. You had taken his eye out, left him disabled. His siblings had all their parts but Aemond felt empty, he felt incomplete and you had played a big part in it. Both of you had realized your mistakes a long time ago yet no one owned up to it, no one possessed the courage to reach out the other for closure.

You never apologized for the bullying encouraged by his brother, he never apologized for assaulting your brothers. You never apologized for taking his eye and he never apologized for attempting to intimidate you with his dragon — which made you suffer a great loss. Remotely close to his.

“Arrax,” you sobbed, in the arms of the man who was the cause of your state. “my poor dragon. He was so scared, I could feel it. He was afraid.”

Aemond wanted to apologize. He wanted to because he was aware of a rider’s bond with its dragon. Yet no words left his mouth, his palm running up and down your back rather awkwardly. He had absolutely no idea on what to do with you now. Your forehead was pressed into his chest as you sobbed.

But then you looked up at him, with a piercing gaze. “You are as childish and as pathetic the day I took your fucking eye out, Aemond.” This time you did not address him as your uncle and your words riled him up even more. You were at his mercy, you should not have played with fire like that and Aemond snapped.

“I'm pathetic?” He asked with darkness behind his tone. “You're the one pinned neath me. I could easily have you, take my revenge.”

“You're going to take my eye out, Uncle? Do it. Finish it, once and for all.” You seethed through gritted teeth, glaring at him. Aemond tightened his hold on your frail wrists causing you to wince and flinch. He restrained both hands with one of his and moved the other to grasp your chin, fingers dimpling in your cheeks. “No, I will take something more precious, something that is worth more than an eye to a maiden such as yourself.”

“You wouldn't.” You said, shaking your head after realizing what he was hinting at. You knew the significance of your maidenhood and Aemond was going to hurt you right where it hurt the most. “I am your niece, you would not.”

“Did your mother not marry her uncle, Gevives?” (Beauty)

You flinched at the way his voice dropped when he spoke high valyrian. The situation you were in didn't help either, with Aemond’s whole body weight on top of you but enough to not crush you. The room elevated with tension as you opened your mouth to protest but a knock on the door interrupted you both.

“Come in.”

The door parted, revealing Sylvie along with a cloth in her hand and a bucket of clean water.

“Leave it on the table.” Aemond commanded, not paying her any mind and the woman obliged before leaving the room.

Your uncle reached for the cloth, soaking it into the water. You struggled, squirming in his tenacious grip and all Aemond did was keep his eye on you while he soaked the fabric fully into the water. Once it was soaked enough, he pulled it out and leaned down, face only a few inches apart from yours. Your breath got stuck in your throat.

He swiped the cloth over the blood stains on your collarbones, gently and carefully. The action itself caused arousal to pool in your cunt, your thighs squeezing together and Aemond felt it. He let out a breath, sending it to tingle your skin and you gasped out at how close he was to you.

“The idea of someone else's blood on you vexes me.” Aemond confessed, moving the fabric down to the cups of your small shoulders. He swiped it across the skin, watching as your skin became free from the taints of filth.

You licked your lips, breath ragged. “You have gone insane, Uncle.”

“I have, maybe I truly have.” Aemond’s eye was focused on the sharp bone embedded in your skin, known as your collarbone. His desires were taking the best of him and he hated himself for it. You were his niece, the same little girl who took his fucking eye out and is now his enemy — the same girl who would betray him in a heartbeat for her mother.

Abandon him for her pretender of a mother.

Yet the man did not care enough to stop whatever he was doing.

“How will you take something more precious when it is painfully obvious who is the more experienced brother, according to the rumors of the Keep.” You hissed and Aemond inhaled, a serpent you'd become in such a short span. Aemond stopped cleaning your skin, since he was finished and tossed the fabric aside.

His fingers clamped around your chin. “Keep your mouth fucking shut. You are only tempting me, niece.”

It was obviously a warning but you could not back out, not when you had held hostility all your life towards him. “For all I know, I am not even of your nature. I have heard you like them older, my Prince.” A mischievous smirk ceased your features. It was all a facade to come off strong. “Like her. Is she the one you visit in brothels? You know her too well.”

“Shut your fucking mouth before I shove my cock in it. Would you like that, hm? You're probably a pathetic little slut exactly like your mother.” Aemond threatened, suppressing the urge to strike his hand over your cheek. His grip on your chin tightened, his fingers craning your face up as his breath mingled with yours.

“How sad that the one who is putting all his effort in winning the war was never bound to get the throne nor become the object of his mother's affections.” You taunted and that hit Aemond where you wanted it to hit. “How does it feel, Uncle? To not receive an ounce of love from both your father and mother.”

“At least I am not a bastard.” He spat, and you knew that was coming. It was their one valid argument after all. “I might be a bastard but both my mother and father cherish me, love me, for who I was, for what I am. You are a sad, pathetic case.”

Aemond’s hand moved to your hair, grabbing a fistful of it and pulling you over to the bed to toss you on it like some ragdoll. You gasped when your frail body collided against the bed, feeling it bounce a little. Your brows furrowed as you turned around to face him but Aemond was already standing before you, his knee dipping into the bed.

“Let’s see if that mouth of yours can still produce coherent words when I am fucking your sweet cunt.” Breath uneven and lips shuddering, you stared at him as he pushed aside the curtains of the bed and maneuvered inside, crawling on top of you.

You tried to run, a feeble and failed attempt at escaping from the dragon you had awakened. Aemond locked you in place by one hand around your leg, pinning you down against the bed. His harsh actions made you miss the man in who's arms you had cried and how gently he held you, like you were a lover and not the one he despised the most.

“Even though you never apologized, I forgive you.” He whispered, reaching for his eye and removing the patch to reveal the familiar sapphire again. A reminder of the events that took place between you two.

You felt horrible, guilt overpowering and over consuming. “You threatened me with a stone. I was only protecting myself and my brother.”

“You humiliated me, at every chance you and that bastard brother of yours got. Were the indignities caused by my brother not enough that you two had to join in?” His tone was almost sad and you realized how awfully you had been to him, all for the sake of momentarily fun. The picture from his side was painted cruelly and your lips shivered.

Was apologizing going to be enough?

Is it going to be enough when your uncle was on top of you, about to commit the most vilest of crime.

“I'm sorry.” Came a wholehearted whisper from you, a sad expression adorning your face. “It is not enough to bring your eye back or take back everything and you do not have—”

“I told you, I forgive you.” He said, his hand cupping your shoulder, fingers tugging underneath the sleeve hanging around your arm. “But you must be punished. You must face the consequences of your own actions.”

“Uncle, we were children.” You attempted to justify but that was like sprinkle of fuel to the fire.

Aemond pulled your sleeve, causing it to rip and your eyes widened in horror. His other hand ripped the other sleeve as he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your lips. You were not only terrified but weirdly aroused too. Your uncle's anger was obvious but the subtle change between his rough tugs and gentle kisses left you light headed as well as overwhelmed. You breathed in, and then released it, in hopes that he would calm down but Aemond was too far gone.

“Uncle, stop it.” He tried to push at his chest.

Aemond grabbed your wrists, locking them over his chest. “I will only stop once I put a silver haired bastard inside you.”

“Fucking me in a whorehouse, putting a bastard in me. You have truly planned this out, no?” You said, putting up a strong facade but deep down you were scared. You did not wish to give birth to a bastard, knowing you yourself were one. Born out of wedlock to your mother and her guard, sir Harwin strong.

You knew how badly were they treated and the thought of giving birth to one pained you.

“Would you be so cruel to put a babe in me and then abandon it?” You asked — staring up at him with glossy eyes. You writhed in his hold but to no avail as his one hand clamped over your wrist while the other moved to tug at your neckline, causing your breasts to spill out.

Aemond hissed. He'd realized you had grown now and you were not the same little girl who helped his brother make his life a living hell. Your nipples rosy and hardened and he sighed, fondling the plush fat. “The image of you walking around dragonstone with my silver haired bastard tugging at the skirt of your dress, demanding attention. A reminder of what his father did to you swells my cock.”

“Get off me. You're fucking mad if you think I would carry your children.” Your endeavors to fight him were a lost cause, trying to land punches at his chest but they were gone in vain. Aemond had control, he had power over you by being stronger, more muscular. “I will drink moon tea. You cannot force me to have your child."

“Then I must keep you here and breed you every single night until you are swollen with my babe.”

He got off you and flipped you on your stomach, hands covetously ripping apart the expensive chiffon dress, revealing your bare back. Your small shoulders trembling and chills dancing down the small of your back when the cold air brushed against your skin.

“Stop it.” It came out muffled as Aemond buried your face into the mattress.

Not only had he intended to fuck you, he was going to do it like you were some common whore. Either taking you on your back or on your stomach. You bit back a soft cry as his fingertips danced across your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Tears glossed your vision and you let out a tentative whimper when his hand groped a handful of your plush ass.

“It is time to pay the consequences of your actions, Bastard.” Aemond’s words were hoarse making you flinch.

He had locked you in place with his own body and soon enough he also stripped himself off his attire. You could not see, but you could hear the metallic jingling of his sword and dagger against one another, his belt and briefs shuffling together. Aemond’s hand flew back to grip your nape, forcing your face deeper into the pillow.

Your body was not fully bare as his, some aspects still covered by the tethered pieces of fabric.

Aemond reached over and hoisted you up into his arms, pushing your body on your palms and knees. Despite your struggle and continuous objection, he still managed to put you in the most degrading position ever. You were like a fucking animal — ass pushed out for him and the tears finally fell. His fingers dug into the side of your hips, holding you in place.

“I hate you, I fucking hate you.”

Your constant expressions of your loathsome did not bother Aemond in the slightest. Your mouth did not matter to him, it was your cunt that did. He didn't even mind to prepare you, all he did was align his hardened leaking tip at your soaked hole and pushed. Loud grunts and high pitched whimpers tore through you both as you felt him breach your maidenhead and defile you with determination. Bittersweet pain had blossomed in between your thighs, your cunt a bleeding mess but Aemond continued, pushing his cock furthermore until he was fully sheathed inside your walls.

“The cunt of a bastard is surely more pleasurable than a whore's. I shouldn't let you go to dragonstone, I should make you my personal little whore. For me to use and breed.”

Your cries of pain and broken sobs did not falter him as he relished them — enjoying the way your hiccups sounded. Frail and light, allowing him to have the pleasure of revenge he was denied off all his life. But not anymore, as he had you right where he wanted. This humiliation was much better than taking your eye out.

“A-Aemond,” you sobbed mindlessly, trying to wriggle out of his grasp which lead it to grow firmer. “hurts, please it hurts. Be gentle, please for the Gods.”

You knew that begging him to stop was futile but maybe if you begged enough for him to be gentle, he would be kind enough to not ravage you like some beast. Your broken little sobs worked in your favor as Aemond allowed you a few moments to adjust to the sheer size of his manhood, as he had forgiven you after all.

He did not loathe you.

He only wished for consequences, for revenge.

This was it.

Aemond lowered his face next to your ears, taut chest pressed over your sweaty spine as he whispered in your ear. “If I don't take you now, I would continue to harbor ill intentions for you. This is for the best.”

It was all a lie, a way to manipulate you.

You nodded, finally succumbing and Aemond felt a strong overwhelming sense of victory wash over him.

He slowly pulled out of you before drilling back inside you, repeatedly and over the course of him pummeling his cock inside you, you became a writhing, blubbering mess. It was too much for your little body as Aemond continuously fucked his cock into you. Built like him it was. Long, slender and you'd assumed it was as beautiful as him too.

Your hands were let go from their tight hold and you found them buried into the soft sheets, fingers intertwined with the pale pillows and sheets. Each thrust sent your body forwards and you whined, feeling his cock head bruise your cervix, aiming upwards for that perfect spot of yours.

“Oh!” Your eyes rolled back to your skull at one particular thrust, feeling him hit an area unexplored.

Aemond’s brows creased together, realizing he had finally found the sweet spot he was hunting for. His movement grew relentless, in fast, deep drills he abused that sensitive area as he watched you ascend deeper into the stairs to heaven. Your knuckles had gone white from the strong hold and your knees shivered from Aemond’s force.

“If you'd given yourself up to me like this, I would not have had to hunt you to satisfy my thirst for revenge.” Aemond panted, his words accompanied by loud striking sounds of skin meeting skin. “You should have visited my chambers when you took my fucking eye out. Should have stripped naked, spread your legs for me to take your sweet cunt.”

“Please, stop,” came a broken murmur from you, wishing to forget about that god forsaken night. “d–didn't want to do it, didn't want to hurt you. I was scared, was terrified of Vhagar.”

“But you did. You took out my eye, left me hideous.” Aemond had always felt monstrous, empty and incomplete. These feelings were all gifted by you and now he wanted you to feel the same.

Left incomplete, defiled and empty.

Aemond’s hand moved down to grab a fistful of your hair from the roots, pulling up until you two were one body. His chest over your spine, as he fucked himself into you, deep and vigorous strokes. Tears streamed in tiny rivulets down your face, as Aemond circled another arm around your breasts, holding you in place to fuck you like you were some doll made for his sickly pleasures.

You made the grave mistake of moving your head and found him already staring at you. Lips parted, letting out breathless little pants and the sapphire danced in his empty socket, a reminder of your actions. He saw you, close and noticed all the features littered across your face. The freckles over your nose, the dark strands clinging to your perspired forehead and the way your nose scrunched up whenever he thrusted inside you. Gods, you were a heavenly sight, one that only he was fortunate enough to witness.

Aemond fought back the urge to claim your lips in a kiss — that action too intimate, than using your cunt to satisfy his hunger.

But eventually caved in as he took your lips into an aggressive lock, a firm kiss it was. He bite and licked at your lips, shoving a wet tongue past the pair and slithering inside like a snake. You whined, hoping that he would slow down but Aemond devoured you like a starved mad man. Teeth clashing with teeth, tongue battling with tongue, he swallowed all the little sounds you produced. His gruesome kiss had left you lightheaded when he pulled back to look at you.

In a daze you appeared.

Aemond stared at your swollen lips while you gazed upon his lips, dumbfounded and taken aback by his sudden desire to kiss you like a beast.

“I-I don't find you hideous.” It was a whimper but it caused his thrusts to stall, coming to a halt. He stared at you, surprised by your words and his stomach burned in anticipation knowing well enough you would say something worse.

But what you said next left him astonished and with a newly ignited desire. “I think you're.. pretty, prettier than Aegon.”

You couldn't compare him to your brothers as the famous targaryen features were not shared amongst them but Aegon had the same features as Aemond yet you have always found him the most prettiest Targaryen man ever. He was slim, but not in a bad way — he had the right amount of muscles and perfect height. Aemond possessed the type of beauty which did not decrease by losing an eye.

“A lie.” He growled, shaking his head.

You looked at him with the most innocent doe eyes. “I mean it. Losing an eye did not make you hideous, Aemond. You are still as beautiful as ever.”

He didn't respond and his impassive face told you that he was not phased by your genuine words but Aemond felt fucking butterflies nip at his stomach. His cock hardened even more if that were possible and he dropped you on the bed, continuing his assault. His hips snapped deliberately inside you, with newfound vigor and strength. You gasped out, your gummy walls tightening around his length as he drilled his cock inside you.

The compliment, the validation he'd received from you and how genuine it was — it drove him mad. Even his own mother failed to comfort him but you, the fucking preparator out of all people managed to. It angered him but also soothed over the burn you'd left.

Aemond felt his peak near, dancing around him and soon he reached it — his hips stuttering and his hot seed spurting inside you in ropes. “Fuck, fuck. I should fill you up and leave you here. A fucking whore with a Targaryen bastard.” You felt him taint your insides, leaving a mark that would always linger like how you'd left a scar on his face. Feeling his seed fill you up, you also unravelled as Aemond fucked the hot fluid into your womb, making sure you end up with a babe of his own.

Your eyes saw white and your thighs twitched, knees giving out and body finally colliding into the sheets. Yet Aemond continued thrusting, the wet squelching sound of your peak mixed with his grossing you out. Your tears had dried so more were released, going the same route as the ones from before.

You couldn't even resist anymore, nor rebel.

Aemond pulled his softened cock out of you and watched as your destroyed, gaping hole threw up his spent. It was hot and he shuddered at the thought of you swollen with his child.

He should've hated the idea of your breasts leaking with milk for his babe, swollen and peaked but instead he found himself aching to witness it in real life, not some fucked up imagination. He couldn't take you, as badly as he wished to. You were not his to keep but he was letting you go with a piece of him inside your womb.

He laid with you, but you'd not expected him to lay an arm over your small waist. Your body spent and completely frail from his monstrosity but Aemond wished for more, he craved more yet he gave you time to rejuvenate and collect yourself.

“Did you mean it?”

You raised your gaze at him, bemused.

“A-About me, being pretty. Did you mean it or was that also to deceive me?” He asked, failing to make eye contact. He stared ahead at the ceiling and you nodded your head slowly, throat parched. “I did. I would not lie about that.”

His chest swell up with an unfathomable feeling, something beyond his own understanding as he pulled you closer to him, subconsciously. Aemond was in a dilemma, confused about what had to be done. He wanted to be more cruel, more horrible but it was not in him to show you more cruelty than you deserved.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hi, can you write a Cregan Stark x Velaryon reader where the reader is the youngest daughter of Rhaenys and Corlys, she is the rider of the Cannibal, she finds out about her mother’s death through a Raven and Cregan comforts her, she nearly breaks down in rage similar to rhaenrya

Request: Being the daughter of Rhaenys and married to Cregan Stark

I had a few requests of the same genre (Lucerys's death, Rhaenyra's deah), but I decided to go with this one as I rarely write for Rhaenys and Corlys' children!Reader

Warnings: mention of death (spoilers for Rhaenys' fate), grief

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Leaving Driftmark for the North after marrying the Lord of the North came with a lot of changes. The weather, for instance, was much different. Driftmark was windy and cold due to the Blackwater Bay, but the North was just cold. And it was always snowing. Even in the summer. 

