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randomdragonfires · 8 months ago

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Pieces of a Woman | One Shot

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | Even when his life takes a turn for the worse, Aemond Targaryen endures.

WARNINGS | 18+; Canon Divergence AU; Smut; Insanity; B&C; Gore; Delusions; Miscarriage; Yearning; ANGST

WORD COUNT | 7.2k

A/N | This is my personal favourite out of all the stories I've ever written, reposted with a new header and all that fun stuff! Beta read by the lovely @ewanmitchellcrumbs ❤️

They say madness is a slow disease, and that nobody truly knows when it begins.

They were wrong. Aemond Targaryen knew very well the exact moment the madness had sunk its claws into his wife. He had watched as her once bright and hopeful eyes became empty and devoid of emotion. He had watched as she was pulled into the darkness completely, becoming a shell of the woman she once was.

As much as he wished he could turn back time, he had accepted his fate. He accepted that he would never have his wife back. He would never hold her in his arms again and never get to lay his head on her lap as she embroidered. She would never read to him in her mellifluous voice ever again, despite the fact that he would give everything he had to have her with him once more.

What good was all this power and wealth, if he could not protect his own family? What good was his title as Prince Regent, if he did not have her to stand by his side? If he could not protect his little boy?

His hair, once braided to the side by her deft and nimble fingers with love, remained uncared for, left loose in all its glory. Training his one dark-rimmed, tired eye at the crypt that held the ashes of his heir, Aemond Targaryen let the sadness take him - for when his son’s life was brutally snuffed out, his wife’s very soul had been too.

There was nobody to blame for it all apart from himself.

Ever since their wedding, she had been a steady and calm presence in his life. She was the quiet to his rage, the water to his fire. He had always been a sullen and lonely child that harbored resentment for those who had wronged him, but he felt his heart steadily calm down with every moment he spent in her presence.

It wasn't until he met her that he realized he was lacking love and consideration, both of which he believed had never received before - not like this. She gave him an opportunity to be a better man; one that he took eagerly with both arms.

In return, he was a respectful husband who did his very best. He wasn’t adept at great gestures of love, but he always made sure that his wife woke with a kiss to her hair and his arms enveloping her body. He wanted her to never know loneliness for as long as he lived, he would make sure of it.

For all his reading and knowledge, Aemond was not good at making his appreciation known verbally. Instead, he would bring her huge tomes from the library so he could read to her. These books covered topics that he was passionate about, so everytime he brought one, he was offering up a part of his soul. Who better to give it to than the woman he has sworn his heart, soul and loyalty to?

He needed her. He needed her from deep in his soul, and he needed her carnally, always. She was all that was missing in his life, and now that he had her, he would always need her.

But right now, as her screams erupted through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, Aemond’s heart lurched in his chest, becoming heavier with each passing moment. The babe was arriving, and it would seem that the child was taking her for all that she was. Everytime she groaned in pain, he held onto the railing tighter than ever, as though it would make her pain go away.

They would not let him in, no. Childbirth was a woman’s fight, and the men would have to wait outside - much like the women did when the men went to battle. There was nothing he would not give to hold her hand right now; to tell her that she would be an absolutely beautiful mother, and that all she had to do was summon all her strength and emerge victorious.

As though she had heard his thoughts, her pained wails slowly died down, replaced by the first cries of a newborn. Boy or girl, the babe had an incredibly strong pair of lungs on them, their mighty cries could overshadow even the loudest of thunderstorms. The cries echoed through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, and the servants outside immediately jumped to work. A new royal babe had been born after all - there was work to be done, celebratory feasts to be organized, chambers to be prepared, nothing but the best for a Targaryen.

His mother stepped out of the chambers and laid a hand on his back in comfort. She kissed him on the cheek and smiled in congratulations. “Mother and babe are well, my son. She has made me so proud. The little one is beautiful, he would go on to achieve many great things. Just like you.”

A son. She had given him an heir to carry his bloodline. How would he ever repay her?

He walked into the chambers with speed that he did not know he possessed, his purpose made clear with each stride. The midwives and maids moved to make way for the One-Eyed Prince, and in he went.

She laid in the middle of the chambers, looking like she had braved the worst experience of her life. Her hair was askew, with sweat coating her entire body, her fatigue was palpable. Blood and waters coated the floor, and the chambers smelled like death. The bloody spots on her shift alarmed him, and it concerned him to see his usually happy and energetic wife look so thoroughly worn out. But then she smiled.

Through all her weariness from the challenges of the birthing bed, she had meekly smiled at him - and all was alright in his world again. He held her cheek in his palm and kissed her forehead, heart full from knowing that she was alright. She reached for his other hand, holding onto it like it was the last thing that kept her tethered to reality.

“Are you well, wife?”

The seemingly simple question certainly did not project the waves of concern that had plagued him outside while he waited with bated breath, but she knew. She saw it in the crinkles on his forehead and the widening of his good eye.

“I am now.”

She had braved battle, and had never looked more beautiful to him than she did now. Her voice was hoarse from all the pained screaming, and she certainly had no business being awake right now - but by the Gods, he was the happiest man in the realm.

The maids were done with wiping the blood off of the babe and had handed the boy to her. Aemond knew right then that he would have to compete for his wife’s attention from then on, for his little son had clearly stolen her heart, and his, within moments of his birth.

Her weak voice called out to him once more. “Aemond, husband… look what we made.”

He was exquisite. Aemond reached out to the babe, his son, and his son's pudgy rose finger latched onto his long, sturdy one as he continued to cry. “He has a strong grip. He shall be a storied warrior." She smiles at the possibility, and he cannot help but kiss her hand once more.

"You’ve given birth to a boy as strong as you are, wife.” He watched as she nudged her nose to the babe’s and smiled, her face glistening from sweat and tears. His newborn son’s cries got louder with each passing moment, but despite being a man of silence and solitude, Aemond had never felt more at peace.

“Thank you.”

Aemond would be the first to deny that he was a doting paragon of a husband that the bards would sing about, but he certainly was a good man who loved and respected his wife.

In the days that followed the birth of his child, he had spent every waking moment that he could spare with the pair of them. Both mother and son had the fierce One-Eyed Prince wrapped around their fingers. Between sparring sessions and battling his family’s idiosyncrasies on the daily, his little family had given him quite the reprieve, one that he was infinitely thankful for.

But now, his son is gone, and his wife is too.

“The heirs need to be kept safe. The twins, little Maelor, all three of them,” his mother said.

He may be in the middle of a war, but it was moments like these that seemed hardest to him. Aemond sat quietly by the hearth, in the very same chair where he always rested. His wife used to sit by him or at his feet as she embroidered. Now, her absence was a gaping hole each time he sat.

“Aemond…”

He turned to the sound of his grandfather calling out his name, looking cold and calculated. It did not escape Aemond that he was discussing the safety of his brother's children while he had lost his own child. The irony of it all was stark and jarring.

“Yes,” he curtly responded.

“It is in our best interests that you…” His grandfather paused midway through his words, and Aemond knew well that the man did that only when unsettling news was to follow. “...that you take a new wife. We’re in need of an alliance, and she can be sent to the motherhouse at Oldtown. She will be cared for, she will be fed-”

He saw red. “My son is dead!” The words tumbled out of Aemond’s mouth like shards of glass before he could even comprehend the gravity of his grandfather’s heavy, cutting words.

"My son’s death is on my conscience, his blood is on my hands. I did not do the deed myself, but it certainly feels like I was the one who wielded the knife that killed him.” The people had taken to calling him a kinslayer, and Aemond felt it in his bones everyday - not because of Lucerys Velaryon, but because of how his rash actions had resulted in the death of his little boy.

“My son is dead, and my wife has not been the same ever since. How do you think I can start a new family, with a new woman, when I know very well that I have caused all the grief that has driven my wife to madness? When I caused the death of my own child?”

Aemond Targaryen always made for a menacing sight, but his grandfather was not prepared for the kind of anger that his grandson had kept stored in him - for himself, his wife, and his son. They were not here, and he was angry enough for all three of them.

The Dowager Queen watched the entire conversation unfold, and she held her hand to her chest, feeling her heartbeat become frantic with each moment that she saw her son in distress. She knew how content he was in his wife's presence, and how much he loved her. To watch a child grow and fester in his own resentment - no mother should have to witness it. And yet, the Gods saw fit to give Alicent Hightower the closest view to her son's heartbreak.

“Get out,” he seethed. Otto Hightower took Aemond’s raw and angry words in stride before walking away, his head still held high.

His mother stood in front of him, held his hand and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m sorry, my boy. I’m so sorry…”

She wept until she could not, and it took everything Aemond had in him to not do the same.

When he tossed and turned in his bed in the middle of the night, he would always reach out for her.

She would always welcome his touch and curl into him, her forehead resting on the smooth planes of his chest and her warm breath making goosebumps rise on his skin. He would hold her tight until neither could ascertain where one ended and the other began, and sleep that normally eluded him would come to him faster than anything else.

Tonight, her spot on the bed is empty.

When he woke in a hurry, he noticed the crumpled sheets and the pillows left askew, the only evidence of her having retired to bed alongside him. He quickly rose from the bed and tried to calm his rapidly beating heart, wondering as to where she could have gone at this ungodly hour.

Gods, was she hurt?

He did not have to wait for the divine deities to answer, for his answer came in the form of the sweet humming sounds that he had grown to love. He followed her voice as he walked through their apartments, and it led him to the chamber where his son’s crib was kept. She was sitting next to it in her white shift, her head peeping in as she let her hands rest on the crib. She hummed softly and happily, marveling at how beautiful her little boy looked as he slept - looking much like the man she shared her bed with.

Aemond wanted to ask her to come back to bed immediately. The maesters had advised lots of rest for his wife, given the stress of the labors and the damage her body had taken. But as he watched her and his boy, he knew he couldn’t. He needed a moment to drink in the sight of his wife and son - his entire world, all in one chamber.

He held so much love in his heart for them both despite seeing them only with one eye. Perhaps he’d be able to love them more if he could see them with two.

“He’s going to be there when we wake, wife. Come back to bed.”

She turned to him and smiled, a warm smile that he wished he could brand into his mind for all eternity. “Did I wake you?”

“You did not. Your absence from our bed did.”

She chuckled softly, and he walked over to her. He positioned himself behind her chair and kissed her temple, letting his hands rest on her shoulders. “I don’t think I shall ever tire of looking at him,” She said.

“Hm.” His gaze rested on the sleeping babe, tired from all his crying throughout the day.

“My son, a dragon prince,” She mused. “He’ll be charming, strong and intelligent, just like his father.”

At that, he chuckled darkly and she rose, turning around to face him. Her hand found his cheek and he leaned into her touch, leaving a light kiss on her wrist as he held her hand in place. “What’s so amusing, husband?”

“Charming is not the first word anyone would use to describe me, wife.”

“Well, you are. To me.” Her whispering siren-like voice was like music to his ears.

She reached up on her toes and left a light kiss on his brow, and Aemond was quick to hold her to him by the waist, wanting to have this - this quiet solace - all to himself for a time.

Who was he to argue with the woman around whom his entire world revolved? The very one that held his heart in her hands?

He stands in the middle of what used to be their shared chambers and sighs.

The entire room is covered in pieces of her - fragments of her that he desperately clings to for dear life. Robes and dresses that she had not worn in a long time, but still manage to somehow retain her scent. Quills and ink that she used to write her correspondence with, now left to gather dust. Ten Thousand Ships, her favorite book, one that he had given to her as a name day present, laid abandoned on the bedside table.

This was the very same chamber where he had claimed her. This was where he had first admitted to loving her. This was where she had told him that she was with child. This was where they had spent countless nights talking well into the night, their bodies entwined and voices coming out in hushed whispers and low giggles. This was where they had discovered and learned of the passions of the marital bed, together. This was where their marriage had grown and bloomed.

If he walks a little further, his feet will take him to the adjoined room where his son used to sleep - but try as he might, he does not have the strength for that. Not yet.

He sits by the edge of their bed, the sunlight passing through the windows in streaks of yellow gold. He closes his good eye, hoping for a little time to adjust to the light. Perhaps if he closes it hard enough, he will be able to picture her sitting by the window with her focused eyes trained on her embroidery or one of his books, waiting for him to come back to her after his daily duties.

His nose flares at the unearthly reminder that his wife is no longer his by side. She had been full of happiness and life, and she had brought light into his life. He welcomed it for as long as she was around, but now that she was gone, he closes his eye and avoids it like the plague, much like he does with the sunlight that now warms his skin.

Her world has become dark because of him. How can he sit in the light in good conscience, when he knows he has lost all right to it?

The waves crashed by the shores of Blackwater Bay and she sat on the sands, watching them. She had a book in her hands, and a basket of food that she had the maids prepare for them to take.

Her eyes closely followed her husband as he held their baby son’s hands upright, his little pudgy feet resting over his huge boot-clad ones as he led them forward. The little boy’s gurgling and laughing echoed through the wind, and she took a bite of a juicy apple while holding a book in her other hand.

They were the picture of a happy family, the stories of whom may be immortalized in songs for years to come.

He had not yet begun to walk, and his words were all a blubbering mess - but Aemond Targaryen was not known for being patient. He insisted on guiding his son to his feet so his first steps would come to him quicker, and spoke to him in High Valyrian in hopes that his first words would be in his native tongue.

Her boys had walked all the way toward her with her baby’s toes pressing onto Aemond’s feet harshly. He picked him up and held him then, and his son’s hands landed on his eyepatch. It had become his favorite little plaything these days - the boy took to wrangling it off his father’s head and swinging it with his two fat fingers until he grew tired - that was if he did not notice the sapphire first. By the Gods, if he did, he would insist on taking that off to play with too. His son, like him, had a taste for the finer things in life, it would seem.

“He’s taken well to the waters, I think,” she said. Her fondness for the little lad and her husband was evident in her face as she watched them. Her son had taken to swinging his arms in all directions, occasionally hitting his father’s face.

“Water does not mix with fire and blood. He should not be taking so well to the waters.”

“Suppose he can embrace it all then. Perhaps he’s… special.” She rose to meet her son’s eyes, leaving a kiss on his cheek. The boy smiled, a handful of his father’s alabaster hair in his hands as he pulled. Aemond winced, and she giggled.

“Zaldrītsos…” Aemond murmured, a quiet plea to his son to stop. It fell on deaf ears, but he did not mind. [Little dragon]

A maid had come to inform them that their presence was requested in the keep, and Aemond handed the boy over to her before walking back to give his wife his hand. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and rubbed her hand with his before leading them away, their steps slow and relaxed.

“We should have another,” she said. Her smile, the source of all his content, was as bright as the sun. “You should take me tonight,” she murmured then, eyes quickly blackened by lust. He watched as the girl with childish wonder transformed into a seductress, and he lost even before he tried - defeat had never felt sweeter.

He could never deny her anything she wanted.

“Do you want me, wife?” He muttered darkly as he halted his steps, turning towards her. He held her by the waist and kissed her brow, waiting for her to respond.

