#modern house bolton

[transassdemon]

Tbh I don't have energy and patience to render it, so just grab a colored version of Modern!AU Bolton Halloween photo. From left to right: Ramsay as Jared Leto Joker, Roose as the most basic vampire, Walda as a good witch Glinda, unnamed baby as a fat pumpkin, Domeric as a hot-dog.

[fleurdeliet]

[axelsagewrites]

Okay so got a modern jon snow smut coming tomorrow (pun intended). After that I'll be working on the next request which was roose Bolton then a robb/jon one. Gonna also start working on a part 2 to the lucerys study date which I definitely did not possibly maybe definitely kinda forget about (I need to make a list geez)

[sapphire-writes]

Thin Ice (modern!HOTD)

pairing: Aegon x Reader & Cregan Stark x Reader

summary: The morning after the hockey house party. Aegon's first study session and some confusing feelings that have begun to develop.

word count: 2.8k

warnings: 18+ series (suggestive & crude language, descriptions of sex, debriefing about sex) general language & mature themes

note: nothing super spicy this chapter but hope you enjoy my loves 😘

series masterlist

previous chapter ~ Ch. 3: Breakfast of Champions ~ next chapter

The morning light streams across your face waking you from your dreams. Your head throbs slightly, in tandem with your heartbeat. Your mouth feels dry as though it was stuffed with cotton. 

You moan, turning over in the bed. Campfire, the smell of roasting marshmallows. You bury your face in the pillow inhaling the scent. The flannel sheets hug you, keeping you nice and toasty like the marshmallow being held over the flames. 

You hear noises from outside the room, and as much as you do not want to leave, you know you need to. You sit up, looking down at yourself. Baela is lying on her stomach, snoring slightly, her silver curls splayed out around her head. The room is cluttered, but not a total disaster much to your suprise. You figured Aegon would be messier. 

Shit, you need water. And an Advil. Damn, your head hurts. 

“Bae,” you groan. 

Baela moans in response. You poke her cheek, and she swats at your hand. 

“Leave me alone to die,” she groans. 

“I smell bacon,” you tell her, nostrils flaring, “You think these jocks know how to cook?”

“Tell them to send up some eggs Benny and I’ll be square,” Baela grumbles into the pillow. 

“Right away, madame,” you tell her, getting out of bed.

You rise from the bed looking down at yourself. A baggy t-shirt that reads Knights Hockey. You remember changing, spinning around for Aegon, and him holding your face. His thigh under you. You stand a little straighter.

Aegon fucking Targaryen.

Your eyes widen remembering more of the night. Holy shit. Your cheeks warm and you swallow the lump beginning to form in your throat. Baela groans, still facedown in the pillow. 

“Bae,” you whisper, “I think I-”

A crash of pots and pans is heard from downstairs, followed by a string of curses. Baela lifts her head, meeting your eyes. 

“Maybe make sure they’re not burning the place down?” she asks, rubbing sleep from her eyes. 

You nod, eyebrows scrunching together. Baela lets her head hit the pillow once more. She’ll sleep all day if someone lets her. Baela firmly believes that a night out needs an entire day of recovery. Debrief can happen over dinner. 

You glance in the full-length mirror that hangs on the back of the door, smoothing your bedhead and making sure you’re somewhat presentable before walking downstairs. Red solo cups litter the hallway along with left-behind vapes and other party memorabilia. You tip your toes around, gingerly walking down the stairs. They creak with every step, signaling your arrival. 

“Shit!” a voice says with another crash, “Fuck this grease keeps burning me-ah!”

You walk into the kitchen where John Umber is battling a frying pan full of bacon, the grease crackling and popping splashing him. He’s wearing a flowery apron making him look like a mother grizzly bear. He yelps again, throwing a dishrag over his bare arms. Brandon Karstark and Erryx Cargyll are seated at the counter, laughing at their friend and teammate. 

“Girl,” the voice of Reese Bolton says, as he brushes past you into the kitchen.

The laughter stops and all eyes turn to you. It’s silent for a moment, despite the crackling of the bacon before you walk over to the stove, turning down the heat. Reese sits down at the table. 

“You’ve got the heat too high,” you tell John. 

He points the tongs at you, eyes narrowing.

“Tutor girl,” he says, nodding with appreciation, “Saving the day.”

Brandon Karstark chews a mouthful of cereal watching as you sit down at the corner of the counter. Erryx glances at you sideways. Reese is the only one who seems unbothered, almost cold, and indifferent about your presence. John turns the bacon in the pan, lifting the finished pieces onto a paper plate. 

You meet Brandon’s gaze and he quickly looks away. It’s like they’ve never sat with a girl before eating breakfast.

“What?” you ask, “Do I have something on my face?”

Reese turns from the table he’s sat at. Squints at you. 

“I don’t see any cum residue on your face, so I’m guessing Aegon didn’t sleep with you,” he says, rather nonchalantly.

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline at his crude remark. You don’t know much about Reese, but you’ve heard he’s a dickhead. 

“Dude,” Erryx says, and it's echoed by the other guys. 

“Just saying,” Reese says, going back to his phone.

“We’re friends,” you tell them, “Just friends.”

“Such good friends,” Aegon says yawning, entering the kitchen, “I don’t sleep on the couch for just anyone. My neck’s gonna be bothering me all week now thanks to you.”

His grin is playful, bedhead endearing as he scrunches his nose at you. He’s shirtless and you can see the head of his dragon tattoo snaking around his hipbone. It must travel down the length of his thigh, but only the head is visible on the side of his stomach; the rest disappears below his gray sweats.Your stomach flutters pleasantly and you watch as he pops slices of bread into the toaster. 

“Here ya go, my lady,” John says putting the plate of bacon in front of you, “Do you like eggs? I can cook them any way you want them.”

“Out resident chef,” Brandon tells you, blushing as he does. You give him a small smile.

“Scrambled?” you ask and John nods.

“Coming right up,” he tells you, saluting you.

“Hey can you do eggs benedict by chance?” you ask him.

“That’s a little fancy,” he comments, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Baela’s favorite,” you tell him.

“Well in that case,” he says, “I can make some magic happen.”

You chuckle. Aegon is smiling, his side profile facing you as he butters his toast. He brings the plate in front of you, resting his elbows on the counter. His eyes are rimmed with purple, from lack of a good night’s sleep no doubt. Lips swollen, as though they’d just been kissed. They had, by you, just a few hours ago. Your lips tingle with the memory. 

Aegon bites into toast, playfully pursuing his lips.

“You sleep well?” he asks, “Ready to tutor the fuck outta me?”

“Always,” you tell me, taking a bite of the bacon provided. 

His smirk grows. He seems to like that you play the game with him. Aegon offers you the second piece of toast which you take, grateful for some carbs in your stomach. 

“Have you seen Sara?” you ask, wondering where your best friend was.

No sooner than you spoke her name, a loud banging begins upstairs. Rhythmic and solid, followed by a flurry of grunts and moans. Aegon’s eyes look up toward the ceiling, then back to you. Your mouth drops open.

“No way.”

“Yes way,” Aegon assures.

“They’ve been at it all morning,” Erryx confirms.

Damn. You cannot wait for the debrief later on. 

Aegon grins as the noises continue, taking another bite of toast. 

You decide to leave after breakfast (and hauling Baela out of Aegon’s bed) to go to your apartment and shower before meeting Aegon at the library to study. You’d much rather take a nap, as Baela intends to, but a deal is a deal. 

Your shower revitalizes you, the water washing away the feeling of sleeping in a frat house. You stay in extra long just because. When you finally emerge, the apartment is still quiet. 

“Sara?” you call but don’t expect an answer. 

Her location confirms she’s still at the hockey house. Damn, Jace Velaryon. You text Sara, letting her know your plans, and then text Aegon. 

“I don’t get it,” Aegon says, hardly a whisper even though you’re in the library.

You raise an eyebrow at him. It’s been an hour of this now.

“Why are they in…the cave?” he asks again, violet eyes tired.

You take a sip from your coffee. Second of the study session. You rub your temples with your fingers. 

“It’s an allegory,” you tell him. Again.

He blinks at you, as though you’re speaking High Valyrian. 

“Yes,” he answers, with no conviction behind it, “Why don’t they leave?”

“That’s the point,” you tell him, “Aeg, you’re so close to the point.”

He frowns, jaw slacking as he reads it again. You sigh, pulling the book away from him. Aegon glances up at you with wide violet eyes. He’s like a puppy, you’ve realized, cocking his head to the side trying to decipher what you’re trying to tell him. 

“Can we talk about something else?” Aegon asks, leaning back in his seat.

You fold your hands on top of one another.

“What do you want to talk about?” you ask.

His eyes narrow mischieviously.

“Your conversation with Stark.”

You tilt your head to the side. 

“What about it?”

“What did he say?”

You shrug, crossing your arms. You chose a comfy sweatshirt for this study session and its warmth makes you want to fall asleep. 

“He called me cute, and said we could finish the conversation another time.”

Aegon rolls his eyes at your answer. 

“You’re so dramatic.”

“What? Why?” you ask frowning.

“You were basically crying last night that he didn’t like you!”

“Well, he left!” you tell him, jutting your lower lip out in a pout.

“To drive someone home!” Aegon argues. 

“Not someone, his ex-girlfriend!” you tell him, raising an eyebrow. 

“He’s just a good guy, you don’t see him complaining about you hanging with me!”

“He did.”

Aegon pauses, eyebrows raising. 

“Wait, what?” he asks, smirking. 

“Well, he asked about us hanging out, if we were seeing each other,” you tell him.

Aegon’s smile grows, revealing his perfect teeth. He must’ve had braces as a kid, no one is born with a smile that perfect. Or maybe they’re fake, his family is wealthy enough. 

“What did you say?” he asks.

“That I’m just your tutor!” you say, taking another sip of coffee.

Aegon’s eyes bug out of his head. 

“Bunny!” he scolds.

“What?”

“You could have made him sweat a little more,” Aegon argues.

“I don’t want him to think we’re dating,” you tell him, frowning.

Aegon simply shakes his head, giving you a pitying look. It makes your stomach flip, the way he looks at you. 

“You don’t know how any of this works, do you?” he asks, in a chastizing manner. 

You sigh, tilting your head back, looking at the ceiling. 

“I think you’re the one being dramatic.”

Aegon waves you off.

“Do you even know how pissed Jay Lannister was when he saw you with me?”

Your face flushes, and you can feel the blush creeping up your neck towards your cheeks. Aegon’s eyes flicker across your face, down your neck, and over your exposed shoulders. It’s like he has laser beams behind those violet eyes, the heat seems to follow where he looks.

“Bet he texted you,” he challenges and you shake your head.

“I blocked him,” you tell him, causing the corner of his lips to pull up into a smirk.

“Good girl,” he praises, chuckling softly, “Bet he tried to text you. He was wrecked after our little display.”

You break away from his eyes. Little display. He’s been teasing around the topic all day. He has to know what happened, there’s no way he doesn’t, right? Your eyes flicker to his lips.

Ask me again when you’re sober.

You part your lips to speak, but Aegon speaks first. 

“Speak of the devil,” he murmurs looking behind you. 

You turn, expecting to see Jason, but instead, it's Cregan Stark placing a book on the counter, returning it before he moves to leave the library. He’s freshly showered, with his long brown hair pulled off his face in a low bun, and his beard nicely trimmed. He’s wearing black sweatpants that hang low on his hips, accentuating his thick thighs. You feel your mouth water slightly. 

“Now’s your chance, bunny,” Aegon encourages. 

“Be right back,” you tell him, rising from your seat. 

You walk towards Cregan, calling his name as you get closer. He turns, smiling as you approach him. Gods he’s handsome. Your heart beats erratically in your chest as you stand in front of him. 

“Hey stranger,” Cregan greets you, “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” you tell him, smiling softly, “Did Aly get home safe?”

“Oh yeah, no problem,” he tells you, “Sorry I just bailed on you like that.”

“No worries, I think it's sweet you drove her home,” you tell him.

“Your friend…Sara right? She and Jace really hit it off,” Cregan tells you.

You could say that.

“Yeah, they did,” you tell him.

Cregan wets his lips.

“We should go out, the four of us, and do something fun,” he tells you.

Holy shit.

“Yeah, yeah I would love that, and Sara would be so down,” you tell him, nervously rushing your words. Cregan smiles.

“Let’s do it,” he tells you, “Can I get your number?”

You nod excitedly, not trusting your voice. Cregan hands you his phone and you put your number in, sending a text to yourself. As you hand him back his phone, Cregan narrows his eyes playfully.

“It’s your real number, right?”

“Yeah,” you answer, giggling.

“Good, cause I’ll hunt you down, it’s a small campus,” he playfully threatens.

You giggle again, unable to stop yourself. Your chest feels warm with his playful banter. 

