#lucerys velaryon x oc

[averagewriter-inthedark]

A Dragon Does Now Bow Down 🐉 | HOTD Imagine P.1

GOT/HOTD masterlist | | Part 2

Characters & Pairings: Targaryen/Lannister!OC—Daerra Targaryen x the Greens (platonic) & the Blacks (platonic)

Content Warnings: follows episodes 1-7 of S.1, fluff (between oc and kids) angst, implied character death, blood, violence, dysfunctional family dynamics, eventual B&C, slight canon divergence | female!OC (she/her) | wc: 8k

Premise: The House of the Dragon is an impenetrable force when standing together. Bound by love, duty, and sacrifice. But when sides are drawn between kin, not even the glue that holds them together can withstand.

Note: this is a direct result of an AU idea I had where the children of the Greens had an actual motherly figure who cared for them and was also a neutral party between the Greens & Blacks. So yeah, I’m sorry this will be more angsty and dark in part 2.

-----------------

Hand turns loom; spool of green, spool of black; dragons of flesh weaving dragons of thread.

It was believed by the Wise King Jaehaerys I that the only thing that could tear down the house of the dragon was itself. Oh how right he was. 

The threat of war loomed over with each passing moon. Bringing unease to his youngest grandchild, Daerra.

Born to his daughter Gael in 95 AC when she was only ten and five. The only legitimate child to her marriage to a lord of House Lannister who shared Targaryen heritage. He died shortly after her birth resulting in Gael returning to the Red Keep where she raised the babe with her siblings and cousins. They took a liking to Daerra--especially the Good Queen Alysanne. Her older cousins; Rhaenys, Viserys, and Daemon were around at times. Mainly at family gatherings since they were all 15+ years older than Daerra. 

A Targaryen beauty with signature attributes to Lannisters, Daerra was a sight to behold. Silver hair she often kept short and curly, and piercing green eyes that resemble emeralds. While her father may have been a Lannister, she only ever referred to herself as a Targaryen. Only ever wearing the colors of red and black. 

Unfortunately Daerra would know loss again at the age of four, when her mother drowned herself in the Blackwater Bay following the stillbirth of her younger brother. From then on, Daerra was under the care of her cousins Aemma and Viserys, who had their young daughter, Rhaenyra, two years prior to Gael’s death. Raising them like sisters since the couple were not blessed with another child by the Gods. 

As children up until adolescence the two were like peas in a pod, though they had their differences. Both enjoyed riding their dragons, though never together. Rhaenyra with her golden queen Syrax, and Daerra with the ferocious Cannibal. Whose eyes were a stunning green as though they were filled with Wildfire. Matching Daerra so closely, it made people wonder if it were the reason the wild beast surrendered to her. Earning her the title, ‘Daerra the Daring,’ when she claimed the mighty dragon on the eve of her tenth nameday at Dragonstone, after stumbling upon his nest when she ventured too far from the castle. Removing red from her wardrobe to only wear black with green trimming in honor of him. 

The bond between dragon and rider was something Daerra was taught by her grandmother the Good Queen. A longing feeling she desired to connect with their ancient heritage. Cannibal was a magnificent creature. When not on Dragonstone, Cannibal was free to roam the outskirts of the city away from the Dragonpit. 

So as to not cause an issue with his….particular taste for food. 

While Rhaenyra had to maintain the statue of a Princess, Daerra had much more freedom during childhood. Which in turn resulted in slight envy from the young heir. Daerra got to go to Dragonstone whenever she pleased so long as the King approved. She got to train under the Rogue Prince himself, Daemon--which fueled Rhaenyra’s jealousy, and learn to fight like a warrior. While Rhaenyra always had a book or quill in her hand, Daerra had a sword or her trusty leather whip. She was his protege. On her fifteenth name day, Lady Daerra was gifted a Valryian steel blade she named Destiny.

Daemon taught her strategy and ways to disarm a man. Not to mention he warned her of snakes in his brother's council.  

Speaking of the council, there were mixed reactions when it came to Daerra and the privileges her cousin gave her. Viserys didn’t rush to marry her off when she came of age, much to the displeasure of his Hand, Otto Hightower. The cunning man desperately wanted to rid the Red Keep of her when she grew to be a mini version of his political headache. Even tempted to offer his own son's hand, until whispers spread of young Lords attempting to court the Lady going missing. Fruitless accusations that were enough to ward off prospects. 

“Is it true,” Rhaenyra raced after Daerra, dressed in her riding gear as she brushed through the mane of her horse before departing to see her dragon. 

“What do you speak of, cousin?” 

Rhaenyra gave a pointed look, glancing over her shoulder before leaning closer to whisper, “People are saying you fed those men who tried to win your hand to Cannibal.” The princess received a snicker.

“So that is the rumor I’ve been hearing amongst the court,” her laugh was dry, turning slightly to face her cousin. “Don’t be foolish, Rhaenyra, he only eats his own,” Daerra denied, but her eyes told a different story. One the princess wasn’t sure she wanted to know. 

Whatever the truth was, it had the outcome Daerra wanted. And that was to avoid marriage for as long as possible. The main reason being when Viserys named his daughter the heir to the Iron Throne. Daerra was ten and seven, beaming with pride while masking the bubble of anxiety in her chest. Greedy Lords would race to win her hand, and offer up their daughters/sisters to the King now that his wife, Queen Aemma, was with the Gods. 

Daerra scoured the court intently. Observing everyone who crossed paths with the King. Particularly Otto Hightower and Corlys Velaryon, who both had young daughters and were ambitious for power. 

“Any ladies the object of your attention, dear cousin?” Daerra clasped her hands behind her back, matching Viserys pace along the gardens. He’d appeared solemn, stress making his features age. 

“Don’t tell me you dragged me out here to hear of my quarrels with marriage prospects. I thought you better than that, Daerra.” His tone was fond, almost fatherly like. Considering he practically raised her since she was four. The two were semi-close with each other.

The young woman snorted, “Oh, you know I prefer the training yard or the skies. But I worry for you.” She stops, making him do the same. The sun beating down brought heat to their skin as their thick clothing absorbed the rays. Illuminating their emerald and lilac eyes that would have any artist wanting to paint a portrait. “Daemon is off in the stepstones doing Gods knows what. Your council keeps bothering you about a wife--and for Rhaenyra to take a husband. Not to mention they still question your decision to name her your heir. Must be exhausting.”

“It is,” the King agrees with a sigh, looking down at his boots. Wishing nothing more than to return to his model of Old Valyria. “With everything happening, I find myself missing Aemma more than ever.” Daerra’s heart tightened, mirroring his saddened expression. Aemma was like a mother to her, raising her as a surrogate daughter following multiple failed pregnancies. 

“I as well. Queen Aemma was the heart of this family,” Daerra glanced up to the heavens, feeling a light breeze drift over them. “Her loss is felt within the Keep. And you should not rush to pledge yourself to another until you feel the time is right. Otherwise you are dooming the both of you.” 

Though she did not have experience with love, Daerra witnessed it throughout her life. The love her grandparents had with each other. The way Corlys and Rhaenys were. The devotion Viserys had to Aemma, and the stories of his parents, Baelon and Alyssa. Love matches were rare, but they existed. And if blessed, one may experience more than one in their lifetime. 

She had hoped that for Viserys. Unfortunately, her advice was met on deaf ears when he announced not long after his intent to marry Alicent Hightower. The daughter of his Hand, and dear friend to his own daughter. 

Daerra was enraged. Disgusted even. How could her cousin marry a girl the same age as Rhaenyra. Younger than her by three name days. Never did she see the two together during the day, and it took some convincing for the King’s guard to tell her the two had secret meetings during the night. 

‘Of course,’ she thought, clutching her fists as the need to break something became too much to bear. If there was one thing Daerra was also known for in the Seven Kingdoms….it was her temper. Rivaling that of Daemon when she finally burst after penting up frustration for days. Earning her another nickname of the Dragon with a Lion’s roar. However, she had to remain composed. This was the King, not just her cousin. And while he allowed her freedom and often glanced the other way when she gave cheek to Lords and Ladies of the Court, the same would not be directed at him. 

In the end, Daerra told Viserys, “I hope you know what you’re doing, cousin.” And when he questioned her statement, her reply was simply, “You lack to see the weight this union has put on our House. And I hope you are ready for the pressure that will come the moment you sire more heirs. For yours and Rhaenyra--and even Alicent’s sake,” she paused, narrowing her brows at the man who raised her. “I hope the Gods bless you with only daughters.” 

Of course, Viserys believed her to over exaggerate. Even when he caught her stiff expression at his wedding. Standing beside his daughter with her hands clasped behind her back, dressed in black with gold accents. The way she assessed him was almost like a warning. But again, Viserys took it like a grain of salt. In his eyes, Rhaenyra was his heir and the Lords of Westeros pledged to her before him and the Gods. Swearing fealty, which was more valuable than any gold in the country. 

He failed to realize they would not be forthcoming once he had a son. When that day came, Daerra felt the shift. As she glanced down at the babe in her arms, having taken him while Alicent rested before Viserys was to present him to the court, Daerra’s usual rough exterior crumbled. 

There was such an innocence to babes. Unaware of the harsh realities the world possessed. Small little things who only desired love and attention. “Hello, little one,” she whispered to Aegon. His bright lilac eyes staring up at her in wonder. Silver strands of hair on his head, skin soft and smooth as her finger stroked his cheek. “I’m your cousin, Daerra. Oh how the realm has awaited your arrival,” her gaze softens, a tinge of sadness in her tone. “But I’m sorry for what your life is set to be like. You’re the first born son--named after the Conqueror himself.” 

Of course little Aegon had no clue what she was saying. To him the only concern was when he would eat, sleep, and have his nappy changed. Still, he gazed up at her as though he was taking in every word. 

Helaena came a year later, with Aemond not long after. As she did with Aegon’s birth, Daerra was present in the Queen’s chamber. Offering support and watching the babes while she rested following the endless hours of labors. Though her and Alicent’s relationship was rather hot and cold, there was a mutual respect. Especially when it came to the children which the Queen greatly appreciated. There were times where Daerra was the only person who could calm them when they fussed. 

“You’d be a great mother, Daerra,” Alicent exhaled, waiting for the sleep to take her while watching Aemond in the woman’s arms. “You’re a natural with him. With all of them.” Still in her youth, the young Queen wondered why Daerra never seeked to marry or have children. After Daemon left for the StepStones a lot had changed for Daerra. 

Though she still had her reputation. 

Daerra only smiled, not taking her eyes on the baby boy, “Everyone’s destiny is different, my Queen. I don’t think mine was to birth the next generation of Targaryen’s. But I do think I was meant to help raise them.” 

Lastly a few years later, came the arrival of the last child of the King and Queen. A boy named Daeron. Who the King, with the surprise approval of his wife, named in honor of his cousin. 

“Gentle, Aemond,” Daerra brushed away a hair from his face and tucked behind his ear. Kneeling down on the ground so she was eye level with the toddlers, Daerra held a sleeping Daeron in her arms. Six-year-old Aegon had a toy dragon in his hand, while five-year-old Helaena sucked on her thumb. Aemond, the curious three-year-old, kept leaning over her arm to get a look at his baby brother. 

“Tiny,” his finger came down on the babe’s head, lilac eyes peering up at the woman in awe. Daerra beamed, a bright smile on her lips. 

“Yes, my darling, he’s a tiny thing. Like you were many moons ago,” a giggle left the boy’s mouth upon her poke to his stomach. Helaena leaned onto her shoulder, lightly tracing the leather and texture of Daerra’s outfit. Aegon himself found entertainment twirling the chains attached to her cloak.

“How come all our eyes are purple and yours are green, aunt?” 

Daerra felt warmth at the title, like it always did when the children referred to her as such. That they viewed her more as an aunt than a distant cousin. 

“Well, my father was a Lannister and said to have bright green eyes,” she explained to the boy.

“Like Cannibal!” Aemond exclaimed, causing Daerra to gently hush him and carefully adjust Daeron who made a sound at the movement. Daerra cooed at him before looking back at Aemond. He’d always been so fascinated by the Dragons in his young age. Especially Cannibal after learning of his reputation. Begging Daerra to one day take him with her flying. She also had a tradition of taking the royal babes to the Dragon, much to the horror of Alicent and Otto, presenting the beast with the new generation of their house. 

Daerra chuckled, petting the top of Aemond’s head, “Inside voice, little dragon.” He mumbled an apology. Daerra bopped his nose, “but yes, Cannibal and I have matching eyes. That’s why some say he chose me as his rider.” She turned back to Aegon, “Sometimes certain traits are stronger than others. My father’s mother was a Targaryen, but he inherited his father’s green eyes. You all took on after your father, his grace the King. The spitting image of the blood of Old Valyria.”

“But what about Jace?” 

Daerra felt her heart stop, eyes widening a bit at the sudden question by her surrogate nephew. As the years passed with many unions blooming and children born to the royal family, Rhaenyra’s marriage to Laenor Velaryon produced their first son. Jacaerys. Born only a few moons prior to which Viserys ordered the babes share a wet nurse, following rising tensions between the houses in hopes to restore the strained relationship between Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra. The former donning to wear only the color green, representing her house calling their bannerman to war. 

An act that had Daerra nearly tapping back into her destructive nature by driving her dagger straight through her heart. She resisted…..with a lot of hard work.  

Like most in the Keep, Daerra knew the boy had been sired from the honorable Ser Harwin Strong. Sharing his dark brown hair, eyes, and similar nose. Opposite of the traditional Valyrian features such as silver hair and lilac eyes. A kind man and dutiful knight, Daerra saw the behavior her cousin and her sworn protector shared when they thought no one was looking. 

Rhaenyra was currently carrying her second child, and rumors of the potential paternity of Jace and his unborn sibling were spread. Making Daerra’s brows narrow in question. 

Gently tugging the boy closer after confirming they were the only ones in the nursery, Daerra whispered, “What is this you speak of, sweetling?” Young and naive to the concern in her tone, Aegon continued to fiddle with her chains. 

“He doesn’t have hair like us. I heard mother shouting at the maid that Jace is a ba-ba-bast,” he couldn’t get the word out, and Daerra immediately stopped him with a soft hand on his cheek. 

“Jace is your nephew. Your older sister's son,” she told him sternly but also soothing as one would to a child. “You boys will grow up with each other--and there is nothing stronger in the Seven Kingdoms than the bond between kin. You mustn’t utter these words again, sweetling. Regardless of whom you hear them from.” 

Aegon only nodded, saying something along the lines of, “I won’t,” but Daerra already feared what was to come for the future of her family. Alicent already showed disdain for her Rhaenyra after her father Otto was released as Hand. Now with her voicing the questionable parentage of the Princess’ son, there was little to no hope of reconciliation. 

The rumors only got worse with the arrival of a second son, Lucerys. A spitting image of his older brother. Like Alicent’s children, Daerra was close to Rhaenyra’s sons. Making her often feel in the middle of the feud between the two. Thankfully when it came to the children, both were respectful and grateful for Daerra’s assistance. 

“Come here, my dreamer,” Helaena grasped Daerra’s outstretched hand, not clutching Luke to her chest, to help the princess step out of the carriage. The Lady turned to the knights, “You are to remain here. We’ll only be a moment.” The man’s face consorted to worry, eyes peering into the woods where he swore he heard the rumble of the beast lying ahead.

“My Lady, the Queen and Princess ordered that you must be in sight with the young prince and princess. You’re not to be alone with them and your dragon--for precaution as you can understand.” 

Having dealt with this a number of times already, Daerra’s face stayed neutral, “I appreciate your concern, and honor of maintaining order, good Ser. But you must know my Cannibal does not take kindly to strangers.” Her tone went cold, as did her eyes sending a shudder up the man’s spine. He visibly paled. “He will see you as food. So,” her head tilted in defiance, “do you still wish to join us? Or will you be smart and do as you’re told.”

“I-I-I shall await your return, my Lady,” he nodded, wishing nothing more than to wipe the sweat from his head. Or throw up from the anxiety he felt. 

Daerra smirked, nodding back and holding Helaena’s hand while cradling Luke in her other arm. Guiding the girl through the woods until they reached Cannibal’s nest. Once in front of the clearing, Daerra bows, “Rytsas, uēpa raquiros.” Hello old friend. 

A low rumble filled their ears, followed by the rustling of leaves. The clearing between the trees filling as Cannibal shook the twigs from his back, wildfire eyes focusing on the group. Daerra heard him sniff, letting go of Helaena’s hand to approach. The girl stayed put, gaze glued on the dragon with awe. She’d never seen him up close before, the only time Helaena had made his acquaintance was when Daerra presented her to him as a babe. Then when Daeron and Jace were born, she took Aegon with her. 

Daerra approached with caution. Glancing down at Lucerys while she untucked the blanket to show his face. 

“Nyke’ve maghatan ao nykeā irudy. Nykeā Targārien naejot kustikagon īlva ānogar. Rhaenagon prince Lucerys, tresy hen Rhaenrya se ser Laenor Velaryon.” I’ve brought you a gift. A Targaryen to strengthen our blood. Meet Prince Lucerys, son of Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor Velaryon. 

Cannibal leaned down, bringing his snout level with Daerra, who gently extended her arms. Holding Lucerys out as though she was offering him up to the dragon, making Helaena gasp lightly. Slight fear at what might happen despite finding the sight mesmerizing. 

Emerald eyes met wildfire. Dragon and his rider. Daerra kept her stare as Cannibal’s snout came only a mere inches from the babe. Feeling the heat radiate off him, the fire seeping through his veins. Cannibal sniffed again, Lucerys moving in Daerra’s hands though she kept a grip on him while never taking her eyes off her dragon. Watching him smell his Targaryen blood, the blood of Old Valyria. 

A sound of approval left Cannibal, his body raising to his true height. A stunning sight for anyone who dared graced the wild dragon with their presence. It made Daerra smirk, bringing Lucerys back to her chest when he began whimpering. She cooed softly, stepping back to where Helaena stood. Crouching down, Daerra said, “The dreams you have are not mere illusions or fantasies, Helaena. It is a rare thing for a Targaryen to dream the way you do--but it is in our blood. They are a window into the future--or what the future may bring. I know it’s hard for you to explain when they happen, but you must not be frightened. For you are a dragon,” the girl met her gaze, a mini Rhaenyra staring back at her. “And a dragon does not bow down to fear.”

Alicent’s distant nature for her children was observed early on. As well as the neglectfulness of his Grace the King. So it came as no surprise to servants and guards in the Keep when the children of the King and Queen often sought council and companionship from Lady Daerra and Ser Criston Cole. The two hardly acknowledged each other, only when the time called for it. She disliked his insults of Rhaenyra, and he despised her closeness to the Princess and her sons. 

But when it came to Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond, the two were a force to be reckoned with. Daeron had been sent to Oldtown once he learned to walk. A decision that put a small hole in Daerra’s heart, for she felt she lost a son, although the decision was a wise one. Alicent continued to drive hate into her children while Daerra fought to prevent it. And having Daeron away meant he had a chance to not sour like the rest of the Hightowers in the Keep. Helaena remained a sweet girl. The only solace as Aegon began drowning himself in wine and Aemond grew restless at not having a dragon. 

Like today as a matter of fact. 

Daerra made her way to Rhaenyra’s apartments, passing Laenor and the boys as he escorted them to the Dragonpit. “Aunt Daerra!” Jace bounded to her, excitement coating his entire being. “We’ve got a brother! His name is Joffrey.” 

“So I’ve heard,” she ruffles his hair, then leans down to scoop up Luke who had latched to her leg. “Are you excited to be a big brother, my prince? You’re not the youngest anymore and have to step up to the role Jace has had.” He nods frantically. Ready to prove himself to his family. 

“I can’t wait to go dragon riding with him,” he smiles but then pouts, “but that won’t be till Arrax gets bigger and his egg hatches.” Daerra lightly pinches his cheek, making him squeal.

“Fair not, little dragon, the time will come. Until then--,” she sets him down, bidding a nod to Laenor who returned a nod in respect. Silently thanking her for all the times she was there for the boys and not audibly questioning their lineage. “You gotta grow your bond with Arrax. And we shall pray to the Gods they bless Joffrey with his dragon. Now, I shall leave you to it. I have a new nephew to meet.”

With a kiss to each of their heads, the woman departs as they wave goodbye, continuing on until she reaches Rhaenyra’s chamber. The Whitecloak nods, moving to open the door and announces her arrival, “The Lady Daerra Targaryen, Princess.” 

“Thank you, Ser.” Rhaenyra sits up, grinning up at her cousin, who exchanges courtesies with Harwin. “Good morrow, cousin.” 

“Good morrow it is, my Princess,” Daerra clasps her hands behind her back. Slowly walking forward until she’s directly in front of the woman. Noting the evident exhaustion in her face. “My congratulations to you and Ser Leanor on the healthy birth of another son.” Her head gestures to the babe, cradled in the knight’s arms. “I hear his name is Joffrey.” At her silent reaction, Rhaenyra softly chuckles, giving a knowing look. 

“Laenor chose it. I believe it is a name dear to him--I recall him wanting to name Jace, and then Luke, it when they were born,” her smile was small, lingering with sadness at the memory of Laenor’s lover that’d been killed the night of their wedding. Knowing it was the reason behind the name. “But his father had a hand in naming the boys. Making sure their names were fit for Velaryons.” Daerra didn’t miss the way her cousin’s eyes flickered to Harwin. Or how he looked up from the babe to meet the Princess’ gaze.

Clearing her throat, the woman once again turned her attention to the babe. “Well they are certainly happy to be older brothers. Already planning to take him and their dragons out for their first flight.” Together they all shared a laugh. Daerra made the motion to Joffrey, “Might I?”

“Of course,” Harwin passed the babe, carefully placing her into her arms and lingering when he believed she had him settled. Daerra stayed silent, not wishing to make him uncomfortable by commenting how she'd held all the royal children as babes. 

Harwin took his leave, bowing to Rhaenyra and Daerra as he did so. Leaving the two women and Joffrey alone. That’s when Rhaenyra finally let out the breath she’d been holding, closing her eyes to soothe the tiredness consuming her. Daerra sat on the opposite chair, shaking head with a frown. 

“I’d hoped the maids were speaking nonsense when I heard what took place after the birth.” Daerra took in her cousin, taking her eyes off Joffrey, who fell into a soundless sleep. Rhaenyra opened her eyes, the small smile turning into a frown. 

