#muse Lucerys

[sleeplessdreamer123]

Fanfic Idea! (Modern, sort of, Lucemond, Aemond is a painter)

Lucerys truly didn't mean to ruin it. He swears up and down he didn't see the uncapped paint on the floor. He really, really, really was sorry.

He knew how important that painting was to him, it was that of Alys, his ex-wife, though he wasn't sure why they divorced. He knew he loved that painting of her, draped in blue robes that are a bit translucent, with jewelry and embroidery, how he saw it as a challenge to paint an exquisitely detailed painting of her that took days to finish before giving it to her on her name day. She returned it after the final proceedings, saying she didn't want it anymore.

And now it had a splatter of black paint on it, covering the extremely detailed painting of jewelry and lace, some small parts even landed on her face. He did try wiping it off with tissue paper in a panic, hoping to wipe it off before the paint sets in, but the paint just spread, the details were skewed, and parts of the tissue paper where on the canvas. He then tried wet cotton balls, but it somehow managed to also take parts of the original paint off.

By the time Aemond returned, the lower half of the painting was unrecognizable, and Lucerys was damn well close to tears.

They were just getting better. They were finally in speaking terms again, Aemond even offered to help him learn how to paint, the very reason he was even allowed in Aemond's private painting room, something that, according to step-grandmother Alice, was a rare offer from Aemond. And now his mistake might have caused their entire fragile relationship to break into shambles again.

His started to cry when he saw Aemond looking at his ruined work, mumbling a mixture of sorry's, and I didn't mean to's. He continues to stare at his painting, with an expression Lucerys can't pinpoint, and that made him turn back to the anxious little boy he once was, afraid of rejection, afraid to be hated by his favorite uncle once again.

He didn't expect Aemond to cup his crying face so gently, nor did he expect him to wipe his tears with his thumb. He expected many things, but he didn't expect his uncle to comfort him.

"It's just a painting, what are you crying for?"

That just made it worse, curse his over reactive tear ducts. He tried calming himself, and cursed himself again when more tears were produced instead.

"I...I'm sorry.." He whispered, fearing that if he spoke any more louder, his voice would crack. "I ruined it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to..."

Damn these tears!

If it had been before, he was certain Aemond would call him a cry baby, a man of nine and ten, crying over spilt paint. In fact, he was so sure, so certain that that was what he would do now, besides angrily shouting at him for ruining his work. He heard of him shouting at Alys, his model and then wife, for moving, because he felt it ruined his vision. He didn't, though. Surprisingly. Really surprisingly. He was calm. Or he acted calm. Lucerys is in too much of a mess to notice the small details of Aemond.

"Yes, that you did."

Lucerys really, really should stop crying. Stop it. Stop it for gods' sake!

"That's alright. You can just help me recreate it."

Lucerys looked at him, trying to stop his hiccups, confused. He didn't even know how to paint, and that was Aemond's greatest work so far. How in the seven hells was he supposed to help him recreate the painting?!

"I'm afraid you might be mistaking me for a genius, uncle." He sniffed. "I barely know how to paint an alright flower."

"Oh, not in painting. No, I think you've shown just how disasterous that can be."

Lucerys fought to keep the pout off of his mouth, the hiccups subsiding a bit. Now that wasn't fair. It was an accident. Just because he didn't notice the uncapped paint on the floor before stepping on it, doesn't mean he would be horrible with a brush.

"I'm thinking more of...modeling."

It took a few seconds before Lucerys connected the dots, face burning as soon as he understood the implication. He glanced at the painting, at the slightly translucent robe. Surely his uncle wasn't thinking of putting him in that thing. Surely.

He glanced at Aemond, hoping to see a rare expression akin to an "I'm joking" face. He wasn't. He was serious.

"Uncle, I'm..I'm alright with modeling, but perhaps I can model something else? I'm sure you'd like to paint something different from-"

"Lucerys, you don't seem to understand. I don't mean to fully copy my original, I mean to expand, to better the old. And I do like challenging myself to make a better version of my masterpiece."

He felt himself relaxing a bit. So it wouldn't be like the original? He wouldn't need to wear that type of clothing?

"So, what exactly would you change, uncle?"

"Come tomorrow, and you'll find out."

------

Lucerys couldn't even look at himself in the mirror, too embarrassed, as Aemond fixed the jewelry wrapped around him. He thought it would be embarrassing to wear Alys' slightly translucent robe. He would actually be glad to wear it now rather than the sheer monstrosity of the robe and everything else he was made to wear.

What his uncle brought out was fully transparent, (though it was rather soft, nice to the touch), and that wasn't even the worst of it. He was even made to wear bejeweled underwear, for the extra challenge of detail, his uncle said. By the time his uncle fixed the rest of the outer jewelry to exactly as he wished it to be, he headed to the sofa, where Alys posed, but was stopped by Aemond.

He leads him to the bedroom instead.

Aemond had already set things up, and only asked Lucerys to lay on the bed, fixing his pose. Though a bit uncomfortable, being in Aemond's bedroom and all that, he followed his uncle's orders.

"Place your hand a little higher...that's it. Beautiful, nephew."

He blushed a bit, not wanting to admit how much he enjoyed the praise.

"Now, don't move. If you're feeling tired, tell me, and we'll take a short break."

"Yes, uncle."

So he laid there, determined not to move, as he felt his uncle's eye roaming around his body. It was quiet, save for the sound of their breathing and Aemond painting.

When the first session was done, Lucerys sat up, careful not to accidentally move the jewels around as much. Aemond helped him up to his feet.

"Well done, Lucerys."

This continued on for days, with Lucerys slowly becoming more and more comfortable with the transparent robe, with Aemond's eye on him, taking in every detail, the way an artist would.

During his final session, he was a bit sad to part with the robe. He built up a bit of courage to ask for it, and his uncle looked up him funny.

"This is the first time I've ever modelled, and I'd like to have it as a remembrance of sorts, please qybor?"

".... Alright."

When Lucerys was meant to leave, Aemond stopped him. "Lucerys, what do you think of modelling for my next painting?"

Lucerys was surprised with this. But, thinking about it, it was rather enjoyable. It made him feel...pretty, though he has yet to see the painting, (his uncle insists he would show it once it was ready) he liked the feeling of being treated like a piece of art. So he agreed.

When it was time for Aemond to reveal his new masterpiece, he only called for Lucerys. This made Lucerys both excited and nervous. It was his first time modelling, and he was also curious. How did the painting look like? Would it match up to the one with Alys? Would it be better? Or did he make it worse? Is that why he only called for him?

When Aemond revealed the painting, Lucerys gasped. It was beautiful. It was detailed. He can see now, why he only called Lucerys to see it. Had he called the entire family today, Lucerys would have exploded. His step-father would have tried to kill Aemond. His mother would have called him beautiful, while simultaneously cursing her half-brother to the ground. Aemond's mother almost fainted when Aemond showed her the original work with Alys, she might start chanting prayers if she saw this one.

"Quite a beautiful model you are, nephew." Aemond whispered in his ear. "Such a provocative body, with such an innocent face."

"I look forward to having you as my new muse."

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

I reposted this because I forgot to add tags last time. 😅

If anyone was wondering, this photo from Twitter inspired me.

And I have to admit, it's a bit rushed😅

So, thoughts? Violent reactions?

[fantasylandblues]

pov: you're in my modern hotd universe and you just opened your tumblr dash

based on viral textposts- part two!

[crumbledstatues]

@perzonye sent: 21 .   a  kiss  on  the  cheek . | LUCERYS

NERVES STILL PRICKLE, A SLIGHT TREMBLE AS HE CLINGS TO HIS MOTHER. Nightmares come from time to time, some he can talk himself out of, some so real he must reassure that it is merely a dream. It was instant, how he shot out of bed, bare feet pounding against the floor as he ran to his mother's chambers, hot tears streaming down his face. He did not care who saw, if anyone came across a little crying prince. He needed his mother, needed to see her and feel her and know she was okay. The dream had been awful, the horrors that persisted. He would scream to run, go, do something, anything, yet the words would not come out -- just the silent moving of his lips. No one heard him. All perished.