You landed your dragon in the courtyard of Winterfell, the cold air biting through your riding cloak. Cannibal’s warm breath created brief clouds of steam as he settled, his scales glistening with a thin layer of frost. Around you, Northerners scurried away with looks of terror on their faces. 

In their defense, Cannibal was imposing and scary. With his pitch-black scales, glowing green eyes and the jagged spines that ran down his back; he was a beast from children’s nightmares.

‘’Winter is coming, my Lady,’’ Cregan reminded as you dismounted, sliding down from Cannibal. ‘’In two moons, the snow will be so intense that you will be unable to see Winterfell from the skies.’’

You grimaced, not looking forward to that time. ‘’Do not remind me.’’ 

Cregan chuckled, and Cannibal took to the skies again. ‘’A raven came from Castle Black about troubles. Wildlings trespassing.’’ 

‘’When are you leaving?’’ you asked, knowing what it meant. 

It always saddened you whenever he would leave for the Wall. The journey was eighteen days, and his return was uncertain. But Cregan was the Warden of the North. Protecting the realm from what was beyond the Wall was his duty.

‘’In the morrow. A hundred men are making the journey,’’ he informed, walking alongside you towards the doors of the castle where a hot bath was waiting for you in your chambers. ‘’Winterfell will be in your command while I am away.’’ 

You never wished to take the succession of Driftmark, but you enjoyed your position as Lady of Winterfell. It came with responsibilities, but not too many that you couldn’t be a dragonrider. You took a pleasure being called ‘Lady Stark’. 

‘’The nights are colder without you,’’ you said, curling your arm around Cregan’s. 

‘’And the nights are longer and more lonely without you, my love,’’ he responded, pulling you in by your waist and leaning down to kiss you. 

The kiss was short-lived as you were interrupted by a fellow northmen. 

‘’My Lord,’’ he said, holding a small roll of parchemin. ‘’A raven has arrived. Urgent news from Dragonstone.’’ 

Cregan took the rolled parchemin and unrolled it. You watched as he read, the loving smile from seconds ago washing off his face. 

Something has happened. 

In his life, Cregan has had many bad news to deliver, but the one he just received was one he never wanted to tell you. He knew it would crush you. 

He rolled the parchemin back and didn’t speak until you reached your chambers. 

‘’What did the message say?’’ you asked, worry settling in your guts. Was it the Queen? Or your nieces? ‘’Cregan, you must tell me.’’

‘’My Lady,’’ he began, his eyes somber as he looked down at you. ‘’The Princess Rhaenys has perished with her dragon Meleys at Rook’s Rest. She got caught into a trap set by Aegon and Aemond. The Queen sends you her deepest condolences.’’ 

In that moment, the world around you seemed to turn to a blur as you processed Cregan’s words. Your mother was dead. The news felt like a punch to the gut, a knife to the heart, and you stumbled backwards. Cregan’s hand gripped your elbow, steadying you from falling over. His touch was firm but not tight, his large hand easily keeping you upright. He could see the shock and pain in your face, and his heart ached for you in that moment. 

Years ago, he too dealt with the loss of a parent — his father. He had been three and ten, but he remembered the pain and grief he had felt then. 

Cregan watched you, waiting for the moment you would break down in tears, but you never did. Instead, your jaw clenched and you straightened yourself. 

‘’Where are you going?’’ he asked in concern, watching as you walked toward the door. 

‘’To King’s Landing,’’ you replied, your voice steady and cold. ‘’I’m going to burn the Greens to a crisp. They are about to face the rage of a dragon.’’

—

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[ireneispunk]

Pride, the Wolf, and the Dragon

Jacaerys Velaryon & Cregan Stark x female reader smut (King's Landing Handmaiden)

You were a sight to behold, merely a handmaiden yet you could command a room. And grasp the attention of a prince and a lord... on the same night?

request: (anon) 'Saw your requests are open, what about dark dom jace x sub brat reader or a threesome with the same as before but with cregan too which they're dark dom but still obsessive I don't know how these too can make sense but I hope you got my point'

w.c: 4537

c.w: canon divergent (blacks won and it is set after the dance, rhaenyra sits the iron throne, basically just did it to have everyone in one place), threesome!!! woop woop, p in v sex, oral (m & f receiving), light choking, spanking, overstimulation, dirty talk, NO use of y/n, as usual no specific features mentioned - let me know if i've missed any!

a.n: i've never wrote for cregan before but im supper happy with this! other requests made are about half done for those waiting ♡

dividers: @v6que ♡

You let out another fake giggle as yet another wealthy man bided for your attention. This type of thing always happened on big occasions, and today certainly was one. Lucerys and Rhaena’s wedding was no small occasion, every lord and lady who had supported Rhaenyra’s claim was here. I mean hells, that’s why you even had the opportunity you did. You weren’t low born, but handmaiden to the queen was a role very much reserved for high born girls. You father had risked his own life, and your families, to help Ser Erryk back into King’s Landing with a secret route he knew through Tumbleton. This job had provided you with a home in quarters you could’ve only dreamed of, and the opportunity to be around the prince. Your fingers grazed across your skin to fiddle with your necklace, you smiled up at the man in front of you, laying on your charm. Despite entertaining his dull conversation and even duller jokes for the past half an hour, you certainly did not care for him. You took advantage of the man’s position in society and every once in a while, you stared beyond his shoulder to see the prince of Dragonstone burning holes into his back. Tonight, however, was different. Not only had you caught they eye of one prince Jacaerys, but his friend from The North, Lord Stark. You could not deny the beauty the two of them shared, handsome, strong features, large frames and eyes that looked as if they wanted to consume you. The few times you looked their way, as to avoid suspicion, they occasionally whispered to one another. A small look caught your eye from your queen, Rhaenyra. You excused yourself from the conversation and walked to the other side of the great hall to where Rhaenyra and Daemon sat. From the opposite side of the table, you felt a gaze upon you, but you did not do the favour of glancing upon them.

You reached Rhaenyra’s side bowing your head before she whispered to you, “Has Lucerys’ chambers been prepared?” She seemed uncomfortable at the request.

You nodded as you said, “Yes, your grace. I can return? And make sure it is still perfect?”. She shook her head, as Daemon placed a hand upon her’s.

“No that won’t be necessary, you have done so much for us today. Feel free to keep enjoying the celebrations,” She paused to look over to her eldest son and the Lord Stark. “Though I believe there are still some who await your acquaintance.” Your mouth formed into a small ‘o’ shape before nodding. You took your leave and turned to face towards the prince and the lord. Both had already been starring at you, Jacaerys averted his gaze whilst the Stark stared you down. Once you stood opposite them at the table you gave the prince a small curtsy, before turning to Cregan and dipping into a deeper curtsey whilst maintaining eye contact with him. He raised his brow, not used to being looked in the eye by such a sweet looking girl. “Your grace. My Lord Stark, I am pleased to meet you.” You spoke confidently, introducing your name and admired the length of his arms that were visible from his rolled sleeves, “It appears the warm climate agrees with you, my lord.” This was one of your favourite hobbies, you couldn’t deny it. Compliment lords see how they respond, speak almost out of turn but not enough to turn any heads. Jacaerys’ grip on his cup tightened at your remark. For weeks since you had worked there you had tortured him. Wearing those barely there handmaiden’s dresses, the obsessive eye contact, compliments unbefitting of a lady he was not courting, drawing his baths, and offering your assistance. Everyday it was a struggle to not rip your dress from you and fuck you in front of everyone like you seemed to desire. He loathed any sort of gathering because he knew your beauty and charm would attract the attention you deserve.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a large smack across the back from his Stark friend. “Where have you been hiding this one Jace?” He exclaimed with a laugh.

You smiled slightly, “Perhaps my lord has not been searching hard enough, enjoy the rest of the celebrations.” You smirked, turning on your heel and stepping down the stone stairs. A bewildered look flashed across Cregan’s face, as Jacaerys shot him a ‘now you know’ look. You were stopped by a rather handsome man on your way past the dancing pairs, you declined his offer to dance and made your way to the other maidens who erupted into quiet chatter, asking you about what the Stark had said.

Your final task of the night had been escorting Rhaena to Lucerys’ chambers. You held her hands in yours and promised her she would be okay, you boasted of Lucerys’ sweet nature and gave her hand a quick squeeze before stepping back behind the corner. You watched as she knocked on the door, before it opened, and she disappeared inside. You smiled to yourself as you turned to head down the corridor before coming face to face with the tall northern man once more. You gasped, raising your hand to your heart. A small chuckle left his lips as he eyed you. He did not know you all that well, but this felt like a rare feat, to catch you off of yours. “My lord, you startled me. Is there something I can help you with?” You looked at him and watched as his eyes shamelessly travelled down your body, lingering on every curve.

“Ah, yes, my lady. I appear to have gotten turned around from my chambers, and I’d hate for those fancy baths these lot make go cold.” You raised a brow at him. Sure, the Red Keep was busy, with windy corridors, but it was a fairly straightforward route from the great hall to the guest’s chambers.

You gestured with your hand to follow him the way he came, “Of course, my lord. Though you do not need to use such honorifics with me, I am not a lady of anything.” He sensed a strange proudness in your lack of title. Cregan was used to people fighting to get the next best thing, yet you were content with your lack of status.

He thought for a moment, before responding. “Then how may I refer to you?”

“However his lord desires.” You spoke with purpose, but never harshly. Every second he had of you intrigued him more.

Once you had reached the familiar door in which Cregan was given a few days prior, you placed your hands behind your back and watched him. He stepped by you and pushed the door open, he leaned against the door frame and eyed you. “So.” You watched him, waiting for him to continue. “Do you have anymore handmaiden duties for the night? Or are you available for me?” A smile tugged at your lips as you thought for a moment.

“Mmm, that depends, why do you wish to know?” Your arms folded over your chest.

He chuckled, “I’ve never had to try this hard to get a pretty girl to have a drink with me.”

You raised your brow, “Most men just ask.” He brought a hand to his chin and rubbed it against the scruff. Just as he was about to respond, someone speaking caught your attention.

“It is getting late your grace is there something you need?” You recognised one of the servants voicing out from around the corner. Out of curiosity, you stepped back to see who it was and there stood the prince himself. He looked away from you when he met your gaze.

“I will come in for a cup of wine. Just one.” Cregan’s face lit up, stepping to the side to allow you to step inside. Your eyes narrowed at the lit fire, the flames still tall. You heard the clanking of a belt and the shuffling of clothes before turning back around to Cregan. You jaw dropped slightly at the sight of him completely nude and making his way over to the bathtub in the room. Your eyes absorbed every inch of him, admiring each defined muscle, every scar, the dark hair that tufted around his chest.

You pulled your gaze away and turned to face the wall. “My lord this is not appropriate.” You voice quivered ever so sightly as heat rose to your cheeks.

“Neither is staring.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “But why waste a perfectly good bath.” You heard water slosh around as he sank into the tub. “Turn around.” Your core lit up at the sternness in his voice.

You turned to face him now that he was submerged, only his upper torso out of the water. He leaned back into the tub, sighing out as he brought his arms to rest on the sides. “Wine?” He questioned. You looked at him with a puzzled look but nodded your head. He gestured over to small table and chairs that had a jug and a few cups upon it. You made your way over, feeling his gaze locked onto you.

“When you invited me in, I thought it might be you fetching the wine.” You grasped two of the cups and the jug before turning to face him.

“Ah, well. It seemed easier to get my own clothes off first.” You raised a brow and walked over to him. You kept your eyes on his face, avoiding what was beneath the water. You used your foot to slide over a cushioned stool towards the side of the bath and sat upon it. You met his gaze once more, now eye level with him. You held out a cup to him and watched his fingers lace around it. Picking up the jug in your hands you steadily poured into the cup, before moving onto your own. You were about to take a sip from yours before he stopped you to clink cups. He did so as if you were another harsh northern man causing the liquid in your cup to slosh backwards and land over your arm and into your lap. You gasped and looked up at him with a shocked look on your face. He laughed heartily at your expression and took a sip of his wine. He heard as your cup clinked against the floor, “You may clean up with me if you wish.” He smirked, placing his cup on the ground, and gesturing to the bath. You stomach tightened at the thought of it but rose to your feet with a hum. He moved slighted and raised his hand up to you. “Stay, please. No more win spilling.” His damned handsome face spread a warmth across your body. You exhaled before taking his hand.

All of a sudden you felt him pull you down, landing bum first into the bath with a big splash that threw water over the sides. You let out a small scream feeling yourself become soaked in water. You yelled at him, splashing his face with the water in annoyance before the door suddenly opening caused his laughter and your screaming to cease. You turned around to see a very angry, then confused, then embarrassed Jacaerys. Your heart dropped as you scrambled to your feet out of the bath, you slipped slightly on the wet floor before stepping towards him. “Y-your grace!” You exclaimed, you felt exposed, the thin material of your dress completely soaked through and clinging to every inch of your body. His eyes darted between you and Cregan.

“I heard a scream, and thought I recognised it. My apologies.” He was about to turn to walk away before Cregan got up out of the tub. Jacaerys eyes widened before hastily shutting the door. Jacaerys kept his eyes firmly on the wall behind you, worrying that if his pants got any tighter it’d be noticeable. For once, you were speechless, unable to form a thought, let alone communicate it. “C’mon Jace, this is exactly how you wanted her. Naked- well almost, needy. I know she’s needy just at the sight of you.” His voice rung out from behind you. “I know you didn’t imagine sharing,” He inhaled sharply through his teeth, as his fingers grazed over your shoulder to pull your hair behind you. “But she’s definitely one who needs two cocks to put her in her place.” You face flushed, as you felt a new wetness in between your legs as Cregan’s hands sat upon your shoulders, rubbing small circles with his thumb. Jacaerys finally brought his gaze to you, he eyed your face before devouring ever inch of your body. His throat bobbed as he walked to face you.

“Tell me what you want.” He spoke as he locked onto your eyes. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, feeling as if you were in a dream.

“I want you,” You spoke softly. “Both of you.” You clarified, looking back over your shoulder to meet Cregan’s eyes.

His large hand rested on your jaw, tilting it up towards him. A shaky breath escaped your lips as his hand trailed down and rested upon your neck, his thumb tracing your throat. Cregan turned your head to face Jacaerys, his jaw was tensed, fists clenched at his sides and eyes filled with hunger. Your body burned hot, Cregan’s body pressed against you, his hard cock pressed above your ass. His grip on your jaw tightened slightly. His lips grazed against your neck up to your ear. “Undress his grace,” Your heart buzzed as Jacaerys’ eyes finally tore away from yours to fleet to Cregan’s for a second before returning to you. You swallowed, feeling smaller and smaller as the seconds passed. “Go on, like a good serving girl.” Cregan’s voice dripped with lust. Your hands made their way onto Jacaerys’ chest, he stiffened under your touch. Your fingers traced along the three headed dragon pin that held his jacket together before unpinning it and letting the jacket fall open at his chest. Cregan’s hands never once left you, tracing up and down your sides of your soaked dress, lips occasionally finding your neck or shoulder. Your eyes travelled down to the belt that decorated his waist and kept you from seeing him. You unhooked it, and pulled it from him, allowing it to clatter to the ground. Your hands pushed his coat from his shoulders and down his arms, revealing a thin cotton shirt. His throat bobbed as your hands traced to his waistband, pulling his shirt up slowly over his head. You hand instinctively touched against his chest, admiring each definition and feeling his skin burn beneath your fingertips. “I told you she’s fucking needy for you.” Cregan’s words flushed your face. Jacaerys eyed you, raising a brow to question him. You nodded lightly feeling overwhelmed with the tightening in your stomach, Cregan’s hands exploring your sides, and Jacaerys watching you like you were his prey. Jacaerys picked up your hand in his and placed a small kiss against it before placing your palm against the bulge in his trousers. Jacaerys’ hand reached your jaw, his thumb traced along your lip as his brows furrowed from your touch.

His fingers were soft, and his touch more delicate than Cregan’s, as he tilted your face to the side as if he were finally able to appreciate every inch of your beauty. His eyes flashed behind yours towards Cregan before you were being led over towards the bed. Jacaerys sat first on the end of the bed, pulling you by your hips to stand between his legs. His palm ran from your stomach, through the valley between your breasts and he rested his fingertips upon your lips while he thought for a moment. “Take off her dress, wouldn’t want the poor thing getting cold.” Your thighs instinctively pressed together. You’d never heard Jacaerys speak in a tone like this, but it was certainly a welcomed surprise. You felt the large hands of the Stark trail up your exposed back to the tie of your haltered dress. One movement later the dress was pulled over your chest and over your hips and dropped to the ground. You felt a cool chill over your exposed skin as Cregan took your hand in is. He pulled you around in a circle, admiring each curve of your form as he did so. A small ‘gods’ mumbled from his lips as he watched you. You gasped as his hands travelled round to your front, taking your breasts into his hands. Jacaerys leaned back slightly to admire you, his fingers absentmindedly rubbing your inner thighs. Your eyes screwed shut as Cregan’s fingers played with your nipples and his lips attached to your neck. “I want her coming on my tongue first.” Your eyes shot open to watch Jacaerys, a small smile playing at his lips. You opened your mouth to say something before Cregan shushed you.

“You heard the prince.” Cregan instructed. You gulped lightly, watching Jacaerys lay back upon the bed, his head of curls hitting the pillows. Cregan held your hand pulling you onto the bed. He watched as you crawled over to Jace, his hand landing on your ass with a harsh slap, causing a yelp to leave your lips.