“I fear it will continue, so long as I produce heirs.” 

Daerra sighed, face consorted with concern. “I admit I have some sympathies toward the Queen for her situation. Only a girl herself when she married your father and had the children. Still,” her face turned strained, indicating she was not defending Alicent. “That does not excuse her behavior toward you. And your boys.”

Rhaenyra looked down, muttering a ‘thank you’ to which the woman simply nodded. They stayed that way for a few minutes, Daerra requesting permission to take the babe to meet Cannibal after the two had rested. Once received, Daerra handed the Joffrey to the maid, gave a comforting squeeze to Rhaenyra’s shoulder, and left the Princess. 

As she migrated through the halls, she heard sniffles in a nearby room, the one belonging to Aemond. Once again the guard acknowledged her with a nod, moving to allow her to pass. 

Her heart broke at the sight of Aemond sitting on his bed, head tucked between his knees. Dust and soot covering his usually clean silver hair and green attire. An indicator he’d been in the Dragonpit. Alone, in an attempt to claim his mount he desperately wanted. After the many years of teasing from his brother and nephews.

Who only did it when Daerra wasn’t present. Fearing her wrath as she did not tolerate bullying in her presence. The one time they did it left them all crying. Mostly out of embarrassment and shame at disappointing her. 

His soft cries echoing in the silent room, until her footsteps entered as she strolled up to him. Daerra takes the spot on the bed beside him. “Aemond.”

“I do not wish for a lecture, Aunt Daerra,” he rubbed his nose, turning the other way to shy away his reddened eyes. He knew she already figured out his adventure in the pit. “Mother already gave me one.” 

“I’m not here to lecture. I’m here to ask if you’re alright.” 

Aemond turned back to face her, eyes glossy with tears and bottom lip beginning to quiver, “They gave me a pig.” Daerra tilted her head, confused at the statement.

“A pig?”

A tear escaped as he nodded, Daerra wiping it away with her thumb. “Aegon. Him, Jace, and Luke told me they had a dragon for me to claim. That it was finally my time to join them as riders.” His head frantically shook, leaning onto her side to which she opened her arm to embrace him. “But-but really it was a pig they dressed up and called it the pink dread.” 

Daerra listened silently, comforting the boy as he began to cry once more. Her fingers raked through his silver locks, as a mother would her child. A gesture he loved, considering his mother hardly showed affection. Unlike his older half-sister did with her children. 

“Why don’t we take a walk?” she suggested, pulling away from Aemond to stand. She held out her hand, “There’s something I want to show you.” Putting himself together, Aemond hopped off the bed and took her hand, letting Daerra lead him out of his room. They reached Rhaenyra’s chamber, where the lady told him to wait while she went inside. A moment later, she returned with Joffrey in her arms. 

“What are you doing?” Aemond’s eyes widened, standing on his tippy toes to see his nephew. Noting the babe was still asleep. 

Daerra smirked, “It’s been some time since a Targaryen babe has been born. Lucerys being the last,” she began to walk, Aemond trailing behind her with an eager pace. “And I’m not one to stray from tradition. Cannibal will be pleased to meet the newest member of the family.” Immediately Aemond lit up. Realizing what Daerra was referring to. 

It was his turn to join her as she introduced a Targaryen baby to her dragon. He’d been four when Luke was born, and Helaena was who she brought with her. Which had Aemond pouting as he wanted to go but Daerra refused. Now he was getting his chance. 

The first stop was to see his mother. Alicent’s already dampened mood increased when the two arrived at the Kings’ chambers. Alicent saw Joffrey and instantly knew what was about to be asked. 

“Is this really necessary, Lady Daerra?” she argued, trying to ignore the pleading eyes Aemond was giving her. Focusing only on Daerra, who did not break under her stare. “The babe was born mere hours ago. And I’m sure the Princess--.”

“Already gave her consent,” Daerra interrupted, keeping her expression neutral. 

From the side, Viserys let out a pained groan, catching their attention. “Let the boy go with her Alicent. All the children have met Cannibal when they were born, and Daerra has proven he will not do harm. Both Aegon and Helaena have joined her with the births of their brother and nephews. Aemond shall go with her to introduce Joffrey.” 

Alicent attempted to put up another argument, but with a 3v1 against her, she ultimately relented. Ordering that a guard must be present at all times and they are to return before the hour is up.

“Of course, your Grace,” Daerra bowed. “We shall make haste so that Aemond is not late to the training yard.” 

“You will be joining them, yes?” Alicent had a tight smile. She had mixed feelings of Daerra assisting Criston Cole and Harwin Strong in training the boys. For one, she admired the woman for being able to do things most women were frowned upon doing. She too, found herself mesmerized as a young girl watching Daerra train with Daemon Targaryen. She was a beauty to behold with her whip and sword. 

But Alicent also resented Daerra for it. Mostly due to envy she spent more time with her sons than she did. 

And that they preferred her company. 

Daerra’s chuckle brought her out of her thoughts, “Someone has to put these princes in line. They forget themselves when a Lady is not present.” Both women drew their gaze to Aemond, the residue of the dragonpit still on him. Pink tinged his cheeks as he looked away. 

“As I agree,” Alicent’s jaw tightened, but she quickly masked her disdain with a tight smile. Shaking her head while looking back at Daerra, “Very well. I shall leave you then.”

Daerra curtsied again, “Your Grace,” then she turned to Viserys. “My King.”

“Thank you, mother,” Aemond bowed, before doing the same to his father. Both wearing small smiles, though only Viserys’ reached his eyes. 

When they finally reached Cannibal’s nest, Aemond was buzzing with nerves and excitement. Heart pounding against his chest. For it would be the first time being so close to his beloved Aunt’s dragon. A moment he’d been waiting years for. 

He remembered Daerra telling him many moons prior that she brought him as a baby to the beast, where the dragon spit his wild green fire into the sky in celebration of the birth of a Targaryen prince. Then Aemond often watched from the Godswood as Daerra flew him around Kings Landing. His shiny black scales bouncing off the sun’s rays. Shouts of the small folk reacting to his massive form. Aemond was always in awe. 

Sitting down on the grass after Daerra presented Cannibal with Joffrey, they watched him find a comfortable spot in his nest to return to his nap. Daerra beamed at the sight, switching Joffrey in her arms when they started to ache. 

“I know you wish nothing more than to claim your dragon, Aemond. I too was upset with each nameday passing and not having one,” Peering down, Daerra saw the way his face shifted to sadness. “I was the age Jace is now when Cannibal chose me.” 

“He chose you?” He repeated, now displaying confusion. 

Daerra raised a brow, “To believe we have the power to control a dragon is a myth. They are who really chose us. It is why when you attempt to claim one, you must accept death as an answer.” Aemond processed her words, fiddling with his fingers that were clasped in his lap. 

“So I have to wait for a dragon to deem me worthy.” The dejection in voice pulled at her heartstrings. His shoulders dropped in defeat. 

Taking his hand in hers not holding Joffrey, Daerra signed and stroked his knuckles. “What your brother and nephews did was cruel. And I’m sorry you had to endure that, Aemond. But remember this, my darling,” Tucking her finger under his chin, she pulled his gaze to hers. Green eyes meeting lilac, “You are a Targaryen. Made of fire and blood, whose ancestors conquered Westeros with the dragons we hold dear to our house. Your time will come. And when the opportunity presents itself, you will know.” Her eyes turn serious, filling Aemond with hope. “And the dragon will choose you.”

Disaster struck an hour later. One that no one, even Daerra, could have anticipated. When Criston Cole decided to instigate a spar between Jace and Aegon. Leading him to antagonize Harwin Strong. 

It all started when all four boys took turns switching off against the four dummies. But not before they were lectured by the woman on their mistreatment of Aemond that morning. All their heads bowed, not able to face her which brought a bit of joy to the prince. Once finished, they took their spots in the yard. Daerra stood on one side while Cole took the other. Observing the four closely as they met their targets. The knight was not pleased or offered technique advice whenever Jace and Luke were by him. Whereas Daerra was equal. Pointing out mistakes for each boy. 

When they switched off again, Jace bumped shoulders with Aemond. An action he did on purpose which received a scolding look from Daerra. She didn’t say anything, her face alone brought a blush to Jace’s cheeks. The boy mumbled a ‘sorry’, embarrassed to have been caught and looking away to not meet her eyes. Daerra moved closer to him, right next to the dummy. 

“This is practice, not the battlefield. I expect better from you.” The red on his cheeks got brighter, nodding his head in silent promise to not do it again. Once satisfied, Daerra commanded. “Feet light, Jace.” Bringing his wooden sword up, he struck the dummy one, two, three times before pivoting on to attack from behind. A sound of approval left her, “Good.” 

Briefly lifting her focus, she caught her cousin and his Hand, Ser Lyonel Strong watching the scene below from the top of the Keep. Surrounded by his Kingsguard. The king raised a hand to wave, a smile on his face and pleased to see his sons and grandsons training together. He received a firm nod from his cousin before turning to speak with Lyonel. 

When she returned her attention to Jace, he had stuck his sword in the dummy, only for it to be smacked down by Aemond. 

“Don’t stand too upright, My Prince,” Cole lectured, tone laced with mocking. “You’ll get knocked down.” The glare from Daerra was ignored, moving his attention to Aegon, who got distracted by passing servants. 

Daerra’s disproving eyes went to Aemond, now facing the dummy Jace had left. “I understand what transpired this morning has made you upset. But to add fire will only make it worse. You are better than that, Aemond.” 

His brows narrowed, “It’s not fair. Everyone tells me to deal with it--why should I? Why does no one--apart from you--say anything!” he whisperer-shouted the last sentence, not wanting to draw attention to them. Daerra didn’t blame Aemond for his outburst. After years of teasing it was bound to take a toll. And part of her blamed his parents lack of involvement for letting it slide for so long. 

“Your anger is justified,” she affirmed, leaning down to lower her voice so only he could hear. “And judgment will come when the Gods deem it so. For now, display your frustration on the dummies. Not your kin. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, Aunt Daerra,” came his mumble. Daerra straightened up when she heard Cole suggest a challenge between him against Aemond and Aegon. Her brows furrowed in suspicion, but made no move to stop the knight. Instead she backed up to stand between Jace and Luke. 

Their spar lasted roughly thirty seconds. Both Targaryen’s put their best efforts to disarm Cole. But the knight was faster. 

“Ah,” the sound of Harwin Strong came from her right. Daerra stiffening when the boys turned to him. Which did not go unnoticed by Cole. “Weapons up, boys. Give your enemies no quarter.”

“Thank you for your input, Ser Harwin,” Daerra gave a curt nod. Motioning for the two to approach the dummies, and much to her displeasure, Harwin turned to address Cole. 

“It seems the younger boys could do better with a bit of your attention, Ser Criston.” 

Daerra cursed under her breath, panning to Cole who did not take lightly to the Lord Commander's words. 

“Do you question my method of instructions, Ser? Or that of the Lady Daerra?”

“Ser Criston,” Daerra warned, then sent a look to Harwin. Pleading to not say anything. Of course, it went to no avail.

“I merely suggest that method be applied to all your pupils.” It didn’t help that Aegon shoved little Luke to the side, the boy bumping into Daerra who had to stop him from hitting the ground.

“Aegon.”

Cole’s animosity breached his expression, “Very well.” Harwin’s face changed as the knight stunted forward. Daerra tensing where she stood. “Jacaerys,” his hand reached out and yanked the boy. “You spar with Aegon.” The silver-hair boys laughed as Cole dragged Jace to the other side. “Eldest son against eldest son.”

Daerra voiced disapproval, “Mayhaps we should continue as we were, Ser Criston.” 

Harwin appeared to agree, “It’s hardly a fair match.” Aegon patted Jace’s back as he passed him. An eager smile painted his lips while the younger became nervous. 

“I know you’ve never seen true battle, ser, but when steel is drawn a fair match isn’t something anyone should expect.”

Daerra hated that Cole had a point. When battle came there was no such thing as fairness. But still, this was training for the young princes. Not a duel between steel. 

She could intervene. Harwin and Jace’s faces were filled with worry. Silently pleading for her to reprimand Cole. Daerra knew better though. This was his element and had all the power. She was only to supervise and offer assistance when needed. But she did say one thing, voice stern as she looked all three--Cole, Jace, and Aegon--in the eyes, “Keep it clean. No blood or this ends as quick as it starts.” 

Cole tightened his lips, “Well said, my Lady.” Their glares on each other lingered, Cole breaking it first when he motioned at the boys. “Blades up.” They awaited the command. “Engage.” 

Aegon charged with a cry, Jace using all his might to counter his attacks. He was brought to the ground with a shove, sword still in his hands. The older boy laughed menacingly, retaking his spot in front of Cole. The smirk, however, left his lips when he caught Daerra’s cold stare. Then Jace came running at him with a shout. 

“Ahhhhh!”

They danced across the yard, the spar pausing when Aegon tried to push a dummy onto Jace. Resulting in Harwin to step in, “Foul play!”

“I’ll deal with him,” Cole announced, both men stepping toward their respected princes. Daerra stiffened, peering up to see her cousin looking awfully confused. The rigid posture of his Lord Hand was a telling sign they too felt unease.

“You!” Aegon yelled, startling Jace who quickly met his oncoming attack. 

“Close with him,” Cole ordered, all three adults following behind the boys. Daerra pointing at Aemond and Luke to stay put. “Push him backward!”

“Light feet, Jacaerys!” Daerra matched Cole’s tone. The brunette boy’s face painted red and stumbling with each step. Aegon was relentless, coming at him like a wild animal. 

“Use your feet!” A harsh kick met Jace’s armored chest, plowing him down. “Don’t let him get up!” Aegon brought the sword down, Jace barely able to counter. He was losing his breath, running out of energy. 

Harwin was losing his patience. As was Daerra, “Ser Criston, that is enough--.”

“Stay on the attack!” 

Aegon raised his sword, ready to charge it onto the already weakened Jace, but was stopped when Harwin grabbed it and pulled him away. “Enough!” With a single movement, Aegon was spun around and thrown to the side. 

“You dare put your hands on me!?”

Daerra cut in front of the heated prince as he hastily pushed up from the ground to challenge Harwin. “Calm down, now.” Her pointed finger while free hand hovering over her whip was enough to draw him back. His offensive stance shrinking down, mumbling curses more out of annoyance. 

“Aegon!” the King shouted, mirroring his cousin’s tone. Finding his son to be overdramatic by his choice of words. 

“You forget yourself, Strong, that is the prince,” Cole snarled. 

“This is what you teach, Cole?” came the response. Harwin picked up the disposed swords, spitting ���Cruelty. To the weaker opponent.”

“Your interest in the Princes’ training is quite unusual, Commander. Most men would only have that kind of devotion toward a cousin.” 

Oh no.

Harwin stilled, picking up the last sword as Cole turned to face him with a cunning smirk. Daerra narrowed her eyes. Not blind to his indirect accusation, but vexed he would openly announce it in the yard. In front of onlookers. In front of the boys.

“Or a brother.” 

Harwin stood, Daerra unable to see his face to tell what he was thinking. Instinctively she motioned for Jace and Luke to get behind her. While throwing pointed gazes at Aemond and Aegon who were watching with amused expression. 

“Ser Criston, mind your tongue.”

Her warning was left to the wind. Cole let out the final blow, “Or a son.” Faster than they could blink, the Commander of the Night’s watch spun, fist raised to impact Cole’s cheek. Sending him sprawling to the ground as he landed another one. Straddling his chest to continue unleashing deadly hits causing Cole’s face to bleed in various areas. 

It came to an end when the man they called Breakbones was yanked off of Cole by the power of Daerra’s whip. The leather wrapping itself around his neck, the woman jerking it with all her might, letting out a cry until Harwin fell to the ground. A sight that shocked her nephews, all standing wide eyed with their mouths agape. 

They didn’t call her the Daring for nothing.

That was when the Whitecloaks seized him, taking four of them to drag the knight away from Cole. “Say it again!” He seethed, spit flying from his mouth. “Say it again!” Daerra marched up to Cole, surprising him with her strength as she hauled him to his feet. Dizziness filling his vision.

“How dare you speak freely and make that suggestion in front of them,” By her tone, Cole feared he was about to get a second beating. “Go to the maester, you fucking imbecile,” she didn’t care if he was concussed, thrusting him in the opposite direction, making him stumble. And seeing he was in no mood to argue, Cole obeyed, heading to the maester and left Daerra to clean up his mess. 

Turning to where Harwin struggled in the arms of the guards, she bit the inside of her cheek. “Release him.” Once unhanded, Daerra stepped up to the knight, voice low. “Commander, I do not fault you for the rage you just displayed, but It is disappointing you let yourself go so easily--allowing the Princes to be exposed.” Sharply inhaling, she drew her gaze around the yard, displeased to find most in hushed conversation. Not hiding the way they watched the two and eyed the boys. 

Daerra motioned to where his father stood, pale face with fear at what this meant for his house. “You are dismissed.” Turning on her heel, she picked up the discarded swords and threw them onto the rack. “That is it for today,” she called to the boys, who stood like lost sheep waiting to be herded. Jace more so than the others, holding back tears as he was old enough to understand the implication Cole had revealed. “To your chambers--or wherever your Lady mothers need you. Go.” 

To say everything changed that day would be an understatement. Harwin was relieved of his position, and ordered to return to Harrenhal, leaving the boys heartbroken. Daerra, exhausted from the events of the day, found herself using the hours before dusk to ride Cannibal. Sensing her distress, the dragon flew for miles, passing Driftmark and circling Dragonstone. 

Caressing the scales of her beloved friend, Daerra succumbed to her thoughts. Letting her anxiety and fears come to the surface instead of masking them. The only witness being the dragon who’d never judge her. Only share her feelings. 

“Nyke gīmigon, issa raquiros, nyke gīmigon.” She stroked Cannibal’s rough scales. I know, my friend, I know. A grumble filled her ears, Daerra’s slightly curled up then dropped to a frown. “Nyke feel ziry tolī.” 

I feel it too.

[diamantar]

UNIÓN INDIRECTA

→ Lucerys Velaryon x fem!Targaryen!OC | Alicent Hightower x Rhaenyra Targaryen.

✦ Sinopsis: La vida no deseó que estuvieran juntas, pero sus hijos eran capaces de unirlas en formas más allá de la simple compresión.

✦ Advertencias: Incesto / Matrimonio arreglado / Nacimiento / Fluff.

✦ Palabras: 738

✦ Pedido: @dlwlrmas-world

Alicent jadeó ansiosa y sostuvo con más ímpetu la mano de su hija, quien concentraba toda fuerza existente en pujar. Lanzó la cabeza hacia atrás y gruñó apretando los dientes, la Hightower temiendo que los rompiera mientras las venas del cuello saltaban y sudor caía desde la linea del cabello.

—¡Solo un poco más, Princesa! —exclamó la partera en jefe.

La joven soltó el aire contenido y miró el techo sin un pensamiento coherente, el dolor de una nueva contracción transformándole el rostro y preparándola para repetir el proceso.

—¡Viene, viene, viene! —avisó una ayudante arreglando un gran paño.

—¡Ahí…!

El agudo alarido del bebé penetró profundo en los oídos y sonrisas se formaron, palabras escurridizas rebotando en las paredes mientras las sirvientas se movían de un lado a otro.

—Lo lograste —suspiró Alicent extremadamente aliviada, con la mano libre yendo a quitarle el cabello del rostro.

—Por los Siete —jadeó exhausta, instintivamente acomodando los brazos y recibiendo a la pequeña criatura.

—Es un varón, mi Reina —festejaron las comadronas.

—¿Sano? —preguntaron madre e hija.

—Absolutamente. Respira y no presenta deformidades.

La joven miró al niño y sonrió rozando con cuidado una de las rojizas mejillas, enseguida saltando en el lugar gracias a las desgarradoras puntadas.

—Llamen a mi esposo —ordenó a una de las sirvientas.

La Hightower se puso recta y aguardó manteniendo modales, el Velaryon cruzando las puertas en menos de un parpadeo. Admiró la caótica escena y la sangre en las sabanas, pálido y tenso perdiendo el apuro y dando pasos inseguros al interior de la habitación.

—¿Cómo estás? —indagó, nervioso echando vistazos al pequeño bulto mientras se aseguraba de que ella no estuviera en peligro.

—Agotada y adolorida —reconoció relajando el cuello contra las almohadas—. Acercate, saluda a tu primogénito.

Lucerys cumplió y se inclinó a ver al bebé de rubios cabellos, con labios entreabiertos analizando cada detalle como si fuera irreal que aquello también lo creó él.

—Tan pequeño... —murmuró fascinado, la fijación siendo tal que ignoró la presencia de su madre.

Alicent tensó los hombros y conectó miradas con Rhaenyra, la cual asintió en reconocimiento antes de pasar.

—Felicitaciones —habló sincera colocándose al lado del muchacho.

—Gracias —dijo sonriente sintiendo un gran entumecimiento en las caderas—. ¿Quieres ver a tu nieto?

La oferta le recordó que finalmente era abuela y por unos segundos quedó petrificada, al momento mirando al pequeño tan desconcertada como Lucerys. Alicent ocultó la gracia que le provocaba verlos tan asombrados y se sumió en sus pensamientos, años atrás jamás imaginando estar en una situación como aquella.

Cuando el arreglo del matrimonio fue propuesto ciertamente se había manifestado en contra, pero no podía negar que el trato era beneficioso al los Velaryon ser una casa histórica llena de poder y dinero. Además, por más que prefirió hacer ojos ciegos, no podía negar los sentimientos de amor entre su hija y Lucerys. Empezó a temer las consecuencias de interponerse en el romance, por lo que, luego de mucha consideración, aceptó y aseguró la línea Hightower en Marcaderiva.

La noticia contentó a Viserys y rápido preparó la boda, los jóvenes uniéndose en alegría y poniéndose a trabajar en traer descendencia apenas tuvieron oportunidad. Tomó algunos meses, pero el embarazo pasó increíblemente rápido y ahora estaban ante la prueba irrefutable de la unión de las figuras femeninas más importantes del reino. Alicent jamás esperó que su relación con Rhaenyra llegara a nuevo puerto después del gran distanciamiento, pero aquel momento parecía sacado de un sueño.