Mother is okay. She is here, right here. She is with me. I can feel her, he reassures himself, as he cuddles up to her side in her bed. Wide eyes don't leave her, they can't. The fear needs to subside. It calms with each run of her hand along him, how her soft voice lulls him back into a sense of comfort. The softness of her lips pressed upon his cheek solidifies her presence. He has never been able to feel that in dreams.

"I couldn't save anyone," he whispers in his recounting, "I couldn't save you. I failed."

 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 .

[crudelisdrakon]

tag dump

[sigilsongs-a]

(``) muse tags. RHAENYRA

(``) rhaenyra targaryen . (tag)

[lunasmusemenagerie]

Name: Lucerys Targaryen (goes by Luke)

Race: human (dragon shifter)

Type: Canon Divergent/ removed

FC: tyler young

Background:

Lucerys Targaryen, second son of Rhaenyra Targaryen and heir to the Driftmark, spent much of his life having to defend his right to both existence and legitimacy. His mother did her best, but, with an absentee father and many people after his title and life, he and his brother Jace often found themsleves in scrapes, sometimes with their own family, in both verbal and physical. When he was 6, a scuffle between Jace, him and his uncle happened in which his uncle raised a rock to smash Their heads in. Luke to his side knife and slashed out in self defense, cutting his uncle across the face, ruining one eye.

Afterwards, his grandmother tried to take hid eye as repayment for her sons. From that day forward, the animosity between the sides of their family grew, and the lust for Luke's blood festered in his Uncle Aemond.

When their grandfather died, alicent and her sons staged a coup, usurping the Westerosi throne. This started the 'War of Ravens', as the two sides sent messengers and envoys to the different houses to pledge loyalties for the upcoming conflict, both sides hoping the houses backing would cause the conflict to resolve without bloodshed. Luke was sent to the Baratheons, under strict orders to only be messengers not a soldier. He and Arrax, his dragon arrived just after his uncle Aemond had with Vhagar, the oldest living dragon.

Both made cases before the Lord, Aemond declaring afterwards that he wanted to claim his revenge against Luke for his eye, and Luke refused to fight him, as he agreed to only go as a diplomatic envoy. When Aemond advanced, he was restrained by the Baratheon men, the Lord forbidding bloodshed in his halls. Luke left as soon as he could, Arrax carrying him through the storm that had settled, the wind and rain almost blinding. The form of Vhagar appeared over him, and Aemond chased him on Dragon back, calling for him to give his eye or submit to his blade. Arrax, in an attempt to save both himself and rider, attacked vhagar to blind her with fire enough to cover their retreat, flying them up above the storm clouds, to light. Vhsgar followed surprising them both and, one of the last things Luke remembers is the sight of the dragon queen's open mouth. A searing pain tore into his body, his own screams of agony mixed with that of his dragon's. And then they were falling.

Arrax, in the last moments of his own life and a last ditch effort to save the boy that was his rider, managed to sheild Luke's mangled body with his own, as they fell. Perhaps it was the bond and the final sacrifice, but something happened to Luke. His body was healing, though he didn't remember it.

He awoke on a black sand beach, the body of his dragon next to him. Somehow, the wounds in his torso, neck, and arms had closed and while he was sore and weak, he still drew breath. He forced himself to stand, only to come face to face with a very large, black scaled dragon. Who only watched him before almost herding him forward. After a moment, the dragon flew off and only then did he realize that it was the Cannibal. A woman met him shortly afterwards, called herself Talon. Though he couldnt place it, she seemed so familiar to him. Luke has little memory of the ordeal that landed him there, and only snatches of his life before. He remembered his name though, and that he had important things to do... somewhere. Talon took him in, healed him the rest of the way. And only then did he find out he could in fact shift into a dragon himself. Though bigger than the one he woke up next to, his form looked easily similar to Arrax's, though where the bite marks had been, scarlett red scales ran across his body in their place.

Slowly, he has started to remember what happened and who he is, though he has a long way to go to reveal that he is still alive and now something much different than he was when he'd left Dragonstone.

[papcrrings-arch]

Lucerys Velaryon Tag Drop !!

[clawsbcared-a]

@kipagircs ASKED: ❝ we need men of your courage. ❞ source.

he glances up at the younger velaryon son of the rightful queen rhaenyra, grey eyes flicking up and down the other - almost analysing him for any doubt in his words, it wouldn't be the first time his presence was doubted, especially not by those in dragonstone. placing down his mug of half-drunk ale, the heir to house mormont holds out his scarred hand with a crooked smirk.

"and as a man of courage, i look forward to standing either at your side or below your beast, my prince."

[inmedianocte]

< @chaieos asked: >

“you are remarkably well-behaved tonight, what have you been up to?”

"And what's it for you?" Lucerys asked, crossing his arms as he spoke. He kept his gaze locked on the figure before him, almost as if he was waiting. For another sneer, another mocking comment pointed towards him or his family. He didn’t speak again, waiting for Aegon to continue. 

[rhaenyrha]

tag drop.

🗡  𝙄𝙈𝙂.   visage.

🗡  𝙄𝙈𝙂.   moodboard.

🗡  𝙏𝙓𝙏.   musings.

🗡  𝙏𝙓𝙏.   answered.

🗡  𝙏𝙓𝙏.   verse one.

🗡  𝙏𝙓𝙏.   verse tbd.

🗡  𝙈𝙄𝙎𝘾.   ooc.

🗡  𝙈𝙄𝙎𝘾.   promos.

🗡  𝙈𝙄𝙎𝘾.   psas.

🗡  𝙈𝙄𝙎𝘾.   hymnals.

🗡  𝙍𝙀𝙇.   viserys i.

🗡  𝙍𝙀𝙇.   daemon.

🗡  𝙍𝙀𝙇.   alicent.

🗡  𝙍𝙀𝙇.   aegon ii.

🗡  𝙍𝙀𝙇.   aegon iii.

🗡  𝙍𝙀𝙇.   viserys ii.

🗡  𝙍𝙀𝙇.   jacaerys.

🗡  𝙍𝙀𝙇.   lucerys.

🗡  𝙍𝙀𝙇.   joffrey.

🗡  𝙍𝙀𝙇.   visenya.

🗡  𝙍𝙀𝙇.   harwin.

🗡  𝙍𝙀𝙇.   laenor.

[nebulaafterdark]

Blood & Cheese (Pt. 1)

Summary: After the events of Blood and Cheese, Rhaenyra’s daughter returns to King’s Landing in hopes of speaking to her childhood companion. Based off this request.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)! Reader

18+ ONLY, MDNI

Targcest, mentions of death, loss of virginity

Y/N and Aegon never had an ordinary relationship. They grew up together, they loved each other, knowing all the while they could not marry.

Aegon is promised to Helaena. He marries her, performs his duty, though he loves her as a sister and nothing more.

Y/N does not wed. Rhaenyra is in no hurry to marry off her only daughter.

Years pass, Y/N visits Aegon and Helaena often. Watching their children grow. Twins named Jaehaera and Jaehaerys.

“He looks like you,” Y/N muses, holding his sweet boy.

Aegon smiles, wistfully. Stroking a hand over the back of his son’s hair as he stares at her. What might our children have looked like? He kisses her cheek, “indeed.”

Y/N and Helaena understand each other well enough. Helaena loves Aegon as a brother and nothing more.

Helaena tells her, “I find myself happiest when you are near, as does he.”

Y/N holds her hand out, hoping the other woman will take it. “I should like to be here more, help with the children.”

“Aemond would wed you.” Helaena says, as if the offer is no more complex than the color of the sky. “He likes you well enough and has no qualms about your feelings for Aegon.”