Aegon watches you from his seat, eyes shameless roaming over your body. Observing the way you cross your arms behind your back, rolling back on your heels nervously as you converse with Stark. How your leggings are molded against your legs perfectly, leaving little to the imagination.

Aegon can feel you pressed against him as you were last night. Hear the soft sounds you released, feeling you riding his thigh. He bets you’d feel fucking amazing riding his cock instead. The though makes him hard and he switches the way he’s sitting, trying to find some relief.

He can’t think like that. You’re Helaena’s friend. Her best friend. He’s caused Helaena drama in the past and he won’t do that again.

No matter how much he wants to.

Besides, you have a deal. 

Aegon shakes his head, clearing his thoughts as you prance back over to him. More a happy skip than a walk. 

“I have a date,” you tell him, smiling wide, “A double date. Score!”

“Nicely done, bunny,” he tells you, watching you bite your lip.

“Okay,” you say sighing, “back to the cave.”

When you return home several hours later your apartment is dark, and empty. Saturday night should be more lively, but you decide a night in may be just what you need. You drop your bag of takeout on the table and sit down, scrolling through your phone.

You hear the door to Sara’s room open and the sound of her sock-clad feet padding down the hallway. She emerges in Jace Velaryon’s sweatshirt, the hood up covering her whole head except her face. She’s wearing her comfiest pair of socks and seemingly nothing else.

Sara winces as she sits down in the chair across from you. You raise an eyebrow at her.

“Hello, beautiful,” you tell her, “it's nice to see you this evening.”

“Yes I know,” Sara sighs, “I’m sorry for being MIA all day, I was kidnapped.”

Your eyes widen. 

“Kidnapped?”

Sara smiles mischievously, nodding. She bites her lip, leaning forward and grabbing a fry from your takeout container. 

“Two words,” she says, clasping her hands together, “Jace Velaryon.”

“Tell me more,” you insist, wide eyed.

“Massive cock-”

“Sara!”

“Super freak-”

“Ohmygod,” you squeal. 

“He doesn’t look like he would have a horse cock, right?” Sara begins, “But girl. Massive. Like, I’m in pain. Glorious pain, from his massive schlong.”

“Ouch,” you tell her, “massive? MASSIVE Sara? That sounds painful.”

“This boy split me in half,” Sara says, sighing dreamily, “over, and over, and over again.”

You place a hand over your heart.

“I heard,” you tell her earnestly.

She squeals at your expression.

“No you did not!”

“Just a little! In the kitchen!” you tell her laughing.

“Ohmygod,” she says, covering her face, “So fucking worth it. He’s so sweet. We spent all night cuddling, we didn’t even fuck until the morning. He’s so cute, girl, I like him so much.”

“Good because we have a date,” you tell her, smiling slyly. 

Sara gives you a quizzical look. 

“I’m sorry what?” she asks.

“You and Jace, and me and Cregan,” you tell her. 

“Not Aegon?” she asks.

You frown. 

“No not Aegon,” you tell her, “That’s weird. Why would you say that?”

She shrugs.

“You two seemed awfully close last night, that’s all,” she comments, stealing another fry.

You blink as she stares at you.

“He was just helping me out,” you tell her and she nods.

“Whatever you say bestie,” she says smirking.

“Can we go back to talking about Velaryon’s monster cock now?” you tease and she claps her hands together.

“Of course we can,” she says.

The rest of the evening is spent debriefing but you can’t shake the thoughts from your head around what Sara said about Aegon. Whatever. You have a date, with Cregan. This is what you wanted all along. Right?

note: OOOOOO the feelings are coming 🤭 y'all know me, you know how much i like to make things messy, and its coming i promise hehe

THIN ICE TAGLIST: @padfooteyes, @nina2697, @julieeba, @darkenchantress, @heavenly1927, @fan-goddess, @possiblyafangirl, @n4tforlife

bold means I could not tag for some reason!

drop a comment to be added to this series taglist

[francis-writes]

Modern!AU Ramsay x reader

Maybe it will be continued. For now some silly au i wrote at 1AM.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You let out a breath. Well, meeting a kinky stranger from internet turned out to be quite a surprise, though maybe not the kind of a surprise you would enjoy.

But after all, what could you expect? You were in a rather bad mood before, so you weren't really picky while scrolling through apps, looking for a parties near or for some stranger eager to fuck you. You just hoped that non-binding, meaningless dicking down from some stranger would help you relax and cheer you up. So when you got a message from someone - 21M, signing as a master_big_dicc - you agreed to meet in two hours, even though he would probably piss you off on any other day. But, you both just wanted to fuck and he was very clear about it in his messages. He also seemed rather kinky - maybe he was just an internet dom, but he kept promising to "make you choke on him", "rip you apart with his dick", "make you crawl and beg like a filthy mutt" etc.

He gave you his address, which perhaps wasn't the safest option. But you packed a pepper gas and sent your location to friend, then left with hope for some good cock.

Now you stood in front of the house, realizing a few facts. The address you got led you to a luxurious villa which - according to the decorative plate - belonged to Roose Bolton, wealthy businessman, owner of company selling skincare products. This was the official part, but you heard that part of his money came from illegal business. If the internet stranger wasn't lying about address, it was either Roose Bolton himself (though claiming to be 21), his son Domeric or...

The door of the residence got opened and you got your answer.

Ramsay Bolton, son of Roose Bolton from some quick side fling. He moved into his father's villa just a few years ago, after being raised by his mother - in much poorer conditions, from what you heard. Well, Roose Bolton wasn't the most caring person, nor father.

You didn't know Ramsay personally, but you occasionally heard about him and his actions. Every once in a while he got arrested and freed, thanks to his father connection. From what people said, he was just typical young hooligan, drinking, getting in fights, just rich enough to get in trouble whenever he hurt someone with a knife.

Now he walked to the gate, yelling at the dogs that were jumping and howling at you since a few minutes. They obediently calmed down and ran away from the fence. You looked at Ramsay when he opened the gate for you. He was at least one head taller than you and quite bulky. You knew what to expect - he didn't sent you his face, but his profile had enough pics of his torso and dick. But you liked fat hairy guys. You were only worried if his body will be able to make you stand his personality for at least next hour.

He had wide pink lips, icy eyes, and long black hair tied in a ponytail. He wore a loose black tshirt with some metal band name on it. Ramsay looked down at you with a smirk, that seemed almost mocking.

"You're here for fucking?"

I shrugged and gave him a small smile.

"If you're master_big_dicc, then yes."

Ramsay chuckled lowly and stepped back, to let me get in.

"Come in. Don't be afraid of my bitches, i trained them well. They won't hurt you without my permission."

I walked in and he lead me through the garden to the door of the house. Without waiting, he reached his arm and grabbed my waist, keeping me close to himself.

"Well, then I hope that you won't give them that permission" i said awkwardly, trying to keep a conversation.

Ramsay just snickered again, as if i were very funny. He pushed me toward the stairs.

"Go, you will take off boots and the rest in my room" he muttered, leaning to me. "My stepmother is downstairs. I don't want her to notice you. She will keep chattering, asking if we're together and offering you cookies, and at least hour will pass before i can fuck you. And i especially didn't jerk off now, to have my dick all ready for you"

We reached his room. It was really messy, perhaps he tried to make it a bit more prepared for me but it meant just throwing all the dirty things in one place. This mess was a weird mix of some trash, cheap collections and expensive brand things. I took off my boots and sat on the bed, looking at the band posters at the wall. It was mostly metal, some punk and some posters announcing raves.

[ladygreywritesstuff]

Stardew Valley:

Dig Deep -- Farmer/Marlon -- 12/12 Chapters

Stargazers -- Farmer/Marlon -- a sequel to Dig Deep -- 1/? Chapters

Just Enjoying the View -- Farmer/Marlon -- smutty one-shot

Other one-shots and drabbles

Game of Thrones/ASOIAF:

What Storms May Blow -- OC of House Frey/Barristan Selmy -- 25/29 Chapters

A Promise Broken -- Tywin Lannister/Joanna Lannister -- drabble

Elevator Music -- OC/Tywin Lannister, Modern AU -- one-shot

Kissing Roose -- various/Roose Bolton -- drabble collection

Wrong Address -- Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Modern AU -- 3/3 Chapters

True or False -- OC/Roose Bolton -- 26/26 Chapters

Not Today -- Arya Stark/Jaqen H'ghar, Modern AU -- 3/3 Chapters

Therapy -- Roose Bolton/Fat Walda Frey, Modern AU -- one-shot

Protégé -- Roose Bolton/Arya Stark (aged up), Modern AU -- one-shot

LadyGreyWrites on AO3

Header by @saradika-graphics

[wodania]

ASOIAF modern AU notes 💕

Summerhall was an old age home that Egg had been sent to by his kids Jaehaerys and Shaera, Egg accidentally burnt it down and died alongside fellow senior Dunk, and Egg’s other son, Duncan. Rhaegar was born on the front lawn of the old age home beside a fire truck 💕

Rhaegar does ukulele and acapella covers on the early days of the internet, and he’s only famous bc he’s the presidents son. His posts got rlly fucking weird in his final days before he mysteriously died while visiting his cousin Robert. Probably on those reddit icebergs under “darkest videos ever uploaded”.

Every one just accepted the fact that Rhaegar and Jon were dating even though they straight up weren’t, magazines were reporting on it with photos of the two together and captions like “Elia writing divorce papers??? See more on page 69!” (they definitely slept with each other AT LEAST once though, confirmed by a high end reporter’s audio recording, possibly Varys, who Jon trauma dumped to while super high)

Golden Company is a biker gang someone put that in my tags once and it stuck. Jon went from appearing in the kind of stuff the heir to a company and friend to the presidents son would appear in (rlly corporate looking images and interviews plus a few photos of him playing golf or something) to the wildest vids and photos of golden company biker gang parties imaginable. He was a fugitive but Aerys and Robert and Cersei all didn’t consider him high priority so he’s just been let wild.

Young Griff dresses like a sports brand ambassador and is actually probably a sports brand ambassador thanks to his double nepotism (father was rhaegar and other father was Jon). Young Griff accidentally caught Jon in one of his instagram lives and the internet went wild over the sight of Jon actually doing something normal for once. Young Griff is Aegon’s stage name, taken from Jon’s biker gang era nickname Griff.

There’s CCTV footage of Jaime killing Aerys but Tywin payed off the cops so it’s okay. Conspiracy videos on YouTube about it get copyright flagged when they show the footage.

Loras and Renly are some of the most controversial men on the web bc on one hand they are gay but on the other they are gym bros and Loras had a misogynist era when a video of him calling Brienne a wench at one of Renly’s parties surfaced. Mace had to do damage control. Loras also probably made a post like “hate when other gays flaunt their gayness” when he was 14 and everyone always brings it up (he still stands by it). Mace again has to do damage control.

Renly later died at one of his party’s due to what was attributed to ‘accidental causes’, but many, including Loras, believe that there is something deeper to it. Brienne was arrested for suspicion of committing the murder but was let go after like a day. Jaime payed off most of the ppl who accused her, but Loras is vocal about hating Jaime and he regularly insults him under his posts.

Robb was a presidential candidate who got murdered at his uncles wedding and it was a big deal and the true crime community was all over it the moment the news dropped. Jaime is under investigation… again. Videos are still getting copyrighted.

Bolton house got raided by some government agents and they found Theon and a bunch of human skins in the basement. The media had a field day with that one. Asha attacked the press when they tried to get photos.

Robert still got mauled by a boar it just got caught on camera this time. It’s like the JFK assassination tape in that it’s super accessible and on YouTube under age restriction bc it’s “educational”.

[biblioklept-writes]

Secrets and Lies - II

Mafia!Targaryens | Aemond Targaryen x F!Reader

Summary: Daemon Targaryen's family discovers that anger is not a good look on you as you get your first taste of revenge - the fruit so sweet you might just be addicted to it.

Word Count: +12k

Warnings: Allusions to gore, mentions of sexual assault, human trafficking and children in brothels, canon typical violence but make it ✨modern✨, reader goes feral-literally, reader and the green kids working as a team. (if you feel anything else should be here, then do let me know)

A/N: Raw work alert! this is not proofread, and way worse than the first part. I'll read it over and correct any mistakes when I encounter them, but any comment will be useful. Let me know what you think about this in the ask box!

This story will have one more, final part. Until then, you can find my other House of the Dragon works here.

You didn’t feel like going to class for that entire week. Calvin helped you with the classwork, and you were well caught up with your studies, but making that effort to leave the apartment complex was just too much for you to stomach. You even had Aemond turn in your digital electronics assignment for you, unable to gather yourself enough to leave. You would spend time with Alicent, standing behind her like a bouncer ready to throw hands at the slightest bit of danger, then you’d spend your afternoon with little Daeron, teaching him everything you knew about hacking, getting him a Linux to develop thievery bugs. You even helped him on his school assignments, not wanting to be left alone with your thoughts.