His hand pushed you closer over Jacaerys until you were straddling his chest. Jacaerys’ hands looped over your thighs to bring your core to his face. His smirk disappeared under your mound as his lips placed small kisses on your thighs. Cregan sat beside you and guided your hand to his cock. He hissed as your hand wrapped around it and began slowly pumping it up and down. You felt as Jacaerys licked a long stripe from your core to your sensitive clit, tasting and collecting your wetness on his tongue. You almost flinched at the sensation, your hand flying up to grip the headboard. A loud moan left your lips as his tongue teased your entrance, before delving in and out of it. Cregan turned your face to him, a groan leaving his lips seeing yours screwed up in pleasure. Your hand continued to pump his cock, enjoying feeling it twitch beneath your hand when your thumb grazed the tip. You jaw dropped at the feeling of Jacaery’s tongue massaging your clit. A flurry of moans left your mouth as his lips latched onto it causing your hips to rut into his face and that familiar tightness to return to your stomach. Cregan’s thumb pulled on your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth and gliding across your tongue. You moans were supressed by Cregan’s thumb as you sucked upon it, a satisfied smirk plastering his face as your eyes fell back behind your lids. His thumb left your mouth with a pop as his hand returned to your throat. Your hand moved quicker on his cock as Jacaerys tongue worked on your clit. “You should thank his grace for his hard work, pleasing you with his tongue like this.” Cregan spoke close to a whisper, well, as close to a whisper as the Northern man could get to.

You whimpered in response, unable to form words being on the precipice of your orgasm. Cregan’s hand squeezed lightly against your throat, his rough fingers grazing your soft flesh. “Use your words when spoken to.” His tone was harsh in a way that flushed your cheeks.

“T-thank you, my prince, for kissing me.” The words fought to escape your lips as all you felt you could do was moan. Your praise causes a groan to fall from his mouth that vibrated upon your clit and fuelled him to massage it at an unbearable pace with his tongue. Your nails dug into the headboard, as your other hand left Cregan’s cock to grip his forearm that held your neck. A flurry of moans left your lips as your orgasm erupted from within you. Your thighs quivered as Jacaerys’ tongue broadly licked you through your high. A large whimper left you lips from the overstimulation causing Jacaerys to place a final kiss upon your clit. You panted as you shuffled down back to straddle his waist. Jacaerys leaned up on his elbows to see you, his hair was dishevelled, his lips plump and coated in your arousal. You leaned forward and tentatively placed a kiss on the side of his mouth, before brushing your lips against his. Your tongue swiped over his lips, tasting your wetness. You gasped as your hips were gripped and you were pulled further down on the bed onto all fours. Jacaerys smirked as you were level with his cock, his pants becoming impossibly tight.

Cregan’s fingers teased the entrance of your pussy as he leaned forward to you, “Gods Jace, she’s soaked.” Your cheeks flushed as you looked away slightly. Jacaerys’ hand found your cheek and turned you to face him.

“I want to watch as he fucks you.” He smiled slightly; his words contradicting the sweet look upon his face. A whimper left your lips as you felt Cregan’s cock rub between your folds and occasionally hitting your sensitive clit. You watched in anticipation as Jacaerys undid the tie of his trousers and pulled them down enough for his cock to spring free. It was huge and dripped with an inviting bead of precum.

Just as your lips were about to touch Jacaerys’ cock, Cregan thrusted into you, bottoming out almost immediately. You clenched at the full feeling, your eyes screwed shut as you let out a half yelp half moan. Once his pace became regular you opened your eyes to see Jace stroking his cock at the sight of you. You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, begging for his cock. He obliged and groaned at the sight and sensation of the tip hitting your tongue. With both of your hands propping you up on all fours you took him into your mouth bobbing up and down on the tip and massaging the underside with your tongue. You couldn’t help but moan onto his cock with the feeling of Cregan pounding into you, his length hitting a soft spot inside of you you’d never felt before. Cregan’s hands went from peppering small slaps across your ass to kneading it with his large hands. Jacaerys’ hand made its way to your hair and took a fistful of it. He was gentle as his guided your mouth further down his cock. He moaned loudly as it glided across your tongue and hit the back of your throat. The familiar pressure began to build up in your stomach, and as if he read your mind, Cregan’s pace quickened. Both of his hands gripped into your hips, snapping into you, and pushing against your sweet spot. One of his hands left you hips to reach under your and rub harsh circles into your clit. Your eyes widened as your moans got choked upon Jacaerys’ cock. You tapped the side of his thigh, and he immediately pulled you from his cock, allowing heavy pants to leave your mouth. You cried out a loud ‘fuck’ as you felt your second orgasm wash over you, your pussy clenching tightly over Cregan’s cock. Just as quickly as your orgasm passed your mouth reattached to Jacaerys’ cock, wanting him to enjoy himself too.

A few moments after your peak, Cregan thrusted a few more times before burying his cock deep inside of you and filling you up with his cum. He groaned loudly as his fingertips dug into your skin. He slowly pulled out of you and collapsed onto the bed behind you. Despite the shaking in your legs and your sensitive pussy, you looked up to Jacaerys with an idea. You readjusted to straddle his waist once more and aligned his cock with the entrance of your pussy. Jacaerys looked shocked for a moment before his hungry gaze returned. Your brows furrowed as you slowly slid down onto his cock, trying to readjust for his size. You watched as his head threw back in pleasure as your second cock of the night bottomed out inside of you. You started to move, slowly thrusting yourself upon him. Jacaerys eyes opened to watch you, occasionally looking down to his cock disappearing inside of your pussy that was now overflowing with cum. A loud groan left his lips as he internally cursed himself for not being able to last longer and savour your pussy smothering his cock. He pulled you down by your hair to meet his lips as he kissed you deeply. It was passionate, his tongue leaving little time before it delved into your mouth. You moaned against his lips at the new angle, he was managing to fill you even more. Your thighs shook with overstimulation and Jacaerys noticed before he held your hips at a certain point and began to thrust into you. Your eyes locked with his as you moaned his name. He grunted as his rhythm became erratic before holding your hips down on his cock and as you felt his seed spread within you. You rested your forehead against his as you both regained your breath. His hands ran softly down your back as he pulled his cock from you. You whimpered at the emptiness, before sitting back onto your thighs to relieve the quiver in them as Jacaerys re tied his trousers.

You heard footsteps walk over to the side of the bed, before looking up to see a fully clothed Cregan. You blushed, realising how consumed you had been in the prince to not notice. “Aren’t you both just adorable.” He spoke with a chuckle, as his hand lightly spanked your ass. You shot him a glare, moving to lay beside Jacaerys. “Easy,” Cregan spoke raising his palm. “I though you were the fire breathing dragon.” He smirked gesturing to Jacaerys. Jacaerys, turned his head down to face you, before returning a shrug to Cregan with a smile. Cregan laughed, waving you off before making his way to the door. “Sleep tight, lovers.” He smiled to himself as his hand gripped the doorhandle.

“Wait! But this is your room?” You questioned, leaning up from the bed.

He shot you a grin, “I heard the prince’s chambers have become available.” He shot you both a wink before disappearing into the corridor. You hummed in confusion as Jacaerys just smiled.

“You both confuse me.” You hummed, scanning Jacaerys’ face. He raised his arm up and motioned you to lay beside him. You huffed as you cuddled into him, your head upon his chest. He reached for the blanket that had been tossed aside and threw it over you both. His hand landed upon your side, and softly rubbed your waist.

He planted a small kiss upon your head. “I think we both did a good job at showing you what we think of you.” You could hear the smile in his voice as your cheeks flushed. You definitely knew for sure now.

[madame-fear]

Lord of the tides Lucerys x hightower daughter nsfw fic please 🥹

*ೃ༄ 𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄. .ೃ࿐

★ amira speaks ! : honourary thanks to my beta reader and brainstormer @maria699669 for proofreading this and helping me out! (love you, bitchy asshole.) I always clarify just in case: Lucerys is aged up. — summary : many years after not seeing one another, your nephew encounters you at a feast... with your betrothed. And having crushed on one another for such a long time, he doesn’t fancy the idea of you with another man; leaving him with no other choice but to show you who you truly belong to. — word counter : 3.7k

— pairing : lord!lucerys velaryon x hightower/targ!reader — genre : smut.

TW | vaginal sex, jealous sex maybe? creampie, slight dom/sub, slight mentions of breeding kink, dirty talking.

The castle where a feast for Lords, Ladies, Princes and Princesses was being hosted was grand. The room was vastly lit large chandeliers that contained several candles on each of them, accompanying the warming experience of the feast.

Some chatted with one another, and others simply danced with each other rather nimbly, yet joyfully. There you were, as the youngest daughter of King Viserys I and Alicent Hightower, dancing with some Lords, but mainly with your betrothed. Your movements were delicate yet a bit unexperienced, baltering around just for the mere fun of it. Some girly chuckles spurred from your lips, being quite the beauty, as some Lords discreetly fought to hold your hand to dance; despite your future Lord Husband keeping a close eye on each one of them so they would not take you away from him.

Your loose hair and long dress simultaneously swayed smoothly, along your movements. As you were dancing in circles with your betrothed, you briefly let go of his hand to change positions in the dancing. That single second you released it, another hand took hold of youe own, pulling you away from your own betrothed.

“Princess (y/n),” a familiar masculine voice greeted.

Shifting your sight to stare at the young man that had taken you away just to have you dancing with him, you found none other than the now Lord of Driftmark, Lucerys Velaryon. He had overgrown you, since the last time you had seen him. His voice was deeper, he was much taller, and the shy puppy gaze he held on his hazel eyes had faded away to become into a more mature, confident one.

“Prince Luce—” clearing your throat, you interrupted yourself. “Lord Lucerys.” you greeted back, calling him by his new title. “A pleasure to see you around here. Not a surprise, but a pleasure nevertheless.” a smirk grew at the corner of his lips. “Likewise, Princess.” as he responded, his hazel eyes shifted towards your betrothed for a brief moment, just like your own. Your betrothed seemed contempt with the situation, and confused. “Lord Husband, this is my nephew Lord Lucerys.” lucerys gave him a single bow down with his head as you introduced them to one another. The face of the young Lord seemed serious, despite his grin remaining politely on his expression. Luke was not at all satisfied knowing you had already been betrothed, and prone to have heirs in a near future.

“A pleasure to meet you, my Lord.” your betrothed reached out his hand, shaking it with the one of the Lordling of Driftmark. “Likewise to you.” he responded, a bit blatantly cold. “I hope it’s not too much trouble, if I take the hand of my aunt for a moment? We haven’t seen each others for years.” for a brief tense moment, you stared at your betrothed expectantly, awaiting for his answer.

“You may, my Lord.” you swore your body relaxed upon hearing the approval of your betrothed, even releasing a discreet sigh. “I will be chatting with other Lords if you ever need me, my love.” and with one last kiss and a sweet rapid smile, your future husband walked away, smiling at him before rapidly turning towards Luke with an ever greater grin. Incredibly enough, you had to raise your sight to stare at him, unlike a few years ago, that he was your same height, and slightly a few centimeters shorter.

Leaning slightly closer to your ear as he pressed your body against his own, gawking upon the movements of your betrothed that faded away amidst the crowd, he whispered. “I must admit, you look more than lovely tonight.” a small chuckle escaped from your lips, a shiver running across your spine as his hot breath tingled on your skin. “As you do yourself, Lucerys.” you whispered back, fixing your stare on him as he began twirling you around the place. His hazel eyes nearly pierced into your soul, they were captivating. In a teasing manner, his eyes scanned you up and down as both of you danced amidst the great crowd of Lords and Ladies together.

His hands touched you in a delicate manner to move you around, just to guide you with the dancing. “And I must admit, you have also grown more confident than the timid boy you used to be.” the young Lord snickered, tilting his head slightly as his hands travelled to your waist, not very discreetly. “Is there any particular motive of why you say so?” he inquired, lifting one of his hands to slide a strand of hair behind your ear.

A small fluster overtook you, spreading the crimson tint from your cheeks, to the rest of your face. “The way you so abruptly and shamelessly took me away from my Lord Husband just to dance with me and pull me closer to you, it would have been unlikely for you to do so when we were younger.” this time, it was you who whispered into his ear, tiptoeing slightly.

It was no secret that, amidst the war both of your families had and the spiteful tension your brothers had with the Velaryons, Lucerys and you always treated one another kindly. The kind treatment was mostly due to the mutual crush you had on one another, always catching each other discreetly glancing over your direction.

You even remembered how once when Jace had taken your older sister Helaena to dance, Luke immediatly stood up and did the same with you. Even if his dancing movements were a bit clumsily shy and he could barely look into your eyes, notoriously blushing like a little girl, Lucerys always gave you the most delicate of treatments. You were used to hearing compliments from him, and occasionally, Luke would gift you things such as flowers, or jewellery. This time, he seemed to act more flirty around you, and was able to profoundly stare into your eyes.

Both his arms were wrapped around your waist. One of his hand ever so gently rubbed your back, swaying your body around. “Well, had I no right of talking with my aunt? Besides, not only I was aware he was your betrothed, but I suppose it is only fair for me to talk with you once again, after many years of not seeing one another.” a spur of girlish giggles escaped from your lips at his response. You firmly placed your head against his chest, embracing his body with your arms. You had to admit, you were always eager in meeting him, without the rest of your relatives being around. And with him having snarkier and sassier responsed, it only made his company more thrilling.

A few moments of silence loomed over, before he spoke again. “I also have to say, it s pointless to hide the way I always fervently wished to have you with me, this way.” he admitted quietly, making you raise your sight towards him, with furrowed eyebrows. It was just as if Lucerys could read your mind, not caring whether or not both of you were betrothed. Luke gazed down at you, with a smile. He just knew you felt the same way. “Perhaps, we could go somewhere more private, away from this noisy crowd?” his suggestion was dreadfully alluring, near to impossible denying it. After all, it was a bit too loud, and all you desired at the moment was to stay by his side in a quiet ambience where no one could peep at however you moved along one another, or whatever you spoke.

Craning your head slightly to your side, you snickered. “Lead the way, my Lord.” you whispered back, feeling immediatly his hands slide away from your waist, taking only one of your hands, and turning around to walk away. The room was, indeed, an entirely noisy crowd that made a faint headache grow. The Lordling, with you holding his hand, surreptitiously walked among the public, quietly apologising if he stumbled upon anyone. Once you finally managed to escape the uncomfortable amount of people filling the feast, Luke walked you towards one of the doors that lead to the large hallways of the castle.

The raucous noise of laughing and chattering Lords and Ladies became muffled as you left the room, only to leisurely fade away into nothingness. The only noise that ever echoed through the dimly lit halls of the grand castle, with seemingly no guards or maidens nearby, was the sound of your footsteps getting as far away as you could from both the public view, and the loud chatting.

“Lucerys, I think we might finally have some privac—” the Lord released the grip on your hand, only to interrupt you by firmly — yet softly enough to not harm you — pushing you against the wall.

His tall figure shadowed you, making you gulp all the while you raised your eyes to stare at him, furrowing your eyebrows. One of his hands was placed on your waist abruptly, making you quietly yelp in surprise. Before you could lower your gaze to stare at his hand, he used the fingers of his free hand to slide them under your chin, and raise your face. Lucerys carried a smug look on his face, feeling a certain pride overtaking him at having you just as he wished: under his charge.

“You have no idea how much I already despise your betrothed.” he spoke, rather vehemently. Your eyebrows continued furrowed, feeling intimidated by his audacious movements. It was a rather sudden confession, but in all honestly, not one you were surprised to know about, considering you had taken a particular notice of the way he spoke directly and behaved around your future husband. A quivering sigh rolled from your lips, feeling his hand lower and shift your dress upwards, meanwhile his thumb was running across your lower lip in a slow, dominant manner.

“We can’t pretend to not have noticed, we have always wanted each other ever since childhood. Is that not so, (y/n)?”

Your mind screamed to push your nephew away, and deny all the statements made by himself. But deep inside your heart, what Lucerys said was all the pure truth. There was no point in pretending what you both felt was never there, it was there, and even you both had been teased by your notoriously mutual feelings by your siblings. As much as you respected your betrothed, it wasn’t the man you wished to be with. Not the one you had always truly desired, but rather, a mere political convenience that would help you have new allies and heirs for your House. For a split moment, your eyes had gazed down, only to then look up at him.

“Fuck it, yes.”

A huge burden came off your back with those simple words. A moment of tense atmosphere was felt in between the two of you like a spark, with your faces inches away to the point where you could feel one another’s hot pants.

Allowing your desires to take the reins and control your very own actions and words, Lucerys simultaneously pushed you even further against the wall and against his body as you took a desperate hold of his clothing, pulling him towards you, locking lips with one another. Lucerys, using both of his hands, took hold of your hips just to gently hold you firmly against the wall, and at the same time have your legs tightening around his waist. Your arms went to hug his neck, interwining your fingers around his messy dark hair, needily pushing his face closer to your own and deepening the kiss. None of you were the bold type, but you had gone as far as exploring your own mouths with each other’s tongues.

Without allowing time to pass any further, Lucerys slided his hands under your silky dress, going to play around with the waistband of your underwear using his fingers. Taking hold of the waistband, he moved them along your legs rather eagerly, making the cold air around the halls hit your exposed, moistened genitalia, and causing you goosebumps. A quiet growl escaped from his throat, managing to unbuckle his belt using only one trembling hand, sliding it away along his very own underwear. His underwear and pants felt slightly away from him, exposing his very own hardened member.

Out of curiousity, you couldn’t help but for a moment break apart the kiss, with your glossy from saliva lips grasping against one another, being constantly tickled with your hot pants, simply to lower your gaze in a not very discreet manner; taking a peek at how his erection looked like. As you had entered into mature age, you often liked to fantasise about experiencing such moment before falling asleep. Now, it was a reality, and you could feel yourself dripping wet in anticipation. His size was rather big, and you not having been deflowered just yet, were concerned on whether how much it could possibly stretch you out, and initially make you feel a sharp tingling of pain until you adjusted yourself.