That was before he killed Lucerys. A distant dream now. Y/N makes her way into the castle as servants hustle about.

“The King and Queen have lost their only son.”

Y/N finds the children’s apartments undetected; unable to believe what she has heard until she sees….one bed instead of two.

The door jostles open and someone steps inside, muttering to themselves. A voice Y/N knows well, she waits, huddled in the corner, until she can be certain they are alone.

“Helaena,” her name is whispered from the shadows, as she paces her children’s chamber.

She’s seen nothing of Aegon since the incident, she has been largely alone. Her mother and husband focus largely on finding the men responsible. Helaena knows it will change nothing. Instead she clutches the throw blanket embroidered for her son.

“Helaena,” the voice sounds, again. Y/N creeps out of the corner. Her eyes wide and haunted.

She isn’t real. She can’t be.

“I am so sorry for what’s happened.”

“You are always sorry.” In visions of her and when she stands before her. “Must be an awful way to live.”

Y/N swallows hard, “it is.”

“You are my brother’s only love…I believe he is yours. He’s often down at the pleasure house…wanting for you. You return to him like this? Now?”

Y/N assures her. “I wish only to see him.”

“I will not begrudge you happiness, nor him. But I’ve no wish to remarry, and I’ll have no more children. You might give him a son.” Helaena says.

“I did not come here to bed him, I came here tell him-”

Helaena’s eyes find Aegon’s. Whatever Y/N came here to do matters little now.

“You,” he sneers, approaching Y/N at a pace that sends Helaena scurrying from the room. “One wasn’t enough for you? You had to come yourself to finish the job?” Aegon takes Y/N’s face in his hands so harshly her jaw aches.

“No,” Y/N shakes her head.

“By raven, you might have contacted me.” His wide, mad eyes search hers.

“I thought it best to see you,” Y/N stammers, “so we might talk about this, the way we always have.”

“What is there to talk about?” Aegon scoffs, “my son is my legacy! My son is heir to the throne!”

“From the depths of my soul, I am sorry.” Y/N tells him.

“I never wanted this, I never wanted to marry Helaena, I never wanted to be King. I wanted to marry you, but I love my children. I wanted this to be peaceful and now it cannot be because your mother has killed my child. My sister is distraught, I am distraught.” Aegon pulls himself away, fighting for composure.

“That is why I’ve come.” Y/N tells him, “my mother did not order this, it was Daemon.”

Aegon runs a hand over his face, “so that fixes everything?”

“It doesn’t,” Y/N admits, “I know that much, but if we could stop this war-”

Aegon laughs, low and menacing. “I do not want to stop this war. I intend to fight it.”

“Aegon,” she breathes.

“Will you stand at my side or against me?”

“I have no wish to stand against you. Especially now, after all you have lost. But I would not know my place here.”

“Your place is with me.” Aegon insists.

“But Alicent-”

“I am the king. She made it so,” Aegon reminds her. “I love my mother, sister, and house. I will not abandon Helaena in this.”

“Of course not,” Y/N nods.

“Still you could…” Aegon moves back toward her, “be my wife. My second wife. Take the burden off Helaena.” He nods, “our children will be spared from acts such as these, when I am asked again to produce a male heir.”

“My love,” she cups his face in her hands, “I will do this for you. But not now, not like this.”

“I need you.” He argues.

Y/N strokes his cheeks, “I am here, the rest will sort.”

His lips are on hers then, in a soul crushing kiss. Pouring all of his sadness, loneliness and regret into it. “I love you.” It is a horrid, awful thing to say, following the death of his child, birthed by another woman.

“I love you too.”

He also mourns what might have been, had their mothers not been so stubborn. He wishes Jaehaerys were hers, it might have spared him. “Come with me.”

Y/N nods, allowing him to lead her down the hall to his rooms. Tearing at her clothes, and then his own, falling back onto the bed, with her beneath him. Panting as she stares up at him.

Aegon spits into his hand, wetting his cock as he does not have the patience for much more.

She means to tell him she’s never lied with a man, to warn him about her maidenhead. But she cannot bring herself to ask him to be gentle. She wants it to hurt…and it does. “Ahh.”

Aegon moves slowly, realizing what he’s done. The blood over his cock as he withdraws, “you were saving yourself?”

“It matters little.”

“It matters to me,” Aegon insists, “I’ve hurt you.”

“I want to do this for you.” She shakes her head, “I want you to split me open and bury your sorrows inside. I want to be yours. Your comfort, your strength.”

“Be my wife.”

“I will.”

“Be truthful with me.”

“I will.”

His strokes are slow and deep, kissing her sweetly as he fucks her perfect little cunt, getting her used to the feeling of fullness. “Does this hurt?”

“Yes,” Y/N admits.

Aegon slips a hand between them, rubbing her pearl in tight circles, “is that any better?”

Y/N gasps, “yes.”

Aegon smiles, “good.”

Y/N weaves her hands into his silver locks. Kissing him, holding him, consuming him. “I love you.”

Aegon groans, “I love you, dearly. I’ve longed for you each day we were apart.”

“Aegon.” She sighs, cunt tense with her impending peak.

“You’ll give me children, won’t you?”

“As many as you’d like.”

“And you will love them?”

“Of course,” Y/N nods.

“My daughter…Jaehaera, will you accept her and treat her as your own?”

Again, Y/N nods.

“Nothing could ever replace my son, but I will survive this, so long as I have you. Our children, Jaehaera, Helaena as well.”

Y/N smiles, “that sounds nice.” The love between Aegon and Helaena is not one she will ever understand. She loves her brother, but she has not bore him children. It would be different, surely.

Aegon lets out a sob as he empties his spend at the mouth of her womb.

Her high comes quick and unexpected, milking Aegon dry and pulsing around him. His cock softens, remaining inside her until he hardens again.

She is sore when morning comes and Aegon bathes her in rose water. Leaving his rooms only long enough to wed before returning to their bed.

Aegon is restless in those early moons, before Y/N’s belly begins to swell with child. She plays with Jaehaera and keeps Helaena company, she writes to her mother when time permits.

Jaehaera giggles loudly as Y/N toys with her doll, walking it towards her. The little girl points to Y/N’s belly.

“Soon.” Y/N tells her, “a little sister or brother for you to play with.”

Jaehaera nods.

Helaena looks to Y/N with a soft smile.

“You know which it is, don’t you?” Y/N can tell by her face.

“Aegon will be pleased,” Helaena says, with finality.

Based off her words, Y/N spends the next months under the impression she’s to have a son. Instead, she bears Aegon a daughter, then two more the following year.

The King does not mind, in fact, he has all but accepted that Jaehaerys would be his only son. Until their fourth child is born, a little boy with silver hair.

“He looks like you,” Y/N says, acknowledging the bittersweet irony of it all.

Aegon nods, with a sad smile, “indeed.”

Part 2

[annwrites]

⸻ sons & daughters. aemond | storm's end outtake. ⸻

· pairing: aemond targaryen x niece!reader · type: outtake from this series · summary: aemond is informed that his beloved niece has flown north. · word count: 536

"I will not fight you," Lucerys states, holding his chin high, his heart pounding in his chest, wishing for no more than to mount Arrax and fly home to his mother. "I came as a messenger, not a warrior."

"A fight would be little challenge," Aemond muses with a smug look.

He then takes a small step forward, glancing down, nodding slightly before his eye flits back to him. "Tell me then, boy, if your whore mother did not send you prepared to wield a sword in her name, why did she not send my lovely niece then instead? I do so long to see her."

Floris bristles beside him, but remains silent.

Lucerys swallows thickly. "She is accompanying my brother, the Prince Jacaerys, to Winterfell. To treat with Lord Cregan Stark."

A bout of thunder booms overhead, causing the young prince to jolt in surprise.

Vhagar roars then in fury, shaking the very walls of Storm's End, various courtiers glancing to each other in fear.