“I always want you,” she murmured, eyes fluttering at the closeness of his lips. Her bright eyes sought his lilac one as the sound of the waves rippled through the air. “I also want to bear you another child. Would you like that, husband? Another little babe for us to love…”

He nodded and kissed her, pouring all his passion into it as he devoured her lips. “You do look beautiful, belly round and full with my child.”

That night, he choked her name out like an urgent prayer while he spilled into her, his peak following soon after hers. He then peppered kisses across her face and neck as the smell of sweat and coupling engulfed them, while she held onto his hair and let her hand wander over it in a soothing manner. He rubbed a hand over her belly, praying that his seed had taken. If not, he would seek her out and touch her everywhere once more - he would never be tired of her.

If another child was what she desired, then she shall have it - for how could he ever deny her?

The burns and injuries had ruined any spirit Aegon may have had as King.

He had watched his brother as he grew into a fierce protector of his family soon after being crowned. Ser Criston had made clear the dangers that they posed to Rhaenyra with their very existence, and it was all Aegon needed to grow into his role as the rightful monarch. However, he had gotten ahead of himself and underestimated his skills as a dragonriding fighter and gotten himself hurt.

Aemond’s role as Prince Regent was something that he slid into seamlessly - he had always known that he was the better fit for the throne after all. His first action was to ensure the safety of his own wife, Helaena and her three children.

“They’ve been moved to our father’s old chambers. Deep in the Holdfast, far away from any possible intru-”

“I know where the chambers are, Aemond. Will you shut up? You’re giving me a headache.” Aegon interrupted, words slurred as he sipped on Arbor Red. The wine sloshed in the cup as it moved in his unsteady hands.

His eyes were trained on his brother, a tired and tested man who was now incharge of running a Kingdom. Aegon knew that the crown was heavy, but it did not compare to the weight of the world that Aemond always carried on his shoulders. It only seemed to have gotten worse since his son’s death and his wife’s isolation.

“Does she fare any better?”

“No.” It is all Aemond wishes to say on the matter.

While he may not want to speak of the family he had lost, Aemond knew that he would protect those he was left with every breath in his body if need be. He may not have been there for his little boy, but he would die before he let a hair on any of his remaining family members’ heads be touched. The regret of being an inadequate husband and father pricked at him like the heat from the bright blaze of the fire in the hearth, and he walked out with purpose.

He knew where he was going next. After all, his feet always carried him to her at nightfall.

When Aemond came home dripping wet from the rain that had drenched him at Storm’s End, he was convinced that he had ruined everything good that he had. He could not imagine a simple scratch on his little boy without feeling angered - how could he expect Rhaenyra to simply accept her son’s death?

He had to get them safe. He had to keep them safe. He had to keep them safe. Safe, safe, safe.

She had just left the babe with the nursemaid and come to their chambers to find a moment of quiet before her son’s inevitable crying began again. Her eyes widened when she opened the door to find her husband completely drenched, looking like he was inviting death with open arms. He may as well have.

“Aemond..” She rushed to him immediately, hands going to his damp hair and clothes. “Gods did it rain on your ride back home? Let me fetch you some clean clothes and something to dry yourself with.” He reached out to her before she could go too far, and she gasped at how cold his touch was.

It was always warm, and tonight it was not.

“Stay, please.”

“I need you to put on something warm first, Aemond. You’ll catch a chill.”

She was too distracted by his wet state to notice the tears mixed with the raindrops. He said nothing as she walked away and brought back fresh garb for him to change into. She quietly bade that he raise his arms and he obeyed, not having the strength to do anything else. Slowly, each garment fell with a wet thwack to the floor and she took to wiping all the water off of him.

His grave silence unnerved her immensely, and she knew something was wrong. She would wait for him to say it.

She dressed him in a linen undershirt and breeches and took him to his beloved chair by the fire, in hopes that it would warm him up and encourage him to tell her of what plagued him. He sat in silence for a long while as she sat cross-legged on the floor, her forehead leaning on one of his thighs while her finger drew mindless patterns on the other.

His hand always reached for her hair when they sat like this, but tonight, that was not the case. She looked up at him with inquiring eyes, and as he caught her vision with his one eye, he did not have the heart to tell her what he had done, but he had to.

“I killed Lucerys Velaryon.” His voice is hoarse and the words are choked out with difficulty, and while the weight of his actions hit him hard, it was harder to watch his sweet wife’s concerned face morph into something else entirely.

“What?”

“He was sent as an envoy. I only meant…” He gulped, and the tears fell freely once more.

She quickly lifted herself up and straddled him, holding his face in both her hands. Her fingers caught every tear that fell in quick succession. “Tell me, go on.”

“I only meant to scare him. I need you to believe me, I did not mean to kill him.”

Her husband was a proud man, and it made her stomach churn to see him sound so broken. She feared that she may not like what she was about to hear, but she had promised to be his other half for all his life, and now he needed her.

He may be fearsome, but he was not a cold-blooded murderer. He did not mean to kill him - but how much weight did his intent hold, now that the boy was dead?

“I believe you. Go on.”

“The dragons…” He let out a hoarse breath and she continued to wipe at his tears with the tips of her thumbs - softness that he right now felt very undeserving of. “Arrax breathed fire at Vhagar and she retaliated, she bit into the dragon’s neck and Luke fell, so did Arrax.”

She felt light headed with worry. How could she stomach the thought of a young boy falling to his death from the skies? How could she, when she was a mother to a little boy herself?

His uncle, Daemon, was going to come for them, Aemond was sure of that. But he could not bring himself to think of much else as he watched his wife digest all that he had told her, never once ceasing to remind him that she believed him, even if nobody else would.

When they rose, Aemond’s anger knew no bounds. The possible consequences ran through his mind as he pushed his desk onto the floor with brute force. The sharp edges of her vanity had drawn blood from the back of his hand as he moved in frustration, and she was quick to hold onto him and remind him of her presence. He was not alone, he had her.

“Take me. Take it out on me.” Aemond could not think straight, and she could not bear to see him hurt himself, any more than he already has. It is this very thought that drives her to take his hand and lay it upon her clothed chest.

He took her from behind that night, hands clutching onto her bouncing breasts. Every string that was stretched had snapped with each rough thrust into her, the sounds of skin slapping skin somehow seeming too rough that night. “We’re going to be fine, wife,” he groaned - and she did not know whom he was trying to placate - her, or himself?

“I will keep you safe, the both of you.”

When he was done with her, she was left looking ragged with dried tear tracks on her face. He wanted to apologize - it seemed as though he hurt everything he touched, and after his now dead Stong nephew, his own sweet wife was his latest victim.

She held him between her breasts that night as they both wept, at a loss for words at what he had done. She did not know how to comfort him or rid him of the guilt or paranoia that his mind now played host to.

What she did know is that her husband needed her, and that she was not going anywhere. So when he suggested sending her and their son away, fearing for her safety, she begged him to let her stand by his side.

“If something were to happen to me, there would be nobody to protect you and our boy.”

“If something were to happen to you, our son and I would much rather follow you than brave many years alone.”

He reluctantly gave in, thinking that an increased guard and his constant presence around them would be enough to keep them unharmed.

How wrong he was.

He had walked away only for a moment.

His wife had wanted to eat some cake during the night - he suspected that she was with child again. Little did he know that it was the last moment of their happy marriage. The sight that he had walked back into was something that would never fail to haunt him.

Dead guards, a whole litany of them. His wife in her bloodied white shift, holding onto their son’s decapitated body. All the light in her eyes had dimmed as he stood frozen in place, his eye widened at the harrowing sight before him.

She wailed as she clutched the corpse to her chest, with no care for the injuries on her own body, or the blood of their babe that was now mixed in with her own.

“My boy, my precious boy…”

The rest of the royal family soon followed and his mother pulled her away from the babe’s lifeless body. He fell to the floor with no one to hold him, and Aemond could do nothing but watch. Aegon’s angry calls for his nephew’s head to be brought back along with the killers slipped into one ear and slipped out the other, and he went numb as he realized that the consequences of his actions had caught up to him.

Him, he could understand. But his sweet wife, his little son? What had they done?

A son for a son.

The rational part of his mind would have argued that Luke’s death probably left Rhaenyra feeling the same tragedy that he was faced with - but he was anything but rational in that moment. His fists clenched as his knuckles met the wall, and Aegon had to physically restrain him from walking out to catch the rats himself.

“She needs you. She needs you. She needs you. Listen to me, Aemond!”

Helaena had collapsed onto the chair entirely, repeating ominous words that he did not register at all.

“Blood and Cheese. Blood and Cheese. Blood and Cheese.”

Aegon had gone to join in the hunt for his nephew’s killers, and she kept rocking herself back and forth at the sight of the blood that now painted the walls and floors of her brother’s chambers until she was led away. Aemond stood, all alone in a pool of his son’s and wife’s blood.

When the Silent Sisters were led into the chamber by his grandfather, Aemond froze. His wife had held their lifeless son to her breast as she cried, but he could not bring himself to look at him, much less touch him.

Hours later, with patches of his own son's blood soaked through his clothes, he had gone to see her. He held her in his arms as she sobbed through the night, trying to push him away with each firm hit to his chest. Aemond shushed her over and over to no avail, holding her closer each time she tried to separate herself from him. Sometime during that night, her eyes had become lifeless; a deep abyss. The sight of it finally drove him to tears too, with his good eye becoming a glistening violet ring floating in a sea of angry red.

They say madness is a slow disease, and that nobody truly knows when it begins. They were wrong. Aemond Targaryen knew very well the exact moment when the madness had sunk its claws into his wife.

It was right then as he held her, comforting her and apologizing like a madman for tainting her life with his presence.

The moonlight diverged through the stained glass windows that directly faced the room where she now resided. She had been kept in these chambers before their wedding, and she often spoke of how beautiful the lights were when they fell directly onto the corridors, reflecting the colors of the glass that they slid through. He wondered if she still thought the same. He wondered if she even looked.

In the day that followed their son’s death, they had burned their little boy and watched as his body was wheeled around the streets of King’s Landing for their benefit. Aemond had wanted to retch then, but he held his wife tight as the people empathized with the kind princess whose time as a doting mother had been brutally cut short.

She fared worse - she looked dead in her eyes, and he was sure she was lost on the inside too. He did not know if she even sensed his hold on her as she kept muttering their dead boy’s name in a series of weak whimpers.

Two days later, she had lost their second child. He held her from behind and rocked her gently as the blood flowed from between her thighs for hours, the babe coming out in clumps of bloodied skin, having never drawn breath. Every moment of his wife’s torture plagued Aemond’s existence, and he questioned his abilities as a protector while grieving his son and his unborn child all alone.

The Gods were cruel to him in their games. They made him watch as his son’s life was taken, and they took bits of his wife’s mind and soul with each passing day. He supposed that this was the hand that kinslayers were dealt.

It was a slow death for Aemond, and it had begun the day his son was killed. Now he had to watch as his once vivacious wife completely lost hold over all her senses, and lived in a world where he could not reach her.

On some days, she would receive him with love, as though his presence in her life had not destroyed her completely. He would be able to revel in her touch once more, if only to simply be able to remind himself that she was still alive - in body, if not soul. He missed her, his wife, his woman, his entire heart. But his actions had killed her from the inside - did he have a right to his yearning anymore? He did not want to know, for he feared that he may not like the answer.

On other days, she would be the complete embodiment of madness. She would fight the maesters and scream at them, begging for them to let her die and throw herself off the window. She would pull at her beautiful hair, blame him continuously and shriek, mourning the loss of their child.

When she was done, she'd lower her voice and murmur words into the air. Speaking to no one in particular, almost like a ghost, she'd fidget with her dress and say, "His body twitched after they hurt him. My baby boy suffered. Oh, my boy!"

He may not have wielded the knife that removed his head, but his actions caused it. He may as well have killed his son himself. Guilt was not an emotion that Aemond Targaryen knew well as a boy, but it was all he now knew as a grown man.

She would bawl and cry at him to go away. She would scream at him to leave her alone, and blame him for killing her children - and rightfully so. And though it pricked at his heart, he would come back every night.

He wonders how she is feeling tonight. He wishes she was ignorant and unaware, for he is desperate for her touch, her company. It has been weeks. He is brought back to reality when the Maester’s gown billows behind him in the night wind.

“Your Grace.” he bows.

“How is she?”

“Somewhat calmed tonight and not lucid, my prince.” The old man sighs before continuing. “The Princess continues to ask for her little prince. We have given her milk of the poppy, so she may fall asleep soon enough.”

“Hm.”

He is mildly relieved to hear that she is not herself tonight - for it allows him to relive some of their happier days.

In his hand is a book - Ten Thousand Ships, the very one that he had gifted her. He dismisses the maester and his stewards follow behind him. Aemond walks into the room with his mind steeled, ready to be brave - for himself and for her.

“Husband! Come, come!” Her cheery voice is not quite hers, and it unnerves Aemond - her words are not from her heart, and it takes everything in him to not fall to his knees and apologize once more for what he has done to her. “The Maester said our boy’s learning to walk! Did you see him? I was promised that you would bring him tonight! Where is he?”

Gone, where we cannot see him, he wants to say. But how could he, without wanting to throw himself at her feet in regret? “He is tired. All that walking has exhausted him.”

“I suppose, yes! They tried to force me to take that vile concoction once more tonight, I managed to push it away and evade them! Look!” His gaze follows her hand and sees the spilled milk of the poppy on the floor. His wife was a calm and steady woman, and now she was behaving like a child and mistreating maesters.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

“You should not do that, wife. It is not proper.”

He holds her hand and kisses her knuckles, before leaning his head back to look at her. Her hair has not been combed today, and he gently turns her around to run his fingers through her hair, digits trembling at touching her once more. She could come to at any moment and remember who had caused her such distress, and then she would cry until he walked away - the very real possibility rakes at Aemond, so he remains prepared for her to push him away any time now.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

"I know. I drank it the second time. I'm sorry."

He then turns her back to face him and notices the dark rims around her empty eyes. He sighs and lets out a long, heavy breath. If he was drunk enough and she was unaware, he would fool himself into thinking that they were alright. But they aren’t.

“It is time to go to bed, wife. Will you come with me?” I love you, I miss you and I am sorry. Will you come back to me? Please?

He kisses both her eyelids and leads her to the bed in her shift. He gently helps her lay down, following her immediately as he lays next to her. She leans into his hold seamlessly and he tightens his arm around her - it hurts him how despite her madness, her penchant to seek out his touch never changes.

He takes the book from the bedside table, and she squeals. “Will you read to me tonight, husband? I do love it when you read to me. Perhaps a quiet moment between the both of us before the maids bring our son back? You know how he makes a fuss and refuses to give us a moment of quiet!” She laughs, and Aemond holds his tears back once more.

“Of course.” He kisses her temple.

He begins reading and the dry sounds of his throat lull her to sleep in his arms as he rakes his fingers through her hair. When she has completely drifted away from him, he allows himself a moment of thought and kisses her on the lips - watching as she murmurs his name.

He had taken her to wife, and sworn to protect her from any harm that may come her way. In the end, the only one she had to be protected from, was himself. He failed her, and now, he would not rest until he picked up all the pieces and put her back together.

When morning comes, she may still be unconscious of her surroundings and allow him some more time, or she may be lucid and scratch at his face until he leaves her alone. The uncertainty kills him, but he will allow himself to enjoy her tonight.