“Raqagon skoros ao ūndegon? (Like what you see?)” upon hearing his question in High Valyrian, it had been quite obvious you were dumbfounded by his very own size, with a crimson tint creeping across your cheeks when you looked back into the smug gawk he carried in his green eyes. You gulped, allowing him to speak before you could answer. A chuckle spurred from him, “Ah, those eyes of you say enough, my love.” you gasped, feeling how in a swift movement, he abruptly leaned close enough to have the wet tip of his erect cock pressing tightly against your moist pussy. The pressure felt good enough, and you already craved to have him filling you.

“I will show you, just how virile I can be. Better than that silly man you got betrothed to, surely.” as Lucerys held you tightly against the wall, leaning his head down to teasingly bite your neck and leave some marks, the Lordling promptly entered his size into your tight cavity, making a slightly audible fleshy sound due to your wetness. Your eyes fluttered shut as you released a sudden groan simultaneously along him, who groaned against your sensitive skin as he nibbled softly on your neck. The pain of having your inner walls stretched made you bite your lower lip, trying to get used to the feeling of his hot cock, as he kept using his very own Valyrian words to provoke you further. A little grin formed at the corner of his rosy lips, feeling your slick run through his erection.

“You are so tight,” he growled out, trailing his lips lower to kiss your collarbone, and wander around your breasts as your dress was slightly loose, with the intentions of leaving his lovemarks on your velvet-like skin. “And you have no idea how good you feel.” luke continued. You had adjusted to his member rather rapidly, helping him by moving your hips in a downward motion, releasing a breathy gasp as he entered deeper. As much as he wished to fuck your brain out and establish who was the one that truly deserved you, that didn’t mean Luke would actually do anything to harm you — he simply wished for you to have a moment to remember with him.

“P-Please, my dragon Lord, continue...” your words were a plea, and he did as you wished. Moving his head back up, he took the skin of your neck in between his teeth, biting harder as you threw your head back to give him more carnal access. As soon as you gave the green light, he buried his cock deeper inside of you, snapping his own hips in a leisurely growing rough manner; not being able to contain what he had wished to do to you for such a long time. Your legs trembled from pleasure, feeling how you felt fulfilled with him inside of you. “L-Lucerys... Hmm,” you groaned quietly. You wished to not be as vocal as you could actually be, in order to not be noticed by anyone else, but Lucerys preferred otherwise.

Being satisfied as he noticed some faint, ghosthly bruises and marks began appearing on your neck and cleavage, he trailed his lips against your skin up towards your ear, nibbling on your earlobe and panting against it on purpose. “I don’t care if anyone sees us,” as you thought earlier, it seemed as if he could read your thoughts. “I would much prefer to have everyone hear just how beautifully vocal you are, begging for my cock, just so they can see who you belong to.”

The young Lord had a way with charming you off your feet using his words. With every word he said in the former sentence, his movements became rougher, hearing him groaning and moaning even louder with every pound he gave to your sweetly wet pussy using his cock. Every in-and-out movement the dragon Prince had against your genitalia, the fleshier sounds simply intensified, making you shake your entire body and not being able to form a proper, coherent speech.

Your forehead dripped sweat from the physical excercise, being a mess of incoherent moaning and panting. Soon enough, a fiery heat wave tightened your chest, leisurely travelling down towards your stomach in the form of a knot; it could nearly make you see stars. You knew exactly what it meant, as simultaneously his hardened bulge twitched inside of you, going faster.

The Lord closed his eyes, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. Both of you clinged to one another as if your life depended on it, but it was solely what you had always wished it would happen.

“I-I think, I-I’m going to cum.” he stuttered, before he interrupted himself with a loud gaspy moan. “M-Me too, Luke... P-Please, f-fill me... Fill me with your seed. Cum inside of me.” you pleaded once again, and it seemed to work perfectly for him just to fuck you harder. A scoff escaped off of his lips.

“Oh, I-I wasn’t planning on doing it any other way, p-princess.” both your grunts intensified with every movement he made, feeling yourself fulfilled, nearly melting under the way he so perfectly satisfied your untouched needs. “I will only allow you to cum, i-if you scream my name.” softly, pecking sloppy little kisses around your jawline, one of his hands had began to playfully grop one of your breasts, squeezing it on his hand. You gulped, feeling yourself barely being able to think. You just preferred to serve him, and satisfy one another. You were wrapped right around his finger, melting under his gaze, kisses, touch, and cock.

“L-Lucerys, please...”

All the energy you had remaining was drained, in a good way. You were exhausted. The next moans rolling off your lips with his name, were a bit more hitched, stuttering, weakly coming out of your lips as you felt yourself finally reaching the peak of your excitement. With a few last lazy movements, he finished to pound against you for the last time, before he harshly pressed the entire body of his dick inside of you, releasing together a scream of pleasure as you could feel how the warm liquids of his seed filled your stomach very slowly, and his cock became slippery from your own moist discharge. His semen mixed with your own wetness, oozing right out of you and dripping through your legs. Tiredly, he adverted his gaze downwards, to turn himself on at the precious sight of your cumming. You were filled with him, and none of you would want it any other way.

Once you had simultaneously come, releasing your discharges rightfully and orgasming properly, a few moments of silence loomed over you with the mere sound of your pantings as, with one last growl coming off your throats, he slipped his erection out of you, and threw his body against you. There was sweat on your body from all the movements and the intensity. The Lord chuckled, with his breath hitched. A certain pride filled him. He knew he was able to fuck you like no other and that certainly you could never compare him to any other man, and much less to your own political betrothed. The mere thought of you having to marry made Lucerys jealous, but in reality, deep down inside, he knew he already had you all for himself.

“You should come visit me in Driftmark more often, my love.” he mumbled near your ear, pressing a loving kiss on your jawline. “We will certainly enjoy ourselves there, without any betrothed to possibly bother us.” in response, you weakly chuckled. Your private zone was already sore, with the sticky fluids remaining there and drying, nearly being able to stand due to the trembling in your legs. “Besides, in Driftmark...”

He stood silent for a moment, smiling to himself. Provoking a yelp to come from you and causing your eyes to widen, the Lord slided his hand once again under your dress, pressing his hand against your still moist and sore pussy, with two fingers nearly inside your entrance. “Ao jāhor gūrēñagon skorkydoso naejot kipagon nykeā drēje zaldrīzes. (You will learn how to ride a true dragon.)”

Your jaw dropped faintly in surprise, feeling your own cheeks boiling from the fluster of his words. Pressing his lips against your chin, you could see how he smirked. “In the morrow, you should be carrying my seed in your womb. And you can only imagine how badly that turns me on.” one last time, his green eyes pierced through your body, scanning you up and down. You were a true Valyrian delicacy he could taste for hours, everyday of his life. His hand suddenly appeared from under your dress, making you feel an empty sensation of being let down, and slowly walked towards where you had come from.

“I will see you very soon, my love. This is only the beginning.”

And he was right. What there was in between the two of you, that always remained there, was just starting to bloom and show it’s true colours. The ones that screamed to be released, knowing the mutual feelings.

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[softspiderling]

and i burn for you (and you don’t even know my name) | j.v

summary:

“Something like that, “ you sighed, eyeing him briefly. Jacaerys tried not to flinch at the clear rejection and pressed his lips together.

“I should leave-”

“No, please, don’t leave on my behalf…. My prince.”

OR; Jacaerys is usually a lot more suave when it comes to ladies. That was before he met you.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader

warnings: SMUT! 18+, MDNI, p in v, oral sex (fem receiving), doesn't follow canon, Jace has been aged up to 20!

word count: 7,5k words (oh)

author's note: this is very much is an indulgent story bc i miss Luke and Jace🥲 also inspired by close to you by gracie abrams ! pls let me know ALLL YOUR THOUGHTS!!! happy reading🫶🏼🫶🏼

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Do you think my hair will get just as luscious as yours did after you got back from Winterfell?”

Jacaerys’ rolled his eyes at his brother. They were on their second day of journey from King’s Landing to Winterfell. It was to be Cregan Stark’s name day and he had cordially invited Jacaerys and his family to the celebrations. His mother could not just leave her throne at King’s Landing, and Daemon wouldn’t go without her. Joffrey, Viserys and Aegon where still too young to go, so only Jacaerys and Luke rode to Winterfell on dragonback. They could’ve made it in one day if they had wanted to, but they were in no hurry. Well, Jacaerys wasn’t. He knew what temperatures were expecting him. Luke didn’t, which was why he was so antsy to get there and almost didn’t pack the fur lined gloves their mother had laid out for them. Jacaerys couldn’t wait until the biting, cold winds hit Luke’s face for the first time. He would treasure the memory forever.

“Har har, good one,” Jacaerys said dryly. “The court jester should watch out or you will be going for his position in no time.”

Luke grinned at his older brother wickedly, opening his mouth once more to say another jest, Jacaerys had no doubt about it, but the words died on Luke’s tongue when the winds suddenly turned cold, whipping his hair around like icicles.

“Seven hells!” he cursed and Arrax let out a soft whine, not used to the coldness, just like his rider.

“Nyke ivestretan zirȳla, paktot Vermax?” Jacaerys whispered to his dragon, stroking Vermax’ neck with his gloved hand and the creature let out a puff of smoke. I warned him, didn’t I Vermax?

It wasn’t much longer until the two brothers reached Winterfell, their dragons landing just in front of the gates of town. Jacaerys could already see Cregan’s imposing figure standing by the gate as he climbed off of Vermax, carefully patting his snout. He took the bags off his saddle, Lucerys doing the same before leaning his forehead against Vermax’.

“Sȳz valonqar. Umbagon va, ao rȳbagon issa? Se jurnegon hen syt Arrax” Good boy. Stay near, you hear me? And take care of Arrax.

Vermax let out a soft rumble, pressing his snout against Jacaerys’ hand, before he and Arrax leapt back in the air, disappearing across the woods with few wing flaps. Jacaerys wasn’t sure where exactly they went, but he assumed it was some warm cave. Winterfell didn’t exactly have a dragon pit.

“Woah,” Luke gasped, astounded by the amount of white surrounding them.

“I told you,” Jacaerys said, shouldering his bags as Cregan approached them, several pages in tow.

“Prince Jacaerys!” Cregan’s voice boomed across the snowy field, before he stopped in front of the two princes. “What an honor to have you.”

The two men sized each other up, before breaking out in laughter as Cregan pulled Jacaerys into a hug.

“It is good to see you, my friend.”

“And you, Cregan,” Jacaerys replied, patting Cregan’s back that was cloaked in a warm fur. He really ought to ask him what animal pelt it was, he never seemed to be cold. Luke was shifting on his feet next to him and Jacaerys took a step back to introduce his brother.

“Lord Cregan, this is my brother.”

“Ah, the infamous Prince Lucerys,” Cregan said with a smile, shaking Luke’s hand. Based on his face, Jacaerys could tell his brother was struggling to keep a straight face; Cregan’s handshakes were nothing but firm.

“Lord Cregan, it is an honor to finally make your acquaintance.”

“I have heard much about you.”

“Ah,” Luke sighed, hand still enclasped in Cregan’s. “I’m sure all lies.”

“Only good things, your brother has shared high praises of you.”

Luke glanced over to his brother in surprise and Jacaerys only raised his eyebrows at him. Cregan finally let go of Luke’s hand, clapping him on the shoulder, sending the younger man nearly flying.

“How old are you, Lucerys?”

“Ten and eight, my lord. And please, call me Luke.”

“Very well,” Cregan said with a grin. “You’re the prime age of a young prince, Luke. Are you courting anyone?”

“No,” Luke replied, his cheeks reddening. Jacaerys only snickered, ignoring the deathly glare his younger brother sent him.

“No worry. There are a few of very beautiful ladies that will be attending, maybe one or two will catch your royal eyes.”

Cregan gave Jacaerys a knowing look, but he only rolled his eyes, stretching his hands, the coldness starting to seep into his gloves.

“I am about to lose feeling in my limbs, can we continue this dreadful conversation inside?”

“Of course. I apologize, I forget that you are not accustomed to our weather,” Cregan said, motioning for the pages to help the them with their bags. “Let’s get you into the warm, shall we?”

Cregan lead the two brothers towards the Great Keeps, giving Luke a very brief rundown of the grounds as he did. Jacaerys could already feel his fingers warming up; he even dared to take off his gloves.

“We are currently having tea, I would love for you to join but if you wish to get some rest, we can meet again after,” Cregan said, stopping in front of the dining halls.

Jacaerys glanced over to Luke, who only gave him a shrug. “I could do with some food.”

“As do I.”

“Very well.”

Cregan pushed open the door to reveal a lively dining hall, one that Jacaerys was familiar with. He spotted faces he recognized, when his eyes stopped in the middle of the table, surprised to see Lady Alysanne Blackwood sitting next to you, someone he didn’t recognize. Immediately, you turned your head to look at him, as if you had felt his eyes on you. Jacaerys tried not to falter under your gaze.

“Who’s that?” Luke whispered and Jacaerys fought the urge to elbow him.

“The Princes Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon!” Cregan announced, causing a ruckus as everyone pushed their chair back to stand. You only followed after Alysanne gently nudged you, folding your hands in front.

“Thank you for having us,” Jacaerys said, him and Lucerys both bowing. “Please, sit.”

As everyone took their seats again, Cregan led him and Luke to the middle of the table, where three seats were empty next to Alysanne and you.

“My princes, may I introduce Lady Alysanne of House Blackwood and Lady-”

Jacaerys almost tuned out Cregan’s voice as he introduced you, but it was like your name was ringing in his ears. He was sure he had never been quite taken with any lady as with you right from the first meeting. Jacaerys cleared his throat, hoping his voice would come out even.

“Lady Alysanne, it’s nice to see you again,” Jacaerys said, bowing to her as Luke followed suit.

“The pleasure is mine, your graces. I hope your journey was swift,” Alysanne replied. “I hear you travelled on dragonback.”

That seemed to pique your interest as you straightened your back, eying Jacaerys with a new found interest. Jacaerys tried to ignore the heat unfurling in his lower stomach. He had seemed to take beat too long to reply, because Luke cut in, throwing a look at his older brother.

“Yes, my lady. It only took us a day and half’s journey.”

“Ah, I envy you. To travel on dragonback and have a short journey. It took me a moon’s turn to get from Raventree Hall to Winterfell,” Alysanne said with a small sigh, turning to you. “Nearly took you two moon’s turns, didn’t it?”

Jacaerys had kept his eyes steadfastly on Alysanne as she spoke, but when she turned to you, he took the chance to do the same. You nodded, fingers between the stem of the chalice you had been drinking from. His eyes lingered on your slender fingers for longer than they should have.

“Two moon’s turns is quite a long journey,” Jacaerys finally pressed out, hoping his voice didn’t sound odd. “Where in the Seven Kingdoms does your house lay?”

Your eyes met his for the first time and Jacaerys felt like he was looking in the eyes of a predator, as if he hadn’t been riding a dragon for nearly all of his life.

“I am from a land beyond Essos,” you finally spoke, voice as smooth as honey. Before you could continue, Alysanne whispered something under her breath and you let out a small laugh, shaking your pretty head, speaking again. “I’m afraid we’re not part of the Seven Kingdoms, your grace.”

The way you accentuated the honorific had Jacaerys sweat, something he never thought he’d do in Winterfell. He managed to give you a wry smile; luckily, Cregan finally gestured towards the empty seats and as Jacaerys sat down - two seats away from you - he let out a breath of relief, desperate for a quick respite. His behavior was mortifying and unbefitting for a crown prince.

“Are you alright?” Luke whispered from his left as he reached for a particularly large meat pie. “It is unlike you to let me do the talking.”

Jacaerys waited as the butler poured him some mulled wine, only stopping him when it was nearly full to the brim. He lifted the chalice, taking a big drink from it, feeling Luke’s eyes on him the whole time.

“It appears the journey has tired me more than I had expected.”

Luke narrowed his eyes at him, but as soon as he bit into the meat pie, the suspicions slid of his face.

“Seven hells, what kind of meat do they put in these?” he almost moaned, already reaching for another. Slob, Jacaerys thought, reaching for some bread himself, leaving his brother to his own world as he discovered the cuisine of the North. Jacaerys glanced over to his friend, but Cregan was in the middle of a conversation with Alysanne; they were speaking in hushed tones, Jacaerys could barely make out a word even though he was sitting right next to them.

The way Cregan was whispering to Alysanne suggested a certain familiarity; a familiarity that Jacaerys was surprised by; he hadn’t known that Cregan had taken on a lover, and Alysanne no less, though he could see what had drawn his friend to her.

Jacaerys didn’t pay attention for half a second before his eyes impulsively laid on you. He didn’t want to be caught staring, but you seemed preoccupied listening to Alysanne as she talked, so he allowed himself a few moments to take you in. Your hair fell over your shoulder in soft waves, the bodice of your dress was snug around your chest. The more he looked, the dryer his throat became, suddenly the bread in his mouth tasted days old. Letting out a soft cough, Jacaerys reached for his wine, nearly finishing all of it in one to, desperate to quench his thirst.

He wondered if all women from your land looked like you or if it was just you that had him so enthralled. Jacaerys was lost in thoughts so deeply, he didn’t even realize that Cregan had turned his attention to him.

“Did someone catch your eye?”

“What?”

Jacaerys teared his eyes from you to look at his friend, who was sipping on his wine, eyebrows raised. Despite trying to seem nonchalant, the crown prince knew a pink flush creeped on his cheeks; he’d blame it on the wine if Cregan would ask.

“I was enjoying the festivities.”

“You’re surely enjoying something.”

“I’m positively not enjoying this conversation,” Jacaerys sniffed. Cregan laughed, placing his heavy hand on his shoulder. Jacaerys tried not to falter under it.

“I like her. She’s a good friend of Lady Alysanne’s. Though if her behavior grates you: her land does not have a king or queen, so she might not be familiar with our customs. She is also especially forward; I fear that was a given, considering the company she seeks.”