La reina inspiró profundo y junto las manos al frente, con cariño admirando la escena hasta que sintió los claros ojos Targaryen posados en ella. Levantó la vista y conectó con la princesa, el sentimiento en aquellos irises hablando más de lo que alguna vez podría salir de sus labios. El corazón inmediatamente se aceleró y sintió los pómulos amenazar con tomar color, por un momento perdiendo noción del alrededor y confiando que estaban solas en los aposentos. De pronto el llanto del bebé cortó el aire y Rhaenyra miró al niño, allí golpeándola la concepción de que habían creado vida a través de sus hijos.

La descabellada idea empalideció a Alicent, pero la sonrisa y aura maternal de su antigua compañera solo la llevó a fantasear irracionalmente. Generar existencia entre dos mujeres era imposible, pero, ante los jóvenes nuevos padres, de alguna manera podía confirmar que lo habían logrado.

[falloutfallin]

“Sick & Perverted” on ao3

[bks-writing-adventures]

His Strong Girl (Aemond X Strong! Reader)

Warnings: Brief mentions of bullying and gore, brief mentions of sex, Alicent being a momzilla.

Word Count: 6.5 K

Summary: Aemond has always loved his Strong Girl, she's nearly of age to mary, and he wants her before anyone else can have her.

120 AC

As children, Aemond had always loved her. Even though he knew that he should not. His mother filled his brain with poison, to hate Rhaenyra and all that was part of her, and that included her children. The Strong children, all four of them. It was easy to hate Jace and Luke. They teased him. They found him a pig and called him the second son. They laughed at him and kept them out of their fun. They were kind to the other children in the court, but for reasons he could not understand, he was different. It was so hard on his young brain. He was all that he was supposed to be. H

e could read and write, he had light hair and light eyes. He always prayed at dinner time, and he always wore clean clothes, always had his hair brushed. He did all of his lessons. So what ever could be wrong with him? When Joffrey came along, it was easy to hate him, too. There was no doubt that he would grow into the sculpting hands of his older brothers. As soon as he would talk, he would be name calling and lying too. But when it came to her. Well, it was impossible. 

Her eyes were warm and kind, muddy brown like her brothers and her father. There was a small distance of age between them, a year and a half, but he could hardly tell. She was smart for her age. She was not puzzled by her lessons, and she listened well, could smile and nod. She cut her own food and lived in her own world. He kept his distance for a long time, whenever the whole family was forced together for weddings and funerals. But slowly, like butter beneath rays of sun, he warmed. He grew calm in her presence and peeled back his layers to be vulnerable.

To meet her in the library when she was in her pyjamas, and to whisper gossip that they had picked up in the halls. He had two sides of him. The side that hated the Strongs, and the side that loved. He was good at making sure they did not cross, that was, until the day his aunt died. He never knew much of her. He knew that she was pretty and powerful and rode the greatest dragon in the world. But he did not cry for her. He only stayed quiet as the respects were paid, and his eyes wandered the mourners for her. 

She was caught up between her brothers and their cousins. Black looked odd on her. She always wore pink or blue, maybe red, but hardly ever. Despite being half Targaryen, she had no like for the color. She was all about pastels and ruffles and frilliness. He frowned as he watched, and the feet between them felt like miles. As the group looked over to him, he offered an awkward grin, only to be returned with nothing. His heart sunk deeper into his body, and he tried to give her a light wave, to grab her attention.

But there was nothing he could do, and he could feel her slowly slipping from his fingers. Disappointment ate away at him, and he said nothing to her the entire day. And she made no effort to talk to him, either. And so when evening came and he was alone, with no gossip to speak of in the library, and no puzzles to put together, he found himself in the dragon pit. Tiptoeing carefully, listening to the snore of beasts who had survived all of the worlds wars. The scratch of their claws against stone, and finally, the hiss of fire as it nearly caressed his face. 

The sight of Vhagar was one unmatched, and he moved as though he were being controlled, a mere puppet of the gods as he slowly climbed the scaly creature. He screamed into the wind as it lapped at his hair, and he laughed with joy as they landed with a thump and a roar. All that he was missing in his life was against his palms, and his skin burned with the leather of the saddle. His heart had gone above the clouds, and it hadn’t come down, even as his shaky feet hit the floor, a smile bigger than he had ever worn stretched across his face as he moved to scurry away and back to bed.

He would tell his mother in the morning. She would be so proud. But fate had something else brewing for him, and he was met with the sight of his nephews and his cousins. He clung to the words he had heard from his mothers lips, and he threw them mindlessly as fists collided in the air. He did not remember half of it. And he did not know when it would end, gripping blindly at whatever he could find. A stone the size of his foot, lifting it above his head quickly, every one of his cells begging him to go through with the action. It could have only been a second, maybe not even. 

From the moment he saw the dagger in his little nephews hand, he knew that this was all over. This temporary shot of joy, and it died like a flame to ash as blood soaked his hand. He couldn’t hear his scream, but he could feel it deep in his lungs as he smacked against the ground, clawing at it. He shouted profanities as the guards dragged him to the maesters. He stared at his mothers face, and he sat still as he was surrounded by all of his family. And as he prayed for comfort, he was met with only fighting.

Shouting back and forth between his mother and sister, his father was of no help, and every other moment he was stabbed with a needle, his mouth curling at the feeling as his nails scratched against the armrest of the chair. He knew the eye was gone, but seeing it laying broken in a dish like the bad parts of a chicken. It broke him, and he stared at the wall as blood hit the floor, and when he was finally asked where he had heard the words he shouted, he stared at his mother. Her brows were furrowed, a deep crevasse in the middle. Her brown eyes were shining with a mix of sadness and fury, a touch of fear as she looked over at him. He swallowed his pain and spoke a lie.

 “Aegon.” He whispered out, and shut his eye for the rest to come. The last thing he remembered of that night was the look on her face, and the way her fingers curled, as if she wished to reach out and touch him, only to be quickly whisked away by Rhaenyra and Daemon. That was the night he decided his mother was right about them. All of them. Even his sweet, Strong girl. Because if she were truly strong, she would have come to him. Despite their orders, she would’ve comforted him. But instead, he was alone. Alone and scarred. 

127 AC

When he learned that his sister and her bastard children would be coming to his home, he tried his best to act as normal as he could. He ate his breakfast of pork and eggs, sharpened his sword and trained with Ser Criston. He ignored the groans of his brother, and watched quietly as his sister bounced her babies on her legs. He could almost smile. But he knew exactly how the children came to be. And if Aegon were not his brother, Aemond would have his head on the wall. Dread grew in his stomach as the sun reached its peak, and he hit against Criston’s sword with the ferocity of a thousand men. With every strike, he thought of the night he lost his eye. He thought of the dagger against his skin, the way he was treated so coldly, and how she had done nothing. And every night after that he felt as though he were frozen, reliving the moment over and over. He could feel the pain in his cheek and forehead with every twitch in his lips. 

Soon, the Prince promised he would stop smiling altogether, because maybe then, the pain would stop. And so when he saw his nephews, he stared them down, like a wolf to a rabbit. He liked to watch their discomfort, but his gaze, much to his distaste, softened when he caught sight of her behind them. She had grown beautiful with the years that had passed. Her once chubby cheeks were still round and flushed from the cool air, and her brown curls were pulled back by pins. She wore a pink gown that leaned toward purple, a bit dusty in its tone, covered in small swirls and patterns that he could not process from where he stood. His sweet girl. Her eyes were large, and freckles covered her. He didn’t remember her ever having freckles before, and it took Criston’s voice to break him from his trance.

 “You will be ready for the tourneys in no time, My Prince,” the Knight spoke, to wish he scoffed. 

“I do not give a shit about tourneys,” He responded, his voice quiet and cold. He did not see the pint in galloping around on a horse, fighting other men and yelling like animals, all for the attention of ladies that were as shallow as a tide pool. No. He would save himself for her, if she would have him. And he was certain she would.

 “Nephews, have you come to train?” He asked, his voice louder than before, brows raised. Jace turned to look at his younger brother, and their faces paled. They were afraid, and the thought made Aemond’s heart fill with joy. He threw his sword to the dirt for his men to pick up later. 

“And what of you, niece?” He asked, turning his head to look at her. Jace moved his shoulder to create a wall between them, but it did nothing for her curious eyes. She simply stood on her tiptoes, looked at him, and smiled. The sight brought a smirk to his lips, and when he walked to his chambers, he did so with a newfound confidence. He was quick to change into his outfit for the evening, one that covered every inch of his body, not even his wrists exposed. It made him feel better. As if it hid everything under. As if he were not still the runt of the litter. Even with all his training, he could never seem to grow.

He would always be the smallest of his kin, but what he lacked in size, he could make up for in skill. He could hardly wait for the evening meal. He was not hungry, but he was thrilled. To see her, to tease her. And maybe, if he were lucky, she would meet him in the library like old times. As he paced back and forth, he practically counted down the minutes until the sun finally fell. He groaned as they gathered for yet another meeting, but he could put up with it, if it meant seeing her. 

She stood beside her mother, and it was only then that he could see a hint of resemblance between them. They had the same way of standing, and they were close in height. They shared a curved nose and a cunning gaze, but she only wore it softer. She had not yet seen violence, she had not watched the light fall from a mans eyes. She had not yet lost a love, and he could see her smile softly as the betrothals of her brothers were announced. He relished in the way that she nudged her brothers and gave them a teasing raise of brow before she remembered her surroundings, trying to return to her previously serious demeanor.

A smile pulled at his lips, and his eye narrowed as he stared at her, compelling her to look up at him. Please. He thought to himself, feeling his heart leap as their eyes met. She was just so beautiful. But the peace of her gaze was quickly broken when Vaemond began to speak of their heritage, and Aemond watched in displeasure as her brows furrowed, as her big eyes stared at the floor in shame. 

The others, he could smile at. But to see her caught in the fight, to see her be called names.

 It disgusted him. His back stiffened, and he bit his tongue. He would have plenty of time to speak to her later, to hold her in the years to come, to fuck the bastardy out of her. But he would have to wait. His hands curled in on themselves, and in a fraction of a moment, Vaemond was gone. His head hit the floor with a sloppy thump, Helaena turned away, her eyes huge and her hands on her head, and he watched as his Strong Girl practically mirrored her, her thumbs pressed against her ears and her fingers over her eyes. He sighed, staring at the body on the floor, his gaze slowly following the bloody sword until he was gazing at his uncle. Daemon. An interesting man he was. And slowly, Aemond smiled. This would be an interesting night. 

When dinner time came, he took his seat and looked at the rest of the table. Baela and Rhaena, Rhaenyra and Daemon, and next to them, there she was. He smiled a little to himself. They always did that, sitting around her like a human shield, practically hiding her from his view. He followed his mothers words as she called for prayer, and he smiled to himself as his mother spoke of Vaemond Velaryon. The old man could never shut his mouth. The food came out in small rounds, starting with potatoes and bread, and he gazed at her as he licked the remnants of potato from his thumb.

Her eyes were so big, and he loved watching her cheeks get nice and flushed. And even more, he loved seeing how angry her brothers got, all while her mother remained clueless. When the main course came out, he stared in silence as the roasted pig sat in front of him. He could tell how this was going to go, lifting his head to stare right at Luke, seeing the beginning’s of a smile on his mouth. His hands curled into fists, and just as he moved to stand, she spoke. “Luke. Do not be impolite,” She whispered softly. She was soft and sweet, but she had such a bold presence to her when she wanted it. 

“But-” Luke began, and she gently shook her head. “Eat your carrots. Mother said to be on our best behavior,” She said softly, reaching over to start cutting his soft boiled carrots up. Aemond frowned, slowly leaning back. He had so much anger to release, and no real reason to release it. She was a gem, that girl. She could so easily diffuse a situation. She was the type of woman that she be on the throne. They could share it together, one day. As the evening grew old and their stomachs were full, the music began to flow delicately on the harps. As soon as he saw Jace’s eyes brighten, he stood, walking around the table like a shark circling a helpless seal, placing his hands on the back of her chair. 

“Aemond,” His mother spoke up, her voice filled with caution as she sat up straight. “Do not worry, mother. I only wish to know if my lovely, strong girl wants to dance with me,” He responded, his fingertips moving across her curls. Rhaenyra bit her cheek, and he could feel the tension growing like a cage. 

“I dare you to say that again,” Jacaerys spoke, his hands flat on the table. 

“Brother,” She said softly, gazing back at him. Their eyes met for nearly ten seconds, and finally, he looked away. “I will dance with you,” She spoke, pulling her chair from the table and gently taking his hand. “If you promise not to stomp on my toes,” She says, teasing him a little as he pulled her to the stone tiles. 

“I will do my very best,” He whispered, his hands curling around hers. Her touch was so delicate, and he found himself taking a small whiff of her wrist. Raspberries and cashews. It was a unique scent, but it was hers. He wanted to bathe in it, paint it onto his pillow. “I have missed you,” He said softly. And he had. He often found himself dreaming of the possibilities. Of bringing Vhagar to her bedroom window. Of taking her to the skies and bringing her to the forest, where they were not a Prince and a Princess, but only teenagers in love. “You will be a woman grown soon,” He said softly, his thumbs rubbing circles into her palms as he spun her under his arms. It would only be eight months before they were the same age, and it was only eight months before she would finally be on the marriage market. He just had to make his claim before anyone else could.

 “I know,” She said softly, her fingers trailing to the cuffs on his wrist, touching the golden dragons with her gentle strokes. “I feel as though I was 9 only yesterday,” She mumbled, and he smiled in return. 

“Tell me about it,” He mumbled, his hands moving down to her waist, his touch gentle. His eye wandered to the necklaces she wore, the ones that layered. The shortest was to her collarbone, and the longest was just between her breasts. A seahorse. A Velaryon symbol, something that didn’t belong to her, and they all knew it. His fingers slowly wandered to it, his thumb rubbing against the emerald eyes and the golden details. “This is a symbol of your fathers house, is it not?” He asked softly. His fingers slowly wandered up to cup her face, his fingers against her jaw, licking his lips.

 “It is a symbol of the sea,” She said quietly, and he could see the turmoil in her eyes. He could feel the gaze of his family on him, and he knew they would not be pleased. But his mother was simply delighted, a scheming smile on her face.

 “You like the sea, my lady?” He mumbled softly. They were hardly dancing anymore, he was just holding her close, holding her face, his thumb pressing against her lips. 

“Who does not?” She asked softly, smiling a bit. She was always so sweet when she spoke of the sea, and he could see so much excitement in his eyes.

 “I must admit, I have never had great love for it. Smells of salt and dying fish, and sand simply gets everywhere, the seagulls chase me,” He mumbles, making her laugh a little, brows raised in amusement.

 “Perhaps they just like the look of you,” She said, and he smiled, head tilted. 

“Is that what you think?” He asked. 

“Well, if I were a seagull, I would go for you. Your hair would make a good nest,” She teases, making his eye roll. “But truly, you must be going to the worst spots. I have missed Kingslanding. The shores are beautiful,” She says. His heart thumped, and he found himself gazing into her eyes. 

“Then you should stay,” He responded softly, leaning a little closer. It was hard to remember that they were surrounded, and that they were not the only people in the world.

 “And how would I go about that?” She asked softly. 

“You could marry me,” He spoke softly, and the whole room went silent, the notes on the harp fading out. Her brows raised, and she looked like she might giggle. She couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not, blinking slowly. 

“You do not mean that,” She said softly. 

“Oh, but I do. You would be so happy here.” He mumbled, pushing some falling curls behind her ears, whispering gently against her skin.

 “Wait for me, will you?” He mumbled. Her face flushed, and he could practically feel her heart pounding beneath her skin. She was about to speak, but the doors opened and cakes began to roll out, small cups of pudding, trays of lemon cakes and cookies.

 “(Y/N), come sit,” Rhaenyra called, and she gazed up at Aemond for a moment, as if trying to speak, but nothing would come out. Slowly, they parted, moving to go back to their seats. Her cheeks were so warm, and she prayed that no one else could tell under the warm light of the candles. Immediately, Rhaenyra leaned toward her, searching her face for discomfort. 

“What did he say to you?” She asked, noting the odd look of.. Something on her daughters face. It wasn’t fear, and it wasn’t discomfort. She just couldn’t place that expression. 

“Nothing, mother,” She said softly. All eyes were on her, and Daemon wore a smirk like a man would wear a crown.

 “I believe she has feelings for the boy,” He whispered, making Rhaenyra’s eyes widen. She looked disgusted, for a brief moment, but she quickly hid her distaste, blinking it away as she took lemon cakes onto her plate. 

“We will talk about this later,” She said quietly, plucking the sweetened lemons from the top of the cake and placing one in her mouth. Daemon reached over and took the cake itself. They had a system. She would eat the fruits, and he would eat the parts she did not want. Meanwhile, she reached for a cookie, breaking it into small pieces on her plate, trying her best not to look at Aemond. She could tell that he was getting the same treatment on his side of the table, a knowing smile on his face as his mother shook his arm, trying to juice information out of him. He only chuckled to himself, taking a few sips of his wine. When the dinner finally ended, she was a blushing mess as she followed her mother, looking over her shoulder to see Aemond going in the other direction, a silent agreement in their eyes. They would see each other in the library tonight. As she took her bath, all she could think of was him.

 Him and his offer, and the more she thought of it, the more she smiled. She trusted him more than she ever could a stranger. And she began to think of how she could convince her mother to let it happen. She trusted that Aemond would never hurt her. Maybe men that acted out of their place, maybe annoying nephews at the dinner table, but never her, and she was confident in that. And perhaps the marriage could bring the family together. Rhaenyra had wanted Jace to marry Helaena, after all. She did have a desire for the families to mix. That was it. That would be her selling point. “Some time alone, please?” She asked the maids as they scrubbed her body and hands.

 “Of course, Princess,” They responded, quickly leaving. She sighed softly, ringing out her loofa as she looked at the mirror. Perhaps if she had children with Aemond, they would come out with white hair. Maybe they would have a better life than her. Her eyes then wandered to her seahorse necklace, and she remembered her father, before his death. Her life had been an odd one. She felt like she had a new father every couple of years, and in truth, she had. She had the father who’s seed she grew from, who taught her how to count and tucked her into bed during his shifts on the nightwatch.

She had the father who taught her how to fish, and which shells made the best necklaces, and which crabs were dangerous. And then she had the father that taught her to be bold, the one who married her mother the day after his own wife died. That had been a tough one, and in truth, she still was not warmed to Daemon. She did not like the way he treated her precious mother, and she swore to herself that she would never have a marriage like theirs. When she was finally dried of her bath, she looked out to the stars.

 She looked for her favorite constellations, and she smiled as she remembered the library in the Red Keep. It was beautiful and large and full of enough books to last a lifetime. She was quick to get into her pyjamas, and even quicker to open her door, looking up at her guard. 

“Excuse me,” She said softly, stepping out. “Are you going somewhere, Princess?” He asked, a look of confusion on his face. He had a long beard, and she was sure he had seen him before.

 “Yes,” She answered, making her way down the corridor without saying anything else. She made her way as quiet as she could to the library, passing a rat or two that made her heart jump. That was something that she had hated about the Red Keep. There was nothing on the windows, so animals would come and go as they pleased. She much preferred mice over rats. Something about their tails tickled her brain in the worst of ways. When she finally did reach the library, her eyes searched for him, and she felt disappointment rising in her like steam when she could not find him. Perhaps she had gotten the wrong message. Maybe she made up the language of the eyes. But she would not waste her trip, beginning to pick out a book or two on constellations and The Moon and The Tides.

 “You didn’t think I forgot, did you?” His voice made her jump, and she gripped her skirt as her eyes searched for him. “So close, my little doe. Look down,” He spoke, and when she did, she found him hiding under one of the tables in a pile of blankets. She smiled, crouching.

 “Are you hiding?” She asked softly. She couldn’t see his expression in the dark, but she could feel warmth radiating from him.

 “I am not hiding. I simply wanted to see how long it would take to find me,” He responded, reaching for her hand and pulling her down. This was much easier when they were kids, but now he was longer than the table, and the needed more pillows. 

“So you have just been watching me walk around aimlessly?” She teased, making him nod.

 “Oh, of course,” He spoke softly, his hands finding her cheeks, squishing them gently. “I want to speak with my sister,” He mumbled softly, pulling her closer until her belly was against his chest. “I will not marry you until I get her permission,” He said softly. She nodded softly, leaning her cheek against his chest. She could hear his heart racing, and she smiled at the feel of the vibrations.

 “I did not take you for the type to want Mommy’s blessing,” She mumbles, making him scoff. 

“I know better than to take away her little girl. She owes me this much, for all that has been done to me,” He spoke, and her hand slowly made its way up to his eyepatch.

 “I am sorry that I said nothing that night,” She mumbled, and he softened against her touch. 

“You were only a child,” He said quietly. 

“As were you. None of us deserved all that has happened to us. If it is any help, I stole Luke’s desserts for a week,” She mumbled gently.

 “Ah, yes. That is the most appropriate punishment,” He teased, making her roll her eyes. 

“I did what I could.” She speaks, her lips brushing against his forehead, placing a small kiss there. A bit of his hair got into her mouth, and he squirmed, making him chuckle. 

“Are you trying to make a nest of my hair?” He asked, recalling their earlier conversation.

 “Oh hush.” She mumbled, curling up into him. Neither of them meant to fall asleep, but it was just so warm and comforting, and slowly, they fell into a slumber, feet sticking out of their fort. When they woke, it was to yells so loud they thought someone was killed. Both sat up far too quick, smacking the tops of their heads against the wooden tables. In shame, they crawled out quickly, her eyes big as she stared up at both of their mothers.

 “What is the meaning of this?” Rhaenyra asked. She sounded so angry, but her eyes were not on her daughter, they were on Aemond, her lips pressed into a fineline.

 “We were having a sleepover,” He said simply. “You know what that is like, don’t you sister? Didn’t you used to have sleepovers with your friends quite frequently?” He asked. He couldn’t speak without being antagonistic. 

“Aemond!” She and Alicent exclaimed at the same time. 

“Mother, please. I promise it was nothing. We were only speaking,” She said softly, eyes on the floor as she was pulled closer, her face and neck inspected for marks. “We just wanted to do as we used to as children, that is all,” She said softly. Rhaenyra slowly calmed, tucking her hair behind her ears.

 “He did nothing to you?” She asked.

 “Of course not. Aemond would never hurt me,” She spoke, feeling Aemond’s hand moving to her shoulder. 

“That much is true,” He spoke. “Sister, it has been a long time since we have spoken face to face,” He said, his eyepatch on the floor, having fallen off in his sleep. He wanted her to look at him in full, to see all that he had become. 