It was on this very day that he had kissed her for the first time, in the Sept, between the statues of the Mother and the Father. On this day, four years ago, they were married.

And on this day, he continues to read to her because she had asked, even when she had fallen asleep - for how could he ever deny her?

BONUS CHAPTER FOR THIS FIC, HERE.

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novaursa · 2 months ago

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hello, may i please request some maegor the cruel x fem!martell reader? you know when aegon i receives that note from dorne? maybe it could be to arrange a marriage between maegor and martell!reader to end the war? and she's a badass who gets maegor wrapped adorns her finger in less than ten minutes?

No Meek Bride

Requests are closed!

- Summary: Maegor meets the princess that his father promised to him, and you are not what he expected.

- Paring: martell!reader/Maegor I Targaryen

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The sun beat down mercilessly on Sunspear. Maegor Targaryen, mounted on his warhorse, eyed the golden sprawl of the Martell stronghold with the same cold scrutiny he gave every potential battlefield. He had not come here for war, though that was his preference. No, Aegon, his suddenly diplomatic father, had come to the conclusion that peace with Dorne would best be achieved through a marriage contract. And so, Maegor found himself betrothed to a Dornish princess.

You.

As his entourage approached the palace gates, Maegor's expression hardened. He knew little of you, save that you were Dornish, a princess, and supposedly beautiful in the way Dornish women often were—dark of hair and skin kissed by the sun. Maegor had his own opinions about beauty, none of which involved submission or docility, but he expected you to be meek, much like the Hightower girl his mother had once insisted he wed.

But then you stepped into the sunlight, and everything he had assumed about you scattered like the sands of Dorne.

You stood there, hands on your hips, chin lifted, your expression neither demure nor shy. No veil covered your face; no hesitation clouded your eyes. You stared up at him, not as a man to be feared, but as a man who would do well to remember whose lands he stood upon. Maegor raised an eyebrow.

You raised one back.

The Dornish retinue welcomed him in the Martell fashion, with wine and citrus-scented air. You walked beside him as he was led into the inner court, rattling off a list of what he assumed were idle pleasantries about Dorne’s beauty and history. Your voice was light, teasing. But there was something in your tone that held an edge—a sharpness that Maegor wasn’t sure if he wanted to parry or let pierce through his defenses.

"Your father must think very highly of me," you said as you entered a chamber filled with vibrant tapestries and low couches. "To offer up his most fearsome dragon in marriage. Or perhaps he just wanted to get rid of you?"

The jab was subtle, playful, but Maegor narrowed his eyes, half-expecting you to falter under the weight of his gaze. You didn’t. Instead, you smiled—a slow, confident curve of your lips that seemed to suggest you had no fear of him.

Odd. He had never encountered a woman so… infuriatingly self-assured. Where was the meekness? The quiet obedience he had been told to expect? You were no Hightower maiden.

And yet, as you continued talking, pointing out some tapestry or another that Maegor couldn’t care less about, he found himself… listening. More than that, he found himself watching the way your lips moved when you spoke, the way your eyes sparked with amusement every time you threw out another veiled barb. He could not recall the last time someone had dared to speak to him so freely, much less a woman he was meant to marry.

By the time the evening feast began, Maegor was seated at the head of the table with you beside him, laughing—laughing—at something one of your cousins had said. The sound caught him off guard, warm and inviting in a way that made his blood stir. He tried to ignore it.

But then you leaned in, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from your skin.

"I expected you to be taller," you whispered, eyes glinting with amusement.

Maegor blinked, caught completely off guard. "I expected you to be more respectful."

"And I expected a dragon, not a man made of stone," you shot back, sipping your wine with an infuriatingly pleased look on your face.

He could not believe this. Was this to be his life now? To be challenged at every turn by a woman who clearly found great delight in besting him in conversation? The idea of returning to King’s Landing with you as his wife seemed more exhausting than fighting a hundred battles. Yet, there was something… thrilling about it, too.

The next few days passed in a blur of negotiations and formalities, but you were always there, always a step ahead of him in both words and actions. You challenged him, taunted him, and somehow, in the span of a week, Maegor found himself more drawn to you than he had ever been to any woman. He would never admit it, of course, but there were moments when he caught himself thinking about you when you were not in the room, wondering what clever remark you would make next.

The final straw came when, after another particularly heated exchange—this time about where you would live after the marriage—you sauntered away with a knowing smile, leaving Maegor standing in the middle of the courtyard with the distinct feeling that you had won.

He watched you go, the sway of your hips as you moved, the confidence in every step. His jaw clenched.

"She’s got you wrapped around her little finger," one of his men muttered under his breath, thinking Maegor couldn’t hear.

The man was wrong, of course. Maegor Targaryen bowed to no one, least of all a Dornish princess with a sharp tongue.

And yet, as you glanced back over your shoulder, catching his eye with that maddening smile, Maegor realized with a start that you had, indeed, wrapped him around your little finger.

And worse still… he didn’t entirely mind it.

Though gods help anyone who tried to make him admit it.

#fire and blood #fire and blood x reader #maegor the cruel #maegor targaryen #maegor i targaryen #maegor x reader #maegor x you #maegor x y/n #the conquest #house of the dragon #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf

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earenwen-leafwhisper · 4 months ago

Text

The handmaid and the dragons

Pairing: Child Daemon Targaryen x servant mother nature fem reader, Baelon Targaryen x servant reader, Child Viserys x servant reader, Alyssa Targaryen x servant reader (All platonic)

Summary: Life at the castle can be most enjoyable as a servant when you can take care of two young dragon princes.

Author’s note: Viserys and Daemon are 4 years apart. Daemon was born in 81 and Viserys in 77

Reader are not describe, in my mind she is chubby/plus size, but she can be of all shapes.

English is not my native language, i'm sorry if mistakes were made. I will correct as soon as possible.

After a few months without writing fully, here is the first written of a multitude of ideas that I have in mind for some time. This One-shot could be continued in the form of headcannon or other One-chot, or multiple chapters.

---

The life of a servant was not easy, apart from early morning wakes and short nights due to requests from some residents and guests, not always very understandable and sometimes almost impossible to accomplish (as this noble woman, who wanted to enter one of the princes' chambers in order to try to seduce and marry the man she desired; it was as if that had ended with the dismissal of the said noble woman) did not allow you to have a good quality sleep.

But this life of servant, you would not have exchanged it for any other, because beyond the rebukes of some older servants and lords and lady, who could be haughty. You were in the service of the Targaryens, and although some nobles and peasants did not carry the members of this house in their hearts. You were not treated badly, on the contrary, you were considered better than servants of other smaller houses.

Since your early childhood you remembered having met people with Valeryan blood. Your parents had served under the late reign of Maegor and survived him because of their good labours. They then served Jaehaerys. You had followed their ways, as was customary for the people. You had become multi-tasker, allowing you to be better paid, and help your parents who were beginning to get old to serve the Targaryen house as well. You could go from kitchen to floor scrubbing, from washing clothes to helping princesses dress or hairdressing.

But more than that. More than this work. There were in that castle two small heads with silver hair, for which you had taken affection.

A few years ago, you had become a servant of Princess Alyssa when she was pregnant for the second time. You were one of many servants, but you always did your best to allow the princess to have everything she needed, in order to make it easier for her to wait for the birth of her second child. Being a hectic life, the rest offered and almost ordered by the masters, bored her to the utmost point, towards the end of her pregnancy, she could no longer ride on Meleys and was irritated for nothing, whether it be on the servants, her ladys in waittig. But when she calmed down, unlike other nobles, Alyssa apologized, knowing that she would not have reacted in this way if she was not pregnant.

But even in those moments, you loved the princess, not that you envied her, no, you loved her because she always behaved with respect.

---

When you seen the baby Daemon, you had taken a liking to him, how many times did you manage to give him gifts, however humble? You hadn’t counted, all you liked was to see Daemon play, or eat the cakes that you had prepared in the kitchens during your working hours. Just seeing him smile and recognize you made your heart warm. You didn’t forget the princess or Viserys when you made the cakes, but your favorite was always Daemon.

You always had a maternal nature, to care about others, but that nature is just manifesting more greatly towards Daemon. You never disrespected Alyssa, on the contrary, you worried about her, even though she was your age, you sometimes nursed her slightly, just out of concern for her health, like the day when she took baby Daemon to fly on Meleys’s back, you were worried.

“Princess Alyssa... are you sure you want to do this?...” The masters have advised against your health...”

Would you be afraid that Meleys would face evil against Daemon? Or would you not trust me?

“I have faith in you, princess... I know that you did the same thing with Prince Viserys.... It’s just that...”

“Fear not, Meleys will do nothing against Daemon, it’s only a little theft after all. It won’t hurt me.”

It is the close heart that you watched the princess go towards the dragonpit.

During the whole morning of labor, your mind was not focused on your spots. Every moment you could forget about Alyssa’s flight, something made you think of her or the children. Some servants with whom you shared your time of work, found your behavior strange, not understanding why you showed so much kindness and devotion to the royal family, that family which did not spank attention to the servants and people of the people, At least according to them.

All your stress went away when you saw Alyssa and baby Daemon return, it is with a sincere smile that you welcomed the princess, taking care of her and Daemon with the other servants.

Although you were a simple and humble servant, you had become close to Alyssa over the days, months and years, even when travelling for tournaments or festivities in other parts of Westeros. Alyssa ordered you to accompany her, the other servants did not see this in a good way, nor even the nobles who found it unnoble approach on the part of the princess. For they thought the nobles should stay among them, the others were nothing but nothing.

---

You saw the children grow, the first steps of Daemon towards Alyssa even gave you a small tear in your eye, so proud of Daemon’s progress. Not forgetting the progress of Viserys, He was 4 years old when you met him and now from his future 7 years, he loved playing with you, loving his wooden dragons by lending one only when it was sure to get it back later. He was a rather easy child, even more so because of his attraction for food, asking for cupcakes, the masters had more than once ordered you not to give any more to the young prince, but behind their backs, you gave one or two to please him.

You were not in direct contact with other members of the royal family, except Baelon, whom you saw radiating to the coast of Alyssa, as well as to her sons.

When the news of the new pregnancy of the princess. Everyone was happy, it took three years, but all hoped that the future event would be happy.

Oh... Alyssa...

---

You were awakened in the middle of the night, guards had come to fetch the princess’s servants. The corridors of the castle were dark to the limit of gloom, although they are illuminated by torches. To the right and left you could see servants, midwifes, guards and masters running through all the censes.

You felt a cold sweat through your back, a wind of panic engulfed you. Midwifes, was a sign that the princess was in full labor and about to give birth. But the presence of the masters, was bad omens, they came only when the birth was complicated to see serious. Alyssa was the only known person in the castle who was pregnant and about to give birth.

You passed in the corridor of the princess' apartments, horrible screams pierced ears, spanking you stop at the door, heart pounding, fear to sell, guards took you by the arms to force you to continue walking. You were assigned to the supervision of children while other servants were assigned to take over the orders of masters.

When you arrived, Daemon and Viserys were sleeping, unaware of who was going on in the castle. You sit on one of the chairs, watching the children, while trying to calm your breath, reassuring you as much as you could, praying to the gods, for the survival of Alyssa and the baby (whether you are a believer or not).

It was only in the morning, when you helped the children to prepare (make sure that Viserys does not wear his tunic upside down, tie their shoes), that Baelon entered. His hair was glued to his forehead by the sweat, his breath saccader. You turned your head to look at him before getting up from the ground on which you were kneeling, in order to bow down as required by protocol. But before you got up, Baelon raised his hand to stop you and walked towards the boys.

"My prince..." Your heart was beating, the anticipation of the news was great.

"The work was hard..." Baelon knelt before Viserys and Daemon, before taking them in his arms.

"Work?" Viserys looked at his father with questions.

"Your mother giving birth to a little brother..."

"Little brother?" Viserys’s eyes lit up, while Daemon seemed to be a bit soft.

"Yes, you will soon."

Baelon was happy and reassuring, he gave them each a kiss in the hair before raising his head towards you.

"Alyssa will need you, for now she needs to rest."

"Of course, my prince..."

"I know you’ll look after her."

You shook your head gently, your head was full of questions, all revolved around the princess and the newborn baby, the cries remained in your memory.

You only saw the princess when she was awakened after several hours of being unconscious. She was so full of life, she looked like a living dead, almost diaphanous. Her simple vision gave you a terrible desire to cry. Alyssa, seeing you, smiles softly, feverishly. You walked towards her before sitting down to lean out of her bed and gently take her hand, holding her company, explaining that Viserys and Daemon were happy to see her soon and have a little brother.

Alas, Alyssa’s health did not improve much, after almost a year the princess was very weak.

---

One morning, the nannies who took care of Daemon and Viserys had not been available, between one who was falling ill and the second who had to return to King’s Landing for family business, Baelon, whom you saw rarely, He ordered one of his servants to find you, so that you could look after the children. It was now days that the masters watched Alyssa, who slept more and more, ate less and less. Worrying everyone in the castle.

You decided to please the children, to make them stretch their legs in the company of guards, in the gardens of the castle.

The sun was shining, the light breeze of wind was refreshing, and you had placed yourself at the side of one of the fountains, watching the boys running in the garden gates gave you a smile, temporarily preventing you from thinking of Alyssa, and allowing you to live a little in carelessness. When Daemon fell to the ground after having tripped, he started to cry slightly before watching Viserys continue to run, he watched you with his eyes. You smile gently, before he gets up and walks towards you with tears in his eyes, he showed you his hands, covered with dirt and gravel.

“Y/nickname! Its hurt!”

“It’s all right, my little dragon, I’ll look.”

You gently took his hands, leaning gently to observe his hands, before taking a cloth, for the soaked in water to gently clean Daemon’s hands, he sniffed softly after moaning on contact with the cloth.

"That’s right, my little dragon, you are brave, like a proud warrior.” The tone of your voice was sweet and comforting to the young Daemon.

Daemon looked at you, then looked at his hands red with rubbing against his palms. When you laid a kiss on each of his palms, his eyes lit up, all forms of pain and sadness had withdrawn from his face. After all, soft drops on the little bobos are always miraculous remedies for children.

“Do you want to continue playing?”

Daemon shook his head, a big smile on his face, he went back to join Viserys, laughing as he pursued him.

You only came back at the time of dinner which could not be taken outside, the children in the company of members of the house Targaryen present at the castle, except Alyssa and Baelon, who was at his bedside. As for you, you were eating in haste in the room dedicated to the servants, talking with your friends, discussing the latest news while walking through the dark corridors.

The servants' dinners were often more courtly and of lesser quality than those of the nobles, but it was enough to give energy for all the day’s work.

“Apparently, Prince Baelon refuses to leave his wife’s bedside...” One of the king’s servants had just spoken.

Yes, her health is in perpetual decline, the masters fear that she will not pass on the next moons. One of the servants who had been looking after Alyssa had just answered her.