Jacaerys knew immediately what Cregan was alluding to. Alysanne had a reputation for not holding her tongue when something displeased her, there were a good handful of people who quite dislike her for it.

“I’m sure you will get along with her fine, my prince.”

Jacaerys hummed, glancing over to you for a split second before looking away for fear of being caught again, but in doing so, he missed you looking back at him with raised brows. After the table was cleared, you and Alysanne excused yourselves to your chambers. Jacaerys stared after you until you disappeared from sight, his hands clasped.

“Let me show you to your chambers for some rest,” Cregan offered. “Jacaerys, I had the same chambers prepared as last time.”

The three men walked through the hallways of Winterfell once more, stopping in front of Jacaerys’ chambers.

“Someone will fetch you for supper, please get some rest in the meantime,” Cregan said, clasping Jacaerys on the back. Jacaerys glanced over at Luke, who waved him off, so he entered his chambers as Cregan walked Luke to his, with the latter chattering excitedly.

As the door shut behind Jacaerys, the chambers were engulfed in silence and he was finally able to breathe. The room was comfortably decorated, of course in no way as lavish as his chambers in King’s Landing, but everything he would need was there. Taking off his cloak and his doublet, Jacaerys hung them over the small bench that sat near the fire, before he laid down on the bed, staring up the canopy with a sigh.

Gods, he really needed to get it together. He would not allow himself to act like such a fool in front of you again. He couldn’t even understand what it was about you that had him so shaken to the core. Jacaerys had never been the kind of man who stuttered around when it came to women. He knew what he had to offer, he knew a lot of women found his status appealing. But something about you was just…. Infuriating. It made him lose his footing.

Jacaerys was still questioning his life choices that led to this moment, when the door suddenly flung open, and he knew immediately who it was without having to move; there was only one person in whole Winterfell who would barge into his chambers like this.

“Your chambers are so much nicer than mine!” Luke crowed, throwing his hands up in the air before he dropped onto the bed next to Jacaerys. “I do have to say, even though it is freezing outside, the Northeners know how to keep it comfy in their chambers.”

Jacaerys let out a small sigh.

“What are you doing here, Luke?”

“Gods, why are you such in a sour mood?”

“Maybe because I am tired from the journey and you’re sitting here talking about meaningless things,” Jacaerys lamented with a pointed look in his younger brother’s direction, who only pursed his lips, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Let me move onto meaningful topics then,” he agreed. “You didn’t tell me Lord Cregan is betrothed to Lady Alysanne.”

“He’s not, as far as I know,” Jacaerys replied, resigning himself to the fact that Luke wasn’t going to leave anytime soon. “I was taken by surprise just as you were.”

Luke didn’t answer; for a brief second Jacaerys wondered if he had fallen asleep, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be happy about or not.

“What did you think of her friend?” Luke finally asked and Jacaerys rolled his eyes. There it was. “She’s pretty, right? I think she might be interested in me.”

“What makes you think she would be interested in you?” Jacaerys pressed out, annoyed. He knew Luke was baiting him, but what if he wasn’t? His younger brother turned over to look at him, the corners of his mouth tugging up.

“I knew it. You’re absolutely smitten with her.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I barely exchanged two words with her,” Jacaerys said defensively.

“Exactly. She makes you shiver in your boots like a child and swallow your words like Vermax does goats.”

“Blasphemous,” Jacaerys snapped, his cheeks growing hot. “I’m the Crown Prince of the Seven Realms, I do not get flustered around a lady.”

“I cannot wait until you talk to her again,” Luke remarked gleefully.

Jacaerys reached over to grab one of the fluffy pillows that was resting against the headboard to whack Luke in the face with it.

The next day, Jacaerys found himself with some time by himself. Cregan was greeting some more of the guests that were arriving for his celebration that evening, and Luke had wanted to see the training grounds of Winterfell, so Jacaerys ventured out by himself, walking the walls. He passed a few guards, who bowed respectfully as they marched past him. They asked if he got lost, if they should walk him back inside where it was warm, but he declined.

Despite the cold snow that was falling from the sky, Jacaerys enjoyed leaving the castle for a few moments. Winterfell was peaceful, the white that covered the grounds allowed him to breathe, a stark contrast to the grounds of King’s Landing. As the cold winds started to pick up, Jacaerys turned to head back, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw you standing by yourself at the wall, staring out at the distance. Jacaerys hesitated.

His interaction with you last night at supper was… Passable. He had managed to keep the conversation going, he still wasn't happy with himself. But this was unfamiliar territory, he hadn’t ever been alone with you. What if he made a fool of himself?

Before Jacaerys could decide what to do, his feet already carried him over to you. At the sounds of the snow crunching under his soled shoes, you turned around, your eyebrows risen in surprise. Your cheeks were red from the cold, despite the fur-lined cloak that engulfed your shoulders.

“Oh, it’s you,” you said, your breath visible in the cold air.

“Only me,” Jacaerys confirmed, bowing his head slightly in greeting. You did the same. “Come out here for some quiet?”

“Something like that, “ you sighed, eyeing him briefly. Jacaerys tried not to flinch at the clear rejection and pressed his lips together.

“I should leave-”

“No, please, don’t leave on my behalf…. My prince.”

You added the honorific after a brief pause, and Jacaerys stayed rooted in his spot. You seemed like you were in deep thought, and your voice was hesitant when you spoke again.

“I am unsure as to what the difference is, if I’m being quite honest. Do you want me to refer to you as my prince or as your Grace?”

“You can refer to me as anything you want,” Jacaerys said quickly. Too quickly.

The frown on your face smoothed, a grin growing in its stead. “Indeed?”

“I meant,” Jacaerys pressed, trying to sustain any sort of dignity. “You’re not from Westeros, you do not need to address me as your Grace or my prince.”

“I wouldn’t want to seem disrespectful,” you added. “Folks are already whispering about the “foreign lady”, I do not wish to give them more reason to be suspicious.”

Jacaerys felt a flash of hot anger coursing through him at the belief of anyone uttering a bad word about you.

“Are you being mistreated, my lady?”

A laugh escaped your lips. “I did not tell for you to fight in my honor, I have endured worse than some meaningless gossip.”

You tossed your hair back, and for a brief second, your scent carried over to Jacaerys’ nose. You smelled… Sweet. A scent that was unfamiliar to him, but not exactly unwelcome. With a small sigh, you turned your head to look at him. Damn it, did you say something?

“So... Your grace or my prince?”

For some reason, either address didn’t feel right. Well. They felt right, but not right. Never before had Jacaerys felt anything when being referred to with the correct title except for a sense of respect and pride that he was being recognized for his status. But for some reason, having you address him with either had Jacaerys feel things in regions where he shouldn’t. And both seem equally catastrophic.

“Either is fine,” he finally settled on. “But if no one is around… It is alright for you to call me by my given name.”

“Jacaerys?”

A shiver ran down his spine at the sound of his name rolling of your tongue so easily. He was done for. No matter what you referred to him as, it made him weak in the knees.

“Or Jace.”

“Is that not improper?” you asked. “I would hate for folks to think I’m getting too familiar with the crown prince.”

He definitely wouldn’t mind getting too familiar with you.

“My friends call me that… And people that I’m close with.”

A corner of your mouth tugged up in a grin. “You wish to be close with me?”

Jacaerys flushed, stuttering. “I-“

“I’m only jesting,” you said, your gloved hand reaching out to touch his arm and even though there were about five layers between, Jacaerys could *feel* your skin on his. He was in trouble. “I will address you properly in public but if no one is around, Jacaerys….”

Your voice trailed off and you took a step towards him, leaning in so you could speak to him in a small whisper.

“I hope we can become friends.”

With that, you bowed your head, stepping back and turned to depart, leaving Jacaerys standing by himself. He exhaled a breath - a breath he had not realized he had been holding this whole time.

Somewhere in the distance, Jacaerys could hear Vermax screech out, no doubtedly feeling exactly what his dragon rider was struggling with.

“Yes, Vermax, you and me both,” Jacaerys muttered with a small sigh, enduring the cold for a little while longer before he retired inside, knowing he had to start getting ready for Cregan’s celebrations soon.

“How much longer are you going to stare at your reflection?”

Jacaerys resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. He was tense enough as it was, giving into Luke’s teasing was not going to help it.

“I’m representing mother at this celebration, a single hair out of place and rumors about my legitimacy as heir might start,” Jacaerys pointed out, wiping off the fleck of dusts that sat on the shoulder of his doublet.

“Of course, we would not want that,” Luke said, his voice taking that annoying tone which Jacaerys knew meant he wasn’t taking him serious. “You are most certainly not trying to look absolutely perfect for a certain lady.”

Jacaerys met Luke’s eyes through the mirror, his forehead creased. “I did not ask you to wait for me. No one is stopping you from going by yourself.”

Luke sighed, pushing himself off of the bench to approach him, hands reaching out to smooth out Jacaerys’ cloak.

“And who is going to tame that one wild curl that always does whatever it wants at the back of your head?”

Jacaerys winced when Luke gently tugged on said curl, setting it in its place, before the younger prince grinned at him through the reflection as the two of them stood in front of the mirror, Luke's shoulders slightly higher than Jacaerys'. He despised the fact that his younger brother was starting to overtake him in height. Jacaerys hoped that Joffrey would stay shorter than him.

“You look fine, Jace,” Luke assured him. “And even if a hair might be out of place, she will think it charming.”

Jacaerys decided against deeming that comment with an answer, instead straightening his shoulders.

“Let’s go then.”

The two brothers headed the the Great Hall and the closer they got, the louder the music became. Jacaerys tried not to pick on his clothes as they walked through the hallways, knowing he was just being antsy at this point. When they finally reached the threshold of the hall, the herald bowed to them both respectfully, waiting until the music quietened down, the guests looking at them.

“Presenting His Grace, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne, and his brother, Prince Lucerys Velaryon of House Targaryen!” the herald announced.

The guests all bowed, which Jacaerys and Lukereturned, before they were being led to their seats and Jacaerys tried not to stumble over his feet when he realized that Cregan had sat Luke to his right, whereas Jacaerys sat next to him.

Right next to you.

Jacaerys ignored Luke’s smirk as he sat down, and instead offered you a small smile.

“My lady.”

“Your grace.”

You sent him a conspiratorial smile, before your attention refocused to Cregan, who suddenly stood, lifting his chalice.

"Good evening, my dear guests. On this occasion, the celebration of my name day, I am deeply honored to be surrounded by such loyal friends, family, and allies. I thank everyone who made their long and burdensome journey to celebrate this day with me. Raise your cups, my friends, enjoy the festivities, the music and most importantly, the food. Now, let the feast begin!"

Everyone clapped as Cregan took his seat again, the lively music beginning to play. Immediately, people rose to occupy the dancefloor. You stayed seated, sipping on your wine and Jacaerys watched you out of the corner of his eye, reaching for his own wine, hoping it would ease his nerves. You looked pretty; wearing a dark red dress, the fabric seeming to melt against your skin like it was sown onto your body. Jacaerys tried to not let his gaze linger too much on your cleavage, which was tasteful, but still incredibly distracting. He couldn’t help but think how you and him seemed to be dressed to compliment each other.

“You look very beautiful,” Jacaerys blurted out. You turned to him, eyebrows risen in surprise and his cheeks reddened. “I apologize if it was too forward, I-”

“You look very handsome yourself,” you said, returning the favor with a grin. “At least I know what took you so long to get here.”

By now, Jacaerys was sure that the color of his face rivaled the color of your dress.

“Thank you,” he said, fingers tracing the stem of the chalice. “I try to look my best.”

“It is working in your favor, my prince,” you all but purred quietly, making Jacaerys grip his chalice so tightly, his knuckles turned white.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Jacaerys pressed out, letting a small sigh pass his lips. “I apologize. I am usually more… Composed,” he admitted. You raised an eyebrow at him, but he couldn’t help but feel like you were biting back a smile.

“And you’re not composed right now?”

“No. You…” he paused, letting go of the chalice, stretching his hand out. “You make me nervous.”

He dared to look up to you, searching for any sign of distaste, only to see your gaze focused on his hands, before you lifted your eyes to meet his.

“How?”

“You vex me.”

“In a good way, I hope.”

Jacaerys let out a breathless laughter, shaking his head. “In a very much not good way. This is not behavior befit for a crown prince.”

“Well, it’s just your luck that I have not a single idea of what behavior is befit for a crown prince,” you assured him, placing your hand on his, presumably to console him. It had quite the opposite reaction. “It is just me, you may speak freely.”

“I-” Jacaerys paused, his eyes darting around the countless of guests mingling in the Great Hall, the threat of a listening ear everywhere. “I cannot.”

You nodded in understanding, but Jacaerys could tell that his answer had disappointed you by the way you turned your head away from him. Silently, he cursed himself, feeling the desire for you coiling in his stomach, but unable to act on it.

For the rest of the night, Jacaerys tried to pick up the conversation with you again, and while you did speak with him, it seemed dull, like you were uninterested. He felt incredibly stupid, knowing he had messed up, but despite that, he couldn’t jump over his shadow to address the problem. So he didn’t. He pushed his disappointment in himself aside and tried his best to control the jealousy he felt whenever you accepted the dance of another man, acting like didn’t care at all, especially when Luke was watching, shaking his head.

Cregan was luckily too busy to entertain his guests to meddle, occasionally drawing Jacaerys into his side to clink their cups. Overall, (despite his personal failings) the celebration was a success. It was late in the night, nearing the hour of the wolf when Jacaerys finally retired to his chambers. He had dropped Luke off at his own chambers just before, his younger brother having one too many of the mulled wine and immediately dozing off in clothes.

Shutting the door with his foot, Jacaerys unpinned his cloak, tugging his doublet off, draping it over the small ottoman. His hands were in the collar of his tunic, ready to take it off when short raps on his door made him pause. Was that Cregan fetching him for another drink?

Jacaerys opened the door and his eyebrows rising in surprise when he saw who it was.

“My lady…”

You were standing in front of him, dark cloak slung around your shoulders, about the last person he had expected to come knocking on his door after his last conversation with you had gone. Your face was bare from any trace of cosmetics, but your cheeks still held a rosy glow. Jacaerys peered out into the dark hallway, expecting a handmaiden or anyone accompanying you, but alas, you were by yourself.

“It is late. Is something the matter?” he asked, concerned.

“Everything is fine,” you assured him. “I was feeling a bit restless, I was wondering if you were up for some company?”

Despite feeling exhausted just a few seconds ago, Jacaerys was wide awake now, his heart thrumming with excitement at the prospect of spending time with you alone. But he couldn’t help but hesitate, questioning whether it was smart of him to put himself in a situation he couldn’t control, especially with you.

You sensed his hesitation, tilting your head curiously.

“I can leave, if you wish.”

Before you could even attempt to retreat, Jacaerys’ hand shot out to stop you, and as he saw the amusement on your face, he knew you had never intended to leave.

Minx, he thought to himself, opening his door wider to let you inside. Swiftly, you passed by him and Jacaerys made sure no one saw you enter, before shutting the door. As he turned around, he found you had already settled on the cushioned couch, appearing comfortably at ease.

“These are usually my chambers I stay in when I visit Winterfell,” you said nonchalantly, taking in the chambers and Jacaerys’ possessions that laid scattered around. “You can imagine my surprise when Cregan told me it was occupied for someone else when I arrived.”

Jacaerys tried not to imagine you laying in his bed as he sat down on the bench.

“They are the chambers I stayed in when I visited last time. I assume Cregan wanted me to feel comfortable.”

“The lengths we would go to to make sure you felt comfortable,” you said with a look in his direction and Jacaerys flushed, clearing his throat.

“Do you like these chambers for a reason or are you merely a creature of habit?”

“These are the only chambers that don’t have the fire place directly facing the bed,” you explained, your arms gesturing to the layout of the chambers.

“I know the Northeners like to keep the fire on at night to feel cozy, but I tend to get a little… Hot.”

Oh.

His mouth ran a little dry and he only managed to blink at you, as you grinned, your eyes slowly trailing down his body.

“I imagine it is the same for you. What is it again, the motto of your house?”

Jacaerys opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out of it.

“Fire and blood?” finally pressed out and you arched an eyebrow at him.

“Are you asking or telling me?”

“Telling.”

Your mouth quirked up in a smirk and you brushed your hair back with a flick. “I must say, I have to admit that I thought you less nervous when no one was around.”

“You thought me less nervous when it is just you and I alone in a room?”

“Now when you say it like that…” you mused. “I told you that you do not have to worry about your behavior, I do not know any of the rules you have to abide by.”

“That’s not why I’m nervous,” Jacaerys said with a small laugh and you creased your forehead, looking at him questioningly.

“Is that not what you told me at supper?”

Jacaerys sighed, a chuckle leaving his lips and he had no other choice than to confess.

“You make me nervous because I do not know how to act around you. You make me stutter, lose my footing. I was never anything less than charming when it comes to talking to ladies, but you for some reason…”

Your face contorted from confusion to understanding and then glee.

“And I was starting to think you were letting me down easy.”

“I- what?” The indignation in Jacaerys’ tone made you laugh. “Let you down? Surely you must be jesting.”

“What was I to think? I was not exactly being subtle, my prince.”

Jacaerys bit down on his lower lip, nearly hard enough to draw blood, but he eased off.

“I’m trying my best to uphold my honor. And yours.”

You let out a small laugh, lifting your hand to deftly unhook your cloak. Jacaerys averted his eyes as soon as the cloak slid off your shoulders, but he could see out of the corner of his eyes that you were wearing nothing but a nightgown with long lacey sleeves. Jacaerys had never seen a nightgown like that before.

“Would it not be dishonorable to deny yourself what you truly want?”

Jacaerys dared to glance at you, swallowing thickly when he realized that you had come closer, his eyes roaming over your exposed skin. He exhaled sharply, feeling his cock stirring in his breeches, thankful that his tunic was untucked, covering his excitement.