In the evening, you would go to Aemond and sit quietly in his study, catching up on the classwork as he did his reading. Even though you weren’t conversing, his presence beside you and the warm silence helped your brain refocus.

When you weren’t busy with any of the siblings, you would cover yourself up and take Coco up to the terrace and play with him, for the German shepherd was your best friend and was catching onto your fowl mood.

But today, on a fresh new Monday you are dressed magnificently in a black denim skirt and a lace black bustier top and a pair of heeled leather boots. You had opted with an all black aesthetic - even your makeup is intense with dark lined eyes and a black choker on your neck. Dressing up well always made you more confident, and you were filled with mad confidence and anger - unable to release all of that even with the week’s worth of harsh training with Criston Cole and the other guards.

I want to break something, you think. Pray no one crosses me today.

The day is as usual, you sit in class, go to the malware detection lab and work on your project. Per usual, you go out during the lunch hour and walk to the cafeteria where you find Aemond, Helaena and Aegon - and it is a rare sight, but one you quite enjoy. Aemond offers to carry your lunch for you, considering you were carrying your laptop case along with your bag.

The three siblings walk to the outside ground to sit in the sun, while you linger back a moment to speak with Sera, the only other girl in your class. She asks for your wellbeing, having learned from Aemond that you had been sick. You politely tell her that you are okay now and thank her for her concern.

It is on your way to the ground that you are irked by a sudden whistle, spotting a group of juniors - this one lead by Rawdon Bolton, the vile smirk on his face and the giggles of his mates making you angrier than you were.

“Why hello there,” He says walking over, voice laced with vice disguised as mirth. “You’re a foxy little lass today, aren’t you?”

You stand there, silently glaring at him, but Rawdon is not deterred. The bastard is too sure of himself, sure that he has easy prey, his pack of hyenas snicker at you.

“It’s a bit odd to see such a lass alone by herself,” Rawdon smirks. “Maybe you could use some pleasant company.” He reaches forward and touches your arm, the touch of his soft, sheltered hands disgusting. You are quick to react to his filthy touch and push him down - he is now laying on the floor with your boot resting on his chest and you glower down at him.

“You didn’t need to do this to get me to lay down baby,” he laughs, icy eyes dark. “Although, I do quite enjoy this view,” he raises his arm in a deliberate motion, soft cold hand coming to rest on the exposed skin just above your knee.

Your blood boils at his lewd words and touch, body acting off its own accord as you grab the hand that lays on your thigh and twist it in the opposite direction until you hear him scream at you to stop, call you crazy, tell you his daddy will have your head, and ultimately a loud snap followed by Rawdon Bolton’s cries of pain.

His elbow is bent at an awkward angle as you step off his chest and pick your laptop case back up and dust yourself, not bothering to look back as you strut away, to the Targaryen siblings.

The three siblings watch you in awe, pride filled in their purple-violet gazes. “That was the shit!” Aegon chuckled, and Helaena nodded in agreement.

“Our feisty girl is back!” Helaena declares, and the four of you sit down to eat the food. You are not too hungry now, but a sadistic satisfaction warms your heart as the whispers around you grow louder, filling you with the good gossip about Rawdon Bolton’s nearly broken arm.

“If you didn’t break his arm, I would have.” Aemond says, but he has a rare, proud smile on his face. You grin sheepishly, and then sit down by the steps.

“Well, that was the entertainment, but now it’s time for food,” Aegon declared, unceremoniously dropping his arse beside you. “Well?” He pointedly looked at Helaena and Aemond, who sat on the steps below you and opened their food.

The day passes quietly enough after that - people moving out of your way when your imposing figure walks by them. You enjoy this - the power that you gave yourself. 

“Girl what the fuck am I hearing about you?” Calvin asks the moment you enter class.

“Well, he came to me first,” you shrug. “What was I to do?”

Calvin gives you an incredulous look, his mouth agape. “You do realise exactly who you messed with?” He looks ahead and shakes his light brown head. His warm brown eyes are wide in alarm. “He’s the heir of one of the more powerful families in Westeros, you’re messing with the Mafia here!”

“And I am friends with the Targaryens,” you say, looking up at him through your brow. “I literally don’t give a shit about the Boltons.”

“Yeah, right.” Calvin rolled his eyes. “And I am the mafia queen,”

“My Range Rover didn’t come out of thin air,” you snap at him, irritated. “Calvin, this has nothing to do with you, why are you worried?”

“You have a Range Rover?” Calvin’s eyes are threatening to bulge out of their sockets.

“Are you fucking blind or what?” You say incredulously. “Did you even sleep last night?”

“I… think so?” He says, blinking absently. “I smoked weed last night but other than that I don’t know.”

“That actually explains a lot.” You sigh, anger deflating.

“I’d be worried if I were you,” He said, taking out his laptop.

“Hmm,” you murmur. They should be worried about me, you thought.

.

You’re currently in the Director’s office, who looks downright terrified of the woman sitting beside you. You had no surname, leaving the KLU admin to believe that you could be scared, but one word to Alicent and she left her husband’s side to storm in and speak some words to him. 

“Well, Professor, it is a problem that you are accusing her of being violent when you didn’t question the Bolton boy’s inappropriate behaviour with other women.” Alicent says. “It doesn’t leave a good impression of you. She is the only one who bothered to respond. I will not have this abuse of power by a family of human traffickers.”

“I didn’t know, ma’am,” the Director starts.

“You didn’t know about Rawdon Bolton’s inappropriate behaviour towards other students or did you not know that this girl would have connections with me?” Alicent says. “Either way, I am letting this slide only this one time. If I hear one more complaint about young Mr. Bolton going unanswered, I will have your head. Am I clear, Professor Quent sir?”

“Yes ma’am.” He nods, even though his clenched jaw twitches.

“Good,” Alicent smiles. Then, calling your name, she waits for you to leave the room before following you out. “That was a little reckless of you, my dear.”

“I know,” You sigh, not regretting your action, rather being upset at making Alicent come over. “I couldn’t really help myself when he was touching my thigh,”

“My sweet girl,” Alicent says, holding your hand delicately, “I am so proud of you for breaking his elbow. Just keep in mind that next time, no one sees you doing it.”

“Okay,” You nod, storing that advice in your head.

.

You keep that advice in mind as you learn to creep around, hacking into the security systems of the “abandoned warehouses” all over the city of King’s Landing. Daeron helps you whenever he can, finding his purpose amongst the numbers of your Linux and the viruses you can build.

You are keeping all of your friends in the loop - as much as you want to, you know you cannot bring down an entire family without help. Aemond’s obsession with history combined with his electrical engineering degree gives him curious ideas about different torture devices, more than glad to let you experiment on potential targets. Aegon with his deep knowledge of toxicology gives you the poisons for your pins - the kinds that destroy the pin and the target once hitting the skin, untraceable by common post-mortem tests, or the kinds that render the target unconscious for long periods of time. You’ve only tested the second kind as of yet - only immobilising the guards that threatened your presence. 

Helaena is your rescue darling, her kind face is enough to lure the young children into the truck, driving away to a safehouse until their homes can be tracked.

It all began with Rawdon Bolton’s filthy hand on you - you guessed you could thank him for being a filthy beast, but you like to think it was Alicent’s advice to remain unseen that really kicked into action. 

You’ve spied on all the big families by the time your semester comes to an end - learning that the Starks are leaning to support Rhaenyra once old Viserys finally dies. The Lannisters would support Aegon, and the Baratheons were leaning towards Aegon too. But this little council of you and your friends had other plans, plans that you had been working on for more than a while. The documents were ready, and now you only need the signatures of two people forged well enough to fool the attorney.

With Viserys’ declining health and your rather…stauch reaction to Daemon, Alicent had not extended any further invitation to Rhaenyra’s family, even as her heart begged for a semblance of their old friendship. But some ties were better left broken.

Aemond, by extension grew even more resentful of Daemon, Rhaenyra and the Strong Boys, all of them being favoured by Viserys and being let off their crimes unpunished and without reproach.

It is one of the more rare quiet nights since you have taken on the mission to destroy the Boltons step by step, and you are in the quiet of Aemond’s room, illuminated by the reading light on at his desk. The dim light of the room feels like home, and you are laying in his bed, the smell of limes and new books covering you, cocooning you in a safe haven. Aemond is presently brushing his teeth before he lays for his nightly reading, the running water and the rapid opening and closing of boxes signalling the end of his nighttime routine for his skin and hair.

The tap turns off and he steps out of the bathroom, patting his face dry with a fluffy towel, smiling as he spots you laying on his bed. “Well, hello darlin,” he says, putting away the towel in a hanger. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” 

“Nothing,” you say, turning away from him to bury your nose in his pillow. He has the finest silk pillowcases - good for his hair, he claims - and you know that he spends the same time worrying about the texture of his hair just as he cares for Vhagar. You don’t think it’s fair for him to have such healthy, soft hair. “Can’t I be here just because I want to?”

“Well,” he says, sitting at his desk and picking up his book. “Would you like me to read to you?”

“See, I knew you were a smart man.” You say. “Come here,” you pat the spot beside you on his bed, and he rolls his eye with a chuckle, yes ma'am.

“What do you want me to read to you?” He asks, the warmth of his body now beside you. He smells of limes, leather and the new book that he holds. 

“Whatever you want to,” you smile, sinking further into the pillow.

He starts reading about Old Valyria and how the first legends came into being. His voice is firm and soothing - you stop hearing his words and getting lost in the smooth tone of his voice. You've already got your arm thrown over him, across his hips and burying yourself in his side by the time you realise what you're doing. You think of pulling away, but he drops his arm on you, holding you close. 

You look up when you stop hearing his voice, only to find him staring intently at you. His one lilac eye is dark and full of emotions you have never experienced. You have lost all your vocabulary, and your words are stuck in your throat, not daring to come out. “Aemond,” You say, staring into his intense gaze. The sapphire in his eye gleams wickedly in the dim lighting of his room. His shoulders are warm under your hands, and you are leaning to his pouty mouth, the heat of his body making you forget your words. 

“What is it, my darling?” His smooth voice distracts you for long enough to remember your words.

“Kiss me,” you whisper. His large hands are on your face, and you melt into their warm, falling into his lap. "Kiss me until the only thing i know is you,"

Aemond's lips are on yours in an instant, devouring you like a man starved. A fire is ignited in your veins, fingers clutching at his black dress shirt. His familiar scent of leather and limes envelopes you, and his mouth feels like home, moulding against yours perfectly. His hands glide down from your face to the base of your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His body is tense, and he is holding back for your sake so your hands go to his silver hair and tug down the hair tie, letting his soft hair fall free and tangle your fingers in those strands until all your senses are full of him and him only. He is on your skin, on your tongue - you can hear him inhale sharply and you can see his one eye closed in pleasure - his lovely scent of leather and limes is so strong you can taste it.

“My beautiful darling,” He breathes against your lips, hands still resting on the base of your neck. “I wish I had both of my eyes so I could see you the way everyone else does,”

“It doesn't matter what everyone else sees,” you whisper against his puckered lips. “I only care about what you see,”

“Perfection.” Kiss. “You're intelligent,” Kiss. “Smart, so smart and so strong,” Kiss. “So pretty and so good to me,” This time, his Kiss lingers, filled with emotions that words couldnt convey. “Owner of my heart… and soul, if I have one.”

“Oh, my love,” you take his face in your hands and plant little kisses all over his face, stroking his sharp jaw. “I have always been yours,”

“Mhm,” he hums, planting another kiss on your forehead. You try to resist the urge of rubbing yourself on him, but your will breaks once his warm hands are on your cold arms - you lean against his chest and deeply inhale his comforting scent, rubbing your cheek against his warm neck to get comfortable. His muscles are firm under your touch, and you know the training does him wonders - his clothes and lean frame are very deceptive, you’ve discovered.

.

Everything was going according to the plan - all your documents were ready, you just had to get to Viserys’ room. Daeron took the nurse out for a long moment while you and Helaena sneaked into the room. And presently you found yourself waiting for Viserys to gain a semblance of consciousness with the drug Aegon had handed you.

You quickly step away from Viserys’ line of sight, trying not to chuckle at the odd look of Helaena pretending to be Rhaenyra. The older woman’s style is going to be a big no for your friend - and everyone agrees to that. Helaena is a gentle person, but she couldn’t be a Targaryen without a deceptive bone in her body, and she presently she utilises her skills of mimicry, and the delirious Viserys believes Helaena to be his only child, Rhaenyra - and messily signs each paper that you hand him, not even bothering to ask what the document says.

“Be happy, my child.” Viserys says as the effect of the drug starts wearing off.