“That it has,” Rhaenyra spoke, her face void of emotion. 

“You know that I love your daughter. That has never been a secret. Do not deny her happiness because of one misunderstanding.” He said, making Rhaenyra’s face slowly fall. Her eyes looked to Alicent, as if she had any part in this. She simply shrugged, mouth parted. 

“What are you saying, Aemond?” She asked her youngest son. 

“I am saying that I wish to unite our families. I will marry (Y/N).” He spoke, leaving no room for discussion. Rhaenyra stared blankly at the pair. She had wished to stop the resentment between the families, and this would be the perfect way. But she could not bear the thought of her daughter staying here, alone with him, with them. She knew that (Y/N) would marry one day, but she just didn’t realize how soon that would be. But as she saw her daughters smile, and the hope in her eyes, she just could not say no. “Very well.” She spoke after a moment, letting out a deep breath.

 “I will allow it. But you will wait the moons until her name day. We will ensure that this is what she truly wants,” She spoke, nodding to herself. Alicent was more hesitant, running through the possibilities in her mind. This was not what she wanted, not one bit. She wanted as much distance between the two families as possible. And what would the people say when they learned that the Prince was marrying a bastard? Her blood was good as dirt, and she came from a family of liars and narcissists. But no matter what she said, she knew her son would do as he pleased, so finally, she nodded, looking down at the floor. 

128 AC The wedding day came quicker than either of them had expected. For at least three hours a day it was just planning, planning, planning. Trying on rings and taking them off, getting as close as they could without their chaperones making a fuss, whispered compliments and holding hands under the table. And of course, having to remind Alicent that this was not her wedding. “Oh, but wouldn’t a green dress be so lovely?” She asked, holding the fabric to (Y/N)’s skin. Rhaenyra could sense her discomfort, giving a light shake of her head. 

“No. She has already decided to wear a gown similar to mine,” She spoke, and as Alicent went to open her mouth, she quickly spoke again.

 “Don’t you remember that from when you were young? How old were you, nine or so? I found you in my chambers trying to get the dress on. It was much too long for you then,” Rhaenyra smiled fondly as she sipped her tea. 

“It will not fit her,” Alicent pointed out, to which Rhaenyra smiled. 

“It is a good to live in the time of seamstresses, is it not? I have already had it expanded and altered to suit her. You should worry about your son. Black leather at a wedding would be quite improper,” She spoke. Aemond sighed, slowly making eye contact with his betrothed. The pair were rather calm, but their mothers… were certainly something. 

“I have already had his clothing commissioned. He will wear a fine beaded doublet of dragons and seahorses, in nod to her…. Velaryon heritage,” Alicent spoke, her voice soft and sarcastic, making Rhaenyra’s eyes roll. (Y/N) could not take it anymore.

 “In all respect, this is my wedding. It is our wedding. We do not need this petty argument ruining our day. We both have fine clothes to wear, we have stunning rings, invitations are sent, and that is the end of it.” She spoke, looking between the two older women, watching them go silent. And so the pair would sit and wait for the day to come, resting together in the gardens, watching the sun fall and rise as they ate their meals on a blanket. They were romantic and disgusting, living in their own little world, just them and their chaperone.

 “I cannot wait until we are finally wed and can be alone,” He sighed, rubbing her hand, kissing the top of her engagement ring. It was golden and covered in stones. It was far from traditional, and it was exactly the type of thing that she enjoyed.

 “Nor can I,” She said softly, smiling as she saw a bunny running across the grass.

 “Only a few days left,” he said softly. “You are certain you want to go through with this? There is still time to call it all off,” He mumbled, making her scoff.

 “Of course I am certain. I will just have to prepare myself for more of your mothers comments,” She responded teasingly. 

“Oh, Gods. Are do not want to think about that. I only wish to think of what it will be like to finally kiss you, to share our names and bodies… to finally sleep in the same bed and wake up to the sight of you every morning,” he murmured, making her cheeks burn.

 “Stop it,” She mumbles, too embarrassed to listen to any more of it, placing her hands on her ears, making him chuckle as he pulled them off. 

“I am thrilled to see your pretty face all sleepy and puffy, and to share our evening meals, to have painting after painting made of you to hang on my walls until I cannot escape those pretty eyes,” He smiled. She squirmed under him, flattered and grossed out, covering her crimson cheeks. “Hm.. the bugs are coming out,” He sighed as the sky got dark and frogs bred in the distance. She sighed, and they carefully packed up their things and made their way back to the Keep. Alicent was watching them from her balcony, and the two walked a safe distance apart. Only a few more days they would have to hold themselves together. And finally, on the 18th day of the 11th moon, all of the Lords and Ladies of importance were packed inside the Red Keep. Beautiful gowns twirling under candle light, the best of music echoing from the harps. Aemond tried to breath as he walked in, his eyes finally finding her. 

And gods, he would marry her a million times over. Her curls were full of pearls and small pins, half of her hair up and the other half down. His palms were sweating, pressing against his doublet. He was painfully aware of everyone looking at him, but he couldn’t look away from her.

 “(Y/N).” He murmured softly as she finally stood in front of him. He was struck dumb by her beauty, blinking slowly. 

“Aemond,” She said softly, their voices quiet and kept to the loudness of a breath. Both of their faces red as the Sept read off some text, but neither of them were paying attention. Hurry up, Aemond thought to himself, getting increasingly more anxious as the minutes passed. And finally, as silence covered them, he reached forward, held her cheeks, and pressed a big kiss to her mouth. It was sweet and awkward, and their teeth bumped for a brief moment. All of the love they had collected for each other in the last months came oozing out, her hands holding his until they finally parted, looking at each other, their breath lost.

 “And you have… kissed your bride.” The Septon spoke, a bit awkwardly, as if this had never happened before. And it had not. The crowd was quiet, looking around for the reaction they were supposed to have, until they finally erupted in applause.

 “I love you, My Strong Girl,” He whispered into her ear. She smiled up at him, arms around his shoulders as flower petals flew like rain.

 “Aww, thank you,” She said, making his eye squint. She laughed, her thumbs pressing her cheeks.

 “And I love you too, my One Eyed Prince,” She mumbled, feeling his arms around her waist, holding her close as if he wished to absorb her. And so the One Eyed Prince and The Strong Girl lived the happiest they could, despite the violence around them and the whispers in their ears, their love never died. Burning furious and strong like Vhagar’s flame, and with every five years that passed, they would have wedding after wedding after wedding, until they were wed beneath all the gods and above all the land. Until their love could not be denied, and until they died, where their ashes were mixed and mingled with the shore, covered in shells and seahorses.

I think this might be the longest fic i've posted so far! I hope you enjoyed it!!

Thank you to everyone who reads.

♡- BK

[darknight3904]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖆𝖈𝖊

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴏᴄ! ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʟᴀᴅʏ ʀʜᴀᴇʟʟᴀ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ʟɪꜰᴇ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ʀᴜɴᴇꜱᴛᴏɴᴇ. ꜱʜᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ɴᴏ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀꜱᴛʟᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ʟɪꜰᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ꜱʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ʟɪᴠᴇ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ꜱʜᴇ ᴛʀᴜʟʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ. ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴋɪɴɢ ᴠɪꜱᴇʀʏꜱ ɪ, ꜱʜᴇ ᴊᴏᴜʀɴᴇʏꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴋɪɴɢꜱ ʟᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ꜱʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴇᴛꜱ ʜᴇʀ ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ'ꜱ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴀɪɴꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱʜɪᴘ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ɪꜱᴏʟᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏᴜʀ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰɪᴠᴇ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱɪx

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇɪɢʜᴛ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɴɪɴᴇ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴇɴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇʟᴇᴠᴇɴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇʟᴠᴇ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜɪʀᴛᴇᴇɴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏᴜʀᴛᴇᴇɴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰɪꜰᴛᴇᴇɴ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱɪxᴛᴇᴇɴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴇᴇɴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇɪɢʜᴛᴇᴇɴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɴɪɴᴇᴛᴇᴇɴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ᴏɴᴇ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ᴛᴡᴏ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ꜰᴏᴜʀ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ꜰɪᴠᴇ

ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ꜱᴛ��ᴛᴜꜱ: ɪɴ ᴘʀᴏɢʀᴇꜱꜱ (Hiatus)

ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴘɪᴇᴅ ᴏʀ ᴘᴜʙʟɪꜱʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ ᴏʀ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ꜱᴛᴏʀɪᴇꜱ. ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴀᴄᴇ ɪꜱ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴀᴠᴀɪʟᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ.

[daemontargaryenwhore]

it looked like that punch took all his strength how is his mother not embarrassed Harwin is rolling in the dust

[goodeapple]

dry clean only (modern hotd pwp, jace x sister!reader x luke)

pairing : Jacaerys x Ysilla (sister!OC) x Lucerys

warnings : MDNI. jesus where do i start... this is filthyyyyy. PWP, threesome, sibling incest, rimming, anal, DP, slight coercion, sibling incest, accidental voyeurism, unprotected intercourse, breeding kink (ofc), & did i mention sibling incest?

word count : 4,000+

note : i kind of lost my marbles with this one... brain drove straight to Hornyville and set up camp. in the nicest way, if u don't like, don't read <3

.

.

.

Laundry day. Fucking laundry day.

“Laundry day.” Ysilla had said when Jace stopped her in the hallway, and she shrugged before heading towards her room. So simple, so nonchalant, as if it were normal for her to parade around in nothing but one of his t-shirts. He lasts a solid forty minutes- a new record- before he pauses his game, and yells into the nearly empty house.

“Sil! Get in here!”

She takes her sweet time, minutes passing until she appears in his open doorway, propping her hip up on the jam. “You rang?”

Jace bristles at her nonchalance-ness, bouncing his knee anxiously, still sitting in his gaming chair.  

“You doin’ that on purpose, Silli?” He waves a hand in her direction, a sweep from the tips of her white pedicured toes to the spirals of her midnight curls. 

His sister finishes texting, before at last giving over her attention.

Ysilla bats her feather duster lashes at him, all doe eyes and a pouty pink mouth. “Course not, I told you. Got nothing else that’s clean.” 

“I find that hard to believe…” Jace grumbles. She swipes their mum’s Amex like it’s going out of style. Her wardrobe looks like a Christmastime department store. 

“You don’t like that I’m wearing your clothes?” She asks, plucking at the hem of his shirt, pulling the thin material tight over her tits. The shadows of her areolas become prominent and Jace feels his balls draw up tight. Even so, familial annoyance is stronger than that of a hundred men and he rolls his eyes. 

“It’s mine. Don’t take my shit without asking, brat.” 

It’s a tepid delivery at best, but it has a fire lighting in her that makes her amethyst orbs glow.

“Fine.” Without any preamble, Ysilla strolls into his room until she arrives in front of him and pulls his shirt off and over her head. Tossing it in his face, she crosses her arms under her breasts, her rosy mocha nipples pebbling in the artificially cool air. “Happy?” He misses her smirk but he can hear it in her voice. 

“Not on purpose my ass.” Jace growls, ripping the shirt off of him. Springing to his feet, his fist finds its way into her hair and he yanks her to his mouth. She tastes like matcha and spearmint, and the strawberry gloss tacky on her lips.

She melts into his chest, putty in his devout hands. Her own hands rise to cradle his face, still lost in their kiss as she strokes her thumb over the defined edge of his jaw. Jace unwinds his fist, unclenching it to lay his palm flat at the nape of her neck. Too soon, she pulls away, smiling triumphantly as he tries to chase her lips. 

“You’re so easy to tease, little brother.” 

“Nothing little about what I’m about to give you.” Jace goads, running his hands down her bare back, tracing the twin dimples dotting the bloom of her backside. He pulls her forward until there’s not even a whisper left between them. The new stance does wonders for them both, as Jace slides his thigh between Ysilla’s. She’s not wearing any panties. And she’s already wet. He rocks his knee along her clit, the pearl perked and pronounced, and Jace knows if he keeps it up she’ll cream all over his leg. 

“Bed. M’not bouncing on your lap in your game chair.” She whines, tugging off his hoodie and shimmying down his basketball shorts, a woman on a mission. 

“Not like you haven’t done it before.” He bites but concedes, ushering her backwards into his bed. He gets her underneath him for a brief, blissful moment before he’s maneuvered onto his back. She likes to be on top- a throne fit for a princess, as she said once before. Plus, I like to see the face you make when you cum. 

He spits into his palm, stroking himself quickly. A little extra slide is never a bad thing. “Sissy, spread your legs.” 

Ysilla does what she’s told (for once) and goes gooey as Jace slips the head of himself into her opening. He gets a handful of her hips, thumbing at her hip bones as he eases her down, letting her slide onto every rigid inch. She whimpers, wiggling on his lap as she bottoms out on his dick. Gods above. Targaryen men and their horse cocks will be the absolute death of her. 

“Jaceyyyyyy,” she whines, the pressure in her lower belly a heaviness she can’t shake. 

“If you wanted dick, all you had to do was say so.” Jace chuckles but it’s labored. She’s so fucking tight- he doesn’t know if it’s the pilates she does or good genetics, but it’s like being in a turtleneck in July. 

Within a second, his door squeaks open and the two tangled Targaryens would jump apart if they didn’t know exactly who would be getting home at 4PM on a Wednesday. 

“Ooohhhh, what are you two gettin’ up to, eh?” Luke’s hand smacks down a greeting on Ysilla’s backside, and she jumps from the sting. He sprawls out in the previously occupied chair, giving himself a front row seat to his brother and sister’s debauchery. 

Luke is sprouting, taller than even their dad. He tugs down his trackies, of course a stereotypical grey that hugs him just right, and his cock springs up, bobbing back and forth like a metronome. He’s not super thick around his shaft, but the kids got length that you feel knocking in your stomach. 

Ysilla stares, shamelessly, her throat awfully lonely. He notices and lets her attention go straight to his head (both of them).

“See something you like, babe?” Luke winks at her, a cheeky grin plucking up his lips. He pumps himself once, a bead of precum crowning his pretty cock. 

“Lukeyyy,” he whines at Ysilla’s croon. His sister is so fucking stunning- gorgeous, breathtaking. He’d do anything for her. She’s the voice in his head, the drive in his passion, the star in his fantasies. She’s been there for everything- it’s hard for him not to be a little bit sprung. 

“You forget about me, love?” Jace places a wet kiss at the cradle of her jaw. Ysilla smiles, tangling her fingers in his tight curls. 

They have curly hair, all three of them. Ysilla knows Harwin isn’t her dad- her sperm donor, she means. Harwin has been there for all the things that mattered and those that didn’t, he’s her fucking dad. Blood doesn’t get to take that away from her. And in pictures, it’s easy to believe they’re all from the same vine. Until you account for Viz and Aeg and their momma, and then every family photo is a whole motley crew snapshot.

“Don’t be jealous, Jace.” She coos, in a mellow mocking voice. 

He rolls his eyes, a pink blush prickling at his freckled cheeks. He steals a proper kiss this time, a wet peck that has Ysilla coming back for more, opening her mouth in a slow, sensual lick. Jace grinds into her, basking in her gasps that he drinks down drunkenly.

A particularly pitiful moan from the foot of the bed reminds her to be generous with her attention. Jace lets go of her mouth, head dipping down just so that he catches her swinging breast in his mouth. He widens his jaw, tongue lapping lewdley at her flesh, looking as if he’s trying to swallow it whole. Ysilla strokes his cheek fondly. He gets so needy like this- needs his big sister to keep him grounded. She lets her head loll back, pinning Luke with a simmering stare that is reminiscent of predator and prey. It shouldn’t twist up his belly like it does but he’s long passed caring about what gets him off. As long as she’ll let him taste her. 

“Wanna join us, bud?” 

Luke nods, all boyish enthusiasm, eager to please. “Wherever you want me, sis.” 

Ooooh, that’s a fun thought. Her mouth floods with saliva, her taste buds perking up at the thought of Luke’s salty spunk. She gives a good handy, she could jerk him off until he busts. Or, she could flip onto her back, ride Jace in reverse and let Luke straddle her chest and maul her tits until he’d gift her a pearl necklace. Decisions, decisions. Ysilla rocks faster on Jace’s cock, dragging him in and out of her in a way that has her clit fluttering like butterfly wings. 

Absently, she rubs down her left cheek, still stinging from Luke’s slap, and lets her fingertips dip into her cleft. She’s wet there too- fuck, more like soaked. She was riding her vibrator until Jace had finally called her to him. She’d been dripping since she stole his shirt from his dresser, going absolutely mental at the soft cotton caressing her nipples, his cologne soaked into the fabric. She huffed it like an addict, brought it up to her nose while she rode the vibe until her hand cramped.

Luke’s eyes follow her wandering hand, and his brows scrunch in agonized pleasure as she slips a finger over her tight, clenched hole. Decision made. 

“Want you right here, Lucerys.” Ysilla murmurs, knocking her knees further apart, bringing her stomach to stomach with Jace as a result. “Want you both, at the same time.”

Luke’s eyes go gumball wide. “You forreal?” 

She bites at her lip, moaning as Jace thrusts hard. He’s as excited by the idea as she is. She nods fervently, arching her back more invitingly and Luke fucking moans, tightening his grip on the base of his cock. 

“Fuck, you two are so hot.” He grinds into his fist, his other hand drifting beneath him and rolling his balls between strong fingers. He kicks his sweats the rest of the way off, unable to stop himself as he jerks off faster, his sack tightening in a tantalizing threat.

Jace notices, releasing Ysilla’s breast from his famished mouth. “Don’t blow yet, bro. Wait ‘til you’re inside her.” 

Ysilla smirks, turning her sights back to the man buried in her cunt. 

“Yeah? Wanna wait until he’s inside me? Want you both to fill me up with your cum ‘till it leaks out of my holes?” She whispers at Jace’s throat, dropping an open mouthed kiss over his Adam’s apple. 

Jace can give as good as he gets. “What if I do? What if I want to see my cum drip out of your tight cunny, and plug you up with something so it sticks? Could get you barefoot and pregnant, could get you bouncing on my cock all day long while your belly grows with my babe.” He rubs at her tits, pinching and plucking at her spit slick nipple with a tenderness he means wholeheartedly as he whispers his depraved fancy into her ear. 

Ysilla clenches around him, tight enough that his vision whites out for a moment. She can’t help it, bouncing up and down on his fat cock, his words liquid lust in her tummy. 

“Oh, Jace. Jacey Jacey, fuck, little brother.” She pants, taking every inch of his shaft over and over again, hissing at the stretch of it burning up her insides. Gods, she never tires of it- his cock is such a treat, one she only indulges in when she has the time to truly savor it. 

“You got one more little brother right behind ya, pretty girl.” Luke whispers at her ear, kissing her pulse point with delicate lips.

Jace reaches into his bedside drawer, pulling out a bottle and tossing it on the duvet. “Lube, man.” 

The eldest brother busies his hands, grabbing ahold of his sister’s plush backside, a cheek in each palm, and pulls her apart to expose her to their little brother’s lecherous gaze. Dropping to his knees, Luke spits a glob of saliva into her puckered hole, enjoying how her sensitive skin quivers under his attention. He coats his fingers generously with the thick gel, and he’s gentle as he presses one past the thick muscle of her entrance. She squeals sharply before Jace occupies her mouth, shoving in two fingers for her to suck on. Ysilla has an oral fixation- a dick, chewing gum, popsicles, all her go-to’s when she’s stressed. 

Luke takes advantage of Jace’s help, gliding in another finger that makes her cry out even louder. Shit, she’s got to gut up if she wants to take his dick. He scissors them back and forth, methodical in working her open. He’s only ever done this to himself, but he’s got the basics down: preparation, lube, going slow, more lube, etcetera. He keeps it up until her whimpers have died down, and when he starts to feel her rock back against him.

Satisfied, he pulls out his fingers and coats his shaft with the lube, hissing at the cool sting on his sensitive skin. He spreads it over his head with a loose grip. He’s already worked up enough, the last thing he wants to do is let his big sister down by cumming on her ass instead of inside of it. 

He edges up onto his hands, ready to push upwards onto the bed so that he can take his place behind Ysilla but he’s stopped by something straight out of a wet dream. Luke whistles low. That’s a million dollar shot right there: Jace’s thick veiny cock pulling out before pumping back into Ysilla’s hot pink center, the shine coating their thighs glistening in the late afternoon sun. He wonders if he could convince either of his siblings to let him film them. He knows the answer is most likely a hard no, but a boy can dream. 

The carpet beneath his knees is starting to give him rug burn but he's so transfixed, it's like he's been hypnotized. A simple, sinful thought comes unbidden into his mind and he grins. While he's down here, he might as well sightsee. Luke ducks down, and sucks one of Jace’s balls into his mouth, just to hear his brother curse him in Valyrian. He rolls it around his tongue, before releasing it with a satisfied pop! and takes a lick of the cream seeping from Silli’s hole. 

Ysilla flinches away, kicking out her foot to shove at his shoulder. He chuckles and relents, adrenaline tight in his muscles as he wraps his hold around her dainty waist and lines up behind her.

"Here goes nothin', gang." Luke shudders out a breath as he maneuvers into position, and edges forward painfully slow as Ysilla's pretty arse swallows his dick. It takes forever and a day, but finally, thankfully, he's all the way in, flush with the back of her thighs and mind melting out of his ears.

“Good Gods above, Lukey.” Ysilla has to remind herself to breathe. 

“You okay sissy?” Luke pecks her temple, tucking her bangs back behind her ear. She blushes, cheeks burning hot- he’s such a good boy. 

“I’m fine, dude. It’s just… neither of you are small. I can feel you tickling my tonsils.” 

“Fucking hell. I can feel him, mercy, I can feel him through you, Silli.” Jace sobs wetly, hands shaking where he has a hold of her hips. Mother, Father and fucking Crone, this is infuckingsane. He can’t last like this, he isn’t superhuman for Gods’ sake. 

“Don’t you fucking dare, Jacaerys. If I’m taking both of your cocks, I’ll get time to enjoy it. You’ll cum when I tell you to.” She commands, all eldest child superiority, even with a strained voice. 

“Yes, sissy.” He croaks out, his irises misty like a spring rain. She hums approvingly, withholding her praise until he can deliver on his promise.

“Same goes for you, kiddo.” She aims over her shoulder.

