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writingwenches · 3 months ago

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Princess Aemma Velaryon

summary: The first child of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, born not long after her marriage to Lord Laenor Velaryon. An unknown dragon dreamer, the girl experiences all the horrors inflicted on the world by Old Valyria while she sleeps, while during waking hours prays for the forgiveness of the Seven. She dreams of becoming the perfect mother, something her mother most certainly is not. She worships the ground Queen Alicent walks on. She is filled with dragonfire and rage.

themes: tried to think up a version of a Rhaenyra's Team Green daughter OC and she slowly warped into Rhaenyra's worst nightmare and my new fav. Part of my HOTD fanfic universe.

warnings: religious nonsense, eternal damnation, sexism

Part One of Unknown // ~5k word count

On the day of her birth, King Viserys was the first to speak her name, as a gift to the woman he loved. He had informed his small council when the news of a healthy female babe came to them, that the babe was to be called Princess Aemma Targaryen.

Queen Alicent, debilitated from her labors, spent the days following the birth with her mind controlled by milk of the poppy. Her seventeenth nameday came and went. She couldn’t be sure, as her mind frolicked with the dancers painted on her chamber walls, but Alicent did not recall the kitchens preparing her traditional cinnamon cake to mark the celebration.

Queen Alicent first heard the babe’s name from her father, the Hand of the King. And right then, her recovery ended.

Princess Helaena Targaryen was announced at court that every afternoon, with the king’s approval or presence.

It was not long after that Princess Rhaenyra was in need of a name for her own healthy baby girl, and Aemma seemed fitting.

Princess Aemma Velaryon was born the Realm’s Delight. Aemma was perfection personified from the moment she was born, two moons early, but weighing more than any of the king’s children. Her skin was healthy, but would not be described as dark. Disregarding the Maester’s astrological based predictions of the birth, it was foretold that the babe would be of sturdy health, and as a babe her favorite thing to do was scream.

It was not something she would grow out of.

Aemma Valyrian was born at the onset of winter, and the Maesters predicted her ill temper would cool once the springs come again. Just as they had vastly miscalculated the child’s birth, they predicted incorrectly.

The babe would fight sleep, and be calmed by nothing. Additional nursemaids were hired, as the babe was taken away from those tasked with looking after the Queen’s newly born second son.

Princess Rhaenyra swore off ever birthing a babe again, after nights and nights of sleepless waiting. Leanor had honored her with his help, bearing the burden of misery at her side. Queen Alicent could barely speak with her childhood friend without biting words and curses cast in her direction.

Eventually, Rhaenyra allowed the Queen to take the babe, to allow herself much needed sleep. Helaena helped calm the babe, Alicent found, the year older child fascinated with the new sounds. Aemma could find sleep, tucked aside her aunt Helaena.

At least for a while.

Helaena did not mind standing in the shadow cast by Aemma all her life, honestly she preferred it. It kept her well shaded from the brightness of the court’s stares.

Even though Helaena was older, Aemma was the leader, even of their nursemaids. It was not long before Helaena’s gate slowed as she allowed Aemma to to lead herself away. She had no use for Helaena, not really, Helaena was not good at sitting motionless in the Sept, or picking apart her every action to find her central flaw that needs solving. Helaena just wanted to be. Aemma wanted to be superior.

The princess’s hair was her greatest treasure. Pale white, with flecks of silver under the sun, she had grown down to her hips, and she wore it unbraided. Each night, requiring two maids to brush it to her satisfaction. She did not appreciate inefficiency, only inspecting after twenty additional brush strokes.

Gifts from her grandsire birthed her collection the man was a sailor that traveled the world, something that Aemma had interest of doing herself, but applauded the man for his great bravery. The elder captain enjoyed Aemma’s excitement with every exotic trinket he returned with, as his wife and daughter had grown tiered of his treasures and absence.