“I will be now, father,” Helaena says, surprisingly good at pretending to be Rhaenyra. You leave as quietly as you had entered and went to your little experiment lab to splice the monitor footage to Viserys’ power of attorney who was surprisingly a supporter to Aegon’s claim as the heir and wouldn’t hesitate to claim your words to be true. Aegon had already spoken with Jasper Wylde, and he had already shared the footage you needed for the splicing.

You sit in front of your computer, eyes glued to the screen, acutely aware of eager Daeron sitting beside you. His soft lilac eyes are wide and focused on the screen and you, watching you edit the footage of Jasper Wylde to adjust the lighting according to Viserys’ room. You remove yourself from the footage and overlay Wylde instead, leaving Helaena sitting on the old man’s bedside. You had Aemond and Criston watch through the entire footage to ensure it was seamless, watching it over and over again to reassure yourself that nothing seems out of the place. You modify the storage drive a little and around five hours later… voila!

“I didn’t realise it would be this fast!” Daeron says, seemingly blinking for the first time in hours. “And it looks perfect!”

“It took us five hours, my man.” you say, leaning back in your chair and stretching out your now stiff arms and back. “It’s not efficient enough - we need a lot more practice.”

“Considering it was half an hour worth of footage, I think you’re doing great.” Daeron says. “I have a lot to learn from you still, sweet sister.”

“And you shall learn,” you say, ruffling his blond head. You can’t remember, but you do think you had a little brother back when you were six. Somehow seeing a ten year old ball of sunshine and energy made your young teen mind remember - that, or your mind built this false memory to explain the attachment to little Daeron. He was a child prodigy and an overachiever much like his long-haired elder brother, but he still had a year and a couple of months left of high school. Yet, to your mind and heart, he was still the little boy who brought joy to you in your worst time, even as he has grown to be taller than you.

“You’re deceptively smart,” he notes. “It’s a good thing you’re scary to look at.”

“Do you think I'm scary, young man?” you ask, raising your brow.

“Only when you’re mad.” He says, blinking innocently. “You’re great at hiding your emotions behind a dull expression, it’s scary how convincing that is.”

“Hmm,” you acknowledge, not bothering to utter the reason. Aemond comes to fetch you a while later, and you leave Daeron as he was going through Rhaenyra’s apartment security footage. You gather the copies of the documents and leave with Aemond and the dogs to hand them over to Wylde.

Coco and Vhagar are fighting amongst themselves in the backseat of his Rolls Royce, scratching up the expensive leather, but neither of you care. You sit back in your place as the passenger princess, head against the glass of the window and eyes on the beautiful man driving you to your destination. His long silver hair is tied in a long, loose braid, and you wish to pull the hair tie open. 

You reach your destination without drawing much attention and Aemond hands over the documents to Jasper Wylde in a room only having them two - you wait in the car with Vhagar and Coco, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself.

Soon, you get to an expensive cafe and spot a few paparazzi following Aemond around, clicking pictures of the two of you. He holds your hand and stays on the side of the cameras, shielding you from the attention neither of you want or need. You grab a little meal and your coffees with puppuccino for the dogs. They happily yap away the unsweetened whipped cream you hold for them, then Aemond proceeds to act like a total gentleman and open the door for you and help you in, earning a glimpse of your beautiful smile. He glares at the reporters recording you and then swiftly drives away to the park, where you spend the evening with your dogs playing as you finish your coffees and the pasties.

It’s only dusk when Aemond has to leave for a moment, he has a call he cannot ignore. You hold both Coco and Vhagar’s leash, absently walking the park full of people and their pets. It isn’t until Vhagar growls that you pay attention to the young man of dark hair and a rather plain stature in front of you. You’ve seen him a few times before, and the resemblance he holds to his brother is uncanny.

Lucerys Velaryon stands in front of you with his young bloodhound, Arrax, a slight smirk on his face and one hand stuffed in his pocket. You give him your best dead eyes and walk away, having to force Vhagar to walk. You know she is angry at Lucerys, she always is whenever he is over. But she obeys to you, reluctantly.

“You should realise that my uncles and aunt are not Targaryen heirs,” Lucerys says the moment you take your first step away from him. “Aemond is certainly not of any use to you if it is power and money that you are looking for.”

“I have no words to say to you,” You say, trying to walk away again. Vhagar is growing impatient at his voice, her nerves rubbing off on Coco as well as your German Shepherd begins a low growl at Lucerys. Vhagar tugs hard on her leash, and your hand strains to hold her back - greyhounds are one of the fastest dogs, and her limbs are tense, ready to pounce on her target.

“I am just saying that you’ll have more to gain by staying on our side than theirs.” He shrugs. “My mother and step-father will reward you generously.”

At the mention of his stepfather, you grit your teeth, whilst still struggling to hold back Vhagar with one hand. In a moment of weakness, she breaks free of your grip and pounces towards the young man, her jaw wide open, ready to snap. Lucerys barely has any time to react before her jaw snaps, only managing to nip at his little finger before you manage to get a hold of her leash back. “Vhagar, NO!” you scream. She stops, but is still growling at Lucerys, who looks at the greyhound with terror.

He holds his bleeding finger against his chest, the bite not being deep enough to take his finger off. Considering the force of Vhagar’s bite, Lucerys is very fortunate to have gotten off this easy. “Filthy beast bit me!” he accuses.

“You should be glad I held her back in time, boy,” You say through a clenched jaw. “If I hadn’t, she’d have bitten your hand off. Hounds don’t forget people that harm their humans, you should know that.”

“Bitch,” he swears at you before walking away, shaking his hand.

You force yourself to take a few deep breaths and calm down, then walk the dogs again as Aemond jogs up to you to catch up. He takes Vhagar from you and wraps his free hands around your waist, pulling you close and planting a quick kiss on your cheek. “You seem tense, darling.”

“Vhagar was not happy to see your nephew,” You say. “Can’t really blame her though, neither was I. Lucerys Velaryon is not a sight for me.”

“And did something happen?” He asks, hand squeezing your side tighter.

“Vhagar tried to bite his hand off, but nothing I couldn’t handle.” You shrug.

“You shouldn’t bite people unless you are in danger, Vhagar,” Aemond playfully chides her, and she whimpers in response, rubbing herself against his leg. “I know you are mad at him, but you’ll have your time my sweet girl.”

The next morning and the mornings after that, you and Aemond are all over the Page Six news - with the photos from the cafe and a few from the park, and you’re suddenly very uncomfortable. You hadn’t noticed any paparazzi in and around the park, and the thought that someone had been monitoring your movement sends chills down your spine. 

“They’re calling you a mystery woman,” Aegon chuckles at breakfast a few days later. “Find out all about the mystery woman with one of the most eligible bachelors in King’s Landing, the headline says, which is not true, considering I am still single.”

“It’s too early for this, Aegon,” you groan. “They’re just gossiping, it’s like their job.”

“Honey, it is their job,” He corrects you. “Although, you two do look cute together. Since when did you become so handsome, Aemond?”

“The moment I decided to speak with my darling,” Aemond answers with a rare smile on his face.

“Holy demons from the seven hells!” Aegon curses, “Who are you and where have you taken my baby brother?!”

“Aegon, shut up,” Helaena speaks up. “Literally no one cares,” she looks at you and then at Aemond with a little smirk. “You two are really cute though. I’d say you keep charms to ward off evil eyes. Too much negative energy and people these days. I like the change she brings in you, Aemond.” She adds, and your face heats up. You love these people so much, you wouldn’t trade them for anything.

Your phone rang, and seeing a video call from Daeron you grinned. "What is it, young man?" You say once his silver head comes on the screen.

"I know you are all gossiping away without me," He whines. "Hi, my brothers and sister,"

"Don't you have classes to attend?" Aegon asks, coming up behind you. "This is very insincere of you, Daeron,"

"You're one to talk," Aemond chuckles. "It's probably his break time."

You look at your little family and smile, leaning into Aemonds warm body beside you, resting your head on his shoulder. Come the night, you will be a different person - and you cannot wait to be one with the shadows once again, to have a taste of revenge. 

The night did not get a chance to come - sick, old Viserys decided to leave the realm of the living that evening, and the word spread quickly. Rhaenyra and her family arrive - and you note that the only ones with moist eyes are Alicent and Rhaenyra. It does not come to you as a shock - Daemon Targaryen’s absence - for he has never shown emotions other than lust or fury. Perhaps some say he shows love for his wife, but he does not even utter a word of respect to the one he owes everything to.

It does surprise you that Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey do not shed tears for their grandsire - as horrible as Viserys was, he did care for his grandchildren even more so than he cared about his own as you knew. They are dressed in a dark maroon, and not black or white as the customs rule. The three of them are seemingly enjoying themselves, gossiping away while throwing glances at you and your friends, all of you dressed up in fine black clothes. A light champagne is served to the few guests present - mostly people from Viserys’ council. 

Jasper Wylde nods at Aegon and Aemond not paying the rest of you any attention. He stands in the front of the room, beside Viserys’ casket and clinks his glass. “Viserys Targaryen, our stern, kind boss has unfortunately left us on this sad day.” He begins, voice deep but loud. “And I cannot disrespect Boss by delaying the reading of his will any further. A few days ago, Viserys had awakened for a short while and had me come to meet him,” he says, silencing everyone in the room with his words. “And he had me draft a new will for him, the will that I am going to read out to you now.”

“I, Viserys Targaryen, the first of my name, am leaving my business accounts, responsibilities and by extension the buildings of the Red Keep and the handlings in Westeros in my wife, Alicent Hightower’s hands.” A sudden, collective gasp took over everyone present, and you forced your face to a mask of mild surprise - as did Aemond. Aegon played his part of the clown well, with wide eyes and an incredulous grin. Helaena acts ignorant as she usually is, unbothered by everything. Daeron watches with big, curious eyes, seemingly inhaling every word uttered.

“To my eldest daughter, Rhaenyra Targaryen, I leave Dragonstone and StygianMarble.” Wylde reads. “Further, I leave Alicent Hightower the freedom to choose her heir per her wishes.”

“This is a lie!” Rhaenyra screams, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “My father would never do this.” She storms to Jasper Wylde and snatches the documents from his hands, violet eyes raking over the paper, turning pages furiously seeing Viserys' messy scrawl of a signature. The horror on her face only intensified on seeing the signed papers. “This is not real.” She exhales a shaky breath.

“I’m afraid not,” Jasper Wylde says. “This was his will, and I shall not disrespect him by listening to your vile accusations.”

“My father would never do this,” Rhaenyra says. You look away from her dishevelled state - she had given birth a few weeks prior, a healthy boy she had named Aegon III Targaryen. And you look over a wide eyed shocked Alicent, who stands beside her equally shocked but more composed father.

“I think he prevented a war from breaking out,” Tyland Lannister says. “Whether people support your claim or Aegon’s - they will all listen to Boss. It's time we have an experienced Mafia Queen.” The last comment is directed at Rhaenyra - the accusation is true but did not elicit a reaction.

“Look at her!” Rhaenyra says, pointing to Alicent. “She didn't even know my father left that in her will.”

“That is because it was between him and me only,” Wylder says.

With the corner of your vision, you notice Steffon Darklyn, one of Rhaenyra’s most trusted bodyguards reaching for the hilt of his hunting knife and you don't have to guess for it to be aimed at Alicent. With quiet steps you blend into the shadows, seeking out their company once again as you swiftly make your way towards Alicent’s shadow. They once again prove to be your trusty companions, and Steffon doesn't notice you and freely approaches the new boss with his arm raised slightly.

Like a shadow demon, you extend your hand and grab him by the wrist with a vice-like grip. You glare at him with the stare of death and he is half startled into submission and he drops the knife, the blade hitting the white marble floor with a loud clang, caught red handed in the act of trying to attack the new boss. You press your lips together, glaring at him in disapproval. “It's not kind to attack a grieving woman at her husband’s funeral.” You quietly say. “Much less in her own house.”

“She’s stealing what is rightfully my Boss', and I will not idly stand by and watch. She is a thief and she’ll get what she deserves” He says through gritted teeth. His free arm grabs for you, almost bruising on your shoulder. “And you are no one to speak to me like that little girl. Let me go.”

When you don't, Steffon twists the wrist in your grip, trying to break free as the bruising grip on your shoulder loosens, the action too quick for you to react. A harsh punch lands on your jaw, and you kick him in the knee, more out of reflex than thought of action. You're not phased too much, honestly you had much worse than that before. Your eyes tear up in response to the pain, but his reaction is much worse - the older man falls to one knee and grabs his injured one, yelping in pain. "Bitch!" He grunts.

"Darklyn!" Rhaenyra yells, angry eyes set on you. "Why would you do that!?"

You don't say anything, just glare daggers at the silver haired woman, eyes asking more questions than your mouth ever could. "I didn't know you wore glasses," you finally say when Alicent gently nudges you, finally over her shock. You massage your throbbing jaw and crack the joints of your neck, wiping away the spit that had fallen at the punch's impact. 