“Anything you say, Silli.” Luke draws out, letting her agonize over every long inch before fucking himself back into her arse. 

The brothers start to build a gentle push-pull rhythm, one in one out, trying to get her adjusted to having two dicks inside of her- as if that’s something that someone can get used to after five fucking minutes. But as the pain and discomfort fade into a fullness that she feels up to her throat, little jabs of pleasure have Ysilla pushing herself back and forth against her boys. 

“This is crazy, holy shit this is crazy.” She gasps, hands wildly clutching at anything she can.

“Never felt something this tight. Squeezing the fuckin’ life out of me, bloody hell.” Luke gasps into her shoulder, eyes screwed shut in concentration, dragging his hips back and forth.

Jace can't talk- all of his focus on not blowing his top and facing his sister's wrath. Sparing a glance at her, he can't help but sigh.

“You're so fucking pretty, Sil.”

The look of love that accompanies Jace’s hushed praise has the tightening snapping loose in Ysilla's belly, vainly getting off from his attention. Well that, and the fact that she's double stuffed like an Oreo.

Her orgasm slices through her, a hot knife through butter, and a violent shiver racks up her spine. She bows upward in some type of silly attempt to get away from Jace’s plundering cock, but all she succeeds in doing is arching into Luke’s greedy hands and greenlighting him into slamming into her hole even harder. 

“Oh, oh! I can’t take it. It’s too much, stop!” Ysilla pleads, pushing and pulling at all of the naked skin surrounding her, overwhelmed and overfucked.

“Do you think she really means that, Lukey?” Jace asks, and it’s too sugar sweet to be anything but condescending. 

“No fuckin’ way, mate. This ass wouldn’t let me go for anything.” Luke slurs, half fucking stupid, his smarts being squeezed out by way of his prick. 

“I’m not a unnhhhh. Not just a hole for you two to fuck.” Her words would land a better mark if there wasn’t a thin line of drool dripping off of her bottom lip, her eyes gone glossy. Her pussy throbs, her heartbeat pulsing there as well as violently in her ears. 

Luke fish hooks her, pulling her into his lips by the meat of her cheek. “Shut the fuck up, Ysi.” He says it so adoringly before releasing her, only to keep her quiet as he slides his tongue into her mouth. It does the job, Ysilla suckling at it like it’s a lolli. 

Jace lets his hands wander, worshiping the beautiful bodies laid out for his ravenous gaze. His fingers tickle over the dip of Luke’s slight waist, his thumb strokes the flare of Ysilla’s ribcage- his hands discovering and mapping a route of impassioned fealty that he will never forget. They're both his. It's an absolutely mental thought, one he should have no business entertaining but here, in his bed, none of them are to think of anything else but each other. 

Jace grabs Ysilla tight by her jaw, ripping her away from Luke’s tongue. He brings her in close, forcing her to stare into his sweet chocolate eyes. “I’m gonna nut in your pussy, sissy, and Luke’s gonna fill that arse up. And you’re gonna take it, like the good girl you are, or I’ll put you on your knees and have you suck my cock until dinnertime.”

Ysilla giggles, delighting in the way Jace’s smirk turns down into a sneer. Humbling her brothers is an A1 skill, one she’s perfected over the years with a constant dedication to her craft.

“Promise?”

Jace chuckles, because he’s sick like she is. Still holding her close, his grip slips down to wrap around her throat. He pushes up, palm tight to her windpipe and forces her flush to Luke’s sweaty chest. He presses his feet into his mattress, praying for leverage, and plows every inch of his thick dick into her cunt. 

Luke’s lungs shrivel up, the friction of his brother’s thrusting cock through the thin skin separating Ysilla’s holes too much for him to take. He hunches over her, slinging his arm around her hips. He yanks her into an arch, his forearm digging tightly into where her lower belly meets her mound, and humps desperately at the curve of her backside. 

Jace chases them, fucking his hips up into his siblings wildly, the wet smack of his thighs against Ysilla’s fucking nasty. He wraps his legs around all of them, crossing his ankles above Luke’s tight, thrusting arse, keeping them all nice and close. 

“Fuckkkk yeah, take that dick. Both of you.” 

God bless football, the muscles threaded through his chicken legs all due to his practicing and playing. Fuck, he should make Sil wear his jersey after his next game. Maybe even convince Luke to give him a mouthful of his junk, make him stretch out his throat while Silli rides his lap. Do it in the car park after the match. His tint is dark enough- he could have them together, anyway he wants while the rest of his team would pile into their own cars, none the wiser to sinful shit their star striker gets up to with his own flesh and blood. 

Jace knows he doesn’t have much left in his tank; he was ready to bust as soon as Luke slid home alongside him. He doesn’t want to finish yet- somewhat pridefully, not before his little brother. One thing is on his side though: he has a big fucking mouth. 

“So pretty, both of my fucking sluts. Gonna knock you two up, breed you until you’re fucking sick of it.”

Ysilla and Luke’s eyes roll back, mirror images of lust, and Jace doesn’t know if he imagines it but he swears he can feel it as Luke breaks, his cum molten hot through the partition of Silli’s walls as he spills deep into her guts.

“Fuckkk yes, cum inside of her Luke. Make it messy, shit, I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” Jace spits through clenched teeth, digging his heels cruelly into Luke’s soft thighs. As if on cue, both brothers’ trembling fingers dive between Ysilla’s legs, and rub furiously at her clit. She chokes, her nails rooting into each one of them, keeping them close as she breaks the fuck apart. One of them shouts as she clamps down in a vice grip, but it's all static in her ears, her orgasm washing anything away that's not white hot heat. It lasts so long her toes go numb and her knees shake tremors throughout her thighs.

Luke and Ysilla topple like a house of cards, landing in a jumbled pile of limbs and other sweat soaked appendages. Jace’s bed is a King but even so, the trio chooses to remain wrapped up in each other, gasping for breath and stretching out sore legs. 

The peek of sky through the blinds gets dimmer the longer they all lie there, the glow from the TV glaring brighter and brighter as the room dips into darkness. Jace searches for his remote, doing his best not to jostle his bedmates, until he finds it under his pillow. Going for the red power button, his thumb hovers over it until a flashing icon in the corner of the screen pitches his stomach like he’s on a rollercoaster. 

“Oh, fuck me.”

“I don’t think I have the energy to do that.” Luke groans, face buried in his sister’s back. 

“Me either.” Ysilla chuckles wearily, already well on her way to unconsciousness, snuggled between her favorite boys. Jace winces, letting them enjoy the last few seconds of afterglow before he ruins the rest of their lives.

“Okay… neither of you can hit me for what I’m about to tell you.”

Ysilla blinks at him, suddenly wide awake at the tense tone he’s taken on.

“Jace… what is it?”

He stares at the F1 pause screen, Aegon T. connected via headset still lit up in green in the top right corner. His own headset rests innocently atop his desk, the mic almost pointing accusingly towards the bed. And there’s no way in any of the Seven Hells that their uncle didn’t just get an earful of his niece and nephews railing each other into oblivion. 

“I think we may have a huge fucking problem.”

.

.

.

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Three: The Long Night

|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader|

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's note: Thank you for the warm reception to the first two chapters! We're about to go 0-100 real quick, so hold onto your butts. This is also the longest chapter of the story, hence the title of "The Long Night". It's around 10k words. ୧⁠(⁠＾⁠ ⁠〰⁠ ⁠＾⁠)⁠୨ A few lines stuck with me while writing this chapter from the song Gibson Girl by Ethel Cain:

“And if you hate me. Please don’t tell me. Just let the lights bleed all over me.” - Ethel Cain, Gibson Girl.

Chapter Warnings: Aegon window scene, emotional abuse of a child, if the reader has zero lovers haters Aemond is dead, COCSA.

The afternoon air was refreshing to the eldest son of the king, the sun warming the ruddy skin of his cock as he stroked it to total hardness. As Aegon grew older, the more the days seemed to drag on in an endless loop of mind-numbing misery. Duties, lessons, and more raging from his mother on the importance of said responsibilities until the time all muddled into one continuous circle. Wine, cuffing Aemond, and fucking his prick raw seemed to be the only things that could bring him out of this dull, never-ending cycle. 

Each day, Aegon discovered a new object that made his member pulse with a flush of blood. It was part of what made it so distracting. One day, a young serving girl with exceptionally long legs caught the prince’s eye. Her quickly shifted gaze did not deter him in the slightest. The next was the thrill of danger, each time seeking completion at new depths of peril. Once atop his mighty dragon Sunfyre, his pink membrane wings sparkling against the white clouds as he rutted against his saddle, and another, at where he found it the easiest, perched atop his window ledge, stark naked as the day he was born. The threat of being discovered always sent a thrill down his spine and straight to his stones. 

Most recently, much to his chagrin, Aegon had discovered you, his sweet, albeit annoying niece, was the object of his desires as you ate an overly ripe strawberry. The pink juice dribbled down your fingers and chin, staining your lips red. He felt disgusted with himself at the time. You were his niece! This bothersome little urchin who followed his heels like a duckling, yet he attended luncheons with you, Jace, and that other one.

At first, he thought that maybe it was not you that caused his body to have that primal response but the object itself. It couldn’t possibly be you. However, after much trial and error, at one point attempting to have an intimate time with a fruit, he found the reason. Aegon soon discovered that after spending several meals with you, intently observing how you sucked the leftover yellow-orange meat from a peach pit, it was you he was aroused by, the way your tongue moved to lick the sticky saccharine liquid from your digits and thus became his ritual.

He would attend lunch with you and your brothers as that was the only meal you ate alone, observing how you consumed creamy puddings that he snuck from the kitchens, supplying fruits that would squirt their nectar onto your skin when you bit into them. It would send a thrumming inside his bones as he watched you chew, a simple act that no other maiden could seem to replicate. Aegon would wipe away the stickiness from your flesh with the swipe of his moistened thumb, feeling his stomach tense at the contact and dipping back into his mouth to gather more as you innocently giggled and swatted his hands away.

Then, when the meal would end, the prince would find himself in his room as he was now, clothes thrown about the area as he stroked his cock within the ledge of the windowsill, the images of you devouring the foods he gave you playing in his mind’s eye. And the best part, the detail that sent Aegon frequently rutting into his fist at all moments of the day, was that you didn’t know any better. You perceived it as your Uncle being kind, and you were eager to receive praise or attention from the person you admire.

What you didn’t understand wouldn’t hurt you, he reasoned.

Aegon was almost there. He could feel it, sense the impending release he had stored since lunch as he spat on his cock, pinching the ruddy head to stave it off just a moment more. It wouldn’t be long now. He could hear the bells that signaled the new hour in the distance. His stomach tensed, digits curling into a stone pillar for purchase as he released a gasp of your name through gritted teeth. 

“Whose idea was it?” Alicent’s voice rang out to the sound of the bell tower, throwing him from his fantasy as he stumbled off the ledge and onto his mattress, knocking his cup of Arbor Red out of the window. She repeated her question once more, disregarding the state of undress in which she had discovered her child. 

Aegon was embarrassed and disheveled, minding reeling as he struggled to catch his breath and understand her question. It annoyed him that he was cut off abruptly as if his mother had no regard for her eldest son’s privacy. 

“Whose idea was it? The pig. Was it your plot?” Alicent interrogated, ringed fingers clasped over her abdomen as her dark brows drew together in a scowl. 

It took a moment for Aegon to come to his senses as he brushed unruly strands of his curly blonde hair from his face, covering his exposed parts with his bedsheets. “No. It was Jace and uh… ” he stammered, picturing the other curly-mop-headed boy he could never remember the name of. 

What was it? Lorgan? Leander?  

It didn’t matter. Aegon couldn’t keep up with the children his half-sister popped out. Every day, a new babe seemed to cry in the Red Keep. “The-the other one, not the girl. I can’t be sure,” he eventually answered, squinting his eyes as he stared towards his mother.

“Aemond is your brother,” she sharply reasoned, disappointedly shaking her head and taking steps toward her slouched son. 

“Well, he’s a twat ,” Aegon childishly countered as frustration welled up at having his release stolen from him. He couldn’t believe she showed such nonchalance seeing his boyish body, let alone him being bare as the day he was born as he stroked himself to completion. 

“We are family,” Alicent lectured, brown eyes flicking across her son’s pale face. “You may cuff him about as you wish at home, but in the world we defend our own.” 

“It was funny,” the prince sighed with a shrug and realized his defense was weak. It was only a joke. It wasn’t Aegon’s fault that Aemond was such an odd, fragile little boy who couldn’t take his teasing. This would make him less of a bore to be around.

“Do you think Rhaenyra’s sons will be your playthings forever? As things stand…,” she continued with her velvet voice, her grave tone rumbling in her chest. “Rhaenyra will ascend the iron throne and either her daughter, or Jacaerys will be her heir.”

Aegon shrugged his sinewy shoulders, an expression of indifference on his pale face. He knew this already. He knew this when he couldn’t think and did not understand the importance of the sudden lesson in inheritance. “So?”

The Queen groaned, nearly at her wit’s end, as she looked at the Seven above for guidance in dealing with her incompetent son, fists clenching. 

“You are nearly a man grown. How is it that you can be so shortsighted?” Alicent finally became level with her son, kneeling on the filthy mattress and rumpled sheets. She needed him to listen and hear the seriousness of the future for him, his siblings, and his potential children’s lives would be threatened should his half-sister become Queen. “If Rhaenyra comes into power, your very life could be forfeited. Aemond’s as well. She could move to cut off any challenge to her succession.” 

Aegon’s jaw trembled, lips twitching into a pout as his nose burned. His mother was so frightening when she was mad that he couldn’t help but feel like a child again. “Then I won’t challenge-” 

Faster than the prince could blink, Alicent’s digits pinched his pale cheeks together, startling him into submission as his brows scrunched in pain.

“You are the challenge, Aegon! Simply by living and breathing!” she shouted, words rattling in her throat. 

Silence hung thick between mother and son, a sense of catastrophe burrowing itself into Aegon’s heart as tears threatened to spill. He would not cry . He refused to cry in front of his mother as she screamed into his very soul that his half-sister would murder him and his brother when she became queen. The prince still did not believe it. She wouldn’t do it if he did not stand in Rhaenyra’s way. Kinslaying was the greatest crime one could commit in the eyes of the law and the divine. She would never. 

“You are the king’s firstborn son,” Alicent continued, squeezing Aegon tighter as she moved to smack his chest with her words, “and what they know and everyone in the realm knows in their blood and in their bones, is that one day you will be our king.” 

The Queen stared into his frightened eyes, which flicked over her like a rabbit cornered by a fox. Realizing the severity of her outburst as guilt washed over her, Alicent stroked her son’s untamed hair, a brief halfhearted smile on her plump lips, as she spoke to him with a sudden reserved tranquility that chilled Aegon. 

“I aim to propose a match between you and her eldest as an attempt at peace in the following days. She already offered Jacaerys to Helaena, but if Rhaenyra sees reason as you think her to have, she will have no option but to accept.” The Queen leaned onto her haunches as she swallowed, her mouth feeling of cotton as she looked anywhere but at her fearful son. “Seeing as you are smitten with the only good thing that has yet to emerge from Rhaenyra’s continued indecency, you will have no objections. Get dressed .” 

The eldest Prince struggled to steady his breathing as his mother left, heart beating as if he was plummeting from his window. Aegon didn’t know what to think or feel as his mother sighed profoundly and left without another word. 

He would wed his niece? Aegon thought that someone as pious as his mother would never allow a match between kin, let alone ones so close. It made no sense. She would reject one proposal only to give another of the same caliber. You and Aegon were the two eldest children and subsequent heirs, the most obvious match, yet Rhaenyra did not offer it. There must have been a reason that his mother refused to acknowledge.

It was all too much. It felt as if Aegon was lost out at sea and attempting to keep afloat, seeing landfall just out of reach as wave after wave of saltwater stung his eyes and filled his lungs until he sank into the cold and murky waters below. Aegon needed a drink to quiet his nerves and a good release, for that matter, as his eyes traveled to the colorful array of exotic fruits resting in a bowl on his nightstand. 

The evening was upon King’s Landing as you and your brothers readied for bed. A maid ran a silver ivory tooth comb through your brown hair, detangling the knots and frizz accumulated during the day. Jace and Luke prepared with their man servants in the adjoining room, the younger running across the stone floor and into your room, declaring he was not tired. You couldn’t help but giggle at Luke’s childish actions as the servant chased him onto his neatly made bed, sliding across the sheets and causing them to wrinkle.

Moments later, your mother and father entered to say their goodnights, their presence whipping your brother back into good behavior as the manservant put him into his night clothes. Your mother always came to tuck the three of you into bed, even when there was a new addition to the family. Frequently, Ser Harwin followed behind her with a regaling of stories when your father wasn’t able to do the same, but this time, he was here, and the three of you crowded into Jace’s bed as you awaited your father to tell you of his journeys this past moon. 

He retold tales of sailing throughout the Narrow Sea with his father Corlys and the squire Ser Qarl. Your father sang bits of the same shanties his crew mates did before your mother stopped him as the three of you giggled. He spoke of battling pirates with silver and gold teeth and missing limbs who tried to board his ship on a misty morning. He could barely see three paces before him due to the fog on the calm waters as enemies boarded your grandfather’s boat. He proclaimed how Ser Qarl saved his life when one of the dreadful pirates knocked your father’s torch out of his hand. 

“The world around me transformed instantly, shrouded in a gray hue. The menacing figure of the one-eyed pirate, with his glinting gold tooth, vanished from view. Anticipating the bitter bite of a blade tearing through my flesh, I braced myself for the inevitable. Amidst the deafening percussion of my adversary’s approach, I stood steadfast, poised for the final confrontation. Bereft of vision, I awaited the fatal blow, resigned to my fate. Yet, like the Warrior himself, emerging from the mist, Ser Qarl materialized and drove his sword deep into the pirate’s heart, sparing me from inevitable demise”.

As your father recounted the tale, his hands danced through the air, adding flair to every word and making you and your siblings feel like you were with him. Jace and Luke were captivated, hanging on to every detail as your father wove the story with the skill of a master storyteller. As he spoke, it felt more like a fantastical legend than a real-life experience. The mere thought of your father not returning from his daring escapades sent shivers down your spine, prompting you to intertwine your arms and absentmindedly play with the delicate strands of hair between your fingertips.

With a watchful eye, your mother sensed your anxiety and gently reassured you with a kiss on your head and comforting words. “Don’t worry, my dear. Your father won’t be embarking on another adventure for a long while. He knows that his rightful place is with his family,” your mother consoled, lightly caressing each of your dark locks while sharing a meaningful glance with your father. “Enough storytelling. It’s time for you to go to bed. There’s much to learn in tomorrow’s lessons, and none of you will skip them.”

She looked at you with raised brows, her violet eyes wide enough that you could see the pink veins decorating the white. You tightened your mouth in shame and looked away from your mother’s piercing gaze as you, Jace, and Luke muttered in unison.

“Yes, mother.” 

A deep sense of relaxation washed over you as you slid beneath the cool, smooth silk sapphire bedsheets. It had been an eventful day, and now, finally lying in bed, you released a breath. Your mother first kissed your brothers goodnight as your father did the same for you, switching between the three in your separate rooms.

“Father,” you called out softly as he walked to Jace and Luke’s room. He turned towards you, his eyes holding a mixture of weariness and unspoken understanding as you buried your flushed cheeks beneath the calm, comforting embrace of the blankets. “I cannot stand the thought of you continuing to brave the seas alongside Ser Qarl and Lord Corlys. The danger is too great.”

You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. The idea of your father setting sail on your grandfather’s proud ship and never returning filled you with an indescribable dread. You couldn’t fathom a world where no one would swing you around, regaling you with vivid tales of swashbuckling adventures and stirring escapades on the high seas.

As Laenor listened to your confession, a faint but genuine smile graced his features. His eyes softened as he glanced at your tiny, fidgeting feet, a clear sign of nervousness. At that moment, he felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness toward you. Despite what others may say to him, you were his little girl. He knew that you often cared too deeply and worried too much about others, which weighed heavily on his mind. Seeing the effects of overwhelming anxiety on your petite frame heightened his concern for your well-being.

As he looked at you, he silently promised himself that he didn’t want to be the cause of your distress. With a wistful smile, he nodded and excused himself, reaching his sons. Deep down, he knew that a part of his soul belonged to the sea, but he couldn’t bring himself to share this with you.

He hoped his inner turmoil was not visible as he exited, but he knew you were astute enough to have noticed. Despite your tender age, you possessed a perceptiveness that belied your years, and Laenor couldn’t help but worry more about deceiving you than he did about his wife or mother. As he departed, he steeled himself for the impending storm of reproach from Rhaenyra upon receiving the maids’ reports about the tangled knots you had wrestled out of your hair while asleep.

Your mother’s warm and affectionate smile appeared shortly after your father’s as she settled onto the edge of the luxuriously soft feather mattress. She gently kissed your warm cheek and enveloped your small frame in a tight embrace as you responded in kind, nuzzling into her lavender-scented neck. She beamed with delight as you squeezed her tighter, pressing an extended, heartfelt kiss onto her cheek. In response, she let out a tender laugh, which quickly spread to you, causing both of you to erupt into a chorus of infectious, toothy giggles.

As you prepare to drift off into sleep, you feel the loving warmth of your mother’s heartfelt whisper. “Sleep tight, my heart. I love you.” She gently brushed her fingers down from the crown of your head, through the fabric of your soft cotton nightgown sleeve, and finally to your hand, where she gently massaged the tender skin of your palm, creating a sense of comfort and security.

As you settled into your feather pillows, your mother’s words filled your chest. “I love you too, Mama,” you replied, feeling a surge of emotion.

You could sense her watching as you nestled into your soft sheets, envisioning her gentle smile as she observed you finding comfort in your bed. Her soft sigh seemed to carry a hint of amusement as she watched you, her only daughter, wrapped in the embrace of the fabric, and it was almost as if her exhale itself held a trace of laughter.

What an endearing girl. My beautiful girl, Rhaenyra, mused as she rose to her feet. She took her time extinguishing the flickering candles one by one until only a single flame remained on the nightstand. The soft glow of the candle illuminated the room, providing a presence of solace for you, who had always been afraid of the darkness that the Red Keep brought. Though she would never admit it aloud, the princess regretted allowing Alicent to name you. She felt like an imbecile for the days after her first labor. 