You listened to the exchange with attraction, trying to get information that had not yet been disclosed. But their discussions stopped when they noticed you. All knew of your closeness with the princess and children, taking care not to tell you about the royal family, lest you speak about it with the princess. You shrugged before looking at your friends and talking to them. It would have pleased the servants who did not like you, to show them that their behavior touched him. It was only when you were called to serve the young princes that you went out into the corridors, arriving near the dining room, Daemon ran in your direction, followed by Viserys. You took them in your arms before walking, a hand in the small hand of Viserys, while Daemon clung to your neck, while you carried it. The guards would follow you, ensuring the safety of the children.

Once in the children’s shared room, Viserys settled into a pillow that covered part of the floor in one of the corners of the room near one of the windows.

You settled down beside him, Daemon sitting on your legs in the direction of Viserys. It was a sweet evening, punctuated by the preparation of their bath, and some childish quarrels.

It was only when the guards opened the doors, and you looked in their direction. that you had a cold sweat.

The queen herself entered, she seemed paler then before, she almost wore a sick complexion. Your heart began to beat, your intuition told you that something serious had happened and how much you would have wished to have been wrong.

---

Tag list : @avalyaaa

#daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #Daemon Targaryen x chubby reader #Daemon x chubby reader #Baelon Targaryen x reader #Alyssa Targaryen x reader #Viserys I targaryen x reader #Servant reader #chubby reader

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darkestspring · 2 years ago

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how would dark/yandere Aegon The Conquer, Aemond One-Eye, Daemon The Rogue Prince, Maegor The Cruel, And Aegon The Usurper react how would they act if they married lady reader but at first they didn't love her even though she tried to make things work until they finally fell completely in love with her but she got tired and now she's the one who doesn't he wants it no matter what they do it drives them away and rejects them. thanks and sorry for making it so long :(

Aegon "The Conquerer" Targaryen

It had never been easy being married to him but you had tried. You tried to be a good wife. You tried to make things work.

You took the time to learn what he likes and disliked, his favorite topics, his curiosities. All of it, so that you may be a good wife to him, not just an obedient wife but a friend too.

And yet, again and again you were dismissed, not even worth a single word. He would wave you away without even looking at you. It legt you with your heart in your throat.

After so many attempts to be a good wife to him, only to be shot down and dismissed and even commanded to leave like you were just a nuisance to him, you decided to just stop. No amount of kindness would make him be kind to you.

Aegon found himself expecting your kindness, found himself missing it. He could not sleep without your daily acts of kindness towards you. You had always slept next to him and now you won't even stay in the same room as him.

"Stay a little longer, my wife." He had commanded of you as you went to leave the room as he entered it. Your expression was stone cold as you stared at him.

"How many I help you?" You sounded so formal and it hit his heart, he wished for your warmth. He craved your sweetness.

Aegon held out his hand to you. "Would you like to take a walk with me?"

You wanted to scoff. A walk? How many times had you asked to take a walk with him only to be shot down, told to leave him out of your silly ideas. You stared at him with all the coldness you could muster in yourself. "Please leave me out of your silly ideas, your grace."

His heart dropped as he watched you walk out. He had said those words to you before.

Every request he had for you. to eat together, to spend the night together, to read, to walk, to be together was met with a cold refusal from his wife.

Just like he had done before.

Aegon "The Usurper" Targaryen

In spite of Aegon's reputation as a whore and a drunkard, you tried your hardest as his wife to be there. to help him and love him. You tried to be a good wife to him.

Only to be humiliated every single time.

You helped his hangovers, you defended him against rumors, you bathed him, to nursed him back to health, you took his side over everyone elses. You never strayed, you always brought him his favorite means and you refused to believe your good mother's words and saw the best in him.

And yet, it was never enough. He preferred whores and unwilling servants over his own wife. He could not speak to his own wife unless he was drunk and even then, he spoke of you with disdain, spoke that you had trapped him and how you suffocated him.

You're not sure at what point it was enough for you. Was it the whoring? Was it his comment that you were suffocating him? Was it the fact that he was so willing to have bastards but refused to even acknowledge you as his lawful wife? maybe it was all of it.

You ordered the staff to move your things into a separate room, far away from this one. You ignored the queen's pleas for you to reconsider. you ignored the look on your good brother's face. you ignored servants who came to inform you that your husband had returned drunk.

When Aegon woke up the next morning with a mind-spliting hang over and weakly called for you, panic filling him as you never replied or came. "My love?" Came his weak call and when the door opened it was a servant, not you. She placed breakfast and medicine for the pain on the table.

"The queen wishes to see you after you have cleaned up, my prince." The servant meekly informed him before hurrying out before he could ask her where you were.

you always nursed him, cared for him. You had always been there for him, so where were you now? Where was his love?

The next time he saw you, you were with his sister, stone faced as his mother seemed to be pleading something from you.

"My decision is done. I respect you greatly, good mother." Your voice wasn't the same as it had been before. "But I am done trying."

"My love, where have you been?" His question sounds stupid and he watched as his mother grimaces and looks away.

"Not suffocating you, Prince Aegon." Your reply is cold and he flinches as you stare at him coldly. "I have taken precaution to avoid causing you such troubles."

"My wife...."

"Am I your wife?" You retorted humorless, ignoring the look that his family gives you, sympathy and pity. "I hadn't noticed." You walked past him without another word.

He had said those words to you, heartless and cruel. And now he had lost you just as he realized that he loved you.

Aemond "The One-Eye" Targaryen

In the beginning you had been delighted to be married to Aemond, he was a man of honor, he would do his duty, just as you would do yours.

As he remained eternally cold, like a snowstorm you could not escape, you tried your hardest to be the best wife to him. You brough him his meals when he remained preoccupied with his studies. you came to watch him train and express your awe over him. You brought him gifts and made sure to always look after him. You tried your hardest to be a wife he could depend upon.

And yet, the cold never left his eyes.

It went from being a delight to be his wife, to being an exhaustive chore.

The nights you spent crying, sobbing into your hands as your handmaiden tried to console you soon would outweigh the days you spent happy to help your husband.

You didn't know what was your breaking point. His coldness, his dismissive nature towards you, how he would never refute his brother's words about you or maybe it was the rumors that your husband had taken a lover.

All of it was too much. History may speak of you as his wife but you would have no more connections with him.

You stopped coming to his room at night, you stopped sending him medicine for his pains or cream for his phantom eye pains, you no longer mended his torn shirts, you no longer ate with him or even invited him on walks.

When you walked past him with your handmaiden, he would stare after you, his heart aching. Why did he feel this? You had been the only person to still defend him, to still spend time with him and now? You were too busy for any of it.

You refused to even look at him most days, you were a ghost in his presence and his heart ached to see your gentle smile once more.

"My wife." He called out to and you stopped, your hand clenching into a fist before you cooled your expression into one of pure coldness, one only for him. "Come eat with me."

"I'm sorry, I do not have the time. I already ate." You stared at him with nothing warm and it made him want to cry. "Please cease to bring trivial things like these to me."

'Please stop bringing such bothersome things to my attention.' that's what he once said to you, his gaze never once meeting yours.

"If you wish to have a meal, I think flying to Harrenhal and dining with your whore is a better idea." You retorted, smiling at him humorlessly before turning around and walking off down the hall.

Aemond Targaryen would have a wife only in name and law.

Daemon "The Rogue Prince" Targaryen

You didn't expect his love, your union was arranged and he was under no obligation to love you but his behavior was not one you expected.

You tried to care for him, always helping him and trying to be his wife, to be a good wife to him but he never cared in the slightest.

He refused to touch you or even look at you. He made it quite clear how much a nuisance you were. Not a wife of his choosing.

You had learned not to cry around him. He took joy in seeing you cry and he made it known to you.

In the beginning you had tried to be his wife. Tried to learn his likes and dislikes, tried to invite him to eat with you, take walks with you, see the night sky with you but he made it quite clear that he would always prefer his whores over you.

You had stopped that night. All of your affections turned cold. You no longer smiled at him and tried to invite him to do things with you. No, you had given up the notion of wife.

At first Daemon had found it amusing, wanting to see how far his lovely wife took this but then days stretched into weeks which stretched into three months and it was no longer amusing. He wanted you to dote on him and be his wife.

But you no longer considered him your husband. There is no bone in your body that wishes to be near him.

"Don't you think your tantrum has gone on long enough, my sweet girl?" He had asked you, irritation coating his voice.

You stared him with a stone cold look before tilting your head. "If my prince lacks attention, he may see his whores. He can pay them to fake affections towards him because as you've made quite clear, you prefer the whores."

He stares at you with a dark look as you walk away. He'll chip away at your coldness until his sweet wife is returned, he's sure of that.

Maegor "The Cruel" Targaryen

You had dreaded being married to him, he was known for his cruelty, for how far he was willing to go for what he wanted. Torture, murder, kinslaying. None of that mattered to him.

You still tried your hardest to be a good wife, to be attentive and helpful, to bear him a son but none of it mattered.

You would always be just a broodmare for him. He had reminded you of it several times. You were barely his wife and never his equal. You were broodmare, the only purpose you have for him is to give him a son.

What you wanted did not matter to him, he reminded you as he pinned you down once more.

Maybe something inside you broke that night. Maybe it had always been broken.

Whenever it had broken, you could not keep being a good wife. You prayed to the mother for forgiveness every day for that fact.

It was praying that helped you avoid him, you spent more time in the sept than you did in your own room.

Slowly, Maegor came to miss your presence. The way your hands would massage his shoulders when they hurt. The way you would bring him his favorite things and kiss him while wishing him luck, telling him that you believed in him.

You were his wife, and yet, where were you?

Maegor cornered you in the sept when it was only you inside. "Where has my wife been? How I've missed you kind hands."

You barely restrained a flinch as you clenched your hands together in an effort to maintain your composure. "I have been praying, your grace."

Your Grace? What happened to Husband?

Maegor hummed, watching you carefully as you started to walk past and he grabbed your arm. "You have not been visiting me. How are you to be my wife if you won't see me?"

"As you have told me, I am barely your wife. I am simply your broodmare. If you wish for a wife, there are many others. I am not your only wife." Your words were cold, just as your gaze was.

Out of shock, Maegor loosened his grip and your snatched your arms back, hurrying past as he simply looked at your furthering figure.

Now, that wasn't going to work.

#house of the dragon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #maegor targaryen x reader #hotd x reader

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year ago

Note

Upon reading your response to the servant girl question you have me yearning for a one shot to where he and this servant girl had show interest in one another and decide to act on it 🥹🥹🥹🥹 please if you’re not complete swamped with requests

Sorry I've made you wait over two months for this. I hope it's worth it!

Warnings: Smut. Male masturbation. Word count: ~1600

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

She is nervous when her mother tells her she’s managed to secure her a position as a serving girl at the Red Keep. Her mother has worked as a scullery maid in the kitchens for as long as she can remember, and she sees how bone tired she is each evening when she returns home. That, coupled with the stories she’s heard of the Targaryens make her uneasy. Their expectations will doubtless be high, considering they are royalty, and she fears being punished if she is unable to live up to them.

However, as her mother says, it is time she began to contribute towards the household and goodness knows they need the money.

Her anxiety worsens on her first day when she begins to overhear rumours regarding her predecessor and how the position she now holds came to be available in the first place.

The eldest Prince is a little too handsy, I hear.

Forced himself on her, I heard.

The Queen sent her away to the North with hush money.

Pregnant with a royal bastard.

She prays her interactions with Prince Aegon will be minimal. She has no wish to meet the same fate.

Throughout the day she is kept busy refreshing the pitchers of wine that are kept in the respective quarters of each person occupying Maegor’s Holdfast. She turns down beds, lends a hand preparing food in the kitchens and prepares a bath for Princess Helaena’s children.

She doesn’t catch a glimpse of a Targaryen all day, until it is time for the evening meal and she is stationed in the dining hall to refill the cups of those seated at the table.

It’s then she realises she has spent all day worrying about the wrong Prince. Her gaze is immediately drawn to the head of the table where he sits. She summises that this must be Aemond, based on the brown leather eyepatch he sports. He cuts an imposing figure, long white hair drawn back from his face, his angular features illuminated by candlelight.

His stare is piercing, the blue of his seeing eye boring into her with an intensity that sends both a shiver of fear up her spine and the warmth of arousal pooling between her legs. He pays rapt attention to her as she moves around the table, filling cups as she goes.

When she stands beside him to fill his, he looks up at her, studying her carefully. She can feel the faintest tickle of his breath upon her neck and it causes her heart to hammer wildly in her chest. His fingers brush hers as he moves to lift his cup and she pulls her hand back as though scalded, in the wake of the gooseflesh his touch causes to erupt upon her skin.

That night when she climbs into bed, despite her exhaustion, her hand drifts between her legs, her mind filled with thoughts of the One Eyed Prince.

The next week continues in much the same way. Aemond’s eye never leaves her as she serves wine at dinner and she revels in every little accidental touch that he bestows upon her whenever she is in close enough proximity.

It is early afternoon as she places the full pitcher of wine upon the table. She has been into this room every day since she began working at the Red Keep, changed the sheets on the bed and brought wine, but it’s never occupied and nothing within gives any indication as to who it might belong to.

She turns around, with the intention of leaving now that her task is complete, when she is met with the solid expanse of Aemond’s chest. Oh gods, of course this would be his bedchamber.

She gasps as she knocks into him, staring up at him wide-eyed. “I-I beg your pardon, Your Grace.” She stammers. “That was clumsy of me.”

His lips quirk upwards into the faintest of smirks as he looks down at her. He says nothing for a few moments, his eye travelling the length of her before settling back on her face. “You are trembling. Do I frighten you?”

She shakes her head. It occurs to her that this is the first time she has ever heard him speak. His voice is much gentler than she was anticipating.

“No.” She whispers. It is only half a lie, but she dare not tell him of the desire that flutters in her lower belly in his presence. She is certain he must be able to hear her heartbeat, such is the power of how it thuds against her ribs.

“Hmmm.” He continues to loom over her, unmoving.

“I should go.” She murmurs.

“I’m not stopping you.” Comes his soft response.

Reluctantly, she looks away, moving around him before hurrying from the room. It is not until she is a respectable distance away down the corridor that she stops, pressing her back to the cold stone wall and sucking in steadying breaths to calm herself.

She is unsure of what exactly just transpired between her and Prince Aemond, but she knows she wants more of it.

Another few days pass by, the lingering looks at dinner continue alongside touches which she is now sure are deliberate. She feels as though she is a mouse being toyed with by a cat, but cannot find it in herself to mind. Their minimalist, yet charged interactions have grown to be the highlight of her day.

She is peeling potatoes in the kitchens when the Keep’s steward approaches her.

“Prince Aemond has requested your presence in his chambers. You are to go at once. Take wine.”

Her mouth runs dry at those words, a mixture of excitement and nervousness prickling under her skin, that she does her best to mask with a neutral expression. She nods, wiping her hands on her apron and making haste to fetch a jug.

Moments later she arrives outside of Aemond’s chamber door, knocking softly with her free hand.

“Enter.” He calls out.

She pushes open the door, closing it behind her once inside, and almost drops the wine she holds in shock.

Aemond sits naked in a bathtub beside the lit fireplace, his elbows resting on the sides, his tall frame bent slightly to fit within the tight confines. He is not wearing his eyepatch and she is stunned to see that he wears a sapphire in the socket. The wound is not quite so gruesome as she had suspected it might be, the overall effect makes him all the more alluring.