Aemond is quick to be at your side and his siblings follow closely, Aegon and Helaena standing on Alicent's side and Aemond and Daeron on yours. "Be careful of the words that leave you next." Aemond warns, voice dangerously low and threatening. Your glare only intensifies with the added confidence.

"Who even is she to speak to in matters of the family?" Jacaerys comes to his mother's defence. Eyes on you, he adds "You're a no one,"

“She is more family than you have ever been,” Helaena mutters, but it's audible in the silence of the room.

“Your personal guard tried to attack the new boss,” Jasper Wylde warned, earning nods from other members of old Viserys' council. “And you claim his will is a lie, and refuse to accept his decision. You are not doing any wonders to your reputation, Rhaenyra. I would advise you to grieve in peace and then act according to your father's will. He would appreciate that. Don't you trust his decision this time? The one last wish that he had of you?”

The silver-haired former heiress calms down a bit at the lawyer's words as Steffon Darklyn is carried out of the room with two of Rhaenyra’s trusted guards.  “I would like to examine the documents myself once,” he finally says.

“They are all yours,” Jasper Wylde hands the pile of bond papers. “You can examine them all you want.”

Rhaenyra and her eldest frantically go through the document, studying the paper and examining every single signature of the dead old man.

You thanked whatever divine powers worked this out - that you were able to get the old man’s signature just about a week before he died. You eye everyone in the hall - from Jason Lannister, to Rickon Stark to Criston Cole, Borros Baratheon and the Tyrell girl - the members of Viserys’ council, Otto Hightower and the rest of the family and Rhaena and Baela. The only immediate family member missing was Daemon Targaryen, not even respecting his father-in-law in his death.

Rhaenyra already had tears in her eyes, but now her face is a mask of disappointment and disapproval. “I know he wasn’t in his right mind when he had you write this.” She firmly says. “These might be his words, but he would have never wanted that. I am not sure what you drugged him with, but he’d never do that to me.”

“Even with this will, you are getting Father’s most profitable business,” Aegon says, hands crossed over his chest. His eyes are tinged red - from rage rather than melancholy. You’re not sure if the bitterness in his voice is forced. “He gave you arms production, and your apartment. He left Mother to handle the crime part. Even in death he didn’t put his wife above you. And here you are questioning his decisions.”

Alicent motions to Criston Cole, and he disperses the crowd away from the hall. You begin to walk away, but Alicent grabs your wrist and holds you in place. “You’re not going anywhere, sweet girl.” she insists. “Thank you.”

You nod, unsure of how you could tell her that you were grateful to her, for allowing you to have this lifestyle to have a civil life after your doomed existence, for her patience to have you adjust with the civil world after years of being passed around all over Westeros. This is the least you could do for her, and you should be thanking her for everything that she has done to you, for letting her amazing children be your friends, for birthing your perfect lover.

“Rhaenyra, you lost your father, and I lost my husband.” Alicent says, her big brown eyes filled with tears of sorrow. “But I want you to put your grief aside for a moment and respect your father’s will. I can only offer you my condolences and to stay in Viserys’s chambers in this period of mourning. I hope that will be enough to push some sense into your head - Mafia lord or not, Viserys was a kind father to you. The least you can do in return is accept his will.” Her voice breaks, and you are amazed at how this strong, strong woman could mourn for the man who made her life hell, who did not pay any mind to the children that she bore for him.

You had more than a couple of harsh questions for the heiress, but you kept your mouth shut, forcing yourself to swallow the words that came to your mouth. 

“You don’t have the right to offer me my father’s house.” Rhaenyra’s words are harsh, probably from her delirious grief, but it is then that you snap.

“If he was so dear to you, where had you been all these years as he slowly decayed away to his sickness?” Your voice is full of bite. 

“What do you know of me and my father?” the silver-haired woman snaps. “You are just a no one who came out of nowhere like yesterday and you feel entitled to speak with me like that?” 

“I can assure you that I have lived here longer than either of your sons have,” you say, having snapped the thread of your will. “And you might be surprised by the extent of my knowledge on this whole mess of a family.”

“Have some respect, you’re speaking to my mother,” Jacaerys demands, standing on his mother’s right. His brown eyes are wide in anger, but his dull figure is not intimidating at all. 

“And what has she done to earn my respect?” You shrug. “The first time I saw you, you had wanted an injured child having his eye sewn shut to be tortured for calling your sons bastards. The last time I saw her at a sitdown with the mob families, her disgusting husband shot an important family man in front of the whole mob and she didn’t even bat an eye on it. I’d say she looked pleased, even. Rhaenyra, would you have another man killed for telling the truth?”

You tilt your head slightly to the side at the mother and sons’ alarmed expressions, a haunting smile gracing your face. Rhaenyra quickly composes herself, “My husband doesn't like when people disrespect me.” She says, lips pressed together in a smoulder. “You should be careful too.”

“And where is your so dutiful husband now?” You hiss, and Alicent places her hand on your arm, squeezing. You know that she wants you to stop, but you can’t now. Not when the poison in your veins threatens to explode, if you don’t let it out, the misery will suffocate you and might just be too much to bear. “With his lovely young Nettles, I presume?” you add with a sneer. “Fucking pedophile.”

The mention of Daemon Targaryen’s favourite young little whore is what finally has Rhaenyra’s walls crumbling, and her left eye twitches in uncontrolled rage. You smirk at her, enjoying this destruction of her peace. Alicent’s hand is still on your arm, squeezing at it, harsher now, wanting you to stop. 

“I am not sure why you have this vendetta against my step-father,” Lucerys finally speaks up. “But you probably deserved it, you bitch.”

And your rage explodes like a sparked dynamite. Alicent released your arm, unwilling to hold you back now. Every moment of those blurred six years that you had spent in that hellhole of a place seemed to be playing in your head like a tragic, horror movie. The image of those disgusting old men touching you without a care in the world - the fight response kicking in your veins. You are on their side in an instant, and you punch the younger boy in the face - you don't see Lucerys - in your eyes he is one of those filthy old beasts that call themselves men  of class. You fist lands right on his left eye, and he grunts - pushed back by the force of your punch. Aemond and Aegon both rush to your either side, holding you back with all the force that they could muster.

Everything happens so quickly - you feel nothing but white, hot rage toward that family, each one of them entitled to everything in the world. “He’s not worth it, my love.” Aemond’s quiet voice whispers in your ear, and you let him drag you away from this infuriating trio of mother and sons - the hall enveloped in total silence. “Let me take you somewhere more pleasing.”

“I should have strangled them,” you mumble.

“All in good time, my love.” Aemond promises. 

.

Aegon holds them all with an angry stare, Rhaenyra tending to Lucerys; bruising eye - it looks painful, and would probably swell too. He couldn’t care less, not when the young man deserved it. Lucerys should be glad that none of the hounds are there -  they’d have done some serious damage with the fury they had ignited in every single one of them. 

“You should be glad she didn’t have any weapons on her,” Aegon says through gritted teeth. “Don’t overstay your welcome - our Sunfyre doesn’t take kindly to uninvited guests, you know. Neither do I.” He walks away, Daeron and Helaena follow him. 

The three are waiting for Alicent and Otto to return, and when they do Daeron is the one to speak up first, “They cannot live here with us, Mother.” he runs his fingers through his silver waves, sighing. “Not with how they act and speak.”

“I will try my best to limit their interactions with you, my children.” Alicent sighs, rubbing her forehead. “And I will make sure they do not speak of Daemon. I have never liked that man - he had always been quite the… rogue soldier.”

"You should have them kicked out." Aegon presses. "I wouldn't be surprised if my dear sister plans to take over our house by killing all of us. It's just not safe!"

"Viserys was her father and I cannot deny her the right to mourn in peace." Alicent sighs. "I will have Criston increase the security though."

"This will bite back in the ass." Helaena grumbles. "None of us trust her mother - she is not your friend anymore. She is a jealous ex heiress and might stoop low enough to kill us all in our sleep."

"It's just a matter of a week," Alicent says, hand on her chest. "We can manage."

"You say it's a week - a week when Aemond has to leave for his conference in Highgarden." Daeron notes. "He is our best fighter and I honestly don't feel particularly safe in his absence while the enemy lives in our home."

It is now two days later, and Aegon watches as Aemond ruffles Daeron's hair and asks him random questions in Computer vocabulary that he doesn't clearly understand. His youngest brother perks up like a sunflower and aptly answers the questions. 

Helaena cannot stand saying goodbye - it feels like an omen, she claims. Their mother is there, and she murmurs blessings to Aemond, caressing his shoulders. She is tense, Aegon can see that - sending away her favourite son is a risky gamble and she insists on Criston going with him, leaving them almost completely defenceless. He cannot blame her though - Aemond’s safety is just as important.

The brothers only hug, and Aegon only pats his little brother’s back saying, “You’ll get the best paper award, I know it.”

“I'd be the happiest if I do,” Aemond grins.

“I beg to disagree,” Aegon says, glancing over to his side, with you sitting on the bench, looking down at your hands. To his surprise, Aemond blushes and Aegon cannot help but smirk as he shoves his little brother your way.

As happy as Aegon is for you two, there is a little envy of the way the two of you beam like diamonds in each other’s presence, wondering if he would ever have someone like that. You hug him tightly and then crane up to kiss his cheek - Aemond smiles as do you, and he quickly snaps a picture to tease two sappy lovers. He looks away when Aemond kisses you. 

Then Aemond waves at all of you as he gets in the car after Criston, a happy smile on his face. You begin to walk away and the two remaining brothers flank your sides. 

“If either one of my nephews bother you, tell me.” Aegon promises you. “I won’t be sad if you hurt them, but mother wouldn't be too happy.”

“I am planning to go for a drive and walk Coco and Vhagar.” You say. “I won't have time to see those annoying little nephews of yours.”

“Good then.” He says, a feeling of dread dropping to the pit of his stomach. 

The awful feeling keeps clawing up his insides, and by dinner time when you have not returned it starts clawing at his throat. Aegon keeps a watchful on his half-sister and his nephews - something about them feeling off. Their eyes sparkle with mirth, as if they share an inside joke that has been made at their cost. 

It happens quickly, too quick for Aegon to reach for his revolver. The masked men target Daeron and Helaena first - then Alicent and Otto. A blade is pressed into the column of his throat - not cutting through yet. The blade would cut if he breathes too aggressively so he holds his breath. 

“Out of the chairs, now,” Rhaenyra says with a smirk. Lucerys and Jacaerys smile of their own accord, the two pairs of dark brown eyes jumping from Aegon, to Daeron to Helaena. Lucerys' eye is swollen, but not enough to take the vision from his eye, and for a moment of spite, he prays that it would have, serving the young man right. Otto reaches for his pistol, but the big man beats him to it, now holding Otto's pistol to his own head along with the knife at his throat. 

Aegon has both his hands being held behind him in a grip like vice. If he makes it through the night, they'd certainly be bruised. “Very generous of you to offer this special treatment,” He says. “But I'd appreciate not having a blade digging into my larynx.”

“I’ll have your throat slashed if you speak again,” Rhaenyra threatens. “I’ll take what's mine and maybe spare your life.” She twirls a small knife in her hands and adds thoughtfully, “not that bitch of yours though. I’ll have my time enjoying her screams.”

“Alicent, we can have this done in an easy way - you sign the documents naming everything to me and I'll not hurt anyone.” She says. “Or I’ll start with taking sweet Helaena’s nails. You wouldn’t like that, would you?”

There are tears in his Mother’s eyes that he cannot wipe away. He can only hope to disarm the man holding him, but he cannot - there are too many of them to fight and they could kill his family for freeing himself, a risk he cannot afford to take.

Aegon is surprised to feel someone’s two elbows dig between his shoulder blades, for he is certain that only one man was holding him and that men only had two arms. The unmistakable crack of bones breaking fills his ears momentarily and he tries to look behind himself. His surprise turns to alarm when the hand gripping his wrists together loosens and falls, following the knife being dropped from his throat - and he can finally breathe again. A delicate hand is wrapped around his arm and tugs him back, and he is glad to have you on his side - for the look in your eyes promises a fate more barbaric than being burned alive. 

“You will release my family,” You say, voice deathly still. 

“I will-” Rhaenyra starts.

Five shots echo, interrupting Rhaenyra’s sentence before it even starts, and the five men holding his grandsire, mother, sister and brother fall dead on the floor with perfectly shaped bullet wounds oozing blood from their foreheads.

“You were saying something?” You ask, smiling as if you didn’t just send five men to Hell - well, six, if counting the man whose neck you snapped.

Jacaerys and Lucerys cave into their mother - Aegon cannot blame them, he, too, would hide behind his mother had he been at the receiving end of your sinister eyes. Rhaenyra’s violet eyes are wide with shock and fear - a look that suits her, he thinks.