Rhaenyra had a name for a girl. She had one since her mother was pregnant with her last child. You were a Targaryen, a descendant of the Conquers, and deserved to have a name like one. Alas, in a desperate attempt to create everlasting peace between the Princess and the Queen, she allowed her forgotten friend to name her daughter. An act that proved fruitless.

It was a mistake Rhaenyra would never make again as she opened the stalwart oak doors of your chambers, leaving one last expression filled with unyielding love.

You could still feel the whisper of your mother’s goodnight kisses on your face, releasing a deep sigh of relaxation as you turned beneath the elegant blankets and burrowed deeper into your soft pillows, arm tucked under your head. It took you a moment to comprehend the foreign object hidden underneath the satin-covered feathers as you grasped it with small fingers. 

You revealed a piece of parchment folded into fours underneath the candlelight and unraveled it curiously, wiping at your sleepy eyes with the back of your hand. 

It was a note from… Aegon , bewildering you beyond measure as to why he would do such a thing and how he got it in here without notifying your guard. The contents were of messy handwriting as if a chicken had written it, squinting in an attempt to decipher what almost looked like a foreign language. 

“I have a secret to tell you, niece, but you must promise that you shall tell no one, not even Jace. Follow the map I have drawn and meet me. I’ll be waiting. - Aegon”

Excitement rushed through your veins as you quickly went to your wardrobe and pulled on a midnight blue cloak. Slowly, as noiseless as possible, you crept over to the door separating you, Jace, and Luke’s room, carefully pulling it shut. You held the note in your hand as you followed your Uncle’s instructions, sliding your vanity mirror out of the blocked path he wrote out and stopping momentarily as the wooden leg scratched across the floor, ensuring your brothers did not hear. Your fingers felt along the stone wall, pushing with all your might against the innocuous slab until it gave way and a torch-lit passage emerged. 

You knew you shouldn’t be venturing out of your chambers at such a late hour, but the thrill of adventure was too enticing. Pulling the hood of your cloak over your loose hair, you couldn’t resist the opportunity. Aegon had never done something like this. He never sought you out to spend time together, let alone at such a late and secretive hour. It provided a good distraction from the worry that clung to your eyelids as you slipped down the dust-covered redstone stairs.

You heard rumors about hidden tunnels throughout Maegor’s Holdfast that he employed skilled architects and builders to construct them, and when they finished, he led them into the passages and killed every single one. When questioned about it, Maegor claimed he didn’t want rats to scuttle inside his walls . The thought sent shivers down your spine at the notion that within these very halls and alcoves could be the bones of a dozen or so men murdered in cold bold by your ancestor. 

The scuffle of shoes stole you from your mind, causing a gasp of fear to shake you as Aegon clamped his palms on your shoulders. Your Uncle cackled at having caught you unaware, sounding like a hag and flipping his unruly blonde hair back. 

“You got my note?” he asked as you nodded eagerly, showing him the parchment. “Does Jace know?”

You took a step back, brows scrunching together in offended confusion as you shook your head. Why would it matter if your brother knew? He wouldn’t tell anyone if you asked him not to. You were two halves of the same soul, bound together no matter the circumstances. 

“No, Uncle. You told me not to.” Despite wishing to do so. 

Aegon grinned, pleased with your obedience. Your submission to him was what allowed him to tolerate you. Your Uncle knew how close you and Jace were, practically joined at the hip, and even if he wanted to do something alone with one or the other, the other would always show. He was sure you would tell Jace when you felt the note underneath your pillow but was relieved nonetheless. 

As his eyes observed your attire, violet orbs flicked to your loose hair, white nightgown, and finely tailored cloak with a grimace. Aegon should have told you to dress down, seeing as he wore a tan undershirt and black trousers, but it was too late now. He would have to be extra careful. She looks common enough, he thought. 

“I was worried you wouldn’t come,” the prince confessed, placing his hand on your back to guide you. “I know your mother is strict with your bedtime.” 

You frowned as Aegon escorted you to Seven knows where. His insinuation of such a juvenile schedule deeply wounded you. As you understood, he didn’t adhere to a bedtime enforced by Queen Alicent, which only furthered your insecurities about your place compared to your aunt and uncles.

The narrow passage was filled with the high-pitched squeaks of mice and rats, making you startle and stand on your toes with each scurry past. Despite your protest, Aegon found amusement in your discomfort and callously kicked the next rodent that darted in your path. You supposed it was his way of protecting you, but the sight of the injured creature and its harrowing screech left you with a deep sense of disgust and sadness in the pit of your stomach. 

It brought to mind a painful memory of your Uncle crushing a butterfly that you and Helaena discovered in the garden, another instance of Aegon’s unjustified cruelty that you struggled to comprehend.

Water droplets echoed in the vast expanse of the underground tunnels as you and your Uncle ventured deeper into them. You glanced at Aegon, seeking guidance, and were met with a wide grin that stretched across his face. In the dim torchlight, the sparkle of his white teeth was visible, and the sudden image of your mother flashed into your mind. You found a strange comfort in your Uncle’s resemblance to her, starkly contrasting the unease you felt around the Queen’s children.

Despite being your mother’s siblings, Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond seemed distant to her, lacking the typical bond between brother and sister. Usually, aunts and uncles were much older than their nieces and nephews, taking on a more parental role than a playmate. This dynamic blurred the line between family and friendship, making it difficult to feel at peace with them. You found yourself grappling with the contradicting ideas of respecting and listening to them as you would your mother or father while treating them as one of your companions. You did not enjoy the disturbance this caused in your heart, burying those thoughts and feelings deep down, refusing to confront or acknowledge their existence. If you did not speak it, it was not real. 

You could no longer deny your curiosity about Aegon’s plans as you trailed behind, though the uncertainty stirred excitement within you. “Where are we going, Uncle? What secret did you want to tell me?” 

Aegon didn’t hide the way he rolled his eyes in annoyance at your insistent questioning, commanding you to be patient. He gripped your hand without much choice on your part as he led you down one of the dark tunnels with jagged rocks until you came upon a corridor with winding stairs. You peered curiously as he abruptly dragged you up the stone, your shorter legs struggling to keep in time with him. 

Soon, you found yourself underneath the starless night sky, walking a few paces before Aegon in the courtyard until he abruptly yanked you back into the shadows, a guard marching across your path. You were stunned momentarily at your Uncle’s foresight, staring into his concentrated gaze in shocked admiration, confident that he had done something like this before. Holding your breath until you could no longer hear the rhythmic clank of his armor, a burst of excitement filled your veins as you released a hushed giggle, Aegon following suit. 

You arrived in the wine cellars after a few more thrilling close calls. Bottles, barrels, and casks lined the dim room from floor to ceiling as a chilly draft swiftly passed through the area. Peering questioningly at Aegon, he studied the wooden crisscross rack of the different beverages until he decided on one and pulled it out of its cubby. 

“What is that one?” you interrogated, peeking over his shoulder. He shamelessly turned to you along with the glass bottle, carelessly flipping it in his grasp. 

“Arbor Red. I thought we might have a drink to accompany us. ’Tis a favorite of mine,” Aegon replied as he picked the wax off the cork and neck. 

You observed him with interest, hesitancy beginning to creep into your mind as you pinched at the fine hairs on your forearm. “I’ve never had that before. Mama only allows me to have ciders or a sip of white wine if I cannot sleep.” 

“She isn’t here now, is she?” he jeered, removing the wax with great effort to pop the cork. “Here.” Aegon offered without choice, holding the dark purple bottle out with one hand, tipping it in your direction when you stalled. 

You nervously accepted the wine with tight lips, tentatively taking a sip as you felt the saccharine liquid burn your tongue and ears, scarlet heating your cheeks. It was treacly sweet for your liking, causing a gag of disgust to erupt from your throat as you shoved the Arbor Red back into Aegon’s grip. He laughed at your disgust and took a swig of it without a care, expelling a sigh of relief as the cool, red liquid slid down his throat. 

“That’s positively rancid!” you giggled, wiping away the remnants from your chin. “How do you drink that?”  

Aegon held the neck of the bottle in his grasp, stealing another from the rack he thought you would like as he took a long gulp. “Like that.” 

You laughed in surrender, accepting the lighter wine that he picked and stealing a small taste as it turned your blood to fire. 

Your Uncle’s next destination was the kitchens as he led you up another set of worn stairs, following his heels like an eager pup to its owner, wagging your tail. There were only a few servants in crimson robes and dresses, their smocks an off-yellow color from years of usage as they tended to their late-night duties. Aegon kept you out of sight in the darkness as he took swigs of the Arbor Red, hiding patiently like a stalking cat waiting for the perfect moment to pounce on an unsuspecting mouse. 

When it happened, he took your wrist, expertly leading you through the multiple counters and tables, snatching a tray full of almond cakes and drying fruits as suddenly a kitchen maid appeared. The tray of prunes and oranges nearly slipped from your grasp as you jumped, swiftly recovering as Aegon grabbed your cloak and pulled you back from crashing into the servant, running at impossible speeds. The woman shouted and scolded both of you as you nearly tripped over your nightgown, bounding down the steps three at a time, laughter echoing in the halls. 

Once Aegon felt that no one was on your trail, he stopped on one of the unguarded battlements of the Holdfast, both of you laughing breathlessly as the adrenaline left your body. Placing the tray of fruits onto the ledge, you uncorked the bottle of wine Aegon chose, spilling some of the bubbly liquid. You took small sips, finally appreciating the refreshing white grape flavor as you and your Uncle snacked on the stolen goods underneath the silent moonless sky.

“My mother plans to betroth us,” Aegon declared through the quiet, making your eyes grow wide in response as you shoved a piece of powder-covered almond cake into your mouth. “She worries that when Rhaenyra comes to power, she’ll try to hurt Aemond and me because we’re boys.” 

You turned to face Aegon, licking the white dust from your lips as you stared at him in confusion. “Why would mother try to hurt you because you and Aemond are boys? You’re family.” They were your mother’s brothers and much younger at that. She would never try to hurt them for any reason at all. 

“Because the people of the realm believe only men can rule and they will do anything to ensure that I do,” he replied, bitterness laced in his tone. 

Sadness overtook your limbs as you slumped onto the ground, your woolen cloak catching on the stone. You could feel Aegon’s hopelessness as if it were your own and leaned your head onto his standing legs.

“They may believe that, but they are wrong. My mother will ascend the throne and I will after her. She will create a new order throughout Westeros and people who think that we cannot rule simply because we are girls won’t exist,” you announced with great conviction, stealing a glance as your Uncle looked over at the thousand twinkling village lights.

“You believe that you will rule after her?” Aegon questioned dispassionately, his lithe digits flicking in disregard. 

“Yes,” you replied without a thought. Your mother had not officially declared you her heir. That would only happen once your grandfather passed, a notion which brought you grief, but you knew she would choose you. After all, you were the eldest. You sighed, touching Aegon’s knee to get his attention. “Besides, you won’t challenge her. If you’re married to me, you’ll still become king.” 

“My mother wants us to marry to make you a prisoner bound in chains of false love and children– to prevent my half-sister from taking the throne when they put me on it. How can you not see that?” He turned to you swiftly, staring down at you with an intense look that struck you to your core. “My existence is opposition enough to Rhaenyra’s claim, and it seems my mother and grandfather will stop at nothing to groom me into the next heir even if it is something I do not want. Rhaenyra will stop at nothing to get you back when they do so.” 

“Queen Alicent will use me as leverage to stop my mother from taking her rightful place…” you whispered aloud as tears brimmed at your lashes. “You’ll still be king even if my mother is Queen. You’ll be married to me! Isn’t that enough?” 

Suddenly, Aegon kneeled before you, taking your shoulders harshly in his grip as his fingers burrowed into your flesh. You winced and tried to lean away, but he stopped you, his face so close you could see the fair, wispy hairs of a growing mustache above his lip. “What don’t you understand about this?” he yelled, his pale cheeks growing blushing with ire. “My mother and grandfather will put me on the throne over Rhaenyra no matter who I am married to, especially a bastard. Mother only wants for us to wed so that yours will not have the option forcefully to take her rightful place with her daughter in the way.”

“I am not a bastard!” you screamed into your Uncle’s face, tears falling freely down your cheeks as you shoved him onto the ground, nor were you your mother’s favorite. “My father is Laenor Velaryon, and my mother Rhaenyra Targaryen. I will rule the Seven Kingdoms and wear the crown of Jaehaerys like grandfather does and how my mother will!”  

Aegon groaned, head tilting to the sky in exasperation as he laid his limp hands between his legs in surrender. There was no point. You wouldn’t see reason. “Of course you are,” he sighed, sitting on his haunches. “Twas foolish of me to say otherwise. Come here and not let these treats go to waste.” 

Aemond sought solace in the library’s serene, dimly lit atmosphere during challenging moments. While he cherished his family, particularly his sister and mother, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his oldest brother exploited his loyal affection. Despite societal expectations dictating that he turn to his elder siblings for advice, Aemond often found himself shouldering Aegon’s responsibilities.

He observed how Luke frequently sought guidance and support from you and Jace when making decisions and taking action. While Luke turned to his siblings for solace following a frightening dream or when Aegon was particularly unkind, Aemond lacked this support. Instead, he assumed the role of mentor, offering guidance to his older brother and comforting his older sister during challenging times. Unintentionally, his family burdened Aemond with the responsibilities of a caregiver, parent, and older brother despite his status as the second son, with seemingly no prospects besides living in the shadow of the firstborn.

In times of turmoil and uncertainty, Aemond sought refuge in the timeless embrace of books. Their weight in his hands provided a reassuring sense of substance, their unchanging inked pages promising stability in a world of instability. The authors had already mapped out the characters’ journeys within those hallowed pages, complete with predetermined destinies and unyielding conclusions.

Immersing himself in these literary sanctuaries, Aemond would momentarily escape into realms where he could envision himself as a formidable dragonlord of Old Valyria, astride a majestic and fearsome beast, commanding the submission of his adversaries. While it was the only place where a fleeting sense of happiness fluttered within him, he hesitated to label it as true to the elusive emotion.

As the moon hung high in the sky, Aemond found himself immersed in his usual pursuit of a tome that delved into the intricacies of war strategy. Unlike his niece, he had always eschewed fanciful tales and romantic novels, who took great pleasure in playfully mocking him as “a bore.” Although he never revealed it, her words stung, and he often retorted with a feigned air of anger.

He harbored a deep-seated jealousy towards his niece and nephews, which he vehemently denied. Underneath that denial, there simmered a potent brew of hatred. Aemond’s royal lineage, as the son of a king, set him apart from them, but that fact seemed inconsequential. They were the offspring of his father’s beloved, his sole child, and the source of his utmost joy. Viserys’ grandchildren held an irreplaceable position in his world.

Training sessions were held in the courtyard, and the king’s attendance was for something other than his and Aegon’s. He was there for Luke and Jace, the sons of Rhaenyra. Whenever there was a showcase of skills to display the dancing prowess Helaena and his niece had acquired, the king’s praises were reserved solely for Rhaenyra’s daughter.

Aemond was fiercely determined to outshine his sister’s children and earn his father’s approval. He longed for acknowledgment and validation, believing he possessed talents superior to those of his nephews and niece. Jace struggled with memorizing High Valyrian glyphs, and while Aemond could speak basic sentences, Luke feared his dragon. At the same time, Aemond charged head-first into mounts that did not belong to him, and his niece’s enigmatic challenges bolstered Aemond’s confidence in his abilities.

He struggled to find any significant flaws in her that would be readily apparent to an adult. Aemond observed that her persistent need for validation, love, and recognition, coupled with a hint of arrogance, could be irritating. However, he realized that the impact of these traits as either faults or strengths depended on the recipient of her unwavering loyalty.

His niece would go to lengths for those she sought admiration from, even losing her strong sense of justice when it came to it. Aemond could recall times when she protected Helaena from Aegon’s taunts and torture, nearly breaking his nose in recompense. She was carefree and joyful, unburdened with the weight of duty and pressure he faced, but when it came to the things that mattered, she showed restraint, unlike Aegon. He felt that one day, her fierceness and unapologetic service to the ones she cared for would be her ruination, which Aemond could not wait for.

Though he loathed to admit it, a part of him yearned to inspire that same devotion in someone. Aemond would never want it from his niece. She was not her father’s child. He did not need her love, but he still craved it. Whether it be from someone he despised or not, he would take it.

Aemond’s eyes wandered across the stacked books until he stumbled upon one that piqued his interest. He carefully reached for it, feeling the rough texture of the old parchment underneath his fingertips. As he flipped through the worn pages, he caught a whiff of the distinct fragrance that only old books carried, which spoke of centuries past. Taking a moment to appreciate the weight of history in his hands, he tucked the stiff leather-bound tome under his arm. He exited the library with his index finger delicately hooked in the ring of his lit candle holder, casting flickering shadows around him. The night air enveloped him as he embarked on the journey back to his quarters, the faint aroma of the ancient book lingering in the air around him.

Though he hid it underneath an annoyed facade, Aegon was terrified. He did not want to be king, nor did he want to marry you. He did not want to marry anyone, for that matter. Yes, you were a rather attractive creature, only when you ate , and frequently, he felt less than in your presence, but you were still a silly little girl who saw things for their surface beauty and not in their entirety. You could not comprehend why his mother and grandfather would still force Aegon onto the throne even if he would wed you. 

Despite what the entire lot of you claimed, you and your brothers were bastards. You had no Velaryon features. There was no hint of your father’s dark skin or white hair. Saying that all four of Rhaenyra’s children took Rhaenys’s attributes was stretched too far for any competent person to believe. But it didn’t matter. No amount of reason from Aegon, the Queen, or the court would convince King Viserys or the rest of you where your true parentage lied, not that it mattered to him. 

Hastily, you wiped away the tears and snot of frustration, nodding timidly to Aegon’s silent apology as you shoved a dried orange into your mouth. The pair of you sat in a noiseless trance filled with the sounds of crickets and intermediate chewing, taking sips of your wine. You refused to be the one to break the quiet, seeing as you weren’t the one who caused it. You allowed Aegon to stew with the lie of calling you a bastard as the bubbly liquid dribbled past your lips. 

Your Uncle’s fingers soon wiped away the drops before they could become sticky against your skin. He tended to do it whenever you made a mess of yourself, often when you ate or drank in his presence. You giggled demurely and smiled as you watched him lick the wine from his fingers. Aegon was always so silly like that. It was rare for him to be seen without a lopsided grin on his sharp face. 

The same hand he used to remove the liquid on your chin found itself on your thigh, gradually working his thumb in circles. It startled you. Aegon never touched you without the intent to hurt or shove you somewhere as your muscles clenched, but when no blow or ridicule followed, you relaxed, resting your head on his pointy shoulder as you often did with your brother. 

You enjoyed the happiness touch could bring and often initiated it with whomever would allow you to. You wanted those you met to feel the same comfort you did and to know that you cared for them so much that actions were the only way for you to explain.

“Can I do something, niece? But it must remain our secret,” Aegon whispered into the darkness. The torches whooshing filled the air as the wind swept through the cold night air, casting eerie shadows on the ancient stone walls. The flames danced and swayed, casting a warm, golden glow illuminating your secretive conversation.

Under the obsidian moonless sky, you uttered, “I didn’t tell anyone where I was going tonight. Don’t you trust me?” Hoping to convey sincerity through your expression, you kept your plans a secret from your mother and brother. To them, you were just in bed, peacefully dreaming of riding Gaelithox across the vast lands of Westeros.

Aegon smiled and released a puff of air out of his nose, which you assumed was a laugh, as he began to bunch the skirt of your nightgown in his fist. You hadn’t a clue as to what he was doing, observing him with a curious but unworried expression as his fingers pulled back the small piece of cloth between your legs. Turning your gaze from your Uncle’s hand to his face, you peered at him peculiarly, your head tilted as you observed his concentrated expression, his breathing becoming faster. Aegon’s cheeks and ears were bright pink, beaming like a beacon in the night as you smiled. Even though his face held an intensely focused expression, you could sense satisfaction radiating from him that flowed into you. 

Aegon’s fingers didn’t feel like much as he spread the skin of your privy parts, dragging his digits up and down like he was stroking a swatch of fabric. The sensation was more foreign than anything, like learning to write for the first time. You could feel every ridge and swirl of his fingerprints against your dry skin as he suddenly dipped down into the hole between your legs. It startled you, his single digit causing a slight burn of pain as you jumped in response. 

Your Uncle’s gaze faced you, his once violet eyes now eclipsed with a black that threatened to swallow you whole. He assured you that you were fine, and you felt him move beside you, helping you stand upright, leaning your back against the battlement wall, and rucking your skirt up again. You watched as he fiddled with his breeches, an inquisitive expression pulling your brows taught as he revealed his private  part. 

It wasn’t as if you hadn’t seen one before. You, Jace, and Luke often bathed together with the help of your maids and Mother, but Aegon’s, his, looked different. It was a lot longer than your brother’s, a bright, rosy color standing straight out from his body, unlike the downturn of your siblings. You looked to him for an answer he refused to give, rubbing his member against yours, creating an uncomfortable, raw sensation. 

You didn’t know that those two things could touch each other. It wasn’t a thought in your mind that you could use it like your hand to grasp another, but as long as Aegon was happy, you were happy, so you allowed him to continue doing what he wanted in silence as he spat on your area. You shouted in protest at such a disgusting action, attempting to push him away, but Aegon held onto your waist tightly, forcing you to glide over his manhood. 

“Aegon, that was gross! Why did you spit on me?” you interrogated, attempting to push him away, but Aegon paid you no mind, continuing to rub himself against you in faster motions and quicker breaths. The more he moved, the more your privy area started to hurt, a burning sensation that reminded you of when you slid your knee across a floor rug after falling. It didn’t feel like nothing anymore, and soon you wanted to stop, pushing your Uncle away, but he held. 

“Aegon, you’re hurting me. Please, stop,” you commanded him. But he ignored your plea, his hand positioning his member at an angle as he pushed forward.

You screamed . 

You screamed and screamed and screamed as you shouted for Aegon to stop, a feeling as if a piece of molten metal had stabbed through you, radiating up your entire body and searing your insides. Your Uncle groaned, releasing a sigh of relief as his hands searched for something beside you. He took a fistful of plum and orange slices and shoved them into your mouth to get you to silence. He covered your lips with his palm, forcing you to chew the fruit if you wished not to choke. 