Her favorite treasures were the princess’s vast collection of combs and brushes from around the known world. She had comb made of a single jewel from the mines of Casterly Rock, a comb of pure frozen fire from the markets of Asshai, the small folk call it dragon glass, and her most prized possession, a brush that is said to be made of hair and human bone from north of the Wall.

Every night she would pick her two tools, one for each maid, as a sort of prayer for the next days blessings. Her mother hadn’t ever understood her obsessions.

Her mother never understood anything.

Aemma screamed. Rhaenyra screamed back. A chair is thrown from her balcony and Queen Alicent enters the young girl’s room without introduction. Aemma cried and threw herself at the Queen’s mercy.

“I simply suggested,” Rhaenyra started, “that we visit the dragon pit so that we might––“

“You wish to sabotage any chance I have of ever finding a husband!” Aemma’s words bit like the heat of dragon fire grazing skin. “No man shall have me if I stink of dragon!”

Aemma’s tear stained eyes fell on Helaena, hiding behind her mother’s skirts. Her eyes hardened at the sight of her niece, Helaena’s clothes were plain and made of leather. The King’s first born grandchild looked at the King’s second born daughter like she was some disgusting creature, covering herself in the dried skins of dead animals, like a true monster.

“…just like you.” Aemma bit her words at Helaena, the unwanted woman that smells of sulfur that no man had any use for.

Helaena did not mind Aemma’s words, for she knew the root of them. Helaena had been present when Aemma proposed marriage to Aegon, the first time.

Aemma upon the siblings breaking their fast one morning, she had not yet reached ten. She informed Aegon that he would need to start attending her daily prayers in the Sept, to cleanse his mind in preparation for their eventual wedding.

Aegon did not bother to finish swallowing his meal before he responded, “I would marry Helaena before I would ever marry you,” he laughed, juices falling from his open mouth. He would not marry Helaena either, but he had paid enough attention in the training yard to know the most efficient place to strike.

Aemma saw to it that the rest of Aegon’s meal ended up in the dirt. She made sure to break the newly turned teen’s favorite cup.

Aemond would sometimes hear Aemma’s screams marking another spat with her mother from the training yard. Aemond had not expected to see his niece, there, in the flesh, she tended to avoid the entire side of the keep, complaining of the smell.

Aemma’s hand wrapped itself around Aemond’s wooden sword, mid strike. Ser Criston’s feet left the pit in freight at the sight of the young girl. She was the disgusting bastard snake, the proof of all his failures. With every glance at her pale lavender eyes, he questions if he should not have ended himself that night instead of…

“Uncle, you shall be my husband, prepare yourself,” she released his weapon back to him.

“Oh–“ was the only sound that left the child’s mouth, allowing the heavy sword to fall into the earth, his eyes passed to his teacher, Ser Criston, hoping he would speak up to inform her that she was mistaken.

“That is, of course,” Aemma’s hand’s folded sweetly, as her silver hair cascaded to the floor, wrapping her in its aura. She bowed politely, lowering her head ever so gently.

Aemond watched her efficiency of her actions, every motion pointed and proven to get the reaction she desired. How Aemond longed to play the strings of others with the ease that she managed to. He supposed their children would grow strong, and she did not have the look of a bastard that marked her brothers. Still, he did not like the idea of more unity with that family.

“That is only because I can not possible marry you, Ser Criston,” she mused. “For how I do wish to,” Aemma sighed into the fantasy of a picturesque life as the lady wife of a proper knight. Aemond could feel the sun from her words.

Criston looked away.

High Valyrian was out of the question for Aemma, why speak the language of a civilization not competent enough to remain living amongst some ‘falling volcanic ash’, She believed that the gods only act their vengeance on those who deserve his wrath. If one never sins, one will always be kept in the favor of the gods.

Her mother spoke blasphemous contradictions, always downplaying the gods judgement.

“We of Old Valyrian were only saved from Doom by the grace of the Seven,” Aemma’s hands rose in praise, “and we must honor them in the way that they demand.” Her daily trips to the Great Sept surpassed that of the most pious at court.