“Cat got your tongue?” You ask again, the long barrel of your piston towards the floor, but your hand is raised in the trio’s direction. You slowly stalk toward them, twirling your piston between your fingers. “This fear suits you,” you finally say. “Keep this in mind the next time you plan to harm my family. Your goons will not be the only ones dropping dead the next time it happens. Off now, dinner’s over.”

Lucerys and Jacaerys follow their mother, wide-eyed as they take a good look at the five large, dead men laying on the floor, their blood turning the white marble a dark shade of red. Alicent looks at you as if seeing you for the first time - he cannot blame his mother - you have a naive face, no one could guess you are capable of such brutality. It’s a weapon, Aegon thinks, a weapon of mass deception.

Daeron looks wide eyed at the dead bodies, shuddering once before stepping over two pairs of immobile legs and coming to stand beside him. Aegon raises his arm and pulls his brother close. After all, Daeron is still young and not too used to violence. Helaena looks at you deeply once, your eyes are trained on the floor - Aegon thinks you are afraid, afraid of judgement - he cannot begin to imagine why, for you have just saved their lives and their rights. 

“You saved our lives,” Helaena says. “I don’t think words would be enough to thank you.”

“It was nothing.” You say, voice small. You look up once again and glance at the dead bodies scattered in the room. “This one is not dead,” You say, nodding toward the man that had been holding Aegon hostage. “I’ll have him questioned once he wakes, but I need help to move him - there.”

Aegon and Daeron both come to your aide and together manage to lift the burly man, taking him to the lift. You stuff the pistol in the back pocket of your jeans and then walk out of the room, saying, “I’ll send someone to clean this mess up.”

.

That had been the first time the Velaryon boys had seen you snap. The fear it had left in their brain had dulled in comparison to what they witnessed a mere two days later though. The sight of you was enough to send their thoughts right back to Hell - the place you had returned from.

With Aegon’s help, you had managed to obtain the full layout of the Bolton’s Knight Club. And with little assistance from Daeron, you sneak into the premises. His voice is in your ear, telling you the position of the guards and which point would be easier to sneak in from. You are upset that Daeron has to witness you going apeshit on camera, but you couldn’t do everything alone. You kill those guards as bloodlessly and quickly as you can and find your way to the children’s rooms. 

In the earpiece, you can hear Daeron speak with Helaena as he tells her the route to follow and she follows you in as you work to pick the locks. You remind yourself that you have done this a hundred times before tonight, but this place with its dark luxurious interior makes your blood boil to an extent that you are unable to think clearly. You want to stomp on the roof till this building collapses with everyone in it.

You waste precious seconds in picking the lock, but those moments are paid off as you see beds by beds of little boys and girls looking at you all wide-eyed and terrified. You spot some young women and men too - them eyeing your duo warily. Helaena starts with her gentle words and you can see them trusting her, as they file into two queues of around fifty people total. 

You know they think that this is a dream, a dream seen by most of them in their sleep. An angel coming to save them from this hellish world, to tell them they were only being tested and to be returned to their families. For you that dream could never be your reality, but you want to provide that reality to these kids whose innocence is stolen before they even got to realise life. Some of the young children are as young as four - barely out of the toddler stage, and your heart twists in disgust. You can only hope that her parents take her back.

A young woman clings to a little babe - barely over six months old. You motion at her to follow the other kids, but she refuses, terror in her eyes.

“What is your name?” you ask, as gentle as you can be.

“Martha,” she replies.

“Martha, listen, I know you are scared to leave.” You keep the voice gentle, force it to stop shaking. “You think that these people are the most powerful in the world and they will catch you. I am asking a lot from you when I ask you to trust me, but I have been here before and I know that it will not get better. It never does. Helaena will take care of you so that you can take care of your baby.”

“They said they’ll kill my sweet Ellaire if I try to run.” Martha says with tears in her eyes. Her dark hair is a mess, brown cheeks turning a dark burnt orange. “I can’t put Ellaire at risk.”

“Martha, if you stay here they’ll do to Ellaire what they did to you.” You softly say the truth. “And I know you don’t want that. We can help you, please come with us.” You glance down at your watch and urgently add, “We don’t have much time.” 

At her hesitation, you further add, “Everyone else has left, what do you think they will do to you and Ellaire when they see that you’re the only ones left?” You grab her wrist, careful of the babe. “Do you think they will let little Ellaire live? You have to leave. Now. Come with me.” Somehow you manage to coax her and she follows everyone else out to Helaena’s truck. Aegon is with her, waiting to drive away. You had ensured that those traumatised kids and young adults did not come across the dead guards - they didn't need to see dead bodies with the physical, psychological and sexual trauma that they already held. 

“Okay, we are done now!” Helaena says in your earpiece. “Daeron, is the path clear?” 

“Not yet.” Daeron says. “There’s a truck like yours at the back gate.”

“Shoot the driver dead,” you hiss. “I am sure they have brought new stock. Helaena, can you drive a truck?”

“Oh yeah,” Helaena eagerly says. 

“Aegon, get that driver and his handler good for me.” You quietly say again. 

“On it, ma’am.” Aegon says, and you hear the opening and shutting of the door. A small shuffling sound is heard and Helaena sighs. 

Two gunshots and dull thuds come into your earpiece and once again the opening and closing of truck doors is heard. “Alright, we’re done.” Aegon says. “Are we free to go now, captain?” he asks Daeron

“Yeah,” Daeron says. “You’re all clear.”

“Daeron,” you quietly say. “I am going to have to ask you to look away from the cameras now. You’ll hate me after this if you see.”

“I don’t think I will,” He says. “You’re doing everyone a favour with what you are about to do. Decimate them all.” His voice is venomous as he speaks, and you think he sounds more mad at them for you than you are.

“I will,” you promise.

.

It’s way past midnight, closer to the devil’s hour than it is to midnight by the time you are done with the Botlon’s Knight Club and its patrons. Your face is probably covered in blood, and your hair is heavy - damp and sticky. Your black leather jacket is covered in blood, but the dark colour makes it harder to spot. Dried blood marks your footsteps from the lift to the kitchen on Alicent's floor, working in the dark. You’re thirsty, terribly so. You’re covered in blood and desperately need to bathe, but you’re starving and you’re thirsty. A few drops of blood drip down from your braid onto the granite counter as you drain a jug of water quickly.

Your burning oesophagus and stomach thank you with relief as the cool water falls on them, reviving some of the sensations. There’s some leftover cake in the fridge and you take it out along with some cranberry juice and the butter chicken leftovers that you warm up in the microwave. You’re starving like a neanderthal - so hungry that you could eat a horse. But soon the chicken is hot enough to burn your tongue and you start eating on the kitchen island, stabbing at it with your fork and gulping it down with no civility. 

You are practically inhaling the cranberry juice from the glass when the light is suddenly turned on, blinding you momentarily as a set of vaguely familiar voices screams, snapping you out of the starved trance you are in. You slowly blink in your vision, and spot Jacaerys and Lucerys standing at the kitchen entrance, staring at you, their eyes comically wide. You are about to ask if they have seen a ghost, but then you look down at yourself, covered in blood and drinking a juice red as the blood on you. 

Rhaenyra and Alicent follow close, standing behind the two strong boys - Alicent sighs and shrugs as Rhaenyra looks at her former friend for some answers. You ignore them and continue to drink your cranberry juice - realising just now that you probably smell like smoke. You need to bathe, dreadfully so, but your cake slice was waiting for you. And you’re still fucking starving, so you dig back into butter chicken.

“Do you want to eat or just keep staring at me?” You ask after gulping down the last of your butter chicken.

“Y/N, you’ll need to have the kitchen cleaned before breakfast.” Alicent says, turning around as she yawns. “Go sleep, you three. Nothing out of the ordinary here.”

“Filthy demon,” Rhaenyra murmurs.

You hiss at her and the terrified trio rushes away from your kitchen, and you finally get to your cake. Having satiated your hunger, you return to your rooms and take a long, cleansing bath and then return to clean the lift with very contained smoke and then clean it with hydrogen peroxide. You are thorough in your cleaning, careful with the controlled smoke and then with peroxide followed by floor-cleaner. It’s past four in the morning by the time you are done, but you still have much energy left to expend. You play with the harddrive you had retrieved from the Knight’s Club, and sit down in front of your computer, easily accessing the cameras that had been connected to the Bolton’s private network till around nine in the night.

There is no physical evidence of footage, but you find your way into the Bolton’s cloud storage and erase the footage from there too, making sure to clear any traces of your invasion. It was simply as if the footage from that night was never stored on the cloud. You plug in the harddrive and remove the footage from there too, and then throw it in your fireplace. The outer plastic casing eventually melts away and you enjoy the flames dancing in front of your eyes. Alas, the fire is not hot enough to melt the circuits, but by the time you retrieve the half molten plastic, the circuit is easy to dismantle and you pick it out piece-by-piece and destroy the pin.

.

The fire from the previous night is the only thing being spoken of all over the university - assignments and homework, deadlines and new presentations forgotten. Early police investigation suggests that the fire was the culprit that claimed the lives of a total of sixty men - thirty guards and around thirty most powerful men in Westeros - with the Knight’s Club owners and runners - Reese Bolton, his brothers Ryman and Roose, his sons Rawdon and Raymond, a Velaryon man, Petyr and Edwyn the Frey twins, are the more notable among other names. 

You don’t care about that buzz though, because Aemond is set to return this evening. You have sparsely spoken to each other, only occasionally texting a have you had dinner, or how did your presentation go, kind of thing - but no proper conversation. You think of him - how his scent of leathers and limes comforts you and you cannot wait to have him back in your arms. 

The day passes by in a blur - the student’s union holds a short memorial ceremony for Rawdon and Raymond but you don’t go - you’d probably oust yourself by laughing. How they managed to recognize the dead men was still a mystery to you, for you were certain DNA tests couldn’t be this fast - it must have been the footage of them all entering, perhaps. 

The police says there was a fire down in the electrical supply and it short circuited, and the centralised air conditioning collapsed on the people, crushing their faces. They didn’t know that the air conditioning crushed them after they were lying dead in pools of their own blood. You had used a wide variety of weapons, which you spent a terrible hour in the morning cleaning before driving to King’s Landing University. 

Despite the blood colouring your hands red, you feel like the cleanest you have ever felt. 

“Did you hear about the fire at Bolton’s last night?” Calvin asks you as you slide into place beside him in the algorithms class. 

“Everyone is talking about it,” you say. You don’t have to fight too hard the urge to take credit. You want to, so desperately, but you resist it. You’ll have time later in the evening when Aemond is back. “I really don’t care though. As you know I was not particularly fond of Rawdon Bolton after that incident two weeks ago.”

“Of course,” Calvin says. “And you seem too happy,”

“Do I?” You ask.

“Yeah, glowing.” He nodded, an exasperated look on his face.

“My boyfriend is coming back from his conference,” You say, which is the truth. “I haven't seen him in three days! I missed him terribly.”

“Uhm, since when do you have a boyfriend and why don’t I know about this?” Calvin asks, a pout on his face as he rests his chin on his hands.

“Well, it’s just Aemond,” you shrug.

“Just Aemond?” he asks, incredulous. “Girl, you’re speaking about the Aemond Targaryen, right? Viserys Targaryen’s son?”

“Yeah, who else?” You frown.

“Girl what-” he seems shocked by your indifference, a hand on his mouth. “You’re dating Aemond Targaryen, the one-eyed mob… prince?”

“Yes, Calvin. Did you leave your brain at home or what?” you say.

“You’re dating Aemond fucking Targaryen-” He repeats. “And you expect me to be cool about it?”

“You were stoned the first time I told you about that,”  You recall. “Calvin, I told you about this before, I am sure.”

“Must be,” He decides. “Because I’d never forget that otherwise.”

.

The news of the fire in Reese Bolton’s Knight Club has reached Aemond, clearly so. He wonders if it is truly an accident, but he doesn't believe it. He hadn't spoken with you since last evening, when you had ominously said, "I will be busy tonight, my love." You gave no further explanation.

As he drives into King's Landing via the highway, Criston sits in the passenger side, looking rapidly from mirror to mirror, eyeing for anyone who might be following them. Aemond zig zags this way through the highway, doing his best to keep everyone confused. 

There had been an attempt at him while he was in his hotel at Highgarden, but Criston had managed to save him by a second. A masked man had tried to shoot him, and he was captured by Cole and was presently tied up and hidden in the trunk of the car. He has some words to ask about the ambush. They managed to keep it under wraps, but he suspected it had something to do with his Mother being named heir and Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. 

Even with his disturbed mind, Aemond managed to get the best poster award, even if he didn't get the best paper one. He had just shrugged when you had asked about how it went, not wanting to tell you over the phone.