Aegon waited too long for his release, which Alicent had interrupted hours prior. He was not eager to seek out his niece unless with the purpose of gratification. You were so desperate to please him with whatever he asked of you, even if it would harm another, that Aegon found it endearing. He began to imagine a life with someone as devoted as you by his. Would he finally get the validation he desired from his mother and father? Would you allow him to pursue his lust as he wished and welcome him with dutiful arms each time? Your well-being was no longer a thought in his mind. The idea that he could finally have someone who gave him anything he desired and would never be able to leave was far too intoxicating. 

Aemond strolled beneath the crimson stone arches of the Keep, looking forward to slipping into his warm bed and immersing himself in the world of literature that awaited him. The night was serene, devoid of the moon’s glow, causing Blackwater Bay’s tides to remain calm and the air to hang motionless. It seemed like the ideal moment for reading, and he felt a revitalized spring in his stride.

As Aemond strolled past one of the stone parapets of Maegor’s Holdfast, the sounds of a soft, high-pitched voice caught his attention. It piqued his curiosity, making him ponder whether to ignore the sound or investigate. Suddenly, another voice, more urgent and resonant, joined the first. Aemond immediately recognized it as his older brother, Aegon. It seemed that he was attempting, and likely failing, to charm another maid again. Aemond sighed profoundly and glanced toward his chambers, wondering if he should intervene or retire for the evening. 

It was merely a brief stroll. Aemond could have retired to bed without concern for his older brother’s mischief. Nevertheless, he couldn’t bear the thought of disregarding the plight of the unfortunate servant girl and failing to intervene. Aemond Targaryen prided himself on his sense of honor. With each step, he could feel the weight of exhaustion and the burden of his conscience as he ascended the ancient stairs to the battlement. 

He stopped as he reached the top, finding his niece and brother in a state that would cause even the most experienced man to gasp in horror. Aemond observed how Aegon forced himself onto his younger niece, tears clumping her thick lashes and streaming down her cheeks. Shock gave way to anger as he recalled that same bleary face once jeering at his misfortune of not having a dragon, the girl who laughed at Aemond as his eldest brother gave him a pig to ride instead. 

Exhale. Inhale.

The prince remained motionless, a strange sense of eerie tranquility enveloping him. He felt nothing as he slowly retreated, the sound of the scuffle causing you to turn your head abruptly. Amidst the storm’s chaos, with no respite from Aegon’s relentless, tormenting attacks, your gaze locked with Aemond’s, the taste of your tears and ill-gotten gains mingling in the air.

Exhale. Inhale. 

You finally comprehended the significance of Septa Marlow’s teachings on ‘virtue.’ It was more than just a concept, but a tangible essence that one could embody and manifest in their actions. It represented the honor and reverence for one’s existence, acknowledging the inherent value of being alive and holding steadfast to one’s moral principles. Aegon’s actions cruelly deprived you of this intrinsic moral fiber, callously usurping the very essence of your being for his selfish gain.

Exhale. Inhale.

Aegon’s hand pressed firmly over your mouth, cutting off any pleadings as you desperately looked to Aemond for help. Aegon’s knowledge that it was wrong was evident in how he silenced you, his own set of virtues twisted and contorted into something unrecognizable by an external force.

Exhale. Inhale .

Aemond stood frozen on the staircase, one foot on the lower step and the other on the top. His bright purple eyes darted back and forth between you and Aegon. Inside his head, he couldn’t help but feel that you deserved this. He seethed with anger at all the wrongs you and your brothers had done to him. The injustices he felt burned within him—from the mistreatment of the pig to your unworthy existence, to the love and affection you received from his father, which he believed should have been his, and to your manipulation of his mother’s affections, deceiving her into seeing you as anything other than a sinful bastard.

Exhale. Inhale.

Your eyes, the teary pools of dark essence that threatened to pull him beneath it to feel your desperation and helplessness, tore into his soul and exposed his core for only you to see. Aemond was just a child, as were you, thrust into an ill-fated life before he had a name. No longer did you see your Uncle as someone who desired to hurt you but as someone who had hurt , both of you perpetuating the cycle that existed before your conception. You and Aemond were doomed to suffer unless one rose above and changed the narrative. 

Exhale. Inhale. 

“Aegon. What are you doing?” Aemond’s firm voice sounded, rising to the top step. 

His brother jumped in response, abruptly pulling away from you as you collapsed to the ground with a yelp. Aegon attempted to stuff himself back into his breeches as if that could hide what he had done. The blood on his brother’s pale skin made him unable to conceal it. 

“We… We were just having a bit of fun. Weren’t we, niece? We’re to be betrothed after all,” Aegon expressed as he steadied his breathing. “We’re simply celebrating preemptively.” 

As your eldest Uncle reached out his hand, a pleading look in his eyes conveyed a sense of desperation that might have influenced you in the past. However, this time, you met his imploring gaze with steely determination. Your breath caught in your throat as you resolutely pushed his reaching hand away, refusing to succumb to the unspoken agreement it symbolized.

Aegon turned to look at you; his expression was devastated, as if you had deeply wounded him. His cheeks were flushed, and his lips swollen from biting them, a silent attempt to contain his earlier excitement. It was the first time you had rejected his warmth in years, and it felt like you had torn his heart out. Turning his gaze to Aemond, fury replaced the emptiness in his chest as he realized that neither of you moved from your positions, causing his chin to quiver.

You were Aegon’s friend first. He could not change your mind, regardless of how desperately he wished to, and Aegon refused to subject himself to any more rejection as he pushed past Aemond and hurriedly descended the stairs, taking them three at a time, tail tucked between his legs.

You and Aemond remained in your positions for a moment after Aegon departed. As you stood there, your blue cloak draped over your shoulders and white nightgown concealing your slouched figure, tears streaming down your cheeks uncontrollably. Aemond, unsure of how to offer comfort, hesitated awkwardly. He struggled with his emotions as he silently observed you, feeling conflicted and unsettled by the situation’s intensity. He was at war with himself. 

A part of him found satisfaction in seeing you cry, a small measure of justice after enduring Aegon’s taunts for so long, but the other understood the great injustice and consequences you had endured, even if it seemed you did not. All he could do was noiselessly watch as you cried into the emptiness of the night, words of solace stuck in his throat. 

Your body hurt, sore, and trembling in places you had never felt pain before. You were so tired, so drained of life and energy that you felt as if you could sleep right here within the battlements of the Red Keep, but you knew that you would get into trouble if caught. Sneaking out and stealing wine and food from the kitchens would surely get you a reprimand from your mother, which was something you did not want. You were already in serious trouble for disobeying the Dragonkeepers and did not want to further your punishment.

With a great breath from your lungs, you wiped your tears, putting your legs underneath you and pushing yourself up. Severe pain shot through your body as you fell back to the ground with a shriek, skinning your knee. A fresh wave of sobs erupted from your chest, but you held them in and pulled your quivering limbs to stand against the wall. It felt as if you had been horseback riding for hours, your privy place sore and raw. 

Wincing as you made another step, you looked to where Aemond was, expecting him to be gone, but he was still there, gazing at you intently with a serious look on his freckled face. “I need to go to bed before someone discovers I’m gone,” you declared, wordlessly asking your Uncle to help you with your struggle. 

“You need the Maester,” Aemond countered, unmoving, eyes fixed to your feet. “You’re bleeding.” 

Quickly, you looked down to where he stared and saw your pristine white cotton nightgown stained in places with the crimson liquid of your blood. Your knees busted whenever you landed on the stone, red soaking through for all to see. 

“No,” you refused, tousled hair swaying in the wind as you shook it. “I can take care of it myself. Please, just-” Your lungs hiccuped as they tried to return to their regular pattern.  “Help me, Aemond. Please.” 

Your Uncle did not move. His expression curled into a slight grimace as you managed to stand beside him, placing a hand on his bicep. Some of you expected Aemond to walk away when you touched him, but he did not. Instead, he bristled under your damp palm and sucked in a noiseless gasp of air. 

The prince had not felt the act of a tender touch initiated without something negative associated with it since before he could remember. His mother always consoled him after being teased or Aegon guiding him to his misfortune, never just the simple act of human contact.

“What do you want me to do?” Aemond questioned, turning his stiff posture to you. 

“Don’t let me fall,” you softly commanded, a waiver to your voice. You worried Aemond would leave you if you said or did something wrong. You understood him to be very erratic around you in most situations, but you didn’t blame him for it. You were not always kind. 

Like a vision of divine benevolence, your Uncle wrapped an arm around your torso and hooked it around yours in support as he led you down to the torchlight aisles of the palace, using the shadows as cover. Worried that you could not find your way back the way you came, fresh tears sprung free. There would be no hope of hiding your disobedience from your mother if you returned to your chambers from the typical entrance, and the fear caused you to stop your shaky stride. Aemond turned his annoyed face to your frightened one, eyes wide like a fawn caught within the jaws of a wolf as you threw yourself into his embrace. You just needed someone to hold you, to cradle you like your mother did whenever you hurt yourself playing with your brothers. 

Your Uncle stiffened like the cold stone statues in Sept, under unusual affection and uncertain how to proceed. The last time you shared touch like this was in response to ridicule, and immediately, Aemond grabbed your biceps on instinct and attempted to push you away, but the broken cry you released at his rough handling caused him to pause. It was a noise that cut straight through the years of armoring his soul to the torment he suffered, making his nose burn. You were such a happy child, to the point where it irked Aemond, and to see you reduced to such a state even weaker than his after Aegon’s jests broke his hatred-covered heart. 

Perhaps it was because he now had someone else who shared his silent agony, a bond formed with tears and blood. Or because you finally understood how your actions affected those around you. A dark, twisted part of Aemond relished in your pain and hoped you were the victim of more if it meant you would come to him like this, weak and clinging to him as if he was the very air you needed to survive. 

“My mother… I-” you heaved, salty snot dribbling down into your mouth as you attempted to speak. “I can’t go back to my rooms the way I left. She’ll-she will know that I was out this late, and she’ll be upset with me!”

Aemond gazed down at you incredulously, and his upper lip curled in disbelief at how immature you were. No wonder you and Aegon got along. “Your mother will not be cross with you once you tell her what my brother did. Be reasonable,” he commanded as your cheeks glistened in the yellow glow. 

“No, no,” you shook your head vehemently, causing your dark locs to caress your Uncle’s digits and the smell of your citrus oils to waft into the thick air. It was a smell so uniquely yours, and despite Aemond aversion to such scents, he thought they weren’t as horrendous as he initially believed. “She is all ready upset with me for skipping lessons and disobeying the dragonkeepers. She’ll be furious if she finds I snuck out of my room!”

Your thoughts were like a fortress, impenetrable and infused with a heady titian aroma. You had ventured too far beyond the realms of reason, your breath quickening, leaving you feeling weightless and unsteady on your feet. Emotions surged uncontrollably within you, bubbling over like an overfilled pot of boiling water. You clawed at your neck, your face, and your scalp, leaving painful welts in your wake. The intensity was unbearable. The sight churned your Uncle’s stomach, but he couldn’t look away. You yearned to escape from this overwhelming torrent of emotions, to shed them like a second skin.

Aemond watched in paralyzed horror as you clawed at your flesh like a mange-ridden animal, with dark eyes staring a league away from reality. He had never seen something like this before, and it scared him to the bone. A rush of fear gripped him as he thought that you might dig your fingers into your skull and harm yourself. He grabbed your wrists to stop you, but your fingers yanked the roots of your hair, ripping out chunks of tangled brown. 

Aemond gasped in shock as your chest began to take gradually deep breaths, and a sudden serenity came over you, like a warm blanket in winter. An intense expression painted his shadowy countenance as he wrapped his slightly larger hands around yours, taking the clumps and tossing them aside.

“We shall go to my rooms, and we’ll tend to your scrapes,” Aemond stated in finality as you nodded swiftly, swallowing your briny spit. “We’ll need to get rid of your nightdress too. It is…”

Your Uncle could not finish his sentence, his violet eyes trailing to your slippered feet. You knew what he meant. It was covered in blood , and noiselessly, you agreed to his plan without objection as he led you by a single wrist into the barren Keep. 

This was a pact of secrecy sealed with neither words nor a handshake. It was a silent understanding born of shared anguish that you were now forever bound by eternal suffering at the hands of Aegon. Your existences doomed you and Aemond; with that, you would suffer together for eternity. 

Masterlist of Series

Spotify Playlist

How is everyone after that? Are we okay?

Rape and SA is typically not done with just the intent of sexual gratification, but to have power over someone. It's for the assailant to feel in control over someone who physically or mentally could not counter them. Whether it's because they've been SAed in the past or they feel like they have no control in their lives could be a reason.

When I heard that fact it hit me close to my heart as I was molested when I was a child. I've thought for my entire life that he did it only because he was curious because he was only about 8-9 years older than me, but I realized he most likely did it to me because I was powerless against him and he knew I wanted to be "cool" like him. I was around 6-7 years old.

My personal experience with sexual assault heavily inspired the dialogue and dynamics in this chapter. (Nobody can tell me it wasn't realistic!) Unlike the reader there was no one to help stop it and help me through it. I was so young I didn't even know it was wrong at the time, and even though he went to trial and was a registered sex offender, his record was cleared when he became an adult. In fantasy and real life, crimes like this still go unpunished.

If you, or anyone you know has been a victim of sexual assault, no matter how long ago it was, please talk to someone professionally or go to the authorities if possible. You truly don't realize how it skews your view of sex, love, relationships, and trust until the damage is done and is extremely difficult to work through. I do want to mention quickly as the story progresses you will see how a single act that one perceives as minor can cause you to do things without realizing that's the real reason why.

Thank you again for reading and all the kind words. I hope I can continue to live up to your expectations. (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp , @britt-mf , @marvelescvpe , @haikyuusboringassmanager , @discofairysworld , @livcookesgf , @nessjo

[blxkstar]

POV: You're in House of the Dragon

The only thing that could tear down the House of the Dragon was itself

I made a playlist for House of the Dragon. Please check it out!

If the world of men is to survive, a Targaryen must be seated on the Iron Throne

Hands turn loom, spool of green, spool of black, dragons of flesh, weaving dragons of thread…

[icarusignite]

An Eye for an Eye Masterlist

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem! Velaryon!OC

Summary:

Lucerys Velaryon was a coward who did not wish to die, but die he did, with all the bravery his young heart could muster.

A true dragon rider's death.

With his death, the war of ravens and envoys came to an end, and the war of fire and blood began in earnest.

Daenys Velaryon no longer knew the difference between sacrifice and self-slaughter, nor where the violence against oneself ended. A Kinslayer, a rabid dog; such creatures had no use in a world of peace. Such creatures did not deserve peace. She was a tall child with no lap to crawl into, for who would wish to hold a thing like her, shame clotting in her blood like a curdling sickness. She, with the incessant need to apologize to everyone who ever knew her, for the inconvenience she caused them by making her existence known, walking into a room and searching for an empty seat so no one had to go through the painful act of sitting with her. Velaryons were supposed to be of the sea, but she was a burning ship, a vicinity one had to always flee. If anyone deserved to extinguish themselves in a kamikaze blaze, it was her, the one who would be missed least of all, who was needed least of all when the realm finally knew peace.

Aemond Targaryen was not the same person he used to be. He couldn't possibly be, and yet a part of his very being still belonged to his wife, as it always would. Though he had been absent too long, and the graveyard of old bones and lost kin that spanned between them was far too vast, he still held onto the memory of her, cutting into what he meant to only hold. He was a hunter whose trap had mangled the wrong creature, but it was the law of the world, for a knife and a wound to seek each other out, because they spoke in a language of damage no one else did, and now he owed her a debt. 

An eye for an eye. 

A brother for a brother.

An Eye for an Eye: ao3/wattpad

Before the Sky Falls (prequel): ao3/wattpad

Aesthetics

Fanart 1

Daenys Velaryon fanart

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Epilogue

A/N: I posted this fic for the very first time here on tumblr, and now that it's almost complete (46 chapters have been posted on ao3/wp) I decided I should probably repost it on here because it has been given a complete rewrite since the first version yall saw. I will try to have all the parts posted on here eventually.

This fic has a prequel that explores Aemond&Daenys's childhood together and it is fully complete on ao3/wp.

If you wanna be added to the taglist, feel free to let me know!

Taglist:

[councilofcastamere]

wouldn’t Zaar Goedemans make a great fancast as the daughter of Laenor and Rhaenyra had they ever been able to conceive? ♡︎

[sunnyie-eve]

1. The Challenge

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Series: Devious Opportunity

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Cousin! OFC Targaryen!

Word Count: 1.2k

Notes: playful flirting between cousin (duh Targaryen incest) and Alicent pushing views on Aegon

| MASTERLIST |

-

Since Celeste could remember things, she had always been raised in Kings Landing castle. She knew who her father was yet they weren't very close. She was his first child, who happened to be a bastard, with a past love affair.

Viserys knew his brother cared deep down for his daughter by letting her live with him. Daemon knew she was better off there than with him. He would visit her there and write letters to her but even when he married Laena, he never had her come live with them. Plus Rhaenyra cared for her since there was something she thought was just so special about her.

Maybe it had something to do with her knowing Celeste's mother since she was always kind to her. Or maybe because she their mothers both died the same way. Or because she saw some handmaids didn't care to take care of her for some odd reason as she was growing up.

At the moment, Celeste was running through the halls to get to Princess Rhaenyra's room to see the new baby. As she busts through the doors out of breath Rhaenyra and Harwin laugh at her.

"I hear it was another boy." She says out of breath, "Let me see, let me see." She gets on her tip-toes trying to get a better look at him as Harwin was holding him. Rhaenyra nods her head so he gives her to Celeste to hold.

Even though Celeste the and boys were cousins, they acted like siblings more towards each other. Probably because Rhaenyra acted like a mother towards her since she doesn't have much memory of her own mother.

"Between us, I hope he gets his father's looks." She smiles at the baby before passing him back to Harwin. "I'll leave you three alone." She heads for the door, "But I'll be back to give him more love later." She adds leaving with a smile.

As she was walking around the yard, Aegon joins her, "You should have seen the joke we did on Aemond." He laughs so she looks at him.

"Are you to tell me more or not?" She asks him.

"Oh, since he doesn't have a dragon, we gave him a pig with wings. The Pink Dread." He laughs more while she didn't find it funny.

"Why must you boys make fun of him for not having one like the rest of us? You don't have to make it harder on him." She looks at the weapons since she had always fancied them oddly. Especially ones that were made well and looked nice.

"It was Jace and Luke's idea." He tells her so she gives him a look, "It was my idea." He rolls his eyes, "You know, I don't care for how well you know me."

Celeste chuckles as she starts to walk away with him following her, "I'm the only person who ever really pays attention to you. I know you more than your siblings, parents, and maids know you."

"Ah yes, and I appreciate you for that." He playful tugs on her hair causing her to turn to face him with a glare in her face. "I had to get you to face me somehow."

"You couldn't ask me to stop and turn around?"

"As we both know, you know me so I'll say no." He smiles, "No, but I do truly appreciate that you pay attention to me. We both know no one else does unless I step out of line. How else would I get my mother to pay attention to me." He laughs but deep down it hurt him.

"I don't just pay attention to you, Aegon. I care about you as well. We're the closest. Somehow we are which blows my mind to this day since you're a pain in my ass."

He can't help but laugh, "That's one of my titles, of course, just for you to use." He bows a bit, "My lady."

"There's never a dull moment when you're around." She shakes her head at him, "I'm off to go love on my new brother." She leaves him.

"Cousin!" He corrects her.

"Basically my brother!" She shouts back starting to jog back towards Rhaenyra's chambers.

Later in the day, Celeste was bored and just wanted to talk to someone so she headed towards Aegon's chambers. They often had long chats to pass the time along when they were both bored. They never minded when one would wonder into the other's room since they have been doing such a thing since they could remember.

Before walking in the door was slightly opened and she could hear the Queen was in the room, "If Rhaenyra comes into power your very life could be forfeit. Aemond's as well. She could move to cut off any challenge to her succession."

"Then I won't challenge-," Aegon starts but is cut off.

"You are the challenge! You are the challenge, Aegon! Simply by living and breathing! You are the King's firstborn son and what they know, what everyone in the realm knows in their blood and in their bones... is one day, you will be our King." Alicent shouts at him making Celeste's eyes widen.

As she hears her coming towards the room she moves away from the door far enough to act like she was walking that way, "Queen Alicent." She smiles as they came face to face.

"Celeste." She sighs, "Have you heard about the prank that was pulled on Aemond?" She stops her.

"Aegon told me about earlier. I told him they needed to leave him alone and stop making fun of his brother. He said it was the other's idea but I knew he was lying so he admitted to it." She lets her know before she continues her way. 

When she entered Aegon's room he was still sitting in bed like his mother left him thinking about everything, "You know Rhaenyra would never do anything to you or Aemond, right?" She tells him, "Yes, she's not close to either of you but she would never kill either of you for the throne."

He looks over at her, "You heard everything..."

"You know I like to listen to others when I'm not supposed to." She slightly smiles, "How about I step out for a minute so you can get dressed then we can talk?" She leaves him room and when he was dressed he tells her he's done.

"Why does my own mother not listen to me?" He asks looking over at Celeste sitting at the end of his bed. "I have no want for the throne. Now or when I'm older."

"Then stand your ground even when she pushes you." She tells him, "Yes, everyone in the realm prefers a man to takeover but honestly you and I know you are not the best fit to do such a thing." 

"I know and I know my own mother believes that as well deep down but for some reason she wants me to still be a King." He huffs pacing around, "Why can't I be on my own?"

"Because people don't want things to change." She tells the truth.

"What about what I want?" He stops to face her so she gets up to hug him and he holds her tightly.

[kckt88]

The Lost Dragon.

I - Ensnared, II - Counterblow, III - Slip Away, IV - Harmonize, V - Butterfly, VI - Wrecked, VII - Eliminate, VIII - Relinquish, IX - Displaced, X - Longing, XI - Freedom, XII - Revelations, XIII - Tranquility, XIV - Lingering, XV - Eternal, XVI - Hēnkirī hae mēre, XVII - Epilogue, XVIII - Exile (Aemond POV)

[whimsical-musingss]

Chapter 1: Rhaella

Amongst Gods and Men

Warnings: GOT universe, childbirth, language, religious themes, Viserys is a creep who shouldn’t have married Alicent (SHE WAS 15) (GET A JOB STAY AWAY FROM HER) (yes I’m team Black but I’m also lowkey team Alicent she was a VICTIM).