"She is there, in that northern wasteland they dare call a kingdom?" He sneers. "She should be instead with me. She is my blood. Mine!"

Vhagar roars again, deep and bellowing, the foundations of stone trembling.

Aemond takes another measured step closer.

"For a marriage pact?" He shouts.

Luke shakes his head slowly. "Not...not to my knowledge. She merely wished to accompany."

He glances to Lord Borros, attempting to end the conversation with his uncle.

But no more does the young prince open his mouth that Aemond speaks again.

"Y/N belongs to me," he states lowly, his brow twitching in irritation as he does his utmost to contain himself.

"Nothing will change that. Including some dull, passionless northern lord. What is he compared to her own uncle? A prince?"

For him to imagine you there, and his sharp hooks that he'd spent so long carefully sinking ever-deeper within your soft soul and malleable mind for so many a year, being gradually removed by some pathetic pup—he will not do him the courtesy of even mentally referring to him as a wolf—who would not even deign to put you first, and upon a pedestal; instead concerning himself more with honor...

Aemond has none. Not when it comes to you.

He would raze castles and kingdoms in your name. He ponders now if he does not intend to in the wars to come.

If he comes to learn the two of you have married, he will not be held responsible for what he may next do. To lose you to another when you have spent so long as his—when the two of you had been so close to becoming one at last—it will drive him to the brink of madness.

The Gods flip a coin...

Borros speaks then. "I've enough of this quarreling! Prince Aemond, need I remind you that you have promised yourself to one of my daughters in exchange for my loyalty and forces?"

Aemond smirks. "Then I wish for something else, as you are unable to give me that which I desire most, little Lord Strong," he says, staring at Luke as he removes his eyepatch.

"I wish for you to put out your eye."

[crumbledstatues]

@brazenbaela sent: lend me your hand. let me look in your eyes. | LUCERYS

EMBARRASSMENT CAN OVERTAKE AN ENTIRE BEING. He tries to sniffle, look anywhere but at Baela as his eyes continue to water. There is no denying there had been tears shed in private, cheeks flushed, lips split and bitten to prevent any noise from emitting. He should not cry, he should be strong and powerful. Yet pushing those thoughts to the front of his mind only causes it to grow worse. Hot tears slide down his cheeks as he finally gives in, his smaller hand finding hers. Red-rimmed eyes follow, still laden with tears that he tries to quell.

“I’m sorry.”

₍ 📻 ₎   the mountain goats lyrics  rp  starters  !

[solkara]

❛ 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐑 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 , jacaerys velaryon and baela targaryen ❜

⌗ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 , you were born a fighter you had to be the life you lived didn't allow you the liberty of comfort growing up not knowing any form of affection until they came

⌗ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 , jacaerys velaryon x fem! fighter! reader x baela targaryen

⌗ 𝐬𝐨𝐥'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 , omg this was so much fun to write !! had so many idea's ngl so I'm doing another part after this so I hope you like it <3

previous part , house of the dragon masterlist , next part

⌗ fear was an unfamiliar feeling to you. being a fighter and all. but you felt it now. as you walked with the guard up to the royal box. you tried to rack your brain for what you had done wrong. what could you have possibly done to warrant being summoned to the royal box?

⌗ "be at ease you are not in trouble" the voice of princess rhaenyra broke you from your thoughts. "my son's and their betrotheds merely wished to greet the incredible fighter who won their bout with such ease". you felt yourself let out a sigh you didn't even know you were holding. as you looked at the four in question. tipping your head in appreciation.

⌗ the four quickly introduced themselves. which they didn't need to do as you already knew who they were. heck the seven kingdoms did too. "what's your name?" the youngest lucerys velaryon asked. with innocent doe eyes. you quickly introduced yourself with a slight smile.

⌗ "how long have you been a fighter?" the question from prince daemon didn't surprise you. as many before him had asked how a woman such as yourself wound up with a carer as an arena fighting. "as long as I can remember my prince" to which he nodded. "it seems you have aren't the respect of your fellow fighters" princess rhaenyra then asked as she observed you with a fond smile.

⌗ "respect is earned over time princess, and I have been doing this for a long time" to which she nodded in understanding. before lucerys swooped in front of his mother again. bombarding you with questions. though you didn't really mind. you thought it was endearing. as he asked about everything from your strength to your weapon. which you let him hold. "could you teach me how to fight?" he asked excitedly.

⌗ "I'm sure prince daemon is an excellent teacher prince lucerys" you said awkwardly not wanting to offend either party. "I'm sure him having one more teacher on dragonstone wouldn't hurt him" the rogue mused as he sipped his wine. watching his family interact with the fighter with piqued interest.

⌗ "dragonstone? my prince my place is in kings landing" you asked confused as to what was going on. "we would like you to come with us to dragonstone, as a personal guard of baela and teacher to both my sons" the heir said with a soft smile as she watched your astonished expression. "you will be paid well and receive a title with time, but only if you wish for it. if not you are free to remain in king's landing as a fighter, the choice is yours"

⌗ at this moment in time you were speechless. the offer sounded to good to be true. but was that going to stop you from taking it. no. "it would be my honor princess" and with that you were brought into the embrace of an ecstatic lucerys. which you hesitantly expected. as physical touch had never been your strong suit. you were so happy that you did realise the two sets of eyes that had never strayed from you since your arrival.

⌗ that was six moons ago. and life was better than ever. you were a high member of princess rhaenyra and prince daemon's trusted guard. you trained daily with daemon lucerys and jacaerys. dragonstone had become like home to you. and to make things even more interesting you had seemed to have caught the attention of two unexpected individuals. baela and jacaerys.

⌗ the two had welcomed you warmly to dragonstone. taking every possible opportunity to talk to you. though you failed to notice how their 'normal conversation' had a certain flirty edge. and that you would unknowingly flirt back on occasion. the pair soon realised that they would need to take a much more direct approach to capture your attention. so one day after training the two greeted you whilst you were clearing your blade.

⌗ "princess baela-" you were quickly cut off by being pulled into a fiery kiss by the rouge prince's daughter. to which you melted into as you parted your mouth slightly allowing your tongues to dance with each other. as jace watched on with lust fogged eyes. once the two of you broke apart you now swollen lips were again seized but this time by jace which you welcomed. this time feeling a lot more confident as you kissed.

⌗ as the two of you broke apart. both desperate for air. you couldn't help but look up and admire the two dragons. lips swollen hair disheveled and eyes clouded with lust. all you could mumble out was a brief "oh." now all of the conversations they had made sense. "I wasn't aware you two had an interest in me like that"

⌗ "how could we not" baela said as she leaned closer to kiss you once more. but the two of you didn't get to far as the voice of jace drew you apart. "maybe we should continue in our chambers" to which baela nodded. looking for your approval. which you quickly gave. and before you knew it the three of you were in the two's shared chamber with clothes long forgotten and the outside world non-existant.

[madamealys]

Imagine Aemond and Aegon Targaryen take you as their wife. (+21)

***

The king is on the throne room, listening to the babbling of his nobles. Today’s topic concerns the marriage of his sons. Since the queen only delivered him boys, Viserys is not inclined to search for a bride that is not a Targaryen. And despite the strong protests of his wife, there is a good solution for it that might also appeal to his brother, Daemon, as well as that follows the Targaryen tradition: betrothing his daughter to Aegon.

In the meantime this occurs, whilst the solution is agreed between the king and the council, no one can foretell what a simple arrangement might result. And so whilst they are leaving in discussions concerning Aemond’s betrothal, let us take a look at what is happening outside these quarters.

Notwithstanding the fact that you are the daughter of the feared and powerful Daemon Targaryen, who took residence at Dragonstone with his sister-wife Rhaenyra Targaryen, you are everything he is not.