Aemond misses the warmth of your body against his, but he tries not to think about it too much and focuses on the road instead, hurrying to reach the Red Keep as fast as he can.

It's a little past sunset when he reaches home, and you are walking in the direction of the complex Vhagar and Coco on either side. The dogs rush at the sight of him and you let them go, and both the greyhound and the German shepherd seem to have gained their energy back at the sight of your silver haired boyfriend, and you let them off their leash, the two of them speeding to the black suv. Vhagar jumps on Aemond, as if trying to hug her human while Coco sniffs around, licking at Criston’s hand, rubbing himself all over his knees and calves. Cole lets out a rare laugh, patting the big ball of fluff on his head, murmuring, “Good boy Coco, I missed you too.”

“I missed you too, big girl,” Aemond kissed the running dog’s snout and rubbed under her ears as you managed to catch up with your pups. You smile at Criston who finally manages to escape Coco’s clutches only to be smothered by Vhagar, while Coco now targets his affections to Aemond, standing on his hind legs with his front legs on Aemond and leaving little licks on the scarred side of his face.

“I see you have been a good boy, Coco,” Aemond says, rubbing the german shepherd’s brown fur. You chuckle as your dog turns his butt to Aemond, demanding his long overdue butt-scratches, and your beautiful boyfriend has no choice but to oblige.

“Come with me pups,” Criston urges the dogs who eagerly follow him into the lift, smiling at the two of you as he leaves.

“Hi,” you say, unable to fight the big grin on your face.

“Hi yourself, my love.” He says, grinning like an idiot. “How I have missed you so.”

You reach forward and hug him, his homely smell enveloping you in blankets of comfort. His strong arms hold you close and his nose rests in your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. Your eyes are shut and you can listen to his steady heart beat, his warmth bringing you much needed comfort. 

“I love you,” you whisper against him, and he squeezes you tighter in response, leaving a long kiss on your hair. His lips move against your hair - you can’t hear him over the pounding of your heart and his - but you know what he says sigh.

“How was your conference?” You ask, pulling away from him. You examine him from head to toe, brushing back some of his out of place hair, your hand on his cheek. He loved the comfort your calloused hand brings to him, leaning further into your touch.

“Not peachy,” he confesses with a sigh. “I still got the best poster award though.”

“What happened, Aemond?” You ask. You have that alarmed gleam in your eyes that he recognises way too well, and he knows it’s too late to retract. 

So he attempts to distract you. “Nothing,” He says. “Nuff talking about that conference though. I want to spend time with my girl now,” he smirks a little and before you can react, you are thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, a sudden gasp leaving you as he takes the fucking staircase up.

“Aemond, put me down you rascal!” You say with a giggle as he carries you up unceremoniously till the first floor landing. Aemond stops for a moment and he gently lets your feet touch the ground, and you think you are going to go to your rooms in Otto’s floor, before you are swept up into his arms again, bridal style this time. You laugh again, more freely this time as he takes the lift, a little proud smile on his face. His long, silky hair tickles your neck as you lean forward to plant a kiss at the corner of his heart shaped mouth, content with yourself. 

The lift halts at Alicent’s floor - the second - before coming to Aemond’s floor - the sixth one - and the lift doors open to reveal Jacaerys. Your happy mood sours at his wavering voice, “You’ve returned, Uncle.”

“It would seem so,” Aemond says, and you scowl at the young man before hitting the close button with your foot, promptly taking the Velaryon boy out of your sight.

“They’ve caused quite a mess in your absence,” You tell Aemond, absently playing with his hair. “I can’t fucking wait for them to leave.”

“Hmm,” Aemond hums, mentally taking note of asking Aegon about it later. You and Alicent would hold back details from him - he is certain. “We’ll get to that later. I hear there was a fire last night.” he looks at you with a smile. His eye hurts from this angle but it’s worth being able to see the slight pride blooming in your face as your cheeks colour. “It wouldn’t have been your doing would it be, darling?”

“No, not at all,” you say with a smile. “Me? Little old me doing anything like that?”

“Unimaginable,” Aemond adds. “Impossible, Inconceivable.”

“Any other synonyms left, good sir?” you poke his long, pale neck with your nose. He smells a little of sweat, but you have smelled worse. 

“Unbelievable, my love.” He teases.

.

.

.

.

tags:

@p0rnstargirl  @aerysa-targaryen @warners-wife 

@dollfaceyourfear @ladymoon666 @chainsawsangel @esmaada @amadwomanrambles @devils-blackrose @darthgamer74 @jbaby2

@its-sam-allgood @aemondmyl0ve @pingyu-in-wonderland @poisonedsultana

@a-beaverhausen @virginslut08 @depressedperson88

[visenyaism]

in modern au westeros, do the targaryens count as old money? i know they have been around for like 300 years now but i can see like a bolton or a hightower being like “anyone who showed up in the past 1000 years could leave in the next 1000” (v targeted comment)

i mean probably old money given that they’ve been aristocrats the whole time (even if in valyria they were middling) but there was definitely a sense that they were foreign in the beginning before the conquest. arguably the doctrine of exceptionalism encourages that but it’s hard to be new money when you literally founded the country. When we compare them to the houses that are considered “new money” like the tyrells, brackens, cleganes, or baelishes, that isn’t really their situation at all

[the-californicationist]

Goldfish (SanSan AU) - 7/8

Warnings: descriptions of abuse, canon-mentioned abuse and domestic violence, mention of ramsay bolton, modern au, oral and vaginal sex

Arya’s car was still gone when Sandor pulled into their driveway. Sansa suspected she was staying with Gendry, the on-again-off-again boyfriend, and she hoped it would be a while until her return. Emboldened by Sandor’s petrol station promises, she stepped off of the bike and handed him back his helmet. Then, the question she was going to ask came out as more of a command,

“Come upstairs.”

Sandor’s face read shock and amusement, charmed by her sudden forcefulness. She laughed at herself, just as surprised, and tried to cover up her tracks,

“I mean, if you want to, you can come up. Do you want to?”

“Do I want to come up?” He was still straddling the bike, but he pulled her to him by her waist, forcing her to part her legs to allow his knee to press between her thighs. 

“Yeah,” she played with the hem of his shirt, “to my room.”

His voice was a low whisper now, suggestive and dripping with intent,

“Do you want me to come up to your room, little bird?”

She nodded, kissing him chastely, biting her bottom lip.

“I need to hear you tell me. Say it, and I’ll obey,” his whisper was a dark threat now. 

“Come upstairs. To my room,” she said. All the forcefulness returned, this time on purpose.

“Aye,” his thick, northern accent felt like her favorite coat, all warm and familiar. He rose from the bike and stood over her, rubbing the side of her neck, running a large hand beneath her jaw, making her feel boneless. 

She fumbled with the door, mentally cursing Arya for her paranoia, then sheepishly thankful to have a sister who cared so much. He followed her through the house, uninterested in the tour, simply trailing behind her heels, ready to be commanded again. 

“And this is my room, for now, at least,” Sansa explained as she swung open the door. Other than a king mattress and a borrowed IKEA frame, there wasn’t much to see. At the end of her marriage, she hadn’t been allowed to buy things. Anything she did buy would have been burned. There was no point. It made her feel even further from normal than she already was. 

As if shaking her out of her thoughts, Sandor shut the door behind his back with a click, and leaned against it, waiting. His eyes never left her face, studying her, trying to anticipate her needs. Patient. 

She turned toward him fully, her back to the bed, and untied the bow at her neck again. One button. Another. Another. She hesitated. He was watching her like a hawk, and the air around them was so still that they could have felt a ghost walk between them. 

“Still don’t want me to see?” His finger went up under her chin, lifting her face from her button-pulling. His thumb ran softly across her mouth. 

She yanked the shirt off her shoulders, looking him dead in the eyes. He didn’t explore. He saw, but he didn’t need to look. 

He kissed her, hard. She snaked her hands around his waist, finding the skin beneath his shirt and feeling his smoldering warmth. Then, he stopped, very abruptly. Waiting again. Her most compliant soldier. 

Matching her intensity, he shucked off the heavy moto jacket onto her floor and stretched his shirt over his head to follow it. She looked. 

She had seen him shirtless before. She was fifteen, left alone while Joff went out with friends, sulking around his house, haunting the hallways and empty mansion rooms. She’d gone down to the basement; the second galley kitchen was a lot less intimidating than Circe’s state-of-the-art, stainless monstrosity, and she was always hungry. A small gym lay between the door and the kitchen, and Sandor had been there, fighting a heavy bag. His punches had been so loud, popping against the bag in a ferocious pattern. She could see his uncovered muscles, strangely large when her mind compared him with Joff's frail form. The Hound's thick flesh was pulling against his big bones as he struck, trembling from the force as each punch found its mark. He hadn’t heard her come in, and she had been so unsure of how to approach that she just stood there, watching him work, sweat running in little lines around his neck and down his back. Then he’d noticed her in the tall mirror against the wall. She remembered how he had stared into her face, not donning his rehearsed, deferred expression when Joff was around, usually finding her shoes easier to look at than her eyes. But not then. Then, he had put his hands on his hips, struggling to catch a breath, face flushed pink from his exertion, abs expanding and contracting in an animalistic rhythm, bearing his gaze down into her, looking at her like he was starving and she was his meal. 

He was softer, now, and bigger. His muscles had grown considerably over the last decade, and he looked impossibly heavy. No longer was he the sinewy, underfed mongrel snarling under a lion’s paw. He was well-fed. Healthy. Ready to take down any big cat. The muscles leading up into his neck fascinated her. Big, rope-like cords, growing high out of his prominent, round shoulders, making his body appear like a shield, broad and impenetrable. 

There were scars on him, too. She hadn’t noticed any back then, other than the scorched mask spilling messily down his neck and chest. Now, his fire-marks were joined by violent blemishes like closed-over punctures, obvious stitches, and a collection of purpled, keloid tears. Fighting wounds. His own war story unfolded before her for her appraisal. She put her hand on his chest, feeling his thick hair and brushing her fingertips across it. He trembled beneath her touch like she had burned him, gooseflesh spread up his arms and along his neck. Testing the waters, she leaned in, her own bare breasts making contact with his stomach, and she felt her nipples graze his skin before pressing into his abs. Her mouth landed on his sternum, softly planting a long kiss there, almost reverently. He let out the breath he had been holding onto. 

“You can look,” She whispered into his chest, staring up at him.

She took two slow steps back toward the bed and sat on its edge. He knelt before her, not pausing to explore despite her invitation, one knee digging into the hardwood, the other finding space between her legs. Sandor was so tall that he matched her seated height. He began to kiss her again, skipping her mouth and going right for her neck, his hands planted firmly on either side of her hip. He moved lower, holding her around her ribs then, sucking at the sides of her breasts, taking big, long licks over her nipples. His warm breath caressed the wet swaths of skin, heightening her sensations there. 

With a big, calloused hand, he rubbed across her stomach, moving around her ribs roughly, squeezing her, making indentions in the skin, leaving flushed streaks behind. He tugged at her gently, pulling her body to his mouth with strong movements, shaping her breasts in his hands. He spent his time discovering what made her eyes flutter, or not. Then, he pulled his mouth away, placing his hands back at her sides, and although he was breathing heavily, she could tell he was waiting for her again. 

She smiled, a hint of sadness at the edges of it, her speech staggered and choppy,

“I should have gone with you. At Blackwater Lake. Joff’s lake house. After the fire. If I had left with you, none of this would have happened.”

“I shouldn’t have left you there. It was my mistake, not yours, little bird. Mine.”

[transassdemon]

WORK IN PROGRESS

A sketch for Modern AU fanart where Walda forced her new family to have a proper Halloween celebration. Her husband agreed, not very eager, but anything to make Walda happy. Walda dressed as Good Witch Glinda and put their newborn baby in a fat pumpkin costume, Roose threw on the basic vampire costume, Domeric wanted to be funny and dressed as a hot dog, meanwhile Ramsay went as Joker (yes, the Jared Leto one.)