“What if your future husband would cast you aside knowing you have laid with another man?”

You smiled at him, your hand reaching out to trace the neckline of his tunic.

“I think if my husband were to cast me aside for enjoying the pleasure of sex, he is not the right man for me.”

Jacaerys held his breath as you looked at him through your lashes. He managed to stay strong for about three more seconds, before he let out a frustrated groan, his hand curling around to pull you close, pressing his lips on yours.

You sighed softly into the kiss, your mouth pliable as Jacaerys moved against them, the kiss nearly driving him insane.

He needed more.

Tightening his grip on your waist, Jacaerys pulled you into his lap, situating your legs on either side of him.

“I have been going insane,” Jacaerys whispered against your lips, his finger tips dancing up your arm. “Trying to keep my composure, act like a prince, but one look from you and I lost the ability to string a sentence together.”

“Please,” you gasped as his hand wrapped around the back of your head to tilt it back, placing featherlight kisses on the column of your neck.” Cregan was telling me to behave - for once - because his great friend, the crown prince of the Seven Realms was to attend his nameday celebrations, but how could I when you’re just so-”

Your sentence trailed off in a sigh and Jacaerys pulled back to look at you, an eyebrow arched.

“I am so...?”

“Infuriatingly handsome.” Your voice was breathless as you spoke, hands slipping under his tunic and Jacaerys lifted his arms to help you take it off before you discarded it to the floor carelessly. “Like you were carved out of marble.”

You caressed him with your fingertips over his chest, your touch so tantalizing he had to shift his hips to ease the pressure on his breeches, a motion that did not go unignored by you at the sound of the small whimper that left your mouth, a sound that went directly to his south. He leaned in to kiss you again, before maneuvering you off his lap, standing so he could lead you over to the bed. His touch was gentle, but firm as you followed his lead to lay down at the edge of the bed, your nightgown bunching up at your calves.

“You don’t even know the affect you have on me… You had me on my knees,” he murmured, pushing your gown up. “I’m the crown prince of the seven realms. I don’t kneel for anyone.”

He might make an exception for you.

With his hands on your calves, pulling you closer, Jacaerys got to his knees, peppering small kisses on your inner thigh, making you squirm. He could smell the warmth of your musk as he neared your cunt, your smallclothes displaying a small patch of wetness he couldn’t help but be thrilled by.

“Lift your hips,” Jacaerys said, and when you did, he tugged your smallclothes off easily. He let out a soft breath when coming face to face with your cunt, sliding one finger through your folds. The moan out of your mouth sounded like heaven to him.

“Jace…” you sighed and his breeches got impossibly tighter, but he wanted you to finish first before he could even think about himself. Jacaerys applied a little pressure on your pearl with his thumb, inching closer, his breath hot on your lips before he licked a strip up your cunt. You responded with a small groan, your hands tangled into his locks and he knew he was on the right track.

He kept drawing circles on the small nub over your cunt, his tongue exploring between your folds, trying to elicit every moan and sigh out of your mouth possible, repeating his motions that seemed to please you the most. Soon, Jacaerys had you writhing on his bed, your hand tightened around his hair in a grip that nearly hurt, but he didn’t care.

“Jacaerys…” you breathed out, your hips lifting from the bed; he merely pushed it down with his free hand. “Don’t- I’m so..”

Jacaerys nuzzled his mouth even further into your cunt he not thought possible, the circles he was drawing onto your pearl becoming tighter, smaller until you let out an especially loud moan of his name, your cunt pulsating.

With a breath heave, you fell back into the cushions and Jacaerys pulled back from between your legs, not without leaving a lingering kiss on your inner thigh. You looked absolutely marvelous, blissed out on his bed, your sweaty hair sticking to your forehead. If he had to guess, he must not look any better, his entire face must be covered in you.

“Is this behavior befit for a crown prince?” you asked, chest still heaving. Jacaerys quirked a smile at you, brushing his hair back.

“For a lady like you, without question.”

A small laughter escaped your lips, and you tugged him down to kiss him, your hands slipping beneath his trousers and then his breeches, wrapping around his cock. Jacaerys hissed, bucking into your hands, realizing he was still fully clothes from the waist down. Giving you one last kiss, he reluctantly pulled away from you, taking his boots off, and then slowly pushing his trousers off, his smallclothes along with it.

He couldn’t help but flush as he stood in front of your inquisitive eyes, still wearing your nightgown but looking incredibly debauched, your gaze… Hungry. He got on the bed, crawling towards you on his knees, fingers gingerly pushing your nightgown off your shoulders - you didn’t lift a hand to help him, but merely watched as his eyes grew wide when he finally pushed your nightgown down, as it pooled around your waist.

“You were made by the gods,” he mumbled into your skin, mouth latching on the sensitive skin of your tits, his other hand gently rolling your nipples until it formed into a stiff peak. He leaned up, kissing you deeply and as he moaned into your mouth, he pulled away, breathing hard.

“Do you…” he trailed off, unsure how to word it.

“I will die an immediate death if I don’t,” you said, extremely serious. “Lay back.”

As Jacaerys settled into the mountain of cushions, you knelt in front of him, nightgown long gone. You positioned yourself over his lap, just as he had earlier, hand wrapping around his cock to guide it to your cunt, which was still sopping wet. Jacaerys let out a slow, guttural groan as you lowered yourself onto his cock, until he was fully sheated inside of you.

“Are you feeling alright?” he pressed out, his hands finding your hips to pull out incase you were feeling uncomfortable.

“Perfect,” you breathed, lips parted and eyes hooded. You leaned a hand on his chest, impulsively rolling your hips and Jacaerys moaned, throwing his head back. Slowly, the two of you found your rhythm as you rode him, in slow, but deep hip thrusts. His chambers was filled with the sound of skin hitting skin, whispers of his name and moans of yours. It wasn’t long until Jacaerys felt the familiar tension in his lower stomach, knowing he was close, while you were still moving on top of him, head thrown back.

If he had it his way, he would shoot his load into you, making you his, but the last thing he wanted was to trap you, so he stilled your hips, holding you in place and turning you so he was on top of you. Your hair fanned out on the bed, and Jacaerys kissed you, tongue licking into your mouth as he drove his cock into you with deep, but slow thrusts; his thumb was pressing into your pearl simultaneously.

“Jace,” you whined, your walls clenching and he nearly lost it right then and there. “Please…”

Jacaerys snapped his hips into you harder, leaning his head against yours as he did and after one particular deep thrust, you held onto his bicep as you moaned his name in a way that would ingrain into his brain for the rest of his life and he quickly pulled out, before he emptied his load in thick, white spurts onto your stomach. With a small groan, Jacaerys collapsed onto the bed next to you, neither speaking for a few seconds, catching your breath.

Jacaerys was the first to rise, pushing his hair back, standing to find a wet rag to clean you up. His touch was gentle as he cleaned your stomach, disposing of the dirty rag, lingering on the side of the bed.

“Do you want to stay? For a little while, at least?”

You turned your head to look at him, corners of your mouth tugging up. “If you’ll have me, my prince.”

Jacaerys snorted out a laughter, settling into bed next to you, making sure to pull up the blanket to cover your naked body, even though a warmth was emanating from you, it was rivaling his own.

“Are you sure you’re not a distant kin of Aegon the Conqueror?” he asked, pressing a soft kiss on your shoulder. “You would fit right into our house.”

“I find it very flattering that you think I have royal blood in me,” you laughed as your fingertips traced along his arm.

“It is only a question,” Jacaerys mused. “I think you would get along well with my mother.”

“A foreign girl in front of the esteemed queen of the Seven Realms? I wouldn’t stand a chance. Her royal knights would behead me as soon as I curtsied the wrong way.”

And as the fire crackled in the far corner of the chambers, pressed against your side, Jacaerys knew that while you spoke in jest, he wouldn’t mind you meeting his mother, even if that was highly unlikely. Coming the following morning it seemed like he would never see you again, with you returning home and him returning to King’s Landing.

And while he was a dragon rider, he wasn’t sure if that distance would be easy for him to cover, considering the fact he had duties he had to attend to, he couldn't just leave whenever he pleased, no matter how much he wanted to.

“I really enjoyed your company,” you then said, your voice a bittersweet tone. Jacaerys pressed his nose against your neck, biting back the question if you wanted to come with him, see King’s Landing. He knew he was being foolish.

“As did I yours.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: hehehehehe did u like it?

[lizzyiii]

His Lady Love (3)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson!reader

word count | 3.7k words

summary | calm before the storm. the queen forces you to go to the targaryen-hightower supper where you finally sit face to face with aemond, (whilst getting interrogated by prince daemon as well.)

tags | reader is just here for the targ drama tbh, fluff, small angst/but reader comforts,

note | I just realised that both rebekah and reader fall for boys that they technically watched grow up (not really, but really tho, also would you consider this pedophilic, since rebekah and reader had mere platonic feelings, while marcel and aemond were already obsessed)

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 — 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

It had been a moon's turn since your return, and Aemond had taken to shadowing you through the sunlit halls of the Keep, his presence felt like a specter lurking just out of reach. Instead of confronting you directly, he observed, his violet gaze lingering on you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Meanwhile, the currents of Targaryen drama began to stir anew, this time not over the succession of the Iron Throne, but over the shores of Driftmark and the title of the Lord of Tides.

Lord Vaemond Velaryon was set to make his case, summoned to the court to argue vehemently against Lucerys Velaryon’s claim to the ancestral seat, while the King deliberated on who would wear the mantle of the next successor.

Your mind, however, was torn asunder by the weight of the situation. It was as clear as the midday sun that Rhaenyra's three sons bore the mark of bastardy, the truth hanging in the air like a bitter fog. Yet, despite their dark hair and brown eyes, they were still Princess Rhaenrya's sons, making them true Targaryens, and as long as the crown acknowledged their legitimacy, they had every right to embrace their heritage.

Yet, the specter of justice loomed heavily. They bore no true Valaryon blood in their veins, a fact that rendered their claim to Driftmark similarly disquieting. If they were to inherit such a coveted title, it would be naught but a dagger to the heart of the Velaryon legacy, erasing centuries of honor and heritage in one fell swoop.

But who were you to cast judgment on the matter? You were, after all, a bastard yourself in your own right. With no discernible features from either your father or your mother, the only tether to the Mikaelson name was the multitude of witnesses who could attest to your mother birthing you into this world.

Soon enough, the matter erupted into a grand spectacle, as the Queen had relayed with a glint of grim madness in her eye. Viserys, frail and near death, had heaved himself from his sickbed, a ghost of his former self, to proclaim the legitimacy of his grandsons. That proclamation, laden with tension and bitter truths, secured their claim to Driftmark—an act of desperation that would surely echo through the halls of history. It was not long after this madness that the Prince, Daemon Targaryen, wielded his fury like a sword, severing Vaemond Velaryon's head from his shoulders for daring to call Rhaenyra a whore.

To your great displeasure, Queen Alicent had insisted your presence at the supper of Targaryen and Hightower—a feast destined to spiral into a night of revelry or ruin, most likely the latter. You preferred the shadows, where the light of their self-destructive feud would not touch you, allowing you to observe from afar rather than be ensnared in their political webs. Yet, refusal was a luxury you could not afford.

As the time of the supper approached, you dedicated a substantial time deliberating over your choice of attire. The vibrant hues of black and green were decidedly unfit, signifying discord and allegiances you wished to avoid at all costs. Instead, you selected a gown of soft pink silk, its flowing fabric draping elegantly over your form, a symbol of innocence amidst the clamor of tensions. You wove your hair into intricate braids interspersed with delicate pearls that caught the flickering candlelight, culminating your preparation with a cherished pendant—a family heirloom adorned with the Mikaelson crest.

Stepping into the grand dining hall, you were met with the scrutinizing gazes of the Blacks. Whispers and curious glances darted in your direction as you approached the long table, poised and unwavering, choosing to disregard Aegon's lecherous leers that felt all too familiar. A frown tightened your lips when you spied that both seats beside Helaena were occupied. Resigned yet resolute, you claimed the next available chair—seated close to Aemond.

"My prince," you intoned softly, offering a nod of acknowledgment.

Aemond's violet eye bore into you, a swirl of unspoken thoughts birthing an electric tension between you. Time seemed to stretch as he regarded you, his expression inscrutable, before he replied, "My Lady," his voice low and controlled, yet laden with something you couldn't discern.

With practiced grace, you settled into your seat, the heavy air thick with unspoken politics. You leaned slightly forward, attempting to listen as King Viserys, broken and weary beneath the weight of his crown, delivered a grand speech. He spoke of unity and the bonds of family, though in truth, all you wished for was the freedom to roll your eyes, a habit you had long restrained. His words felt hollow, a poignant irony given his role in fracturing his family as much as he sought to mend it

From what Queen Alicent had confided in you, you were painfully aware of the King's heart-wrenching choice—his decisions that saw his first wife deprived of her future and life, all in favor of the male heir he hoped for. That tragic episode echoed through the halls of the Red Keep, leading to not just his wife but both her and their son's death. And now, as King Viserys eagerly sought the son he so desperately desired, he had all but disregarded Aegon, neglecting the boy from the moment of his first cry.

As the King’s voice echoed in the hall, you caught sight of Helaena, Aegon, and Aemond—each face twisted in quiet agony, a poignant testament to the empty love their father bestowed upon them. In that moment, you felt a surge of empathy and support for them — even Aegon. With a discreet but deliberate motion, you slipped your hand beneath the table, gently covering Aemond’s tightly clenched fist.

He tensed at your touch, but after a heartbeat of hesitation, Aemond relaxed and opened his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. A small squeeze passed between you—a silent token of gratitude that spoke volumes in contrast to the empty words spilling from the King's lips.

As the evening wore on, the air thick with unwelcome tension, your mind began to drift, thoughts becoming a haze as the speeches droned on around you. It was only when Aemond's hand slipped from yours, his presence withdrawing as he rose to his feet, that your gaze sharpened. You found him casting a fierce glare at Jacaerys, who was regaling the gathering with yet another toast.

However, it was Helaena's gentle voice that truly broke through the fog enveloping you. She stood, her lovely countenance illuminated by a warm, sugary smile as she raised her glass high. "I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena," she declared, her tone carrying a dreamy lightness, "They'll be married soon. It isn't so bad. Mostly he just ignores you... except when sometimes he's drunk."

Her words pierced your heart, the bittersweet truth laced within them shattering whatever sympathy you had harbored for Aegon. With a mixture of sorrow and indignation igniting within you, you cast a venomous glare towards Prince Daemon, who, aflame with mirth, laughed at Helaena’s toast. Yet you were not as discreet as you’d hoped; the piercing gaze of Prince Daemon met yours, a knowing smirk creeping upon his lips.

“I do believe I am yet to have the distinct pleasure of being introduced to our guest,” Prince Daemon declared, his voice tinged with the kind of arrogance that could curdle the blood of the unwary. The room fell silent; all attention was drawn to you, as if you were a curious creature caged among the dragons, and you suppressed the urge to sigh at the mischief brewing in his expression.

Queen Alicent cleared her throat—a notable attempt to extricate you from Daemon’s merciless gaze. “She is one of my esteemed ladies, Prince Daemon,” she interjected, her tone hinting at a subtle warning, though the sharpness of the prince’s wit remained unyielding.

“A lady, indeed?” Daemon’s voice was laced with mockery, his eyes flickering over you as if you were an intricate puzzle, “Yet here she sits, so comfortably, as if she belongs to the very blood of House Targaryen.” Daemon replied, the cunning glimmer in his eye only intensifying. He leaned forward, every inch the contemplative predator. “What is your name, my lady?”

The warmth of the hall contrasted sharply with the coolness of his gaze, yet you met it with unwavering resolve, the remnant courage of your lineage steeling your heart as you told him your name and lied about hailing from The Reach, your voice steady, resonating amidst the stillness.

"Mikaelson?" Daemon mused, his smirk as sharp as Valyrian steel. His silver hair framed a face both youthful and hardened by conflict, and his voice dripped with the playfulness of a cunning predator. "And yet you're no son."

A tight smile graced your lips, the playful banter igniting the spark of your short temper. "My father has enough sons, I assure you, Prince Daemon," you rebuffed, your tone dipped in irritation.

"How old are you? Six and ten?" he pressed, his gaze unwavering, while you caught sight of young Jacaerys approaching Helaena, asking her for a dance. If only irony were not woven into the very fabric of their fates—how you wished Queen Alicent had seen fit to unite them in a more harmonious bond than the betrothal she made with Helaena and Aegon.

But also at that moment, you recognized the precariousness of your own web of lies. Since your arrival at King's Landing, you had deceived the queen into believing you were six and ten, which in truth you were. Oh, how the centuries rolled by, yet your vampiric nature kept your visage untouched, a fragrant bloom eternally in its prime. It was a game of wit and veiled truths, and you knew well how to play.

You met Daemon’s piercing gaze anew, your expression turning steely, tinged with an edge of irritation. “No, your highness,” you replied, your voice as cool as ice. “I am three-and-twenty.”

Prince Daemon raised a silver eyebrow in surprise. “My, my, even older than Prince Aegon,” he drawled, the words rolled off his tongue like honey laced with venom, aimed to sting, "And unmarried, I presume?"

Though you longed to retort with the truth, that you were even older than him, a creature of darkness preserved by the very essence of your nature, you instead offered a demure smile, saying, “Yes. But I prefer it that way. Much more preferable than marrying whilst I was a girl." Your words, though soft-spoken, held a steel beneath their surface—a blade forged in the fires of countless unsaid anger at the world around you.

Daemon’s lips curled into an amused smirk, and he shrugged, seemingly unfazed. “And yet, that is the world we live in.” His tone was laced with the disillusionment of a man who had seen much—his own brand of charm wrapped in an air of indifference.