Sweet tempered, gentle, kindhearted and good. Your wit is as sharp as any sword, your tongue, when provoked, cut as hard as any iron. You are patient, often tolerant to others flaws. This makes you a great companion to all.

As the only daughter of Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra, it does surprise to those who know them for a long while that you came up with a different personality. Regardless, they spoil you and only want the best for you. And Daemon knows that by the time of your marriage age, he is not marrying you to anyone. Perhaps your father is aiming higher than you know.

You’ve grown close to your brothers: Jace being close to you in age has always been your twin. But you were also close to Luce, a sort of mother to Joffrey, Viserys and Aegon. Being the only lady amidst these men also meant that you were very protective by them.

Now years went by and you are a well formed women, whose uncle requested you to spend some time at court—probably in ignorance of the plans arranged for you between him and your parents.

Your oldest brother, Jacaerys, is already married to his cousin Baela Velaryon, all the whilst Lucerys is married to her sister, Rhaena. Joffrey is betrothed to Sara Stark, and even Viserys and Aegon are about to be betrothed to some good noble lady. You remain unmarried, though.

This idea does not occupy your thoughts for many times since you prefer to spend your time helping your mother, with whom you are very close, and flying your dragon, Dreamfyre. Due to your introspective and intense nature, it is in the air where you feel mostly… free and wild, a side you like to keep to yourself.

But ever since you’ve been summoned by the king, you suspect your liberty and wilderness are about to be end. Resigned to your sense of duty—for duty means to sacrifice who you are, or part of it anyways—, you speak nothing of the matter.

“Remember, my daughter, who you truly are”, your mother, who is carrying another child in her belly, speaks to you in the day you are departing to King’s Landing next to your father. “A Targaryen, no more, no less. Equal to all.”

You understand that she and the Queen Alicent do not always see eye to eye. The subtle warning is there, but you too have your share of pride. You smile.

“I shall not disappoint you, mother.”

“I know you won’t. You are my daughter, every bit of me is in you.”

That saying, Rhaenyra kisses your forehead and you are finally ready to leave.

***

Aegon is waiting impatiently for his betrothal. With Aemond by his side, both brothers can only conjecture about the cousin whom they last saw when everyone was a toddler. Both recollect you differently: Aegon judged you as a child who had weird interests; but Aemond understood you as someone who had a very interesting side underneath a gentle demeanor.

“I hope you do your duty well, Aegon”, muses Aemond thoughtfully.

“How else should I do? I am the heir to the Iron Throne. I am not allowed to forget that”, and then Aegon shoots an amusing glance to his younger brother. “What a shame the crown cannot be shared with you, though.”

Aemond limits himself to a roll of eyes, but Aegon knows he agrees with his sarcastic remark. But soon they are distracted of their small talk for the heavy iron doors of the Red Keep are about to open, with the King’s herald announcing your name and your father’s.

Every sound dies before such announcement, but what matters is how you are seen by your betrothed. Aegon looks astonished by the woman you’ve blossomed to. Your silver locks tied in perfectly braid seem to reinforce your heart-shaped face, whose intent lilac eyes mirror innocence.

Your rosy lips open shyly in an inviting smile, and Aegon cannot help wonder what it would be like to kiss you. It doesn’t really help that your black gown reinforces your curves.

Aemond too cannot help lingering his gaze on you. A damsel in every sense of the word, you are like a character of the novels he used to read as a child. Fond memories of the time spent together in this period rush in the back of his mind.

Lovely as always, he thinks to himself, suddenly aching for the idea of never having you. But… he cannot help himself either, can he? Must Aemond be the second in everything, a shadow of his brother?

“Greetings, niece!”, King Viserys smiles down at his brother’a child. He leaves the table to greet you properly, and Daemon is smirking proudly in response. The rogue prince is more than aware of the attentions you caught, specially of two royal princes, which only fuels his ego.

His ambitions will fruit, he knows.

“Your Grace, my uncle”, you dip to a curtsy. “I appreciate your warm welcome.”

“Soon we will be united as one once again. Tradition shall follow like has always been dictated since the days of Old Valyria”, boasts King Viserys. “Y/N is such a pearl, brother. How on earth did you manage to produce a lovely daughter?”

“A question I often ask myself, brother”, says Daemon, proudly. “She is my only girl, very precious to us. We don’t expect a marriage that is below of the prize she is.”

“Father!”, you protest shyly.

“Don’t be too humble, daughter. It’s the true”, he smirks at you, gently ruffling your hair. “We must always be aware of who we are.”

“Then let us celebrate this union. I notice our sister hasn’t come. What happened?”

“Rhaenyra is heavily pregnant, in due time to labor now.”

Whilst they exchange amenities, you are heading to your seat when Aegon comes to greet you. This tall, handsome man, whose looks mirror yours, astonishes you with such a charm that your knees go weak.

It doesn’t really help your case that Aemond is promptly joined by his side. You blush.

“My lords”, you curtsy graciously. “I appreciate the warm welcome.”

“My lady”, greets Aegon, pompously. “How different you look.”

“Forgive my brother”, subtly Aemond meddles in the conversation. “He lacks gallantry when it comes to words. You have grown to a beautiful woman, cousin.”

You detest how the presence of these two men affect you. Worse, that not only your betrothed allures you, but so does his brother.

Aegon flushes, irritated with how poetic Aemond is towards you.

“How could I when a beauty like our dear Y/N stands before us? A mortal could not voice out the most proper form to express such an awe.”

“Oh, please. I am unworthy of these praises though I deeply appreciate them. Shall we enjoy the rest of the evening together? I have missed the company of you both for a while.”

You smile. And soon subtle rivalries dissolve. How could they deny you anything?

***

It’s been a curious, unspoken agreement that you arranged with Aegon and Aemond. The mornings are spent with the latter and the evenings with the former. The evening you spend by your soon to be mother-in-law, whom you manage to charm.

Today, you are flying with Aemond. You come to figure out how you two have lots in common: the same taste for history, philosophy, art and even politics. Not to mention, dragons, of course.

“You are nothing like your father”, muses the quiet prince, once you two land the dragons somewhere nearby a lake, out of the people’s sight.

“This is something I hear often”, you smile at him, eyeing his handsomeness even though part of you admonishes for desiring a man who is not going to be your husband. “But we have some traits we share. Like the taste for wilderness. We are not easily tamed.”

“I’ve always sensed you had something of the sorts in you, Y/N. You pose as the good lady, but are you?”

“I am dutiful”, you say. “I do my duties. Never claimed or aimed to be perfect.”

“Neither have I, even though my dutiful performances have been somewhat misinterpreted”, he snorts.

Before you know, you take his hand in yours. Unconsciously, fingers are laced.

“I think you’ve been misunderstood for a very long time, dear Aem. And I wish so many of us saw that.”

Silence hangs for a while. You and him share a long gaze. You find yourself wishing he kissed you, but Aemond knows his place. He looks away and withdraws his hand. Never before you felt so cold. So you sigh.

***

All the whilst you engage in conversations with the Queen, learning queenship from Lady Alicent herself, Aegon finds Aemond in the corner of the court, observing you with a mix of admiration and distrust.

“If this was about to any other man, I’d have him hanged for looking at such a manner to my wife”, says Aegon, amused.

Aemond has the decency of blush and look away.

“Pardon me for prying, brother.”

“What is there to be pardoned? She is a handsome woman, I give you that. Like honey, too sweet to avert the gaze away”, says Aegon, encouraging his brother to share. “Rumour has it that Aegon shared Visenya with his Baratheon brother.”

Aemond scoffs.

“Visenya wouldn’t play this part, surely. You must be mistaking to Rhaenys.”

“Either one, they shared her, didn’t they? And like my namesake, Aegon was no jealous man.”

The one-eyed prince turns his head to his older brother, intrigued by the subtle suggestion.

“What the fuck are you trying to say, Aegon? Straight to the point if you may.”

Aegon smirks at him.