[irlplasticlamb]

now we need to know your book asoiaf ships omg

OH MY GOD THERE’S SO MANY LET’S GO LET’S GO

let’s start with ones that make a bit more sense/have some book evidence, in no particular order: jaime/brienne (okay this one IS my favourite asoiaf ship…… you can’t even imagine how hard i cried over the “i dreamed of you” scene OKAY), ned/cat, theon/jeyne (jeyne poole is my BABY btw!!! need to draw her at some point!), stannis/davos, jon/satin, jon/val (jon IS bisexual, grrm told me himself), roose/barbrey (coming out as a house bolton stan. so sorry, their pink murderous charm bewitched me. also barbrey dustin is so 💘💞💝💕💖💓💝💕💝), robb/theon, jon con/rhaegar (i am a rhaegar HATER but i also cannot get over sad pining and the inherent tragedy of this ship…… i love being a hypocrite hehe), renly/loras (they’re so slay in the books), ashara/ned, robert b./ned

and NOW for the ones that simply exist in my head because i am UNWELL: sansa/aegon “young griff” (they’re my RIDE OR DIE!!!! RIDE OR DIEEEEEE!! also there IS a very compelling theory about the possibility of aegonsa becoming canon so i shall remain delulu forever), jaime/elia (i once read a fic in which jaime helped elia and her children escape and rhaenys kept calling him “sir lion” and oh my god… oh my GOD), jon/satin/val (jon and the two bad bitches he pulled by being a good boy), arya/myrcella (I JUST WANT ARYA TO KISS GIRLS, honestly this ship mostly applies to the insane modern au i have in my head but shh), sansa/dany, cersei/melisandre (when they’re evil and they’re sapphics….. also the fire motif……….)

and honestly…… there’s probably more and i just DON’T REMEMBER

[flowerandblood]

✨ Requests Full List ✨

List of your requests on fanfics, oneshots and headcanons. I will update it on a regular basis and mark which ones I am working on, which are already finished, and which ones have been published.

⏰ Waiting | ⭐ In Progress | 💐 Published | ✨ Finished

The list shows requests that I was able to take on and that I feel comfortable with, but I will not give exact dates when they will appear. I want to publish all of them for sure, please, be patient. Thank you for your understanding!

⭐ [ The Raven! • Aemond x female ] ⭐ [ Aemond x Bolton! • female ] (accident on the dragon) ⭐ [ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ] ⭐ [ dark • Aemond x dragon blood • female ] ⭐ [ prince regent • Aemond x prisoner • female ] ⭐ [ The Brave • Aemond x Stark • female ] ⏰ [ Aemond x Baratheon! • female ] (drunk Aemond) ⏰ [ Halloween! • Aemond x female ] ⏰ [ Michael Gavey x literature student! • female ] ⏰ [ modern • Aemond x cafe waitress • female ] ⏰ [ doctor • Aemond x patient • female ] ⏰ [ canon • Aemond x witch servant • female ] ⏰ [ Michael Gavey x popular friend! • female ] ⏰ [ Ettore x med! • female ] (repopulate) ⏰ [ Maleficent • Aemond x Sleeping Beauty • female ] ⏰ [ Anna Karenina • Aemond x female ]

✨ [ arranged marriage • modern!Aemond x female ] ✨ [ dark vampire! • Aemond x female ] ✨ [ modern! • Aemond x sexworker! • female ] ✨ [ modern! • Aemond x short!fem • volleyball players ] ✨ [ religious • modern!Aemond x female ] ✨ [ mensturation! • Aemond x female ] ✨ [ Aemond • Targaryen x Valyrian! • female ] ✨ [ Aemond x clairvoyant! • female ] ✨ [ gamers • modern! Aemond x female ] ✨ [ Aemond • Targaryen x Iron! • female ] ✨ [ Aemond • Targaryen x House! • female ] ✨ [ Aemond x Baratheon! • female ] ✨ [ Aemond • Targaryen x mermaid • female ] ✨ [ regency! dark! • Aemond x female ] ✨ [ modern! • Aemond x Alys!sister! • female ] ✨ [ Aemond • Targaryen x servant! • female ] ✨ [ professor! • Aemond x student • female ] ✨ [ modern! • Aemond x friend! • female ] ✨ [ modern! • Aemond x Helaena!friend! • female ] ✨ [ modern! • Aemond x stepsister! • female ] ✨ [ modern! • Aemond x friend! • female ] ✨ [ modern! • Aemond x Helaena!friend • female ] ✨ [ dark academia! • Aemond x female ] ✨ [ modern! • Aemond x rich! • female ] ✨ [ modern! • Aemond x little sister! • female ] ✨ [ Amor! • Aemond x Psyche! • female ] ✨ [ sworn protector! • Aemond x princess! • female] ✨ [ pirate! • Aemond x hostage • female ] ✨ [ Aemond • Targaryen x widow • female ] ✨ [ Aemond • Targaryen x Strong! • female ] ✨ [Jack the Ripper! • modern!Aemond x female ] ✨ [ Phantom of the Opera! • Aemond x female ] ✨ [ Ettore x doctor assistant • female ] ✨ [ Frollo! • Aemond x Esmeralda! • female ] ✨ [ Jane Eyre! • Aemond x female ] ✨ [ Aemond • Targaryen x Lady! • female ] ✨ [ modern! • Aemond x Arryn! • female ] (widow) ✨ [ Aemond x wife! • female ] (postpartum depress) ✨ [ canon • Aemond x flat chested! • female ] ✨ [ Aemond x betrothed! • female ] (trip to town) ✨ [ Hamlet! • Aemond x Ophelia! • female ] ✨ [ Michael Gavey x obsessed! • female ] ✨ [ cafe! modern! • Aemond x female ]

I can combine some of the requests if I think that they will fit together, so always read the descriptions of my fanfics carefully.

[ask-paradox-and-friends]

NEW BATTLE

WESTEROS VS THE UNITED EINHERJAR KINGDOM

Modern fantasy in two different directions.

Westeros info:

Height: Varies among the species

Weight: Varies among the species

Known combatants: The Nights Watch, Armies of the Seven Houses, The Dragonlords, White Walkers, Giants, Wights, Jon Snow, Tyrion Lannister, Ned Stark, Daenerys Targaryen, Khal Drogo, Drogon, Rhaegal, Viserion, Ramsey Bolton, Karl Tanner, The Mountain, The Viper, The Night King, Wun Wun.

Weapons: Swords, Daggers, Axes, Hammers, Spears, Bows, Crossbows, Tooth and Claw, Fire

Strengths: All warriors are trained in combat, Vast numbers, White Walkers can only be killed by Dragonglass/Valyrian Steel/Fire, White Walkers can turn the dead into Wights, Giants are extremely hardly and can take dozens of blows before death, Dire Wolves are nearly on par with humans intelligence wise.

Weaknesses: All warriors and races are mortal in some way and can be killed accordingly, None of the seven Kingdoms hold true allegiance with each other so would see an opposite house dying as more of a bonus than a drawback, Drogon and his siblings aren’t truly tamed and when enraged Daenerys cannot control them, Because of the presence of several Dragons on the battlefield the White Walkers are under constant threat of Dragon Fire.

United Einherjar Kingdom.

Height:varies among the people

Weight:varies among the people

Known combatants:The shinsengumi corps, the Galtrov army, the Toppat Armada, the Ebony Bolts, the Forces of the Council, Toukan Clan, Tengu Gang, Chivalrous Shinobi, Uzumaki Clan, Yamamoto Clan, Rusters, Doll Class-N, Devil hunters, Legion Yamamoto, Menema Uzamaki, Okita Soji, Inoue Genzaburo, Nagakura Shinpachi, King Reginald Copperbottom, King RHM, Queen Pelia Galeforce, Prince Hurburt Galeforce, Prince Dimitri Petrov, Ivan, Igor, Ivanna, Isadora, Treble.

Weapons:Swords, Guns, Spears, fire, magic, arrows, clubs, canons, explosives, Funai, shirikens, tooth, claws, acid, elemental auras, Bare hands.

Strengths:all the warriors are trained in combat. The type Ns being cyborg nomus are rather hardy and hard to stop unless stabbed in the head or throat. The Amries have access to Rideable Horses. The shinobi have access to stun bombs and can dodges really well. The devils can regenerate and fight as long as they have blood. Treble and the dragons have near human level intelligence. Treble can change size and command wind magic while the dragons are fire proof and blade resistant. Due to the Einherjars prove themselves to each other the Forces of this kingdom will stand side by side for singular goals.

Weaknesses:All the fighters are mortal in one way or another. To even things out the Einherjars are not avaliable in this battle neither are the gods or demigods. The N-types are braindead and can not think for themselves. Treble got his name as he's prone to being a troublemaker. The dragons and Griffith are only loyal to the royal family and those they view as friends. Dragon fire and magic dosent discriminate auras usually have charge times and often only get used in situations where the fighters are at half health. The Yamamotos are crazed and have little sense of self preservation and the Uzumakis are prone to emotional outbursts if wronged. The shinsengumi are known to be aggressive battle crazed 'Wolf like Men'. Igor the youngest dragon is still a youngling. Almost the entire army are seemingly weak to Explosives.

[writingsofwesteros]

Alright let’s talk Bolton OCs

So we’re all familiar with the “murderous maniac” type Bolton ocs. And while they are fun, I think it’s interesting to consider what other kinds of Boltons existed. I very much doubt that many of them were the pinnacle of mental health, given well…. Everything about the house. But I think it showed in different ways.

Maybe there’s a Bolton man who was a charming, social, and (seemingly) sincere person who enjoyed the company of others and seemed to be a very reasonable person. He has no problem putting people at ease. Making them feel genuinely seen and cared for. As to how much he ACTUALLY cares, that’s a different story. He’s not vapid per se, which makes it worse. He’s quite clever. He just isn’t above using faux care to complete something. Ironically I imagine him to not have much of a desire to inflict pain, as much as he has a desire to use everything at his disposal simply because it seems like the obvious option. Why shouldn’t he become close to someone if they know information? It’s useful to know things. Why shouldn’t he make as many friends as possible? Being well liked is important. And why shouldn’t he lie as much as he does? Nobles are brutal if they notice any openings. Better to be the one taking advantage then to make the mistake of putting faith in someone. He isn’t necessarily bitter or sadistic. Just has terrible morals and doesn’t feel shame about manipulating.

If other members of his house criticize his methods, or his lack of ambition, he’d just remind them that thanks to his “methods” they’re a step ahead. He does believe in the importance of “our blades are sharp.” He just doesn’t believe the blade you can see is the most useful one. He likes to think of himself as a more modern member of his house

And come on why complain? He’s being helpful! Better than being just another lazy noble. He’s contributing to the interests of the House!

Tbh this character doesn’t necessarily need to be male. Could be equally interesting as a lady. Just thought of a guy in the moment since we were talking male OCs

ADORE THAT! Like you say, its nice to have differences for sure in households - they can't all be the same even though there is a blanket of similarity .

People begin to trust him with secrets as well; their lips are loose around him.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

So I was thinking about modern AU!Grima, and I had the idea of him having a secret fondness for trash TV courtroom shows; he loves the bickering and the drama and just the overall schadenfreude of it all, and I wanted to get your opinion: In a modern setting, what genres/films/shows do you think Grima would enjoy?

love modern AU!Grima - he's a hot mess no matter what but now he has access to Twitter.

(oh no, the worst person you know has access to twitter [affectionate])

I can totally see him being into things like Law & Order, Run Away Jury (lol) and so on, but also Judge Judy and bad day-time television of that ilk. There's a part of me that also thinks he'd be into bad reality television like Love Island because he likes the interpersonal drama and chaos. He also is aware that they cut and edit for the greatest dramatic effect so likes to try and guess what was actually happening before the crew spliced it to make it Melodramatic.

He'd enjoy his political dramas like House of Cards (both UK and US versions), the Goodwife, Vice, Designated Survivor, Kingmaker etc.

We all know he watched Succession - I can't tell if he would be into it or mildly annoyed by it. The lack of real consequences might get to him after a while (like, 'oh no, they lost this $9million deal, what a shame. Too fucking bad it's just pocket change and doesn't mean anything to them' [grumpily eats pasta and complains to Eomer. idk, they're always together no matter the world or iteration I have going in my head]).

However, I can see him totally invested in their interpersonal dramas and how they're all utterly despicable people just living their lives (just like him). He'd have a Thing for Shiv. Literally just watches the show so he can see her in well-tailored trousers perching on a counter top or something. Eomer is like, 'Really?' and Grima's like, 'what?? I'm only human.'

I can't see him being into Game of Thrones or other shows and films of that nature because the politics are so unrealistic and nothing works Like That.

Eomer would be like, 'That's not the point. The point is terrible yet sexy people doing horrible things but also dragons and battle scenes.'

And Grima is like, 'so first off, the political machinations make no sense. Also "power is power" fuck that. That's not---ugh never mind. Second off, Ramsy Bolton's people would have lynched him. He's a quasi-Gilles de Raiss and they hanged and burned that bitch. Third off--'

Eomer, 'it's fine babe, you've made your point.'

Grima, 'I'm not done. I have a List.'

Because he likes puzzles, I can see him being into the slow, melancholic murder mysteries like Happy Valley, Three Pines, Bletchley Circle, Karen Pirie etc.

In general, I don't think he's a fantasy or sci-fi person. He likes his political dramas, biopics, some thrillers (but he's picky), some historical dramas (again, picky), some mysteries etc. He'd for sure be a bit of a pedant when watching shows or movies - but only about really specific things. Otherwise, he's fine if shows just follow Rule of Funny or Rule of Conflict/Chaos.

---

Thank you for the ask! <3 <3