Her cheeks burn as she tries to look anywhere but at him. “So sorry, your Grace.” She says quickly. “I just came to bring you wine, as requested. Please forgive the intrusion.”

She sets it down on the nearest table, turning to leave.

“I won’t be able to reach it from there.” He says, his voice smooth as silk. “Bring it closer.”

She gulps, picking the jug back up and carrying it over to the surface closest to the bath.

It is impossible for her not to stare as she takes in the damp ends of his long, white hair, spread out across the planes of his well defined chest.

“Like what you see?” He asks her, clearly amused by her ogling.

“Apologies, Your Grace. I didn't mean to stare.”

“Oh, but I think you did. And I feel it’s only fair that you return the favour.”

“What do you mean?”

“Take off your clothes. Let me see you too.”

“I-I can’t, that is not appropriate.” Despite her protests, she feels a familiar warmth spread between her thighs.

“I am not my brother.” Aemond says with a shrug. “I will not force you. If you don’t wish to, you can leave. But I don’t think you will.”

“I…want to.” She admits, beginning to push her dress from her shoulders.

“Good girl.” He murmurs, a hand disappearing beneath the water to stroke at himself. “That’s it, everything, even your smallclothes.”

She does as she’s told, but finds she is unable to look at him once stood bare before him, too embarrassed by the intimacy of it all.

“So beautiful.” He tells her. “See what you do to me?”

Her eyes travel to where his fist moves up and down. Much of him is obscured by the water, but she can see enough to know that he is big. Her breath hitches at the sight. “Will you-”

“Fuck you?” He finishes for her. “No, I would not be so foolish as to risk putting a bastard inside of a serving girl.”

She is disappointed by the admission, her heart sinking a little as she continues to watch him fuck his fist to the sight of her undressed.

“Do you ever touch yourself?” He asks.

She nods shyly and he hisses a “fuck”, moving his hand over his length faster than before.

“Do you think about me?”

She does not know where it comes from or how she is able to let the admission go so freely, but the words have left her mouth before she has a chance to think about them. “Every night since I started working here.”

Aemond emits a low groan, his jaw going slack. “Perhaps one day you will permit me to watch.”

She inhales sharply at this, her core clenching around nothing, certain he must be able to see the slick which now coats her inner thighs.

With a grunt and a stutter of his hips, Aemond comes undone, spilling pearly ropes of his spend over his fingers and into the bathwater. His eye is hooded and hazy when he finally relaxes back into the tub.

“You may dress and leave now.” He instructs. “Next time I will allow you to touch instead of just observing.”

The words make her feel light headed. Next time.

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #prince aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond stannies #pro aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd smut #aemond targaryen fan fiction #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fan fic #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd fan fiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fanficton #hotd fan fic

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valaenatargaryensdragon · 8 months ago

Text

Maegor Targaryen Masterlist

To join my taglist

Kinktober 2023.2024

Requests: Open

Maegor I Targaryen: Aenora Targaryen

Aesthetics:

Aenora Targaryen aesthetic 2

One shots:

Only a Dragon

Requests:

ONE 2 3

TWO

THREE 2

FOUR

FIVE

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon imagine #hotd imagine #maegor imagine #maegor smut #maegor #maegor x reader #maegor targaryen x reader #maegor targaryen #maegor the cruel #maegor x oc #masterlist #valaenatargaryensdragon

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witchofhimring · 9 months ago

Text

Aemond Targaryen x Reader HOTD AU (what if women had the same rights as men?)

In this AU women have the same rights as men which changes the history of Westeros. In this story the reader comes from an island off Westeros and marries into the Targaryen family.

I do not know if I will make a book of this concept by I will make headcanons and one shots. Certain aspects will be changed from the books.

This list includes OC's. The next post about this AU will cover Reader's children and grandchildren.

Queens:

Visenya the Conqueror

Parents: Aerion Targaryen and Valaena Velayon

Spouce(s): Aegon Targaryen

Children: Maegor Targaryen

Reign: 1 AC-44 AC

Birth: 29 AC

Death: 44 AC

Canon changes: Rules in her own right and rides Balerion instead of Vaeghar.

Maegor the Strong

Parents: Visenya Targaryen and Aegon Targaryen

Spouce(s): not decided (I will chose at a further date)

Children: none

Reign: 44 AC- undecided (TBA)

Birth: 12 AC

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Is the heir to the Iron Throne. No wars with the faith or nephews. This changes the political landscape of Westeros.

Rhaena the Black Queen

Parents: Aenys Targaryen and Alyssa Velaryon

Spouce(s): Aegon Targaryen, Androw Farman

Children: Aerea Targaryen, Rhaella Targaryen

Reign: TBA

Birth: 23 AC

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Becomes Queen in her own right, is Maegor's successor.

Jaehaerys the Old King

Parents: Aenys Targaryen and Alyssa Velaryon

Spouce(s): Alysanne Targaryen

Children: Aegon Targaryen, Daenerys Targaryen, Aemon Targaryen, Baelon Targaryen, Alyssa Targaryen, Maegelle Targaryen, Vaegon Targaryen, Daella Targaryen, Saera Targaryen, Viserra Targaryen, Gaemon Targaryen, Vaelerion Targaryen, Gael Targaryen

Reign: TBA-103 AC

Birth: 34 AC

Death: 103 AC

Canon changes: Succeeds his elder sister. Makes Rhaenys his heir.

Rhaenys the First

Parents: Aemon Targaryen, Jocelyn Baratheon

Spouce(s): Corlys Valeryon

Children: Laenor Velaryon, Laena Velaryon

Reign: TBA

Birth: 74 AC

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Becomes Queen

Laenor the Lazy

Parents: Rhaenys Targaryen

Spouce(s): Rhaenyra Targaryen

Children: Jacaerys Targaryen, Lucerys Velaryon, Jeoffrey Velarion

Reign: TBA- 120 AC

Birth: 93 AC

Death: 120 AC (presumably)

Canon changes: Becomes King. In the books Laenor is born in 94 AC however as he is the elder sibling in the show I moved up his date of birth to be older than Laena.

Rhaenyra the Dragon

Parents: Viserys Targaryen, Aemma Arryn

Spouce(s): Laenor Valeryon, Daemon Targaryen

Children: Jacaerys Targaryen, Lucerys Targaryen, Jeoffrey Velaryon, Aegon Targaryen, Viserys Targaryen, Visenya Targaryen

Reign: 120 AC- TBA

Birth: 97 AC

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Becomes Queen by succeeding her husband.

Daemon the Black

Parents: Baelon Targaryen, Alyssa Targaryen

Spouce(s): Laena Targaryen, Rhaenyra Targaryen

Children: Baela Targaryen, Rhaena Targaryen, Aegon Targaryen, Viserys Targaryen, Visenya Targaryen

Birth: 81 AC

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Is consort of Laena and ruling with his wife.

Jacaerys the First & Baela the Just

Parents: Laenor Velaryon, Rhaenyra Targaryen

Spouce(s): Baela Targaryen, Agatha Hedrow (OC)

Children: Viserys Targaryen, Vaeserion Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen, Aelyanna Targaryen, Amara Targaryen, Visenya Targaryen, Edwin Targaryen (all are OC'S)

Reign: TBA-TBA

Birth: 144 AC

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Becomes King, co-rules with Baela. Marries a second time to Agatha Hedrow (OC).

Parents: Daemon Targaryen, Laena Targaryen

Spouce(s): Jacaerys Targaryen

Children: Viserys Targaryen, Vaeserion Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen (all are OC'S)

Reign: TBA-TBA

Birth: 116 AC

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Becomes Queen

Viserys the First (OC)

Parents: Jacaerys Targaryen, Baela Targaryen

Spouce(s): Daenerys Targaryen

Children: Rhaenyra Targaryen, Alicent Targaryen, Baela Targaryen (all OC's)

Reign: TBA-TBA

Birth: TBA

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Is an OC.

Daenerys the Golden Queen (OC)

Parents: Aemond Targaryen, Y/n Blackhalt

Spouce(s): Viserys the Second

Children: Rhaenyra Targaryen, Alicent Targaryen, Baela Targaryen (all OC's)

Reign: TBA-TBA

Birth: TBA

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Is an OC.

Daenerys the Golden Queen

Rhaenyra the Second

Parents: Viserys Targaryen, Daenerys Targaryen

Spouce(s): TBA

Children: A son (more children may be added)

Reign: TBA-TBA

Birth: TBA

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Is an OC.

Female heirs:

Y/n of Blackhalt (the reader)

Parents: TBA

Spouce(s): Aemond Targaryen

Children: Daenerys Targaryen, Vaella Targaryen, Jaehaerys Targaryen ,Elarion Targaryen, Hardin Targaryen, Elara Targaryen, Vissera Targaryen, Viserys Targaryen, Alice Targaryen

Birth: TBA

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Is an OC.

Alys Strong

Parents: Lyonel Strong (mother unknown)

Spouce(s): none

Children: Aelon Strong (OC)

Birth: TBA

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Is an OC.

Cassandra Baratheon

Parents: Borros Baratheon, Elenda Caron

Spouce(s): TBA

Children: TBA

Birth: TBA

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Is Lady of Storm's End.

Laena Velaryon

Parents: Corlys Velaryon, Rhaenys Targaryen

Spouce(s): Daemon Targaryen

Children: Baela Targaryen, Rhaena Targaryen

Birth: 94 AC

Death: 120 AC

Canon changes: Is Lady of the Tides

Baela Targaryen

Profile above. Baela was made Lady of the tides after her mothers death and the title was passed on to her second son.

Consorts:

Aegon and Rhaenys

Parents:

Spouce(s):

Children:

Reign: TBA-TBA

Birth: TBA

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Is consort instead of ruler.

Parents: Aerion Targaryen and Valaena Velayon

Spouce(s): Aegon Targaryen

Children: Aenys Targaryen

Birth: 25 BC

Death: 10 AC

Maegor's Queen has yet to be decided

Androw Farman

Parents: Marq Farman

Spouce(s): Rhaenys Targaryen

Children: none

Birth: 32 AC

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Is consort to the Queen.

Alysanne Targaryen

Parents: Aenys Targaryen, Alyssa Velaryon

Spouce(s): Jaehaerys Targaryen

Birth: 36 AC

Death: 100 AC

Corlys Velaryon

Parents: Corwyn Valeryon (mother unnamed)

Spouce(s): Rhaenys Targaryen

Children: Laenor Velaryon, Laena Velaryon

Birth: 53 AC

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Is the Queens consort.

Rhaenyra Targaryen

View profile above. Rhaenyra served as consort for several years before becoming Queen Regnant.

Agatha Hedrow (OC)

Parents: TBA

Spouce(s): Jacaerys Targaryen

Children: Aelyanna Targaryen, Amara Targaryen, Visenya Targaryen, Edwin Targaryen (all are OC'S)

Birth: TBA

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Is an OC.

Daenerys Targaryen

View profile above. Daenerys served as consort for several years before becoming Queen Regnant.

Rhaenyra the Seconds consort is not yet decided

#hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond fic #aemond x fem reader #amond targaryen x y/n #hotd x y/n #house of the dragon #hotd angst #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon x reader

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not-so-lost-after-all · 1 month ago

Text

Final veil

Chapter Word Count: 6k

Fic Summary: The world can be a cruel, especially to children. But maybe, just maybe, the gods smiled at her for once. Buckle up because this isn't exactly a fix it fic but Jaehaera Targaryen gets a shot at happiness. Or, how I wanted to give the little queen a voice.

Taglist: Jaehaera Targaryen x Aegon III Targaryen, alternate universe - canon divergence, angst

Warnings: canon typical violence, character death, pregnancy, blood, incest, you know the drill

***

It happened so fast that, in the darkness, she almost failed to notice that the man had some stripe tattoo on his face. She only caught a glimpse of him for a fraction of a heartbeat when he jerked her out of bed, fully waking her up. He pulled her back against his chest and covered her mouth with his hand to keep her from screaming. She kept biting his palm persistently as he pulled her to the open window. It was no use, because she was only a girl, and she'd always been small even for her age.

At that moment the old fear began to paralyze her but it was mercifully brief. When the man was thowing her from the window of Maegor's Holdfast into the cold rain, fear was replaced by a sense of disbelief. It's just another nightmare, this time about her mother Helaena and she'll wake up before she hits the surface. She only had time to scream once.

When she hit the spikes down there in the ditch, she couldn't scream anymore. She could hardly breathe and her mouth was immediately filled with blood. She saw several bloody spikes sticking out of her stomach and chest, one more piercing her left thigh. Her whole body seemed to throb with pain, not just the individual wounds, and she began to jerk in spasms. She was fleetingly aware that she peed herself but didn't care. She wished it would end right here, that she can already be with her mother and father and brothers.

Several people were running around and she could hear their voices, but she couldn't focus on them. After an interminable amount of time, many hands removed her body from the spikes and placed her on the ground. Then Grand Maester Munkun bent over her, turning her head to the left, ordering her to spit out blood. He gave her poppy milk to drink, she could tell... and she gulped it down greedily, though with effort, until Munkun pulled the bowl with the red lip imprint away from her mouth. Then at last came the nothingness. Until the last moment Jaehaera had no idea if it was death or unconsciousness, but at that moment she didn't even care.

***

She survived the night. And the following day. Was later told that whenever she was conscious she screamed. She screamed even more whenever anyone as much as touched her. Munkun opened her body several times to fix what he could. During one such procedure, she regained consciousness and saw a piece of something shiny, dark, and bloody on the table next to her, something he had taken out of her. It was then that she first heard the Grand Maester curse. She never told him that she remembered the gruesome image.

By the middle of the second week, she was able to remain conscious for several hours each day and able to tell what had happened. She described it to the Hand, Lord Peake. Described the man who had tried to kill her, his strange tattoos and the smell of unwashed sweat. The Hand told her that Tessario the Tiger had been found in his room the morning after her accident, with his throat slit. Apparently he killed himself to avoid torture. Peake nodded at the words, obviously pleased with himself. She felt nothing.

Her husband did not visit her, but resented the dereliction of duty committed by Ser Mervyn, who was to watch her bedroom door. Despite the Hand's protests, he ordered Mervyn to be flogged with thirty lashes, from which the knight never recovered and died two days later. Perhaps someone helped him to his grave, and perhaps the Seven themselves were just angry with him.

So Jaehaera Targaryen survived. Some others... did not.

***

When she was able to get back on her feet after five weeks, she was finally able to return to her room. This time she was accompanied by two members of the Royal Guard who would remain at her door until further notice. Waiting for her in her bedroom was her companion, Lady Cassandra, who immediately rose from her bed and bowed.

"My lady, I'm so sorry..."

"Yes, yes. If you were so sorry, you should have come and see me."

Cassandra Baratheon pressed her lips into a tight line. "Whatever anyone was telling you about why I didn't come, it was simply because they wouldn't let me see you."

Jaehaera didn't know the truth and didn't care. Instead of answering, she walked over to the wall where her collection of dolls was propped up with their tiny backs. Taking an armful of them, she walked over to the window and one by one, she tossed the dolls down into the gutter where their heads shattered. They offered her no comfort any more.