“I think that, since she likes you too, we should both take Y/N as our wife.”

***

Aegon awaits you this evening in his privy chambers. He’s been anxious for this moment, even though with his mother’s strong presence at court, he didn’t have any moment alone with you aside of public courtship.

A knock of the door is heart, taking away of his thoughts. The prince of Dragonstone stands, concealing his unusual insecurity. When he opens it, he is struck at the thought of you.

So beautiful in the green color, your full breasts almost out of the tight gown you purposely chose to reinforce your curves. The desire alight in Aegon’s eyes makes you dripping wet in your legs, but you know this is the farthest you go to tease him.

Right?

“My prince”, you dip to a curtsy as you walk inside the door, shivering when hearing the click that locks it behind you.

“My princess”, he then takes the chair for you to sit and makes sure to pour red wine in your glass before serving you himself.

When earning you a smile, Aegon forgets that he one day was the charmer, never the charmed.

“You look gorgeous, cousin.”

“I could say the same about you, lord. Thank you. I’ve been looking forward to hearing more of you, out of the prickly ears of the court”, you tell him.

“Indeed. Formalities are not my thing, I’m afraid. But at least the king has been noticing me”, Aegon doesn’t usually open himself this way and when noticing what bursted out of his tongue, he prefers to occupy himself with wine.

You do notice, though, and try to captivate him by sharing something about you.

“Despite being close to my family, I was raised to be somebody else’s wife. I know I was not allowed to choose my heart, even if my parents did.”

Aegon reads you, you spot some early distrust despite the mutual attraction. You feel eager to please him, but you hold back yourself. Eventually he settles.

“I do lament that I am your groom and not Aemond.”

You blush, but do not fly away of the subtle accusation.

“Well, I was always closer to Aemond in age and in interests, my dear, but this does not mean I regret that you are the one I will espouse.”

His slander fingers play on top of the table, and you find yourself holding your breath. When does this tension suddenly come up?

The stare he gives you pierces your soul and you know that, if he wanted you to, you’d be on his knees before him, pledging innocence. But why does the mere image of you in this position arouse you?

“I am hard to love”, muses Aegon, resented. “I am by no means jealous of you and Aemond, but…”

And your anxiety takes your best, of course. You rush to his side and take his hands into yours, surprising him by the urge of your usual composed manners.

“My prince, my liege, you are no hard to love. Your smile enchants me, your eyes read my soul like no other. Your jokes bring a smile to my lips, your good manners give me the certainty that I am not marrying a monster.”

“How can you be certain of this?”, Aegon inquires, puzzled.

“We are lights and shadows. I saw both of them in you and I still choose you.”

He knows you speak the truth, so he lifts you and pinning against the wall, Aegon kisses you. You realize you’ve been longing for this kiss, wishing to feel the taste of his mouth, to pair your tongue with his.

Your husband to be is as sinful as you are a saint. And yet you let him have his way with you. Soon, his mouth is on your neck and sounds start to leave yours.

“My beautiful princess”, Aegon works to kiss your chest, almost ripping your gown with his teeth to get into your breasts.

“Calm down, lord. I need to get to my chambers in whole state”, you smirk at him.

And it’s when you are surprised by how easily he slips to his knees, his lustful eyes wiping off your smirk.

“L-Lord…”

“I want to hear you call my name, Y/N”, he lifts the skirts of your gown, caressing your paled thighs. “I want you to sleep thinking of me doing this to you. Rewarding for being such a good princess.”

And he at first inserts his finger in you, getting you aroused. You are surprised to find yourself so wet, as well as he.

“Never before untouched?”, Aegon asks you, sounding too anxious.

“Never”, you moan, eyelashes barely lift as you search support in the wall. Your hips begin to follow his finger, and you get scandalously louder as his finger finds deeper ways to get to your core.

Aegon watches you in awe and lust, ignoring the bone he has for being the reason you are coming undone—and not Aemond. Though he wills to share with his brother, he knows that ultimately the prize of having you like this is his.

“Let me ruin you”, he groans before replacing his fingers with his mouth.

His tongue dives into your womanhood, twirling around your clot before sucking it skillfully. You are breathless, burning, aching for this prince. Your mind goes blank and all you can think is of this blissful experience of being ruined by this man to whom you are expected to marry.

He drinks every juice he can of you, not stopping until you are about to release. And when you think you do, he removes his face away and stands in absolutely composed.

“Aegon!”, you protest, vexed to be left this way.

“You don’t think I’ve noticed how you teased me?”, he smirks, approaching to you. “We will fuck you, my lady. My brother and I. You wait and you will see.”

Never before you got so pink before.

And when Aegon smiles devilish to you, you are surprised by your own thoughts of wishing this to be true.

***

Aemond is practicing his sword this day when he spots you at a corner, unaccompanied. The one-eyed prince, who happens to be shirtless in this lonely practice, tosses away the sword to greet you in a gentleman like manner.

“My lady Y/N”, he doesn’t mind to get a shirt and dress when you stare at his perfect abs, which makes him smirk. “To what do I get the honor of your presence?”

“Aegon has departed to Citadel to visit Daeron”, you tell him, trying to control your impulses. “The queen forbade me to follow him. She said I’m under your charge, lord.”

Aemond moves from the yard to get to you. You find yourself holding your breath at the proximity of him. Suddenly both arms lock you against the wall.

“Are you now?”, and here he lifts your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Are you playing with us, my lady? Have you been instructed to turn me against my brother?”

Though he sees he’s offended you by the suggestion, Aemond does not take back what he said. And even though you are annoyed by these unflattering words, you don’t run from a fight either.

“You may call me many things, my prince, even though I judged you to know me better than this. But I am no home wrecker.”

And here he pins you against the wall, much to your dismay. He begins to unlace your gown, completely not fearful of being caught. And you barely protest, already dripping wet by how he presses his knee against your womanhood.

“Who am I to judge?”, he lowers his gaze to your mouth, your neck and your breasts. “These are lovely nipples, Y/N.”

You’d have decency covered them, but guessing your moves have Aemond hold your wrists above your head. You are at his mercy and he knows it.

“My brother told me about the gowns you wear, aware of how they reinforce each. But he did let me take a look at them before him.”

A sensible person would have been horrified for being in this position, but you feel aroused by this. To know they wish you like you wish them makes you warm.

As if he reads your mind, Aemond starts to caressing your right nipple, pleased to see you horny.

“Aemond…”, you moan.

Naughty that he is, underneath that dutiful demeanor he puts so well to the public, it’s this prince who speaks dirty to your ear.

“You will be fucked so well, my love, that you shall not have to choose, I promise you. Aegon and I have always shared what we loved the most”, and saying so he bites down your ear. “I will fuck your pussy until you burn and you will feel it with my being. The first born son will be mine, though. I know it.”

And then his indecent tongue paces around your lips only to get to your neck and then…

“Aemond!!”

Like a thirsty prince, he sucks each nipple, biting it, craving it desperately. You want more, you are doomed, you know well. Your pious conscience accuses you of whoring, but nothing is stronger than giving yourself to this prince.

But of course Aemond has to interrupt it.

“We best not get caught”, he whispers, smirking victorious before the protest you shoot him in a gaze. “I thought you liked it, no?”

You pull him for one long kiss, though, and every lust is carefully put aside as Aemond, albeit hesitantly, kisses you back.

Not long after that, the rogue prince realizes that he left more than lust in the taste of your tongue.

***

The marriage, albeit scandalous, happens. Fortune rises underneath tradition. Some might say this is Aegon and his wives in other forms, back to the flesh in another version… certainly a good omen for those who believe in old stories.

Feasts and tournaments are thrown by the king and his brother to celebrate this unique union, never before seen until the day Aegon espoused his two sister wives.

“I hope that you know what you are doing”, says Rhaenyra at this day of your marriage. “These are wayward boys, one of whom nearly got into a fight with Lucerys.”