“Indeed, a world where old men prey upon young girls,” you countered, your voice steady and unwavering, “but I daresay you are no stranger to such tactics, your highness.” The look of amusement that had brightened Daemon’s features dimmed, his smirk wilting like a flower in winter, which you took great satisfaction in.

You jolted in your seat, when Aemond, seated beside you, suddenly slammed his fist onto the table. The cacophony of music and chatter in the hall fell silent as he rose, his goblet held aloft like a rallying cry. "Last Tribute!" he announced, a boldness in his voice that demanded attention.

You glanced around the room, and the unease reflected in the faces of his kin did not escape you. Aemond continued, "To the health of my nephews: Jace… Luke… and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise… hm… strong."

A faint gasp escaped your lips as you caught the veiled insult aimed at the Velaryon boys' bastardy. The shocked expressions of the Targaryens around you were a clear indicator that Aemond’s words had struck a nerve. Queen Alicent, her composure straining against the affront to her family, attempted to intervene. "Aemond," she cautioned, her voice taut with concern.

But he paid her no heed, raising his goblet higher, a wicked gleam in his eye as he spoke, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Come… let us drain our cups to these three… Strong boys," he declared, the words echoing through the revelry like a distant thunderclap.

The hall fell silent, eyes turning to Jace Velaryon, whose face had flushed a deep crimson, betrayal etching lines into his young features. He advanced on Aemond with the fury of a dragon, fists clenched tight. "I dare you to say that again," he challenged, his words barely concealing the tempest of wrath within him.

"Why? 'Twas only a compliment." Aemond retorted with a smirk that could cut glass. "Do you not think yourself Strong?" The taunt flew from his lips like a well-bred serpent, and before the words had fully settled in the air, Jace's fist met Aemond’s cheek with a resounding smack.

Yet, to Aemond, it seemed naught but a gentle breeze, his expression barely shifting as he staggered back only a pace. His pale violet eye sparkled with mischief, unfazed by Jace's sudden fury.

In a swift motion, you rose from your place at the table, the wooden chair scraping against the stone floor as you moved to intervene. Aemond, with a dismissive shove, pushed Jace down, the young prince hitting the hard ground with a thud.

Without thinking, you stepped towards Helaena, and gently took her by the arm. “Come, boys are such immature creatures, yes,” you said softly, guiding her away from the escalating chaos that threatened to engulf them both. Her wide eyes flickered with uncertainty, but she leaned into your touch, casting a sorrowful glance back at the scene as you ushered her away.

You watched as Aemond stormed out the dining hall, his anger crackling in the air like the storm clouds that often loomed over King's Landing. As chaos settled around you, you felt an impulse, a momentary lapse in resolve, and left Helaena's side to pursue him.

He strode fiercely through the halls of the Red Keep, the glint of his silver hair catching the flickering torchlight. You hurried to match his pace, concern fluttering in your chest. "Aemond," you called out softly, "are you alright?"

The scent of his wrath surrounded him, palpable as the incense in the court. He did not glance your way, his voice a frigid whisper laced with venom. "Absolutely splendid."

Your brow furrowed at the sharpness of his words, and with a hint of naïveté, you responded, "I sense a trace of sarcasm in your tone."

Aemond exhaled sharply, quickening his steps in a feeble attempt to distance himself from your probing presence, but your determination was steady. "Did my mother send you to chastise me?" he snapped, the words like arrows loosed from a drawn bow.

"No," you responded gently, your eyes softening with empathy. "I am here of my own accord, wishing only to know if you are truly well."

His stormy glare wavered for the briefest moment, as if the floodgates within him were on the verge of breaking, as if realising it was you he was talking to. But just as swiftly, he clamped down on it, his demeanor hardening once more. Suddenly, he halted and turned to face you, the tension palpable in the air between you.

You lifted your chin defiantly, unwilling to cower beneath the intensity of his stare. "Knowing," he began, his voice low and resonant. "And yet I find I do not know you at all."

Your brow furrowed, a hint of confusion playing at the corners of your lips. "I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean."

He raised a hand, holding out three fingers as if counting off a point. "Three things," he affirmed, his tone matter-of-fact. "I now know three things about you: your name, your home, and that you have brothers."

You paused, gazing at him with wide, innocent eyes, your voice a gentle whisper, "You seem troubled by this knowledge."

He exhaled heavily, pressing a knuckle to the jagged scar that marred his skin, perhaps seeking solace from its lingering pain. A part of you longed to ease his suffering. "It is only my frustration that weighs heavily upon me," he confessed, his tone laced with a mix of irritation and longing. "You hold the knowledge of my life in your hands, yet I know naught of your story."

You crossed your arms defiantly, donning a mask of indifference, "I do not understand the depth of your frustration."

Aemond's singular violet eye bore into your soul with an intensity that made your heart race. "I suspect you do. You are well aware of the affections I hold for you."

A sharp breath caught in your throat as you shook your head, dismissing the peculiar warmth blossoming within your chest. "Those were mere whims of a boy, your grace," you retorted, attempting to cloak your uncertainty in bravado.

His gaze remained unwavering, a storm of emotion swirling within that piercing eye. "Yet here I stand, no longer a boy, and the flames of my desire for you still burn fierce."

"You mustn't speak so," you urged, desperation threading through your voice like a fraying rope.

"Why ought I to remain silent?" Aemond shrugged, a hint of defiance lacing his words. "This is but the truth of my heart."

"Which is wholly improper," you retorted fiercely, the tension between you thickening in the wake of your words.

An awkward silence enveloped you both, heavy with unspoken thoughts, until Aemond cleared his throat, shifting the fragile atmosphere. "You held your own remarkably well against my uncle's incessant probing," he remarked, seeking lighter ground.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as a tendril of chill from the nearby window touched your skin, though the coolness hardly bothered you. "There is only one man who may speak to me in such a manner," you replied with a touch of defiance, "and that is my brother."

“Mhm,” Aemond murmured, his gaze locked onto yours, an intensity in his violet eye that seemed to pierce through the very air between you. “Pray, tell me more.”

You stifled a roll of your eyes, at once annoyed and amused by his insatiable curiosity. "I am the youngest of six," you said, your tone now lighthearted yet elusive, "and my favorite color is pink. Might that suffice for your unquenchable thirst for knowledge about me?"

His lips curved in a smirk, his gaze unwavering. "No," he replied, his voice low and firm. "It shall never be enough."

With a genuine exasperation, you rolled your eyes this time, a small smile betraying your annoyance. "Well, if you must know—"

But your words were abruptly stolen by Aemond’s boldness. His strong hands cupped your face, his touch igniting a warmth that seeped through the layers of silk between you. In an instant, his warm, soft lips met yours, and time seemed to freeze. Your heart raced, an unexpected firework of emotion exploding within you as you instinctively leaned into him, responding to the kiss despite the whirlwind of confusion in your mind.

Yet reality came crashing back as your senses settled, and you hastily broke away from him, breathless and bewildered. The air in the room felt charged, and you glared at him, regaining your composure and a semblance of control

The fool wore a dopey grin, that infuriatingly charming smile that only deepened your ire. You shot him a withering look. “I was speaking,” you pointedly reminded him.

His brows knitted in confusion, a flicker of surprise on his face. “What?”

You planted your hands defiantly on your hips, your indignation brewing like a storm. “I was speaking, and you interrupted me! Not only that, but you did not seek my permission to claim my lips.”

Aemond’s laughter rang like the chiming of bells, an amused glimmer in his eye as he observed your vexation. “Very well, my lady. May I kiss you again?”

Your irritation flared, your cheeks warming with a blend of anger and embarrassment. You took a deliberate step back, confusion simmering just beneath your skin. “No, of course not. You have already stolen a kiss from me, but I shall not so easily grant you another.” You held back the childish urge to stomp your foot in frustration. With a petulant huff, you turned on your heel to storm away, your voice carrying a wisp of indignation. “This is most improper and indecent! Good night, your Highness.”

“Good night, my Lady Love,” Aemond murmured, his violet gaze lingering on you until you vanished around a distant corner. His heart swelled with an unexpected mix of hope and affection, the chaotic Targaryen supper and the impending shadows of war fading from his mind. With a tender gesture, he brushed his fingertip against the spot where your lips had just brushed against his, savoring the memory.

And as you stalked off into the dimly lit corridors of the castle, the weight of his gaze lingered, leaving you with a tumult of emotions swirling in your mind, an echo of the kiss that you could neither dismiss nor desire to forget.

[bucknastysbabe]

I just read all your hotd posts and let me tell you I am OBSESSED!

Wanted to ask if you could potentially write something for cockwarming with Jace please? Maybe not as an modern au but with actual prince Jahaerys Valeryon?

If not that’s totally fine but I would go CRAZY if you would! Absolutely love your work

YES I CAN- I LOVE SOME CUNTY JACAERYS HES PERFEXT AND HUNG. Sorry for the wait hope you like❤️❤️❤️❤️

Dreary - Jace Velaryon x Bar Emmon!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Fluffy fluff, sweet baby boy jace, who has a horse cock, set around 2x02, intimacy hehe, cock warming, Baela is a bad bitch she ALLOWS jace to have his little swordfish gf, rip luke ily baby, anyways pnv!sex, some angst, PREP, also I just know the vibes at dragonstone are rancid I would be pissed

Taglist: @aemondfairy @aemonds-holy-milk @arcielee @elaratyrell @jamespotterismydaddy @lovelykhaleesiii @peachysunrize @starogeorgina @towriteloveontheirarms @zaldritzosrose @simp-aholic @jacevelaryonswife (I just added you bc jace wife)

It was a dreary day on Dragonstone. Which was more often than not. Chilly, fierce winds blowing across the Gullet into the Blackwater. You knew how harsh these winds and storms could be, being born Bar Emmon of Sharp Point.

Something was stagnant around the ancient keep of Dragonstone. Perhaps it was the war beginning to ramp up, the continued grief of Prince Lucerys’ death. Going outdoors was a luxury on the volcanic island, anything to escape the mounting emotions within.

Baela was deep within the keep with Queen Rhaenyra. You were a lady-in-waiting of Princess Baela, but she oft preferred her independence or family. The Targaryen dismissed you to ‘find some rest’.

Walking aimlessly around the fused Valyrian stone, hand dragging upon the cold wall, you entered the library. The smell of books and the usual brimstone filled your nose. Haggard gargoyles and wyverns decorated the walls. A small fire crackled in the fireplace, that in the shape of a dragon’s maw. You’d be lying if you said this place wasn’t strange.

Peering among the old tomes and stacked scrolls, you noticed a familiar tousled head sitting in front of the fire. The Prince Jacaerys, the betrothed of Baela. Even if they seemed better friends than to be married as of late. Baela confessed to you late at night that she didn’t want to fall for him during a time of war.

You’d taken to the Prince meanwhile. Guilt didn’t pool in your gut when the Princess didn’t seem to care. Baela knew about your trysts and caught you kissing him in an alcove. Your lips quirked up at the memory— the gorgeous Princess merely laughed, “I was wondering if you had it in you, Jace.”

Coming close to him, you paused. Jace had been struggling as of late. He was brooding and ridden with grief over Luke. You nervously fingered at your dark blue dress, debating if you should leave him be. He was taking on more of a role in the escalating war.

“My Prince,” came your softened call.

He straightened up, turning to face you over a shoulder. Jace hummed, “Lady Bar Emmon. Are you finding yourself stifled again?” He turned further to get a look at you, brown eyes softening. He looked handsome in his black tunic, fine red dragons woven upon the sleeves.

“Quite stifling today. Winter is coming.”

He laughed softly at that, beckoning you over.

You padded to the chair adjacent, Jacaerys familiar arms pulling you back into his lap. You bit back a yelp, looking at him in shock. His full lips curled up a bit as he murmured, “Winter is coming. I saw it firsthand at the Wall. The Stark in the North himself told me all about it.”

You adjusted to curl more to the side, gently petting his curls, careful not to pull. “That sounds…frightful actually,” came your admittance. Jace looked amused as he replied, “Lord Cregan, I liked him, but he was intense. I do prefer the South, Vermax does. He’s likely all snug in his nest.”

The Dragonmont. You wouldn’t mind a warm nest for a minute. Albeit not at Dragon levels.

You laughed softly, “What about the Eyrie? I suppose it was nicer flying up the Mountains of the Moon. I’ve heard it’s the most beautiful of the Castles.”

Jace’s dark eyes sparkled a little as he teased, “Not as beautiful as Sharp Point my lady.”

You batted his shoulder with a scoff and a frown, “Very funny, a big watch tower and old fortifications. Tell me about the Eyrie!”

He chuckled softly, a hand coming up to cradle your neck, his other arm securing your waist. Jacaerys hummed, “Very well, the home of Lady Jeyne was magnificent. All white marble with blue veins. Seven slim towers, no stables, no smithy’s, but a large granary. You can hear Alyssa’s tears, it’s very soothing.”

You looked on in awe as you imagined the painting come to life with his words. Jace continued as he nuzzled your neck, “Mm- just as gorgeous and crisp on the inside, I slept quite well, and got to see the infamous moon door and sky cells. Very Andal castle, don’t know how they did it.”

You gripped his hair as his plush lips began to press against your neck. “Did Vermax like it?” You asked in a shaky voice. He laughed against your sensitive skin, “Of course, scaring the tribes and eating their goats.” Jacaerys pressed one more kiss before pulling back, his ringed hand cupping your cheek.

“I’m sorry I’ve been…distanced,” he murmured, those damn dark eyes and long lashes piercing your heart. Shushing the Prince you shook your head, firmly stating, “You have been grieving. We all grieve, especially for you and your family. For him.”

You didn’t want to speak his name out loud, the lingering implication made sweet Jace blink and look away. Thumbing away his stray tear you murmured, “I wish I could take that pain from you.” He looked back, croaking as his arms engulfed you.

“I missed you so much.”

You sighed the words back, realigning your hips to face his, straddling the prince. Cupping his cheek once again you closed into his mouth, gentle at first. It felt like years while he was gone. Jacaerys grabbed your hips, pulling you flush as he kissed back, full lips soft and careful.

His length throbbed against your thigh as the kisses deepened, Jace’s hands wandering from your ass to your waist, greedily grabbing any flesh. You moaned into his mouth, Jace filling the space with his tongue, sliding it against your own. The brunette moaned, “Gods I missed you. More than just this.”

You pressed your forehead to him, panting, “I missed you too, love. More than this, as much as I enjoy it too.”

He laughed, nibbling at the hollow of your throat, hands sliding up your skirts to reveal your stockings and bare cunt. Jacaerys groaned again, his cock twitching. He mumbled, “Need to get you ready for me again angel.” You nodded, weakly nodding.

Jacaerys’ cock could easily make you bleed everywhere, especially after months apart. He resumed his attention to your neck, thick fingers sliding down to drift across your slick folds and opening. He teased at your clit, drawing a gasp.

You grabbed his hair and pulled him back, kissing him hard as one finger slid into your cunt, pumping just so before quickly adding another. Jace breathed against your twitching lips, “You’re eager.” He had that cocky lopsided smile, eyes hazy.

He pumped his fingers deeper, curling them as you gasped, “I- ah! Could say the same.” You felt his cock straining his breeches, rubbing against heated flesh. Jace moaned again, fingers stretching and scissoring, adding his third finger.

You mewled a little at the pinch, tucking your face into his warm neck. The prince cooed and drug the heel of his palm against your clit, the other hand rubbing your trembling back in slow circles. His voice was a near whisper as he praised, “You’re alright my love, you’re doing so good, gonna feel so good.”

His pinky slipped in your slippery, stretched cunt now, keeping you open as he eased the four digits in and out as you whimpered, Jacaerys kissing your lips and cheeks, shushing you. He adjusted and curled upwards again, dragging roughly against your sweet spot.

You cried out in the library, Jace using his off hand to pull down your dress, suckling and nibbling at your tits as he spread you impossibly open. He sealed his mouth over your nipple, flicking his tongue, playfully humming.

The discomfort was edging into pleasure quickly as Jacaerys worked your body. Your whimpering had turned to panting, then whining in ecstasy as he stuffed you with his sinful fingers, those pretty swollen lips around your tit. You couldn’t help but shiver and grab his hair, muscles tensing up as you moaned his name.

He groaned, kissing his way across the valley of your tits to latch onto the other, his ever-wandering hand giving your now neglected teat a playful squeeze. His fingers were only moving quicker as your cunt practically drooled all over his hand, the lurid squelching loud. You blushed at the sound, heaving and shivering once more.

He swiped your clit one good time, sending you over the edge with a muffled cry, gushing and spasming from head to toe. He pulled off your nipple to watch in awe, murmuring, “My pretty girl.”

You shook through the remnants of the orgasm, cunt twitchy and sensitive even after Jacaerys eased his fingers out. He was undoing his breeches now, moaning under his breath as you watched him pull out his flushed cock, slathering his wet fingers all over the organ.

The sight drew out a low mewl. Jace’s pretty cock was a sight to be seen. He was blessed by the Father, to say the least. Abnormally large yet otherworldly. Dragon cock or whatever they called it in jest.

You lifted your tired hips, the brunette whimpering a little as he slicked himself up further against you, gasping as he swirled the blunt head around your entrance. Jace moaned, “F-fuck, okay, okay, ready my love?”

You nodded, eyes on his as you began to sink, mouth falling open as the oversensitivity and fullness struck. Jace’s thumbs were on your hips, swirling little circles as you descended. The pair of you gasped and panted wetly into each other’s mouths, eyes watery and intense.

Your ass met his lap, a tremble up your spine from the fullness. Jace pulled you against him, stretching his legs out as he pressed kisses to your jaw and neck. His hands rubbed your back, lulling you into relaxing. Taking a deep breath, you settled atop Jace, your cunt pleasantly full and stretched, throbbing a bit.