"If there's anything I can do for you..."

"Hmmm? No, I don't want anyone's company. I just wish you'd leave and never come back."

"As you wish, my lady."

A sigh of relief escaped Jaehaera's lips as Cassandra disappeared, leaving her all alone.

***

She hadn't seen her husband for two months before he invited her to dinner with him. She didn't want to leave the room but knew it was an order and after all, she should leave her only room after so long. The maids put on the red dress Aegon had sent her and the knights escorted her to the table.

Aegon was already waiting for her, a tall boy with white hair and dark eyes. He wasn't looking at her though, he was rummaging through a pork roast with apples, his face serious. She knew that, just like her, he found little pleasure in eating.

He gestured with his hand to the seat across from him, but still didn't look at her. When she sat down and her food was brought to her, Aegon started eating for real. After a while, he noticed that Jaehaera was just sitting there over her full plate.

"You don't have to worry, all our food is given to the tasters in advance. Just like the ones they bring to your room."

Simple "Oh," escaped her throat. There was no warmth in his words, nothing comforting except the truth behind them. For too long, she didn't know what to say. "Thank you," she finally blurted out.

They ate in silence for some time before Aegon surprised her with a question. "What are you doing alone in that room all day?"

She looked up in surprise to find that this time her cousin and husband was actually looking right at her. At first she stared at him with her lips parted and blinked, but then she organized her thoughts and told him the simple truth. "I'm not alone, I have kittens. And I think I've just borrowed maybe a third of the books from Grandmaster Muncun's library. He's teaching me how to read and write. Mostly I read about our ancestors, sometimes stories about knights, but sometimes Munkun makes me learn numbers in vain."

A fleeting smile crossed Aegon's lips.

"But why do you ask?"

"Because I'm often alone too, and nothing I can do will keep me busy for long. I've been wondering if you knew any secrets."

This time she lifted the corners of her lips. He was obviously expecting a witty answer now, but she didn't know any secrets, so she just shook her head. Neither of them spoke again and only the clinking of cutlery echoed in the room. Once, when she unconsciously touched his arm fleetingly, she noticed that his fingers twitched and he withdrew it.

Oh, they could talk about a lot of things. About how her father had his dragon kill and eat his mother. Or how his father had her brother murdered in front of her. But neither of them ever talked about those things. Their dinners were a pain even without such burdens.

***

When Aegon's lost brother Viserys returned, his queen was of course to be among the first people to greet her brother-in-law. She understood that this was one of the few occasions when she was actually expected to show himself to the subjects, and she didn't want to fail.

A few days before, she had tried to walk down from her bedroom to the courtyard and back once again, accompanied by Munkun, with the Grand Maester patiently walking two steps behind her. Jaehaera eot gasping for air the entire time, her hand pressed against the right side of her chest. It was as if a red-hot needle pierced her lung.

Below, the Grand Maester stood silently beside her. "You are doing fine, my lady."

She didn't move a muscle in her face. "Will it ever get better, Munkun? It's been so long and I still nearly faint at the slightest exertion," she asked bluntly.

A sigh escaped the Grand Master. "No. I don't think it will ever get better. If you were stronger, it would help a little, yes. I understand you don't want to hear it, but I'm not going to lie to my queen."

But how could I get stronger if I can't swallow more than three spoonfuls of food at a time? She couldn't tell him that, she just continued to stare vaguely at something in front of her. But inside she felt a bitter frustration.

"They can carry you to the harbour in a litter if you like," the Grand Maester suggested in a kind voice.

She turned her head sharply towards him, and he finally remembered how her father had died.

"I won't walk, I won't be carried there, and riding a horse would probably kill me."

So when the day came, she just watched from the window as Aegon walked across the courtyard surrounded by courtiers dressed like birds hungry for admiration. He glanced once in her direction and his tense face tightened even more. Was that disappointment?

But then she took another look at his flamboyant company. No, it would still be safer if these snakes and their subjects did not see their skinny, pale queen, who could hardly stand on her two feet. They remembered the pretty little girl from the royal wedding, but they did not know that what they thought was a sign of bravery was only a dazed mind.

***

One, two, three, four years have passed. Aegon spent most of his time with his brother. Her only company was usually Grand Maester Munkun when he taught her. He was patient with her, and she slowly moved forward. Sometimes he seemed to be amused by her conclusions and would quickly correct her, and Jaehaera always gave him a confused look before he moved the conversation elsewhere. When she turned fifteen, he had to admit to himself that her mind has its limitations. Jaehaera would never be able to enter the Citadel, but if nothing else, he had raised her to be a decently educated young lady, despite everything going against her - he acknowledged that proudly.

As with everything else that concerned her, she blossomed into a woman late in life, at the age of fifteen. And it was Munkun again who suggested to Aegon that he might take her to bed, it was their duty, in fact. Those were his exact words. The icy shell around her lungs only tightened at how formal it sounded, at what the words mean.

She had to admit that Aegon's answer didn't surprise her much. "Let us be clear on that matter, Grand Maester," he said almost ceremonially. "She's just a thin, quiet little girl. I don't like her from the front or from the back. There's nothing tempting about her. This is no wife of mine, not really. Maybe we should stop fooling ourselves."

Jaehaera and the Grand Maester kept staring after him as he immediately left. "You meant well," she finally said. Munkun knew that she and her husband had lost parents and siblings in the war, and had been forced to undergo a hasty escape as well as watch someone close to them die. He had no illusions about either of them, but he probably thought that, as two broken people, Jaehaera and Aegon could help each other grow. But she and her husband had long ago come to some unspoken understanding. Aegon is like a piece from a different puzzle - he was broken just like her, but in a completely different way.

The memory of grandmother Alicent was now forcing itself back into her mind. How her grandmother had begged her with wild eyes to slit Aegon's throat one night. She squeezed her eyelids tightly against the rush of tears and forcibly pushed the memory away.

And so she accepted this as the best solution. If their rare times together during the day were a misery, their nights would be a disaster.

Later, much later, Aegon did find a mistress. Daenaera Velaryon occasionally kept her company on walks to the Godswood when Jaehaera was having one of her good days. On one such occasion, the younger girl told her what was happening. It was, of course, the idea of the king's sister Baela, who had taken Daenera in since she was an orphan.

"Does that bother you, my lady?" the girl asked cautiously.

Jaehaera just shrugged. Why should she care? It wasn't going to threaten her.

In the end, Munkun warned her that she might actually be in danger, but it was too late to defy the king's wishes. Since then, Aegon was seen accompanied by Daenera much often than his wife at social events. Sometimes she saw them together, Aegon all in black and Daenaera in the blue-green of her house. The cheerful girl brought him more happiness than she ever could, but Jaehaera was only aware of that as if she was looking at her own distorted reflection in a mirror, a reminder of her own inadequacy.

Next to him, Daenaera Velaryon was charming and articulate, while the best people would say about the queen was that she was... kind (useless). Round where Jaehaera was bony, with quick feet and a quick smile. And she was half a head taller. She had porcelain skin and silver hair streaked with gold, while Jaehaera's skin was pale in an unhealthy way and her hair was more grey than silver. Daenaera liked to touch people, and Aegon tolerated her touch where he would have pushed the hand of his wife away.

It should probably fill her with bitterness but she mostly felt relieved. Once, when Jaehaera wanted to hold her husband and the other woman's newborn son, the child in her arms immediately began to cry, so she hastily handed him over to the nurse and fled in dismay.

***

The king received Arwyll, the castellan of Dragonstone, in modest company, just as he had requested. There was only the king, his brother, the members of the small council, and Jaehaera herself, whom Arwyll, for who knows why, wanted in the throne room as well. The castellan bowed to Aegon and Jaehaera and had a huge metal crate brought in. A surprise, he said. That was the only thing he had let them know beforehand, nothing more. An angry scratching sound came from the inside of the crate.

"I'm not sure His Grace will be pleased with this find but he should be among the first to know, whatever he decides."

When Jaehaera looked at Aegon at that moment, she realized that he has the same idea concerning what just might be in there, because he drew in air sharply several times. He nodded. The men from Dragonstone hastily removed the lid of the crate and a drawn out hiss echoed through the hall. Aegon tensed all over again but eventually made his way to the precious find with slow steps, with the others in tow. He showed interest in just a few things but dragons, oh just the mention of them he did not take well at all.

"Arwyll," he said sharply as he stopped moving, still a safe distance from the crate, "I think you know my answer. You needn't have bothered, and you might as well have put the dragonling down."

"The spawn may be useful," prince Viserys countered. "His Grace may not see it at all if he doesn't want to."

"You should probably know one thing about this dragon before His Grace makes up his mind. That's why I wanted you to see it with your own eyes." That was the castellan of Dragonstone.

Jaehaera who was ignored the whole time had reached the crate in the meantime. A low chuckle escaped her. "It's no whelp."

"What?" Aegon turned to her.

"I say it's not a whelp," she raised her voice this time so that the others would finally notice her. A light green dragon was spinning around in the box in annoyance, sparking fire furiously. It was too small, no bigger than a full-grown dog, strangely crooked and with stubby wings. Undoubtedly, though, it was an adult dragon. Jaehaera laughed in delight, the first time she had since childhood.

"Well, in that case, there's no reason to keep the creature at all, because it won't be very useful at this size, if I'm not mistaken," Aegon said through his teeth.

"It's the last dragon," Viserys reminded him. That was true, the dragon called Morning who bonded with the king's sister Rhaena had died three years ago.

Jaehaera reached out and gently touched the head of the little dragon. The creature sputtered, but eventually closed its eyes and buried its head in her palm. Something akin to a contented purr escaped its throat.

"I want it. If it doesn't grow anymore, I can take care of it."

It took the breath away from the men present. Aegon finally waved his hand. "That creature will die. Surely my lady can find another toy."

"I insist," she gave him a hard look. "I've never asked you anything and I never will again, but I want that dragon."

Aegon tilted his head to the side and let her demand run through his head for a moment. "I have no idea what you're trying to accomplish but have it your way. Keep the bastard dragon before he perishes in a dark corner somewhere."

Jaehaera clapped her hands and the little dragon leapt out of the crate. By the time Jaehaera headed for the door, he was following her faithfully.

***

The last dragon was still at her heels, really like a big dog. He clearly enjoyed her presence, even if he had gradually learned to accept the presence of other people.

As for herself, the dragon gave her courage. Taking care of it brought her her first real joy, as if it were her life goal. Mostly she still spoke only to Munkun, sometimes to Aegon or his brother but she had gotten used to walking around the Red Keep on her own, and for the first time she gave orders without hesitation. She thought long and hard about what name to give him. The dragon she had lost as a child was named Morghul but she had not chosen that name for him. So she began to call her last dragon Aenar.

When Aegon once asked her at dinner why she was so attached to that creature, she didn't hesitate.

"He's like my child. My first and my last."

Was it her imagination, or did he really flinch as if he was uncomfortable? Jaehaera, on the other hand, smiled to herself. He watched her warily, as if seeing her for the first time, and it took so long that she blushed all over. But they both knew she had just played him. He would never take that dragon from her. He already had four children he had legitimized without her, as his wife, raising a word of protest. Munkun had once claimed Aegon was dead inside but Jaehaera knew that wasn't true and her husband did not have the habit of being unnecessarily cruel.

***

Her dragon was not a dragon but a dragoness. So Aeanara...

Once the dragoness had laid a clutch of eggs, the queen had Aenara moved from her chamber to the largest room on the second level of the dungeons under the Red Keep, which was a safer place. However, she couldn't bring herself to keep the dragoness locked in that cell, so the door was always left open. Aenara slept patiently curled around her clutch, but she herself seemed increasingly agitated. Her beautiful eggs, however, were still as hard as stone after several months.

In fact, here in the underground Jaehaera was losing track of time and often forgot to eat. She was kneeling next to the dragoness, carefully placing her palm on one egg after another, when Aegon appeared.

"You missed our dinner. One would think it is such a rare occasion that you'd remember," he snapped. She heard the annoyance in his voice and didn't care.

"One would think you wouldn't mind, my lord," she replied without raising her head.

"That's not what I said."

"You came all the way here. Don't you have anything better to do?" After all, this was one of the last places he should be going.

She heard him take a few reluctant steps closer behind her back.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of this poor girl. It's a twisted animal with stunted wings that has never hurt anyone before. Is that what you're afraid of? You should feel sorry for her."

"It still has teeth and claws and spits fire. She's definitely not defenseless," Aegon grumbled, but knelt down beside her anyway to examine the eggs.

Jaehaera finally looked at him. He watched the scene in front of him with his eyebrows drawn together. "I'm going to have the eggs destroyed anyway but you already know that. I don't want any more... freaks around."

"They won't hatch," she said with conviction. "She's beginning to suspect it, too." At this, her husband just nodded in satisfaction.

"But don't you at least want to touch her while you're here?" There was a certain playfulness in her voice now. For a few moments he even glanced at her lips.

"I'd rather touch a corpse," he started to get up.

Jaehaera grabbed his forearm tentatively and didn't let go when he jerked it. Before he could realize what was happening, he had his palm pressed against the warm scales on the dragon's neck. Aenara opened her eyes at that moment and lazily sniffed the stranger's hand.

"See, it wasn't that bad."

She put her palm on his own and this time he didn't flinch.

***

When the visit of Magister Nevius of Pentos was imminent, everyone expected the king to meet him alone or to be accompanied by his mistress. But this time, Jaehaera wanted to play the queen for once. To prove that she is the blood of the dragon after all.

She came to the feast accompanied by a bevy of noble ladies, as expected. She had chosen a velvet dress in Targaryen colors, and her hair had been combed and arranged in a hair net decorated with rubies by these ladies, most of whom she did not even know by name. She was immediately the target of surprised glances, and her throat tightened in horror. But almost everyone immediately turned their attention back to their respective companions, and the music again drowned out the conversation. As she sat down beside the throne where Aegon was already seated, she thought it foolish to ever be afraid of something so mundane and lightly chuckled.

She rarely spoke to anyone but twice she danced briefly with Nevius himself, who considerately interrupted the dance when she ran out of breath. Once she was asked for a dance by her brother-in-law, who accidentally stepped on her foot. But Aegon never danced, and today he seemed particularly silent and withdrawn. When he looked at her, she had no idea whether she had pleased or offended him with her actions. As the evening progressed, she noticed that they were both drinking too much wine although neither was usually too fond of it. With every passing hour, she drank to endure the buzzing of the maddening swarm.

When she left the hall with Aegon, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. With a strangely light head, she realized that she'd never actually seen his bedroom before. She even slipped out of her dress with ease, though she was usually embarrassed by her scar-filled body. She desperately wanted to say something, anything, but it was as if even her tongue had gone soft. Aegon kissed her gingerly at first, as if she were made of glass, but she stood on her tiptoes and deepened the kiss with her inexperienced lips to the best if her abilities, which wasn't much of anything.

Her body was cold andv her cheeks hot when she moaned during that unfimiliar wave of searing bliss, pressing him to her as he began to pull away. "I didn't mean to cry out," she giggled. She turned away, more out of pride than shame. "If I weren't your wife, I'd be embarassed." Instantly, her face turned into silent shock. The fact that she had even said those words...