“I remember that night well, mother”, you try not to sound so irritating at your mother’s grudge. “This is not the time to speak of what has long been buried in the past. If I recall well, they have amended their relationship and all is well, as it should be.”

“I only worry over you, my daughter.”

You gently place a kiss over your mother’s face and smile at her.

“I aim as high as any Targaryen would in my position.”

“As ambitious as your father”, so chuckles Rhaenyra.

“I am his daughter too, after all.”

And you two smile in confidence.

***

Later that evening, bedding ceremony begins. You want both of your husbands there in your chamber. And when they show up, you cannot believe your eyes.

“Lady Y/N, you are beautiful”, says Aegon, already partially naked. He’s the one to pull you, making sure you stand between him and Aemond.

You feel Aemond’s cold hands rest in your hips, giving you shivers.

“We have all been longing for this, haven’t we?”, he murmurs in turn.

You turn your head at him, barely blinking as he is about to kiss you but this moment is stolen by Aegon, who plants his lips against yours. It’s a slow kiss, peppering for what’s coming all the whilst Aemond slowly lifts your nightgown, caressing gently your tits before removing it over your head.

“I am too fortunate, I’m afraid”, you whisper before stroking Aegon’s face. “Such handsome men.”

You kiss him back before breaking it to do the same with Aemond. Now Aegon leans to kiss your neck, whilst his brother plays with your tits.

You get hornier and naughtier, moaning softly before these teasings.

“There’s no need to play the good girl anymore, Y/N”, says Aemond, biting down your lip.

“Indeed”, and here Aegon pulls back your hair as his brother inserts his finger in your womanhood. “We will ruin you, won’t we, Aemond?”

You gasp as Aemond fucks you with his finger, trying not to lose control as Aegon kisses your neck and plays with your tits again.

“We will, indeed. But I need a reward for all this waiting…”

“We both need it”, agrees Aegon. “Show us what you are capable of, Y/N.”

So indecently you go down to your knees. Your eyes spark bright when looking at each erected manhood, unsure what to choose first until you start to caress Aemond’s all the whilst giving the privilege to Aegon’s.

You come to agree with both of them. You are hardly a saint, or divine by any means. You lust after each, and you devour these cocks with devotion. Pausing in between, you let them guide you.

It’s indecent, it’s sinful, but you like this. And so do they.

“Let us treat our princess kindly”, says Aegon, leading you to bed. “Not sparing my seed in these red lips…”

And here he uses his two fingers to play with your mouth, which you promptly devour. Only then he inserts them into your womanhood. Oh, how condemned you are. Such is the price for loving these wayward brothers.

“You may go, brother. I will watch”, says Aemond.

His voice purrs something in you and you find yourself a beggar. Where has your pride gone to? Oh, nowhere to be found.

“My lord!”, you push Aegon to your lips, so you kiss him fiercely and passionately. “Please!”

Aegon smiles like a lion, aware that he has the prey he wants under his power. Thus it is he finally makes way to penetrate you, deflowering his beautiful flower after years of repressing his desire for you.

In the meantime you and Aegon consume this flame, Aemond burns alone, touching his manhood before the scene he watches, which in turn wakes in him darkest desires. He wants to possess you, to make you his, to dispute over your flesh, to hear you call his name.

But there is something powerful in delegating this to Aegon, submitting to his brother’s will even here.

As Aegon collapses over you, he doesn’t let his brother to waste his seed. Though your womanhood is sensitive, you ache for more. They know you are as hungry as they are.

Aemond doesn’t need to be summoned. He crawls over your body, and here with no eyepatch to cover his eye, you stare at old wounds, at his taunted gaze covered by a beautiful sapphire.

“Fuck me”, you mewl under his powerful stare. “Aemond…”

He is gentle at first. Slow is his touch over your curves, taking his time in holding your face, drinking on your pleading eyes as he cups your nipples, touching each until they are hardened enough to make you beg. Only then he bends over you, kissing you passionately, prompted to release his fire.

It’s indeed a very wild evening. Soon Aegon comes to dispute you. Suddenly all of the three are sitting in bed, and you are in heaven. Standing in between them, your husbands’ mouth devour your exposed skin, and new levels of pleasure are disclosed as you are under their power.

Neither part dares to stop what’s been doing however until you throw your head back at Aemond’s shoulder and let a cry out.

“The dragon lady has burnt”, so whispers Aegon in your ear, watching as Aemond kisses you softly.

What a night. Oh what a night indeed. And you couldn’t have been happily married, could you?

***

Epilogue.

What has started as a lustful game between the three parts soon results in a successful partnership. You do love each brother and they love you in turn.

To a general astonishment, this works like in Aegon I’s days. You rule court, playing your part well. Welcoming guests with your smile and good manners, much of which you’ve learned from the former Queen, who actually cares for you like a daughter she never had.

All is well. You are Daemon Targaryen’s daughter after all. Peace is established successfully and familial relationships are restored. Soon, your brothers are back to frequent court with their wives whom you delight to call sisters.

In due time, you prove to be as fertile as your lady mother. You produce fifteen children, not many of which come to adulthood. These are:

1. Jaehaerys II, who takes as his wife his sister; had offspring of their own.

2. Rhaenyra, wife of Jaehaerys.

3. Maegor, lord of Harrenhal; he first took as espouse his sister, Daella, but she died in childbirth; then he contracted a new marriage to Minisa Tully.

4. Maekar, lord of Summerhall: took as wife his sister, Rhaena.

5. Rhaegar, died in infancy, known as Prince of Winter.

6. Rhaena, Lady of Summerhall; wife to Maekar.

7. Baela, lady of High Garden.

8. Daeron, became a Maester at Citadel.

9. Aerys, lord Hightower; married lady Gaena Tyrell.

10. Helaena, lady of Winterfell.

11. Mariah, died in infancy.

12. Visenya, lady of Casterly Rock.

13. Daenys, lady Arryn.

14. Viserys, ward of the West.

15. Alys, Viserys’s twin and wife.

***

“You are still as gorgeous as ever”, whispers Aegon in your ear.

It’s late evening and both of your husbands are found in your arms. You still shiver at how King Aegon speaks to you, how he plays with your tits. You purr lightly.

“Oh Egg, you know not what you speak”, you giggle quietly. “Despite my efforts in looking elegant to you and Aemond, I gave birth to fifteen children.”

He plants a kiss over your forehead, careful in not waking Aemond, who sleeps against your left breast. From certain perspective, you three are engulfed in one another.

“I maintain my word. When did I ever look out of our bed, wife?”, says he, once very familiar amidst brothels before marrying you.

You turn at him with malice in your eyes as you speak.

“No whore does what you taught me to do to you”, you smirk.

Aegon sighs heavily, sinking into your lips again.

“Always restless.”

You chuckle.

“Not always”, you lean against his chest. “But I have been blessed, that is for sure.”

As you stroke Aemond’s hair, you slowly drift to sleep, glad that Aegon is looking after you.

“Haven’t we all?”

Chroniclers maliciously say you’ve married Aegon out of duty and Aemond out of pleasure, but what do men know of a woman’s heart? You love them both, with no difference of affections. And you are more than pleased to know they are not jealous when it’s about you.

It’s how it works. Tradition, power, yes. But love and confidence too.

You sleep this evening like you slept many others in the former twenty moons: as the luckiest woman of the Seven Realms.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Perzys Ānogār

16/12: In Nature & Deep Throating - Aemond Targaryen Word Count: 1.8k~ | Warnings: deep throating, face fucking, incest (reader is a strong!niece), dubcon, breath play

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

To be Rhaenyra Targaryen’s only daughter was a power only she possessed.

While the weight of being the heir to the Iron Throne fell to Jacaerys, the unbearable burden bearing down on him throughout his life, she was exempt. And only at the mercy of being mere minutes younger than her twin.

Sometimes she wonders. Had she been born first, would all this still have happened?