“Can we perhaps, sit like this for a bit?” You asked him, holding his cheek. Jace seemed more than fine, running his hands lazily across your back still, petting at your hair. He hummed, “Mhm, yes, that’ll be perfect.”

So the pair of you sat in relative ease, humming and lazing by fire. There wasn’t much of a need to speak, more of a time for comfort and intimacy. Jace rambled a little about how much he cared for you, getting shushed again. He smiled at you, rolling his eyes.

The feeling of your lover’s molten cock was beginning to make you sweat. Jacaerys fared no better, shifting restlessly, hands sliding up to grab your ass. He moaned as you clenched involuntarily, needing more. The brunette whispered, “You want it now love? I want you now.”

Indulging the prince you nodded, moaning, “Yes my prince, it’s time, ngh- gods.”

His head fell back as his hands gripped your waist, thrusting up for the first time. Jace’s moan echoed as he pulled back to fuck up into you again. You gasped and whined as he seemed to stuff your cunt further, hips slapping against your ass.

Jacaerys planted his feet, breathing hard as he began to fuck in earnest, mouth hanging open, lips puffy. You felt him eyeing you, your tits bouncing, your stomach baring the vague outline of his cock deep, deep inside. He grunted and held you tighter, losing himself in your slick core.

He inhaled sharply, stuttering his hips, babbling, “Fuck- you feel- so tight my love.” You were at his mercy, reduced to little whines and tears, he was rubbing everything, the friction rising. You clenched further and further as he forced his cock into you, grunting and groaning. Jace’s heavy balls slapped your ass, just another sound in the cacophony of sex.

You shivered and came first, having to pull yourself off, sharply crying. Jace’s cock was hot against your backside, whining some as he pumped a heavy load on your back and ass. You fell against him again, legs shaky and aching from the splendid pain. He panted, holding you tight.

Jace kissed the crown of your head, the comfortable, loving silence between you two and the crackling fire filling the library again. You’d wash up once you figured you could walk again. Damn, Prince.

[zaldritzosrose]

Nepenthe (Aemond x Wife!Reader)

Nepenthe – something that makes you forget grief or suffering.

Summary: In the aftermath of the death of Lucerys at Aemond’s hand, Daemon was dead set on vengeance. ‘A son for a son’, that was how the phrase went, and Daemon intended to live by that. It was known that you, Aemond’s wife, were pregnant with your first child. And there was no limit to the revenge Daemon intended to take.

TW: PLEASE READ THESE BEFORE CONTINUING! Mentions of child death (including Lucerys), descriptions of miscarriage/traumatic birth (A special divider has been placed around this scene), strained marriage, depictions of grief and suffering, there is no happy ending here. You have been warned. dead dove, do not eat. MINORS DNI. AFAB Reader. Baratheon coded reader.

Word Count: 3484

The day Aemond had returned from Storm’s End had been nightmarish. You had hoped he would return successful, your marriage to him and the child in your belly enough to persuade your father, Lord Borros, to bend the knee to Aegon.

But the news Aemond returned with was anything but.

Yes, your father had kept his promise and would support Aegon. But everything that happened afterwards was a disaster. While not unexpected, the arrival of Lucerys had sent Aemond on a downward spiral of rage and revenge. Seeing the young Velaryon had brought back the horrors of losing his eye. Of the lack of punishment his nephew had received. Aemond had seen red, threatening the boy and chasing him through the skies over your family home.

So many times, you had cautioned Aemond on his need for recompense. Short of making him vow to forget the slight and focus on you, your marriage and now your child, he had tried his best to leave it behind.

And he had, for the most part. Rarely speaking of it unless prompted. Focusing on aiding his brother in his ascension as King, and you as the mother of his child. Everything had been as calm as it could have been.

Now, it was not.

The tension in the Keep was palpable. Between Aemond and his family. Between Aemond and you. You had taken the death of Lucerys to heart. Not for any affection held towards the young prince, though you harboured no ill will either. But for the slight to your home and your House. You felt embarrassed. The letter you received from your father, that did nothing but berate and insult Aemond’s actions did not help.

Aemond, to his credit, had not spoken of it to you until you would bring up the topic. And today was one of those days.

The council had discussed it, his first time sitting there and the Lords in attendance had done nothing but whine and complain about the war he had now started. Aemond had returned to your chambers seething, pacing the room as he waited for your return.

You were followed by your maid as you entered, the young girl quickly disappearing at the sight of your agitated husband. As the door closed behind her, you watched him. His whole body tense, like an animal circling a cage. The longer you watched, the more you heard him muttering in anger to himself.

“Sit.” you said softly, all but commanding him.

Aemond surprisingly complied. Taking a seat by the fire, his fingers clenching and unclenching on the leather covered armrest. You took the seat opposite, your hand resting gently on the swell of your stomach as you shifted to find comfort.

“The council had words for you, I presume?”

It was only then that Aemond looked at you. Eye raking up from your rounded stomach to your face, etched in concern for him. If there was one thing he adored about you, it was your perceptiveness. Knowing him well enough for him to rarely need words to express his feelings.

“They did.” he answered shortly, though his anger was not directed at you.It rarely was.

You did not expect much more from him. In every instance, Aemond was one to bottle up his feelings until they were unable to be contained, spilling over like lava from a volcano, burning everything around it.

“They did nothing but berate me! As though I sought to kill him, as though I am a child?” Aemond finally let his anger free. 

You understood his feelings, as you understood the council’s. This would no doubt plunge the realm into war. The Blacks would never let Lucerys’ death go unpunished.

“Did you intend to?”

Your question made him tense. It was not something that had really crossed his mind. His sole focus had been preparing to return home, and whatever came with that. He had barely considered the consequences until they were laid out before him

When he remained silent, you asked him again.

“Did you mean to kill him, husband?”

You watched the muscle in his jaw clench, knowing your question was only adding to his anger. But you were not going to leave the topic be. His eye bored into yours as he found the words to answer.

“I only wanted what I was owed.”

There it was. The hurt little boy. But you had heard him complain time and time again that vengeance would get him nothing. That it would never be as he expected. And you did not have the same sympathy you had at the start.

You sat higher in your chair, preparing yourself for the argument you knew would come.But the words needed to be said.

“What did you think would happen, Aemond? You chased a boy on a war dragon!”

You rarely raised your voice, but your tone was enough to spark the fire in him.

“I did not intend to kill him!” Aemond snapped back, wrenching himself from his chair and resuming his angered pacing.

He may not have intended it. But he had done it, and your joined families were now at risk.

“You may not have intended it, but you could have made different choices.” You replied, remaining seated but watching him intently as he paced up and down.

“Not only have you plunged us into war without a doubt. The Blacks will want vengeance for this!”

When he remained silent you continued.

“Do you have any idea what this means for my House? To have a prince killed over our waters?"

Aemond froze mid pace. He had not and a fresh wave of guilt licked at his heart. He had never considered the consequences to you. His wife, the mother of his child.

“I..I did not think…” 

But his words did nothing to stem your anger. It was one thing to hear him imagine taking his revenge, but to now have to live with the consequences was another.

“You never do.”

Aemond said nothing. The mask of cold indifference returned as he turned on his heel and stormed from the room. You had no desire to follow him. Knowing he would return when he was calm.

Though the two of you never spoke of that night again, it was never forgotten. It was a dark cloud on your marriage, on your family, and the realm. It was only a matter of time before the Blacks sought their revenge. 

You would go to bed at night, dreaming of all the possible ways they would seek retribution. Aemond, however, would play that moment over and over again in his mind as he slept. A different outcome each time. None of them good.

It had been a few weeks now. The Keep remained on edge. Aemond had demanded extra guards at your door, and he never left your side where duty allowed him to. In any other circumstance, you would have relished in his attention. But the way he seemed to always hover just to your periphery soon had you feeling claustrophobic.

Soon, though, the Keep settled. War still loomed, but the focus shifted from its catalyst to the path to its end. The guards at your door remained, but you soon stopped noticing them. You tried to return to normal, but the fear still lingered. You knew something was coming.

Aemond had a permanent seat on the council now, a way of earning forgiveness for his actions by helping plan the war he pushed the realm to. It was a fair price to pay, he wagered. Though his thoughts often drifted to what you had said. What a mistake he had made, how he had let his temper cloud his judgement.

The rain outside was usually a welcome sight for you. Reminding you of the constant storm that would batter the walls of your home in Storm’s End. But when Aemond had returned to you, soaked to the skin in that very same rain, it had lost its happy memory. Tainted. 

It was now a physical manifestation of the darkness that lingered around the Keep and your family. Like the heavy cloud had pulled its way from your consciousness to your reality.

Today was one of the days you spent in your chambers. The stiffness in your body weighing on you as your babe grew. More often than not, you were brought soothing teas mixed by the Grand Maester to soothe your aches and pains. The warm, herby liquid was always a welcome reprieve.

Six moons of your child growing inside you. The most recent times coloured dark with war but you were happy nonetheless. Your marriage to Aemond was never going to be simple. He was not an easy man to love, he had warned you of that himself. But you loved him nonetheless.

And your child was the fruit of that. A child that might now be in danger for its father’s actions.

You were sat at your window, ignoring the rain and focusing on the sound of Vhagar in the distance. A sound that should have roused fear in you. But it reminded you of Aemond, so it brought you comfort.

Aemond was sitting in the council and your only marker of time was a servant bringing your tea. You did not recognise this one, but the Keep’s staff changed so often now it barely brought you concern.

“Your tea, my lady,” the maid said softly, placing the stone cup on the sill before you before stepping away.

You thanked her with a smile, taking a sip of the hot liquid and letting out a satisfied sigh. At first, the taste had made you wince, but it was welcome now. Knowing your body would soon ease and relax.

Your eyes remained locked on the city below as you drank. Feeling the warmth trickle down and seep through your joints. Your hand rested on your swollen stomach, stroking soft patterns to soothe your child. If you tried, you could almost feel them through your skin, but you were likely imagining such things.

You did not know when you had fallen asleep, but the searing pain in your stomach woke you with a scream. It was as though your entire body was aflame, your skin clammy and your muscles tight.

You forced yourself to stand, almost dragging yourself to the door and calling for your guard.

“Get the Maester…get Orwyle now!” you panted out, clinging to the door frame like it was your lifeline.

The knight hurried away, loud footsteps bringing him to the council door as fast as he could. His fearful expression the one thing that forced the doors open.

“Grand Maester, you are needed.” The guard’s tone was serious enough to have the entire council turn to look at him.

Orwyle walked quickly to him, but Aemond knew the guard as one he had posted at your door. He knew immediately something was wrong. The guard’s eyes met Aemond’s as he crossed the room behind Orwyle.

“Speak plainly, ser.” Orwyle said gently, before Aemond could speak.

“It is your wife, my prince…”

Aemond heard nothing else, storming from the room and running down the halls to your chambers. He could hear the guard and Orwyle behind him, but he cared little.He could hear your screams before he reached the room, screams of pain.

The door had been left open and you had managed to find your way to your bed. Clammy hands clutching at the bedpost to steady yourself. You heard people enter and you could just about hear the sound of the maester’s voice.

“The babe…it hurts…”

You remembered nothing else, the pain too much as your eyes slipped shut.

Aemond could not bring himself to cross the threshold. The Grand Maester had called for midwives to assist and the room was a flurry. You floated in and out of consciousness, and when you were awake, you did nothing but scream out your pain.

He barely heard the midwife inform the Maester the babe was being born. He scarcely registered your cries of despair. It was too early, even he knew that. 

The Maester instructed the midwives to tend to you while he looked around your room. It was only then his eyes landed on the tea cup. The shake of his head did not go unnoticed by Aemond. Something had happened. 

Orwyle quickly lifted the cup. It was too early for the tea, the routine never faltered. There was something very, very wrong. 

On the bed, you were in agony. Midwives circled around you and every single one looked terrified.

“My lady, you have to push.” The midwife instructed and you shook your head.

“No…no it’s not time. It is too early…” you whined, but your body began to do what was necessary.

Aemond finally moved, making his way to your side. But your reaction was not what he wanted. Your hands pushed him away, stopping him from even touching you. The action was like a knife to his heart. You were in pain and you did not want him. Aemond backed away slowly, watching silently as the midwives tended to you.

What felt like hours passed, your screams and cries never subsiding until the midwives informed you that your babe was born, a boy. But the silence that followed was haunting. 

“Why is he not crying?” you whispered, your voice hoarse and broken.

The midwives remained silent and that only angered you.

“Tell me!!” 

Your shriek was a mix of anger and despair, but it was Orwyle who answered you.

“Your son did not survive. I am so very sorry, my lady.” Orwyle spoke softly, the pain evident in his words.

You refused to believe it, demanding your son to be placed in your arms. The midwife holding him opened her mouth to refuse, but Orwyle silenced her and took the babe himself and handed him to you.

It was only when you held him, did it hit you. Your child was gone.You had not even noticed Aemond was still in the room until he moved closer to you. But you refused him again, wanting no one to touch you including your husband.

Aemond was at a loss at what to do, hovering at your side while you refused to look at him.

It was only when Orwyle said his name did he move.

“My prince,” the Maester whispered, “I fear it was not natural causes that brought this about.”

Aemond’s head turned to look at the Maester in confusion, silently asking for an explanation. Orwyle continued on, holding the stone cup for Aemond to see.

“The tea I brew for her pains, it was not due for an hour if not more. Whoever brought her this…”

The implication was clear. None of this was natural, outside forces had caused this loss. Aemond nodded, taking one last look at you before he left. If you did not want him here, he would not stay.

It had taken a lot of convincing for you to allow your son to be prepared by the Silent Sisters. Barely holding back your anguish as he was taken from your sight. You had watched Orwyle and Aemond speak, even through your grief you were able to deduce what they were speaking of.

The tea. You should have known. When you thought back, you did not recognise the face of the maid who delivered it. Aemond always told you of new staff. It should have aroused your suspicions immediately.

And now your son was gone. Taken from you.You called for a guard to bring you the Maester. You had to know.

When Orwyle arrived, he saw the determined look on your face.

“What did you tell my husband about the tea?”

Orwyle blinked in shock before answering, not having expected that to be the reason he was called.

“My lady, I…” he began and you knew he was going to skirt the question.

“Truth. Now, Orwyle.”

Your tone was harsh, and he knew he had no choice but to answer.

“The tea, I fear, was tampered with.”

He was not entirely sure of the exact concoction used, but he was certain the two events were connected.

“So I was poisoned, is that what you are saying?”

Orwyle could only nod, tears stinging his own eyes as they did yours. Your next request surprised him.

“Tell my husband I need him.”

Aemond was quick to follow your invitation, surprised at Orwyle being the one to deliver it but he went nonetheless. As he entered, his heart almost stopped at the sight of you. Sat before the fire, having had it lit not long ago.

Your back to him as you held a small blanket in your arms. A blanket you had embroidered when you first learned of your pregnancy.

“Orwyle told you?” he asked, fearing what would come next.

You still did not turn to him as you spoke.

“I warned you. I warned you they would take revenge.” You spat the words at him, nothing but hurt and venom on your tongue.

“I warned you nothing good would come of vengeance and now…”

You could not bring yourself to utter the words. Speaking them would make them final and true. You brought yourself to your feet, rounding on Aemond with a fury he had never seen in you before. Your grief had moulded itself into anger. Anger at the gods for taking your son this way, anger at Aemond for causing it, anger at the Blacks for being the bringers of such vengeance.

“You did this.”

Aemond could feel his very heart shatter. You were blaming him? He wanted to argue with you,but he knew you were in pain, grieving. Channelling all of that against the only person you could.

He listened to your screams and rants, his face never changing from its stoic mask. But inside, he felt sick. Was this his fault? Was this the revenge you had warned him of? Would his half sister and her people really commit such a foul act?

Of course they would, he thought. Not they, however, one person would surely stoop to this. His uncle had the ability for such cruelty, there was no doubt. Daemon was the epitome of rage and vengeance.

His attention wandered back to you when you uttered one hurtful line.

“Was the murder of one child not enough?”

The nausea that ate at his insides turned to fire.You were outright blaming him. Placing all of this tragedy on his shoulders.

“Mind your tongue, wife.” he spat back.

Angry that you were blaming him and no other. Angry that you were acting as though he had not also suffered a loss in the child’s death.

“You are not the only one grieving.” 

The scoff you let out in response only fuelled his rage more. He could see the fire behind your eyes. Nothing should be feared more than a grieving mother.

“None of this would have happened if it were not for your age old grudge, husband.”

You wanted him to hurt as you did. To feel the pain you did. You were the victim here, not him. Not in your eyes. Aemond’s jaw clenched and unclenched, wanting to match the vitriol you spewed at him in kind. But it would get him nowhere. He knew that.

Before any words could leave his mouth, you spoke words that felt like a hammer to the already fragile glass of your marriage.

“Get out. I do not want to look at you.”

He felt like he was in Driftmark again. Watching his injury go unpunished. He was losing you, and there was nothing he could do. His mouth was dry, his heart near still in his chest. If you had looked closer, you would have seen the unshed tears in his eye before he turned and stormed out of your rooms.

The door had barely closed behind him when he let his own tears fall. A mix of anger and pain stinging his cheeks. He wanted nothing more than to burn down the world. To force others to feel the pain he did. The pain you felt.

He would not lose you. Not like this.

There was a phrase, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. But whoever spoke those words had never met a grieving mother. The anger would burn you from the inside if you let it. And the Baratheon words rung in your mind.

Ours is the fury.

You were to live by those words now. Fury for your child. Fury at your husband. Fury at the ones who had hurt you.

Aemond on the other hand, let the rage burn. Fire and Blood. The Targaryen words had never tempted him more. The world would burn for the pain he had wrought.

No tag list purely because I don't want to unintentionally make people see something they don't want.

If you read it, thank you. I will appreciate any feedback you have.

There will be a part two, thanks to some lovely moots who let me bother them with ideas.