He laughed at her remark and expression, and she blinked in surprise. "You have a nice laugh, though you're certainly not using it often," she ran her smooth fingers over his right cheek.

He removed the arm that hung around his neck, smelling faintly of sweat and bitter like almonds, and pressed a kiss into her palm.

When she awoke from her light sleep a little later, she still remembered apologizing to grandma Alicent in her dream. She found out that Aegon had not yet closed his eyes. This dark room, decorated with gold, reminded her of a story her grandfather had once told her about some greedy gnomes and so she took Aegon in her arms, and for perhaps whole hours she babbled similar nonsense. Her voice finally lulled him to sleep, and he never learned what happened to the gnomes.

***

The Red Keep was attacked by ropes of rain from the blackened sky. It rained through the night until noon, so the water stood on the streets of King's Landing, not draining away, and children sent paper boats down the muddy torrents.

"I don't need bodyguards all the time, Gyles. Shouldn't you be sharpening swords or something?" Jaehaera spoke gruffly but she wasn't actually angry. Seven knew she was used to Gyles and his comrades. That didn't mean they didn't drive her crazy at times, though.

"It is my duty, my lady. And our swords are being sharpened by a blacksmith." Gyles kept pace behind her. There was no other way. The courtyard looked like one big muddy puddle, and narrow planks were laid in every direction for walking on. Here and there a huge wet snowflake drifted through the air, a harbinger of winter to come. One of them just landed on Gyles' eye and he cursed.

Her own heartbeat rumbled in her ears like the sea. For a single moment of fleeting time, she caught a glimpse of a fair-haired boy with features she knew from the mirror, just standing there in the kitchen doorway. His eyes were cloudy and blind, but he was smiling right at her. She quickly closed her eyes and breathed the cold air in. The world was spinning. Cold sweat broke out on her hands and her breathing was surprisingly shallow. The pressure in her head intensified for a moment until it was almost unbearable. It was like falling down from a tower...

The impact didn't come, darkness came instead. Not the dark grey interspersed with streaks of light and the darkest shade in the corners of the room but pitch black darkness. She was standing in something sticky and wet and felt cold surface underfoot.

Growl. And close. The first sound here sans her own breath. She heard no movement in the water, no taping on the surface. She cried out as a sharp stabbing pain shot through her left arm, and stumbled a few steps away. She could have sworn something had torn the skin down the length of her arm. But the touch of her other hand said no such thing had happened.

The beast drew breath into its lungs and snorted loudly. As she tried to move away, Jaehaera tripped over something bony and fell down into the cold liquid. She skinned her left palm and only now realized what the rancid smell she had been smelling all this time. Up close now, she could clearly tell that it was decomposing blood - a mixture of damp underground, fish and rotten flesh. She jerked the hand she was using to support herself as a couple of small, slippery creatures scurried underneath it.

It was quiet around again. When she remained completely still, strange ideas flooded her mind. What she saw was a little frightening at first, but it was as if she had experienced it herself... the fire, the screaming and the smell of burning flesh... the flesh she tore with her teeth from the human torso, the heart that looked like a bloody fist... her own saliva dripping into the open skull that still throbbed with life inside. All of this was gradually replaced by a quiet sound that she couldn't relate to anything she knew at first. Only after some time, She recognized the kind of strange babbling that children who can't yet speak make.

The moment she realized it, a light appeared. Lots of outlines of animals lit up around her, just strokes a child would draw. Several times she had to dodge a flying butterfly or a cat brushing against her legs.

She backed up, tripping again. She heard a child's laughter, but by then she had already hit the wall and the wall parted and she fell onto a layer of muddy snow.

She was awakened by a palm falling on her cheek. She jerked and opened her eyes.

"You have fainted, my lady. A few hours ago," Munkun smiled apologetically.

"I'm with child," the slightly irritated words came out like a shot. It was actually too soon to be sure, but... she was sure of it.

"Congratulations," Munkun summed up, bowing his head slightly.

"No. The child is not well." She knew it, she felt it. How could a woman like her have a child other than some little deformed creature?

"If I may give you any advice," the Grand Maester rose to his feet, "you must trust the child a bit more. If you get rid of it and never have another, you'll spend the rest of your life wondering what might have been. And believe me, it's not a life worth living."

She said nothing and just watched him with a blank stare as he turned back at the door. "But if you do decide to get rid of it anyway, don't tell the King. Ever."

"He still hasn't quite come to terms with the idea of cheating on his mistress with his own wife."

"I'm certainly not going to tell him." He gave her a strained smile. Jaehaera preferred not to inquire further as to how many of the ladies at curt he had helped in that particular way had been given a gold necklace by their husbands to ease their supposed grief.

***

She had a strange feeling that day, her instincts warning her of something, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was. It was like a word that kept itching on her tongue. She decided to visit Aenara, and at the upper entrance to the dungeons she ordered Gyles to stay there. The dungeons were empty, after all.

She'd never gotten used to the stuffy atmosphere underground, and the faint smell of smoke from the torches made her stomach churn. Aenara hissed weakly when she saw her and slowly approached Jaehaera. Ever since the clutch had been taken from her, she had shown remarkable indifference to everything going on around her. It was for the best though, because after so long it was clear that her eggs were nothing more than strange precious stones.

Jaehaera put one hand on her protruding belly and the other on the dragoness's snout. "You'll accompany me again, what you say?" At that, Aenara let out something akin to a satisfied huff. Seven knew the two needed each other. "The little one will adore you too, I'm sure."

At that, Aenara stiffened and hissed at something behind the woman's back. Jaehaera seemed petrified and her thoughts immediately froze. So her hunch came true after all...

"Hello, little queen," she heard a slightly amused voice behind her, with a faint accent she couldn't recognize. Somewhere in the distance, there was this muffled sound of dripping water and she wondered whether or or not Gyles could hear her screams from down here but he'd probably never get to her in time anyway.

She slowly turned around.

A tall man leaned against the door frame, a confident smile on his lips. Actually, he didn't look all that dangerous. His hair was grayish and his face tired like he's someone slapped by fate repeatedly, even though he still won't be forty for a long time. Then she noticed the giant butcher knife at his side.

To her own surprise, she was able to control the weakness that began to stir in her muscles. This wasn't Tessario the Tiger and she wasn't a child anymore. The dragoness at her side growled angrily but Jaehaera held her back with a gesture of her hand, far from certain of the outcome of that battle.

"How did you get here..." she fired the question at him in a desperate attempt not to feel like a victim.

He raised one eyebrow. Of course. It was a pointless question. Either he'd been locked in one of the cells for some time and someone had opened the door for him at the best moment, or he'd gotten in through one of the secret passages under the Red Keep.

"Alright, better question. Why? Don't I deserve to know?"

The grey man just shrugged. "They didn't tell me you were with child," he gestured to her belly. "Though I suppose that's the reason why."

They. She couldn't even be sure if Aegon's mistress even knew about this, or if someone was just using her children to their benefit. After all, Daenaera's children were healthy and the child Jaehaera was expecting could lead to another bloody war in the future. Like everything else about her, her child had come too late... She tried to stop the bitter, violent rush that tore at her throat. If she gave in to it, she would start wailing like a child and all the despair, fear and pain that boiled darkly inside her would come out. And she knew the torrent would consume her.

The man looked at her belly for some reason and the child inside her turned like it was scared.

"It's a boy, I think. It's a crooked little thing. I think his legs are fused together and he's only got one arm. Trust me, it'll be better for him this way. But I'll give you a choice." He folded his hands on his chest and she only now noticed that his nails are long And sharp like claws. He smiled eagerly again, and this time she noticed even his teeth Are pointy. "I can make it so you stay awake the whole time and still see him. So what would it be?" He looked at her with hope in his eyes and Jaehaera knew that no matter her answer, the man would not spare her that delight.

"How much gold did they promise you? I'll pay you three times as much. The king will pay," she corrected herself. Her voice rustled like burnt paper. But would he pay for her if he knew what kind of monster she probably carries under her heart?

"Oh, I can tell you that. They offered to let me take something you would never give me," he glared at Aenara. "She may be small, but she's still a precious creature. I might even keep her. You have to understand, she's the one who's supposed to kill you and then run away. But make no mistake, I'll do it myself if I have to."

She almost fired another question at him - why would the dragoness attack her - when his whole body seemed to relax and his eyes fixed on the dragoness took on an absent gaze. Ready to attack, Aenara turned to her.

So a warg.Jaehaera wasted no time in lunging forward to grab his giant knife. Too late...

The grey man drew his blade almost immediately. Before she could run past him, he pulled her back to him. With one hand, she managed to hold back the knife that was aimed for her throat, and it cut into her fingers down to the bone. At the same time, she clawed at him persistently where she assumed his face was. For the next few seconds she still struggled with his fist pounding into her head, choking on the pain. His other arm crushed her chest as if he knew what her weak spot was. She felt several ribs crack under the pressure, even thought she heard two hollow pops.

Then Aenara finally jumped on him and bit into his shoulder, hanging onto him and clawing his left side and leg with all four limbs. The man had to make a decision and finally released his grip on Jaehaera and swung the knife at the dragoness. There was a grinding sound and Aenara screamed. A shower of hot dragon blood fell on Jaehaera as she sank to the floor.

She knelt on the ground and breathed a sigh of relief, momentarily weakening her focus. The next she knew, she was on her back on the floor, human teeth as sharp as a freshly sharpened blade biting into the soft spot just above her shoulder. A wave of pain paralyzed her. She could only wait for the other clawed hand to be placed on her chest, pushing until it breaks through her ribs and penetrates inward and ever lower to her heart.

The grey man lifted his head and licked the fresh blood running down his chin. He didn't see the dragoness who jumped on him again until the last moment, but by then he couldn't defend himself from her teeth sinking into his throat.

Aenara bit into his neck a few more times until the life was drained out of him. Then she began to crawl towards Jaehaera, leaving a trail of blood from the wound on her stomach.

Jaehaera turned on her side and spat out the blood from her punctured lung. She was rapidly losing consciousness and knew it wouldn't be long now. "It's alright, maybe it was always meant to be like this," she stroked the dragon's snout as she whimpered.

She only survived her chilhood by some miracle, maybe it should never have happened. After all, even back then she knew far more dead people than the living ones. But those were bad thoughts, wrong and cruel, and the black tide inside her only grew wilder because of them. And so her last thought was of thé seagulls flying over the stormy sea...

#jaehaera targaryen #jaehaeraweek #aegon iii x jaehaera #aegon iii targaryen #fire and blood #hotd spoilers #queen jaehaera

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sins-of-the-dragons · 11 days ago

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MASTERLIST

Aegon Targaryen x Niece!Reader

Vampire!Maegor Targaryen x Reader

#masterlist #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon headcannon #maegor targaryen #aegon targaryen #hotd headcanon #hotd one shot #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd smut #house of the dragon fic

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visenyaism · 1 year ago

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Please share with us the list of Saints of the Seven 🙏 who’s getting candles, feast days, and other catholic-coded kitsch 🕯️I really wish to know. I recall Naerys being mentioned before and now Criston Cole but who else ?

i am uniquely unqualified to do this being 4 generations removed from catholicism through excommunication myself however here is a vibes-based list for who in asoiaf i think the faith of the seven would canonize like immediately:

- lots of people from the initial warring when the andals first arrived. that’s historically low hanging fruit though let’s get specific.

- the first hightower to accept the faith of the seven (his name was damon which like. lol)

- Alyssa Arryn the weeping, who watched her whole family die without shedding a tear so she has to cry for all eternity and of whom the valemen build statues of to this day.

- The Uller who shot Rhaenys Targaryen down (only acknowledged in Northwestern Dorne)

- like multiple dozens of people that maegor the cruel put to death on his mission to create as many martyrs as humanly possible eradicate the faith. every southern town has a local martyr at this point

- probably a manderly at some point. token northern representation.

- Criston Cole for reasons previously aforementioned

- If it was any of the dance Targaryens it would be Helaena (recognized locally in king’s landing)

- The Shepherd and/or one of the nameless masses that died to kill the dragons in the name of the gods and to protect their city.

- the nameless salt wife who killed dalton greyjoy before jumping into the sea. i’m just feeling this one.

- Baelor the Blessed. cant win them all

- Naerys Targaryen. she all but had a giant catholic dinner plate halo behind her head the entire time and spent her whole life getting martyred.

- they’ll be cooking up something with catelyn stark and sanctified motherhood in future generations i bet

#who did i miss. vote now on your phones #asoiaf

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shesjustanothergeek · 2 years ago

Text

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Thirteen

Master List of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: The first part of this is pretty plot heavy. I had initially planned for this to be a part of the previous chapter because I really don't like splitting up an event that's happening into separate parts, but it would have been super duper long. I didn't want someone to have to split reading the chapter when you could do it in one sitting. Idk. That's just me. When I finish the story, I'll re-edit everything and combine specific chapters, but that won't be for a while. ANYWAYS, thank you so much to those who have been with me since the beginning and those who have joined along the way. It means a lot to me that you decided my work was worth being interested in. I live and breathe for your support.

Chapter Warnings: Corporal punishment.

The time between arriving at the Keep and being escorted to the Queen's apartments felt like you were in a dream. Your body's subconscious was controlling your limbs, pulling and contracting the muscles to work as you climbed stairs, crossed underneath red rock archways, and stood before the drawbridge of Maegor's Holdfast—the only entrance into the royal apartments.

You stole a glimpse at the twins escorting you, Aegon in the middle of them both. They seemed to have aged at the same rate, with no grey in either of their chocolate-colored hairs. Erryk, you had found out was the Prince's sworn protector since birth, and it had you speculating just how old they were.

You realized it would be necessary to decipher which twin was who, judging by how many people believed they were talking to one when speaking to the other as you walked past guards. It would likely gain the favor of both of them, and you needed all the allies you could gather in a den of vipers. Besides, you supposed they preferred to be called by the correct name.

Thinking back to the night's earlier events, you believed Daemon would be proud of you. How you fought, schemed, and plotted before you even met Queen Alicent. Seeing Ma for sentimental reasons was not your only purpose for being there. You remembered in letters past how she mentioned her network of spies went further than that of the notorious White Worm, Mysaria, and you intended to use that to your full advantage.

You knew that Madam would help you even if you had not offered a substantial flow of Gold Dragons for the rest of her life. Her anger and resentment for what the Hand and the Queen did to Lyra and one of her spies, Sara, was enough incentive along with her love.

"Open the bridge," Ser Erryk shouted, interrupting your thought. "We are on orders to escort His Grace Prince Aegon to the Queen."

The drawbridge lowered with a screeching of its metal hinges, creating a path over the moat of iron spikes that separated you from the Holdfast. Another member of the Kingsguard appeared, his white cape flowing behind him as he walked over the stalwart oak, his short dark hair blending into the night.

"I trust you brought him well, Princess," he spoke, tilting his head at the sulking Aegon and disregarding the brothers.