Probably, she mused.

And yet another question always followed. Would Rhaenyra have named her heir? Had she been the first born child, with her dark hair and blue eyes, conveniently matching those features of the former Commander of the City Watch, would her mother have fought so thoroughly for her birthright?

If that had been the case, the realm would never have allowed it.

A bastard and a woman? There’d be riots from Winterfell to the Reach.

She was grateful to be born second. Although, it made the situation no easier.

In his eyes, she was still a bastard. The daughter of his whore sister, who is still attempting to steal his brother’s throne by gathering banners from houses who once swore their loyalty to her mother, years before her birth.

Aemond Targaryen always had a strange relationship with his niece and nephews. Though for the nephews it was easy to identify. Full to the brim with hate, no doubt assisted by the fact Luke had taken Aemond’s eye not a decade before, and never for one moment missing an opportunity to remind them what they all were.

Strong bastards.

He saw his nephews like they were shit at the bottom of his shoe. Unworthy of the positions they were born into.

His relationship with her felt different. Almost to the point of being unexplainable.

When she was a child, though not friendly, there was a noticeable lack of pure animosity towards her compared to her brothers. Aemond would sometimes, though rare, make an effort. But most often, she was either dragged away by her mother, or he was, neither former-friends comfortable with allowing their most precious of children to co-exist like friends.

Like family.

It was only when she returned to King’s Landing, a decade older and brimming with womanly features and assets into her dresses that she noticed something was different about her Uncle. She scarcely believed it was him. Tall, lean and skilled with the sword despite his possession of only one eye. And she was ashamed to say it, but she felt her stomach flutter slightly at the sight of him, one lilac eye locked onto her, and a smirk tugging at his lips as he cocked his head the way he always did when he saw something amusing.

There was something different about seeing him when they were both grown. Something else about the way he observed her over the rim of his cup, and the way his eyelid on his one good eye hooded slightly over the colour of his iris.

It made her throat go dry.

As her head throbs, vision blurred as she stares at the stormy skies above, she feels like being in Storm’s End was a lifetime ago, though it had barely even been a few hours.

Aemond had prodded her, to see if she would bite. Had tried to whore himself out to Floris Baratheon, as she had done to Lord Borros, to attempt to win favour with their house by way of marriage, knowing he had lost his wife years prior.

And he had most of all, threatened to take something from her, something only she could give him, as payment for the debt Lucerys had made by slicing Aemond’s eye at Driftmark all those years ago.

Though he did not elaborate, she need not ask.

She felt her blood chill in her veins, her feet primed to run when Aemond broke into a walk towards her, bending to pluck the dagger he’d thrown to the floor. Her fingers clumsily wrapped around her own dagger at her side, being too slight for a sword, as her only protection.

She didn’t anticipate Aemond would be stupid enough to follow her. But then again, she was wrong about a lot of things when it came to her estranged Uncle.

Her muscles ached as she pulled herself to sit up, the wind nipping at the sensitive skin on her cheeks, pounded with raindrops that felt like ice. Hastily, she threw the chain that still connected her to her now-deceased dragon to the side, having been brought down through the skies still bound to the harness.

Vhagar had sliced through her dragon’s neck with her sharpened, old teeth. The poor thing was probably dead long before she hit the ground. Perhaps it was a mercy of sorts.

She felt her breath hot in her chest as she saw her dragon being licked by the lazy waves, its corpse half in the raging sea and half draped across the jagged rocks of whatever island they’d fallen to. Tears build behind her eyes at the sight. Her dragon had hatched in her cradle, and was therefore still small. Far too small against the likes of Vhagar.

She’s about to tell herself to not cry, to not let emotions run her like men often profile women to do, when she hears the distinct flap of Vhagar’s wings as she lands with a mighty thud on the other end of the island. So big, if she extended herself enough, she’d be nearly as big as.

The white flash of damp hair was the first thing she saw when Vhagar bowed her head to the ground, and his stoic, firm face, looking scornfully down at her in a way that stole the breath from her lungs.

Her shoes slid on the wet dirt with the rain pelting down as she moved to stand, her legs weakly unable to carry her weight. Her hands were coated with mud. But all she heard was the hammering of the storm and Aemond’s damp footsteps as they became ever louder.

She winced when she felt his icy, long fingers in her hair pulling her back. Without second thought she drew her dagger and span quickly, the blade whipping past his face, but barely missing him. Aemond, with a stoic, hard expression caught her wrist and twisted, using his body weight to push her to the floor on her back, with either of his legs aside to squeeze her in.

He pinned her wrists beside her head, one hand still grasping the dagger. And for a moment they simply looked at one another, with practised hateful expressions, completely out of breath and hair sticking uncomfortably to each of their faces.

Thunder rumbled loudly above.

“Not as fast with a blade as your brother, are you, zaldritsos?”

“Get off me.”

“After all that? I’d scarcely think about letting you go. You should know better. I am here to collect what I am owed.”

“It is not me who took your eye, or did he damage your memory as well?”

“Careful. Lady Strong. I'll cut out your pretty tongue.”

She watches him loom above her, his wavy damp hair hanging over his shoulders, with that self-assured cocky smile on his face. No matter how hard she fights against him, she's too weak, and even with full strength would still struggle.

There's a flicker of amusement that passes across his face. One that makes her stomach drop.

“I wonder how talented your tongue is, mandianna.”

She feels her lips crack as her mouth goes dry, the bluntness of what he'd said and the shift in the tension shocked her more than anything else.

“I am a maide-”

“Oh, I'm sure you are.”

“I am.”

He laughs lowly in his chest, “then what an honour it will be, for my cock to be the first.”

“I will cut out your other eye.”

“And how I would like to see you try.”

She gets one hand free, but the slap she gives him is pitiful, and he merely laughs, pinning both down again with one hand while his other unlaces his breeches.

“Such fire, dear niece”, he cooes, “I cannot wait to be warmed by their flames.”

His hand moves to her hair, gripping painfully and pulling her up to kneel before him, her chin held high as he rises to stand before her. She gasps with shock when he pushes his breeches over his hips and pulls his length free, hard and weeping with arousal, pressed firmly against his stomach.

A dull ache settles between her legs, a feeling she does not recognise. She can barely tear her eyes away from his member, she'd seen so few, but knows that the one before her is so impressive, that she wonders for a moment where he intends to put it where it would fit.

He taps the head of his cock against her lips, “I think I shall have your mouth first, then take what I am owed. What do you think, mandianna?”

She barely has time to reply, he pushes himself into her mouth quickly, not at all seeming to care about the squeak of shock she lets out, her throat closing around his length to gulp down air when she's unable to.

Her eyes squeeze shut as his cockhead hits the back of her throat, hearing Aemond moan as he stills for a moment, basking in the warmth of her mouth around him.

“Breathe…”

Hurried huffs of air leave through her nose, Aemond's cock forced down her throat so that air cannot pass. He stays still, not moving his hips an inch, with one hand still gripping her hair.

Aemond chuckles darkly, moving her head on him to create the smallest amount of friction, the hairs at the base of him pressed against her face.

“How does it feel? To have a real Targaryen inside you, hm?”

She only whines around him, unable to do much else.

“Look at me.”

Her teary eyes crack open, struggling to get all the air she needs through her nose alone. And when she meets his gaze, she feels the warmth between her thighs at the eroticism of the act, and knowing it's all so, so wrong.

His sole lilac eye shrinks as he smirks, “If your mother could see you now.

“If you are good, I may fuck a Targaryen babe into you. Then you might see what a real one looks like.”

He starts a calm, gentle pace as if savouring it. She closes her eyes, focussing on the feeling of his heavy length on her tongue, curling it upwards to massage the long vein that decorates the shaft.

Aemond's smile widens, as he saw one of her hands dip between her thighs, a moan of her own vibrating around his cock.

“Yes, you will make a fine wife, I think.”

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