Queen Alicent Hightower did not make her fears of childbirth known to anyone except the Gods. Every morning until her condition prevented her, she would visit the Great Sept of Baelor. She preferred the quiet atmosphere of the Sept, as it calmed her. She would kneel before the candles, lighting one for her mother, and then clasp her hands together in prayer.

Please grant me a son. Please let the labors be easy.

Please, let Rhaenyra and I be close again.

Only one of those prayers came true for Alicent.

She labored in her chambers for one day, in summer, mostly alone except for a handful of her handmaidens. Dressed only in a shift, she would pace the room, clutching her belly, as if to reach inside and quell the pain herself. It was the greatest pain she’d ever known, but once the babe was in position, Alicent barely had to push.

Outside, a storm raged on; rain pelting the stained glass windows. If Alicent could, she would have given birth completely alone and without her handmaidens. However, as the babe was delivered easily and without much fuss, the small crowd of handmaidens grew to accommodate some maesters and her father, Otto Hightower. The Hand of King Viserys, who was Alicent’s husband. He was not present, and for some peculiar reason, Alicent was relieved.

Otto Hightower glanced at the fussing babe who was being cleaned by the handmaidens, then back at his exhausted daughter. Alicent was shivering, despite being hot to the touch. She wanted to run out of her chambers, out of the Red Keep, out of Kings Landing, never to be seen again.

“You will have to try again for a son,” was all that Otto said, his voice soft so only she could hear. Alicent said nothing, but her sweaty face paled as she watched her daughter being swaddled. Otto turned and left the room, undoubtedly bringing the troubled news to King Viserys. Alicent did not know if Viserys would be displeased with her, she hoped not. One of her handmaidens presented her daughter to Alicent, who was still trembling on top of bloodied sheets, her weak hands in her lap. She did not raise them to hold her daughter, who she did not name. She left that decision with Viserys.

“Rhaella!”

Alicent glided into Rhaella Targaryen’s bedchambers, her deep green skirts swirling around her as she walked. Rhaella could hear her mother’s footsteps closing in, but did not bother to rise from her bed and nest of blankets. She refused to leave her bed when her handmaidens tried to get her up for her lessons, because Rhaella already dressed for something else.

“Rhaella, you must get up this instant,” Alicent’s voice was firm, yet tired. As always. Her hands grabbed Rhaella’s blankets and tugged, but Rhaella tugged back. “You are ten and four, you are a lady now. You must act like one.” Alicent’s voice was strained as she fought with her eldest daughter.

“No,” was all that came from the pile of blankets, but Alicent persisted. She threw the blankets from the bed, finally revealing Rhaella. Her silvery blonde hair was sticking up in random places, and instead of wearing her nightdress, Rhaella wore her brother’s tunic and leather pants with boots. The clothing Rhaella terribly; the tunic was too big and the pant legs were too much to stuff into the leather boots. Alicent froze, unsure of how to go about this.

“My darling, what is this?” Alicent finally asked, gesturing to Rhaella’s state, who only turned away, a frown evident on her face.

“I do not wish to attend lessons with the Septa, mother,” Rhaella grumbled. She crossed her arms for good measure.

“That is not your choice, I’m afraid,” Alicent sighed, approaching her daughter. She sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped tightly in front of her, avoiding her daughter’s glare.

“Why not? Aegon and Aemond get to fight. I want to fight, too, mother,” Rhaella maintained her icy look in her mother’s direction, who just stared at the floor.

“That is the way the world works,” Alicent managed to say after a moment. “Our fight lies elsewhere than the training yard. Our war is here, in this bed, delivering children.”

Rhaella was shaking her head as her mother spoke. “I refuse it. I want to claim a dragon, ride on its back, and fight like a Dragonlord. Like Visenya.”

Alicent often wondered how her eldest child became this way. When Rhaella was young, she did have her moments of outbursts and acted unladylike, no matter what the Septa or Alicent did. Helaena did not act this way, so perhaps Rhaella’s defiance and abruptness came from her father and the dragons. It was a question that plagued Alicent’s mind often, especially during moments like these.

“Sweetling, you are not Visenya,” Alicent finally looked her daughter in the eye. “You will claim a dragon, I have no doubt.” Rhaella’s dragon egg that was placed in her cradle turned to stone, same with Aemond’s. Thankfully, her eldest son, Aegon, did have his own dragon within his cradle. Rhaella and Aemond both complained about their lack of a dragon; Rhaella expressed to her mother constantly that she will be weak in this world without one.

“There are no dragons to claim here,” Rhaella’s resolve began to crumble. “Mother, I want to be like my brothers.”

Alicent’s heart was heavy as she watched Rhaella cover her face with her hand, her shoulders trembling. “I just want to be strong.”

“My king, your firstborn daughter is too rebellious for her studies,” Alicent is out of options, scrambling for one last attempt to make her daughter turn to more ladylike hobbies. She grits her palms into fists as she paces around the King’s chambers. “Just this morning, I have found Rhaella dressed in her brother’s training attire.”

King Viserys looked up from his makeshift Valyrian structure and lets out a small laugh. “Rhaella is young, and she is acting like Rhaenyra when she was that age as well. My sweet wife, she will outgrow this…”

As he talks, Alicent frowns at the mention of Rhaenyra’s name. Just the other day, Rhaenyra mentioned the prospect of marrying her eldest son, Jacaerys Velaryon, to Rhaella. Alicent quickly admonished the proposal, but Viserys seemed to beam at it. Uniting House Targaryen, he called it. But Alicent knew Jacaerys, his true parentage. She saw it, the court saw it, but Viserys remained blind. Alicent would not taint her daughter’s blood with the blood of a bastard. She resists the urge to bite her nails.

“Viserys, I worry,” Alicent’s voice cracks, stopping in her tracks. Her brown eyes study Viserys as it sinks in for him. “Rhaella is not just rebellious, Viserys. She’s rebellious because she is scared.” Alicent’s hand grasp her throat, as if to keep her shaky breaths in.

“Scared of what, my dear?”

“She has no dragon! With a dragon, she could, perhaps, turn to dragon riding to quell her unladylike passions!” Alicent’s voice rose. Viserys set down his tools, brows furrowing.

“Might I suggest she do an amount of studies with me?” Viserys asks, searching Alicent’s eyes. “You already know of my knowledge of our Valyrian history and what is expected of a Valyrian woman. I could turn her towards the right path for a lady of her station.”

Alicent’s hand falls from her throat and she tilts her head up towards the ceiling, as if to ask the Gods to give her an answer.

“I do not see another choice, my king.” She relents, now staring at her husband, regret immediately setting into her bones.

“Very well. Send her to my chambers,” Viserys picks up his tools again; Alicent leaves without a word, biting her tongue and clenching her hands into fists.

“You asked to see me, father?”

Rhaella stands in the doorway to her father’s chambers. She could count the number of conversations she has had with her father, just the two of them, on one hand. Her mother had forced her to change out of her brother’s training attire and into a dark green dress. Her mother had also ordered a handmaiden to brush the nest that is Rhaella’s hair. The handmaiden did succeed, and also managed to add delicate twists in Rhaella’s long hair.

“Yes, my dear girl. Come,” Viserys beckons from his chair, and Rhaella steps towards him, her large book on learning High Valyrian in her arms.

“Father, why am I here?” Rhaella almost frowns, and Viserys suddenly sees a glimpse of a younger Rhaenyra in his daughter. Both fiery as the Seven Hells, both stubborn, both unafraid. Viserys feels a shred of melancholy before shoving it away.

“Your mother has asked me to assist you in your studies. As it seems you do not wish to partake in them,” Viserys motions Rhaella to sit next to him, and she does.

“I do not wish to study, I wish to fly on dragon back and eat lemon cakes,” Rhaella declares, letting her book fall on the table with a thud. “I already told mother the same.”

“My dear girl, your dragon egg turned to stone in your crib,” Viserys laments. “It is a tragedy to befall a Targaryen, but alas, it does happen.”

“It happened to Aemond,” Rhaella agrees, “but I want to try and claim one. After I do so, I will then travel Westeros and perhaps cross the Narrow Sea.”

“Where would you like to go to in Westeros?” Viserys asked.

Rhaella paused in concentration. “Perhaps the North. I read about the Wall, and the mysteries that lay beyond it.”

“Well,” Viserys chuckled. “Do you know anything else about the North? It’s people, their customs, and that dragons cannot cross the Wall?”

“I knew about dragons and their refusal to cross the Wall, but the people…” Rhaella trailed off. “No, father.”

“One of the most important things a highborn lady must do,” Viserys leaned back in his chair so he could study his daughter. “Is to learn about the world around them. Learn the houses, the people, their strengths, and customs so that knowledge can be passed down.” Viserys motions towards his miniature model of Old Valyria.

“Not all the knowledge we have gained from our ancestral homeland is from men, you know,” Viserys says, quietly. “Without women, there would be no men. Without women, we would not be here, as that would mean no Daenys Targaryen. Our line would be lost amongst the sea and fire.

If you want to be a dragon rider, Rhaella, you must learn the language of our ancestors. Learn the ways of Westeros and its people. You must show me that you are ready to claim a dragon.

Then, perhaps you may go to Dragonstone yourself and attempt what Targaryens are destined to do.”

A/N: thank you for reading the first chapter! I’m excited to keep on writing this and I hope you are excited to continue reading. If you would like to be added to a taglist I can set one up.

A like and a reblog would be most appreciated! Thank you for your support.

[darknight3904]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖆𝖈𝖊

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴏᴄ! ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ / ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ /ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ɴᴇᴀʀʟʏ ᴀ ʏᴇᴀʀ ʜᴀꜱ ᴘᴀꜱꜱᴇᴅ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ʟᴀᴅʏ ʀʜᴀᴇʟʟᴀ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʀᴛ. ᴀꜱ ʜᴇʀ 11ᴛʜ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴀᴄʜᴇꜱ ꜱʜᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴏᴜɴɢ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴀꜱ ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴀꜱ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱ ᴊᴀᴄᴀᴇʀʏꜱ, ʟᴜᴄᴇʀʏꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱꜱ ʀʜᴀᴇɴʀʏᴀ. ᴛʜᴇɴ, ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ-ᴅᴀʏ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴀ ᴍʏꜱᴛᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀɴ ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ ɪɴ ᴋɪɴɢꜱ ʟᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ.

This story will follow canon events of HOTD and Fire and Blood. However, I am changing some of the years when things took place so I can build my story's plot better.

126 AC

Rhaella peers down at the baby whose big brown eyes captivate her. She decides that Joffery Velaryon is Westeros' cutest baby when he smiles at her.

"Does he cry a lot?" She asks

"Sometimes. Mostly when he is hungry." Rhaenrya says

"Aren't babies always hungry though?" She asks

"I suppose they are..." Rhaenrya replies "I guess that means he cries a lot then."

Rhaella smirks at her cousin's admission. Even if he did cry a lot he was still cute.

"Rhaella what are you doing in here? You rarely visit without Jace and Luke." Rhaenrya asks

"I am hiding from the Septa. She insists that I learn about history with Heleana." Rhaella sighs "If she had half a brain she'd know Maester Edric has taught me it all already."

Rhaenrya lets out a snort of laughter at her half-a-brain comment.

"Our histories are important." She says "I will agree with you though, Septas can be a bore."

"I'd much rather be in the training yard with Jace and Luke." Rhaella admits "I don't understand why I must learn to sew while they get to fight with a sword."

"That is the way of the world," Rhaenrya says

"The way of the world can go fuck its-"

Rhaella stops her speech when her cousin's eyebrows shoot up.

"I mean to say it is idiotic that I cannot train with them."

Soft silence settles as baby Joffery coos in his crib, laughing when Rhaella sticks her tongue out at him.

"Do you truly wish to be outside with them?" Rhaenrya asks

"Of course. I want to be like Visenya in the books that line the shelves in my room." Rhaella says looking up at her cousin, "Since I do not have a dragon I wish to have another way to fight."

Rhaella watches Rhaenrya's face and doesn't miss the way the corner of her mouth twitches into a slight smile.

"Come with me." She says

As if it's magic, a wet nurse is there to watch over Westeros' cutest baby and Rhaella is following Rhaenrya through the maze of halls and stairways that lead the the training yard.

"Ser Harwin!" Rhaenrya calls

They waltz past Ser Criston Cole who is working with Aegon, Aemond, Jace, and Luke. Aemond's eyes widen when he sees her out of the castle and standing in the muddy yard.

A monstrous-looking man answers Rhaenrya's call. His mess of curly dark hair has been tied back neatly and he bows as they approach.

"Princess. My Lady." He greets

"This is Ser Harwin Strong, Rhaella. He is Lord Commander of the City Watch." Rhaenrya says "Lady Rhaella wishes to train, the way the Princes do."

Rhaella isn't entirely sure about this Ser Harwin. She expects him to turn her away, mutter something about her being a girl, and for Rhaenrya to tell her to go back to her sewing.

"I'll teach her." He says

Rhaella nearly falls over at his acceptance.

"You will?" She gasps

"It is a request from Princess Rhaenrya herself. I'd be foolish not to accept." He smiles at Rhaella and then Rhaenrya. "Tomorrow we will begin. I expect you to be dressed in something worthy of a great sword fighter."

Rhaella looks down at the silk dress she had been dressed in just hours ago.

"Of course." She smiles

"For today, I want you to go back to the Septa. Sit and do your lessons and tomorrow you can spend as much time as you want with Ser Harwin." Rhaenrya says

Training is harder than she had expected, and a lot dirtier too. The practice swords are so heavy they make her arms ache. It had been three months since Rhaenrya had introduced them and Rhaella was sure she was disappointing Ser Harwin.

"Straighten your arms, plant your feet. Having a strong stance keeps you from being knocked over." Harwin's voice commands as she swings at a straw-filled man, "Jacaerys, you too. You look like a gust of wind might blow you over."

Ser Harwin was tough, Rhaella could tell that he was an experienced fighter. She wanted to do her best under his tutelage but she found herself failing. Perhaps it was because the sword was too heavy, or maybe she didn't like the feel of mud between her fingers. What she did know though was that the sharp eyes of Criston Cole were not helping things. It felt like he was watching her every step whenever she arrived to train. She swore he was also watching Jace and Luke who often were beside her in training.

"Perhaps they cannot carry your orders out simply because they are too weak, Strong," Cole says

"Ignore them, boys, Rhaella. One day you will all be stronger than him." Harwin says

Every bone in her body was aching by the time she got back to her chamber. After working with the swords Harwin had taught them hand-to-hand combat, something he claimed was just as important as working with a sword. The only plus of today was that she had been able to overpower Jace and land a good hit on his side. He'd probably get her back for that one in a few days.

The sound of her door opening had her groaning. She loved Heleana but she did not wish to talk about bugs at this moment

"Heleana might I bathe and then come to visit you I am dirty from training still." She said not bothering to look at the door from her seat at her desk.

"Not only are you dirty but you smell awful."

"Aemond!" She exclaimed and shot up.

She had found herself becoming a bit more self-conscious around the prince in the past few months. She'd often make sure to her hair til it was perfectly silky or spray a bit of sweet-smelling perfume before going to see him. Maester Edric said it was a part of getting older and becoming a woman. Rhaella believed it was because she didn't want him to make fun of her. How could she become a great warrior if she was made fun of by her closest friend?

"We have not spent much time together recently. I thought you might be upset with me." Aemond said walking over to her.

"I am not upset with you." She affirms "After training I am often too tired to move. Not to mention Heleana and I have been spending time together as well."

"Heleana and her bugs can wait, you were my friend first," Aemond declares, sitting down on the end of the bed.

Rhaella lets out a small laugh of amusement at Aemond's possessive tone.

"Your name day is soon right?" He asks

"In a fortnight. I will be 11." She smiles

"You're getting old." Aemond teases

"You'll have your own name day eventually as well. 10 years is a very serious age." She says, trying to sound like an adult

"You're 10 now and you laughed when Luke drank his water too quickly and water spurted out his nose just a week ago." Aemond reminds

"Anyone would've laughed at that!" She defends

Her eyes widen when she sees how her Uncle Viserys has planned to celebrate her name day.

"I do not think a feast is necessary, Uncle." She said

"Of course it is, it is your first name day with family. Tell me have you ever had a grand celebration for your name day?" He asks

Rhaella's mind combs through the name days she can remember. Most of them were spent with cousin Gerold teaching her to hunt or Edric gifting her new perfumes.

"I have not..." She trails off

"Then a true celebration is in order. I have invited many lords and ladies of the kingdom. Even your cousin Gerold has sent word he will be here." Viserys says

"Are you excited for tonight?" Maester Edric asks

Rhaella catches his gaze through the mirror as a handmaid braids her hair.

"I am nervous. I do not know most of the people who will be at this party." She sighs

"You don't need to worry, they are here for you. You should focus on having a good time, this is your first proper name day celebration." He says, "I wish I would have been able to give you a celebration like this when you were younger."

"I don't. Every name day I have spent with you, Gerold, and the staff of Runestone has been perfect." Rhaella admits

The party is as lavish as Viserys had described. Numerous plates of food are piled high with dishes she couldn't even name. Music played as they ate and Rhaella hoped she wouldn't get anything on her dress.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Viserys asks

"I am, Uncle, thank you." She smiles truthfully

"I used to have feasts like this for Rhaenrya every year on her name day. She asked me to stop after she was married." Viserys reminisced

"I am sure they were wonderful." She says

Supper goes by smoothly as the many guests talk and feast. It is after the food has been devoured that Rhaella can feel herself beginning to sweat. She is sure they expect her to dance or make some big speech, anything that will have all eyes on her.

A sharp tap interrupts her train of thought.

"Do you want one of these? There weren't any on your side of the table." Aemond asks, his hand is out stretched with a delicate-looking pastry in it.

Her glance drops to the table where a large plate full of them rests just within arms reach of her.

Laenor nudges Rhaenrya who sits by his side. His wife had been scolding Luke for eating too quickly and making himself sick.

"I believe Prince Aemond is blushing." He whispers

Rhaenrya follows his gaze to the young children who are staring into each other's eyes.

"He is handing her a pastry," Rhaenrya observes, " He looks....rather foolish."

"His face is red, look at his cheeks and ears." Laenor laughs

Suddenly the young prince's eyes fall on Laenor and he immediately switches his attention to the intricate hairstyle Rhaenrya has donned for the evening.

"Yes, very uh well done, the braids." He mumbles

"Don't tell me you're afraid of a child." Rhaenrya laughs

"Little boys don't like it when people know their crushes. Aemond won't want me knowing his." Laenor says, thinking back to how embarrassed he was when Laena first found out about his crush on his father's cupbearer.

A moment passes and before he knows it, Rhaenrya grabs his arm.

"Looks like you were right." She says

Laenor's eyes follow his wife's and he is surprised when he sees Aemond leading Rhaella, the same nervous little girl who nearly combusted when she tripped in front of him once to the center of the room for a dance.

"Maybe he'll step on her feet." Aegon's disinterested voice carries across the table.

A lively beat starts up and all eyes are on the two children who clumsily try to recall all the dance skills they've learned in their lessons over the years.

"They shouldn't be the only ones down there. Rhaella looks like she's going to faint and Aemond...well he clearly isn't doing well either." Laenor says

He's about to ask his wife to dance for the first time in years when the doors to the hall open wide.

"Gods help us." He hears Alicent murmur.

Rhaella can feel the sweat trickle down her back as Aemond tries to lead her in a dance. She hasn't had many dance lessons but she swore she did better in those than she was now.

The sound of opening doors makes her and Aemond pause. A man and woman, with two young girls behind them, enter the room. Each of them had valyrian features but the man stood out the most.

"Daemon." Her Uncle calls from behind her "I did not think you were coming."

Daemon? As in...

"And miss the first feast thrown in my daughter's honor, on her name day?" His foreign voice fills her ears for the first time ever.

Daemon Targaryen. Her father has shown his face to her for the first time ever.

"Let's go back to the table," Aemond whispers as he grabs her hand to lead her back towards their family.

"Daughter." Daemon calls "You have grown up."

Rhaella feels like someone has stuffed cotton into her mind. She does not know what to do, or how to reply to this man.

Aemond leads her back to the table and she stiffly sits back down.

"Someone bring chairs. Lady Laena must sit down." Ser Lanor's voice makes its way into her mind.

At some point, the pregnant wife of Daemon's sits down, most likely near her brother. Her daughter, those half-sisters Rhaella had heard about many times were in her peripheral vision, as was her father.

"Wonderful party, brother. Truly a worthy display for my eldest." Daemon praises

The room is silent and Rhaella watches as Daemon takes a long sip of wine from the cup a servant brings.

"So, daughter. I'm glad to see you take after me in looks. You look a bit like my mother, Alyssa." He says with a playful smile "Either way I am glad you don't look like that bronzed bitch. If that had happened I'd remained in Pentos."

Brozed bitch? Did he mean your mother? He was speaking ill of your deceased mother?

"Daemon. Enough. This is a night of celebration. You are not here to torment anyone." Viserys speaks up

Daemon shakes his head a bit and laughs before his attention is drawn to Laena.

The music begins again and Rhaella feels like her heart has lept into her throat. So many times she had imagined what it would be like to meet her father. She was told that he was a fierce warrior with a blood-red dragon named Caraxes. Instead of the gallant dragon rider she had expected, she was met with a crude man who clearly shared no love for her mother.

Her eyes were bleary with tears when Edric approached the high table to retrieve her.

"Your Grace, might I take Lady Rhaella back to her chamber. I think tonight's events have been a bit too much for her." He asks

"Yes, I think that is for the best." Visery's words bounce around in her mind as Edric helps her stand.

She locks eyes with Aemond one more time before leaving. His eyes seemed like they were full of pity as he disappeared from her view.

"I'm sorry, my lady. I've spent years filling your head with tales of his heroics. I failed to teach you what a crass man he truly is." Edric softly said

"It is not your fault. It is not anyone's but his own." Rhaella whispered back.

Ewww, cancel Daemon!!

Jk. I love Daemon. He's just going to be a bitch for now. (In true Daemon fashion I guess.)

Anyway sorry if some people seemed a little ooc. I like to Imagine Rhaenrya, Laenor, and Viserys as pretty jolly people, especially towards kids.

Next Part

Comment below to be added to the taglist

Tags:

@caspianobsessed

[daemontargaryenwhore]

This was literally Aemond and Lucerys wth 💀 #HouseOfTheDragon 🔥