"Ser Criston Cole, I presume," you shot back, walking between the three men you were with. You could feel their eyes on you, but you held firm, clasping your hands behind you. "I have brought the princeling unharmed, a feat that has proven..." You stopped before him, lowering your voice as your boots scuffed the bridge, "toilsome for you. Or so I have heard."

He chuckled, briefly looking into the sconces on the stone walls, the fire reflecting in his dark irises. "I believe we can forgo the general pleasantries, Princess. I will escort you to Her Majesty once Prince Aegon is safe within his chambers."

"No. I will take him myself," you declared, leaning closer. You needed to present him yourself. Your plan hung on the dramatic appearance of Aegon, for you were afraid without it, Queen Alicent would not listen. "Given your history," you jabbed, covering the oddness of your demand.

As a smirk formed on your lips, Criston swore he saw a flash of Daemon in the darkness. The same arrogant smile he knocked off a horse and bested with his beloved flail, Morning Star. He did not want to repeat the same things he thought about your father about you. No matter your lineage, you were still a daughter of the Mother and a picture of the Maiden.

"I understand," he said, something simmering beneath his bronze skin you couldn't quite name as he motioned for the waiting siblings to bring Aegon forward.

Erryk took Aegon's arm rougher than you would have thought of someone's protector, the Prince wincing as he practically dragged him. You hoped you had hidden your displeasure at his actions as he walked past, trailing behind them.

The trip was short from there, following the Kingsguard to Alicent's apartments as the two brothers departed with a bow. You looked at Ser Criston expectantly, waiting for him to open the chamber doors.

"Please, afford Her Grace some patience. She had hoped this would be in the morn rather than at the hour of the wolf," he answered your unasked question.

You acknowledged him with a curt nod, leaning against the stone wall next to the door frame, at ease for just a moment knowing there was someone else to watch the runaway prince.

A flicker of movement caught your eye, a pristine eggshell-colored cloth extended near your face. You glanced at Ser Criston with a raised brow as he moved his hand to swipe across your jaw. You had forgotten of the blood splattered onto your skin. The remnants of how far you would go to protect Aegon, what sacrifices you were willing to make for your family.

Despite your picking, you knew Ser Cole was a fine warrior, his skills unmatched with Morning Star. You could not tolerate how he was rumored to speak about your brothers as you quickly snatched the handkerchief from his hand, cleaning your skin.

You could barely stay awake and were sure you appeared like it as you relaxed. Your eyelids slowly closed before you would snap them open again, swiftly looking around to make sure no one saw. You wanted to give Queen Alicent the courtesy of waiting. It would only be proper, as Ser Cole mentioned, but you couldn't help how your knees gradually weakened, sliding down onto the floor as you rested your head against the stone wall.

Aegon watched you fight with sleep as everyone waited for his Mother to ready herself, ever the one to keep appearances. He saw the delicate features of the girl he once knew as your body finally gave in to rest, your lashes fluttering.

He believed today was a day of old memories, seeing you in the flesh again and recalling how you looked with your cheek squished against his sweaty chest so long ago.

Had you thought of him while you were tucked away at Dragonstone? He thought of you every day. You were the only person in his life that had shown him what it was to be cherished. What it felt like to have someone enjoy his presence without any enticement. You were his only true friend, and after years without contact, he was frightened that brief friendship had slipped away.

Aegon knew you were still there and that this current persona was angry and resentful for what happened with Sara and Lyra. He saw it when you placed his grimy hands on your face, your eyes a window, showing him how much you still cared. He saw it in how you carried him while drunk, whispering words of encouragement to keep moving into the night air.

Since then, Aegon had been watching you, gradually comprehending throughout the eventide how much you had changed. Your hair had gotten longer, your ebony tresses nearly at your waist, even when braided. Your maids had woven the white streak throughout the intricate designs on your scalp. He had forgotten how divinely that birthmark contrasted the rest of your strands, a single patch of snow glimmering in the moonlight.

Throughout his observations of you, he concluded that even though you had a scowl when you saw him, your lips in a thin line of disapproval when you looked at him, you had not changed. Not really. The darling little girl he met in an alleyway at Flea Bottom was still there, hidden deep within you to protect yourself from the horrors of the past, present, and future.

He did not care how his Mother invariably said your plain-looking features matched those of your adopted siblings. How insulting it was for the House of Dragon to become a House of Bastards, she would reiterate over dinner, noticeably when the King was not there.

Aegon did not care much about what his Mother said about you and your siblings. He had no concern for propriety and appearances; in his opinion, it was all too priggish. He did not understand why she concerned herself with Rhaenyra's children. The oldest of the Strong boys still had a claim to the Iron Throne through his mother. You all still had Targaryen blood within you despite what she made it seem.

You were not sure how long it had been when a servant opened the door. It was enough for you to doze off and wake up as you saw Aegon above. It startled you, not expecting to see his violet eyes so close, but the feeling that rose as he looked at you made your heart skip a beat. They appeared sad and empathetic as they stared down.

You frowned, pushing yourself up as you smoothed your messy hair, annoyed with his proximity as he followed behind. It was as if he was your shadow as soon as you entered the Queen's meeting room, being uncharacteristically silent when he saw his Mother. Ser Criston announced you both, trying to make the informal situation formal. She sent him away with a grateful nod, leaving the room silently with just you and her son.

Aegon continued to hide behind you, his shoulders slumping and chin tucked into his chest as you turned. You wanted to reach out and extend a comforting hand but thought better, your fingers fidgeting at your sides.

He did not deserve sympathy.

"Princess," Queen Alicent broke the silence, "Thank you for returning my son to me. You have proven fit for tasks even the best men of the Kingsguard could not accomplish."

You extended a polite smile, curtsying as you thanked her as well. "Thank you, my Queen for confiding in me about your worries. It is an honor to aid the Crown in any way I can," you spoke.

"I see," she said, her lips pursed and her hands clasped as she peered around your body. "Aegon, my son, please let your dear Mother see you. I have been sick with worriment in your absence."

Aegon peeked from behind your body, looking like a scared child rather than a man of ten and nine, soon to be twenty.

"You missed me?" he asked, his voice small and soft like in his youth. She smiled, opening her arms to him as he reluctantly approached.

You watched the exchange with apprehension; your brows creased as she whispered to him words you could not hear. Aegon took a breath to say some, but before he could speak, the Queen's hand came down, smacking him across the cheek.

You stifled a gasp, covering your mouth with your palm as the urge to yank Aegon away caused you to take a step. Alicent was furious, as any parent would be, if their child had run away for such immature reasons, scolding him with trembling lips.

"Have you no conscience for your actions? You shame us deeply every hour of the day and night and know this, yet you continue to do so," she shouted, her cheeks tinting pink in anger. "I could not find you for a week! I am your Mother. How do you think this makes me feel? Not knowing where you went or what might have happened to you." You wanted to insert yourself into the conversation, to act as a buffer between Mother and Son but did not want to make things worse for Aegon.

"I had to request the help of this," Alicent paused, glancing at you before her voice lowered, "bastard in order to find you. Do you not know the embarrassment that brings me? To ask-"

Before you could think of being insulted by her words, Aegon's hunched form stood to his full height, looking down at his Mother.

"Do not call her that," Aegon snapped, speaking as a man. "She saved my life! Killed three men who had the intent to rob and beat me!" Alicent released a quiet breath of air, her features softening at the mention of her son's life in danger. "The Princess cared for me with a kindness no one has extended before. She is honorable and undeserving of the insults you spout when father is not around. She is royal not only in name but in blood. The same cannot be said for you, Mother." He spat her name out like sour candy on his tongue, his anger palpable.

You were overcome with guilt at his words. You were anything but kind after you found him. Berating Aegon with a variety of scurrilousness based on your outrage for acts he had no part in. You hated him simply because he was the kin of murderers, a show you had associated him with even though he had no role in it.

You could see the Queen becoming outraged at what he said, looking like she would strike her son again as you moved, making space between her and Aegon before she could try. He did not warrant abuse in his defense of you.

"Her Grace is not wrong, Prince Aegon," you interjected, easing the tension between the two. "I am a bastard by birth."

"The King has legitimized you; therefore, you are a princess, undeserving of her bad-mouthing," he sneered at the Queen, a petulant imp talking bad to their parent.

Your eyes grew wide as you stared at him, stunned into silence at his steadfast protection of your honor. You realized then how wrong you had been in your thinking. It wasn't right for you to blame the by-product of the people you hated. They had nothing to do with Aunt Lyra other than they were their kin.

Why had you been so callous? He did not warrant it, no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself. Aegon did not deserve any of the harsh whispers people spoke. Unquestionably, he was a drunken whore of a man, uncaring of traditions and customs that he was expected to abide by, but there was more to him than the gossip. If only people had given him the opportunity. It should not have surprised those around him that Aegon became what everyone believed him to be.

"Yes, my Prince." You looked to the Queen, her features covered in shame at how she had lost her temper before you. "The King legitimized me, but it does not negate the origin of my birth. It no longer upsets me when people use it in degradation."

Aegon moved away from you and Alicent, slightly stumbling as he recoiled into himself, tear tracks on his cheeks. You wanted to embrace him, whisper in his ear how much his words truly moved you, how such a sweet boy he was, but you didn't.

"Thank you, Prince Aegon, for defending my honor so valiantly. Your actions are not something I will soon forget," you said instead, bowing your head gratefully.

Aegon did not like this side of you. It was so cold and impersonal, fitting into the shell courtly manner dictated you to be. You turned to the Queen, your expression hardening into one used when speaking to Lords and Envoys.

"Queen Alicent and I have much to discuss, my Prince," you said, looking at him with a doe-eyed expression, hoping to cater to his permissive side.

"And I am sure you are tired from your long journey back to the Keep. We will reconvene in the following days when you and I are both well-rested. After all, your name day is coming soon, and I should hope to see you at the events."

It was an intelligent way to revisit your original purpose as you saw the protests die on his peony-colored lips.

Aegon cast you one last glance of his purple glassy eyes as he left, reminding you of how your Mother's looked when you left Dragonstone. If you fell for every sad puppy look thrown your way, Luke would indeed be attached to your hip at this very moment.

The Queen stared at you in silence once he was gone, her neck so stiff and straight in the simple green gown she wore, wavy hair falling past her arms. You waited for her to speak, etiquette lessons coming to your mind.

"Please, sit, Princess. I am sure the day has been extended for you," she said, gesturing to the high-backed armchairs near her.

You instinctually wanted to protest your pride, wanting to show her it was no trouble for you, but you could not deny the ache in your feet, the pang of lower back pain that was emerging, and decided to accept.

"Words cannot convey how grateful I am for what you have done," she started, picking at her red cuticles. "I realize he can be such a difficult child, and I want you to know that my words were honest when I said your efforts will be rewarded. I will give you whatever you desire. A place at court, land, and titles to your name, gold, garnering a match more impressive than your status lets you," she trailed on. "Anything you want, Princess, name it, and it will be yours."

You already knew what you wanted. You didn't need to think. Money and matches and titles were not something you cared about. You would become a penniless spinster if it meant Rhaenyra and her true-blooded children ascended their thrones. What you sought was for them.

"The only thing I desire, my Queen," you paused, taking Alicent's attentive expression. Oh, how you would reveal in her misery once you finished. "Is a seat on the Small Council."

You watched her features fall, her once slightly upturned lips now in a deep frown as she processed your answer. Clearly, it was not something she anticipated.

"As a consequence of my Mother's years residing at Dragonstone, their has been a lack of her presence—one unbefitting for the heir to the Iron Throne. I will take her seat that has remained vacant for so long."

"Princess," the Queen stuttered, glancing at her red fingers, "your Mother's presence is already there with us in the form of the Hand. He only makes decisions with the King's and The Heir's opinions in mind."

"It must be exhausting, having to cater to two people's thoughts," you said with a front of sympathy, though you knew the truth of the matter. "Let me take the burden off his shoulders."

"A duty in which he follows deligently," she interrupted, defending her crooked father.

"Lord Hightower does have a commitment to the Crown." You did not have to say it outright for her to know why. "That is something which I have no doubt, but the lack of her royal presence is something people have taken note of," you replied, dancing around the valid reason for why you wanted on the Council, but she already knew.

"I must admit," she paused, taking a breath, "my confusion on the matter. I do not understand why Princess Rhaenyra needs someone in her place when she already has one."

You placed your elbows on your knees, resting your head in your palms as you leaned closer. Unladylike for you to do so, but you did not care. You needed her attention.

"You have a seat at the Small Council, do you not? Whose interests are your representing when you say your father already does for both?"

Alicent could not answer, the anxiety in her wide brown eyes reflecting the candlelight as you saw her pull a thin piece of skin from her fingers.

You raised a brow at her. "It certainly cannot be your own. The Queen does not have a say in matters of the realm." You couldn't stop the giggle as you continued, "Until my mother takes the throne."

She still sat silently, staring at your improper position an demands as you grew impatient. "Your Grace, you gave me your word that I could have anything I wanted. This is what I want," you said, sitting up straighter.

"Is it?" She couldn't help but ask, the words rolling off her tongue before she realized it.

Anger began to bubble inside your stomach, your neutral expression leaving your face for a scowl.

"Yes. It is," you sneered. "Does the promise of a Queen mean nothing now?" You questioned rhetorically, forgetting your place.

She inhaled deeply before she spoke again, stopping the fiddling of her fingers. "I," she paused for what felt like the tenth time, "will see to it. I owe a debt to you, and I intend to pay it."

Alicent was beside herself with fury, bested and taken advantage of again by Rhaenyra in the form of her adopted child. It seemed as if the Princess was intent on rocking the boat, even if it was not her own. Imagine if she did that, Alicent thought. She would not have been offered a seat at the table if Alicent had. She had to work silently and delicately for that treatment while Rhaenyra demanded and received it without hesitance.

The Queen's jealousy raged within as she dismissed you, further fueled by the triumphant smile on your face.

The thought that she might do what she had done to Rhaenyra on Driftmark all those years ago crossed your mind, but you brushed it off with a quiet laugh as you left, a slight bounce in your step as Ser Criston escorted you out of Maegor's Holdfast and into the Guest Wings on the Keep.

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Thank you so much for reading! This was a turning point chapter for the main character. I'm glad she finally realized it was wrong of her to lump Aegon in with his mom and grandfather. I hope she doesn't find out anything that will change that...

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @alexandra-001, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @minttea07, @silverslive, @unclecrunkle, @prettykinkysoul, @duesobabe, @djlexi, @ynbutbetter, @honestlykat, @graykageyama, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid, @brezzybfan, @dd122004dd, @ladybug0095, @millies0bsimp, @kalfild, @sheislonelyalways, @tempt-ress, @bellameshipper, @minttea07, @trikigirl271, @esposadomd, @buckylahey, @justarandomflowerchildofthenight, @partypoison00, @please-buckme, @pastelorangeskies, @joliettes, @existential-echo, @priyajoyy, @valaenatargaryensdragon, @merovingianprincess, @rachelnicolee, @candy12110, @w3ird11, @ruhjkie, @fatalewomen, @somemydayy, @ariana-dumbledore8, @marikkjj, @zillahvathek, @adelusionalwriter, @sunny-boy-06

Bold means I couldn't tag you for some reason :(

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