At the mere suggestion, from Rhaenyra, for Aemma to spent time away from her constant, quiet, contemplation, the young princess would drop to her knees while loudly begging the gods forgiveness of her mother’s trespass. Her hands rose to the ceiling, her calls shouted to their exhalation, to cover the heretical words of her mother.

Rhaenyra eventually gave up, and allowed the girl to do as she pleased. Aemma’s eyes were shut closed for her endless prayers before meals, her calls were loud enough to cover the rest of them picking at their plates.

“May my every action be guided by your grace, and let me praise your name with all my actions.”

Sometimes, Rhaenyra thought her daughter was doing these things simply to irritate her mother. Laenor, her father, thought she was simply fascinating.

Aemma believed in eternal damnation, neither her parents knew where the thought had stemmed from. She was still a child, in her nursery room, when she told of dreams from the eternal burn of dragon fire that awaits those that displease the gods. Not even the Septas could talk the girl from her heading. She viewed her life as a test, and she would not allow herself to fail it.

There was a world, that Aemma visited in her sleep. For as long as she could hold memory, she could feel herself falling and slipping and drowning into the darkness of slumber and awaking somewhere far, far away. It was a place where gods ruled the sky, and those who tamed them ruled the world.

The towers of the city spiraled up past the clouds, towards the sun.

That was not where Aemma would find herself. She would land hard, by the skin of her knees, against the broken stone of the iron mines, deep below magma bellowing flames. It was hot, too hot, too hot to breath. The air was thick with metal dust and human wails. She would know she was alone, her family slain long ago in a place that no longer existed, turn to ash and salt by the gods as punishment for her trespasses.

It was too hot. And the wailing. Aemma was forced to her feet and made to continue, her small hands wrapping around the broken rocks and shuffling them away with the other tiny hands that worked the floors of the mine. Iron, they called it, it was precious and wanted by the gods to make more tools, to dig deeper into the mines. Her hands burned at every new touch of rock, the gloves covering her hands were not enough, never enough. Her feet and knees were blistered and burned, she could not even remove her sandals, as the flames merged them into her skin. She breathed in toxic fumes and smelled of brimstone and bile.

With every new crack of rock, with every clash of metal came the ending. The vile ending of choking on airless voids, of molten steam breaking free and burning and melting, of the rumble of a wyrm, picking her off for wondering too far down the darkness.

Every night she dreamed, Aemma suffered and died in the mines of Old Valyria, suffering the wrath of her people’s empire, though she did not know it. She was a child, and the child only saw death and destruction and fire.

In her waking hours, the Septas read the young princesses tales of the Seven, and their constant fight for moral righteousness. It was what gave the Reach their fine knights and perfect ladies, just like the Queen.

Aemma knew what it meant to be virtuous, it was able to be taught. And from her dreams, she knew what happened to those who were wicked. Eternal fire and blood and damnation.

Aemma had always enjoyed the silence of the Sept, as soon as she was old enough to enjoy it. She could breath amongst the endless quiet flames, they all breathed together as they marked the ones lost to the past. It was a peaceful place, the Septas silent pondering and whispered prayers brought her calm. It was the only thing that did, the promise of a just reward and eternal peace for living and just and pious life.

She was given a heading at a young age, that she could know true peace if she followed the path before her. She was determined to reach her destination.

Of course, Princess Aemma Targaryen was not going to become a dirty, old, Septa, she was born with a grander purpose. She knew she was to be a mother from her playing with dolls. She knew she was to be a great mother one day.

Something that she knew her own mother was not.

As the princess aged, her dreams changed, mirroring the souls that called to her from across the Narrow Sea. One such dream of odd sensations and things she could not understand, coincided with lessons putting the upmost importance on a future bride’s chastity.

Her mother was displeased when she refused to remove her shift before climbing in the bath.

“Aemma, sweetling, I do not think this is what the Septas meant–“ Rhaenyra tried to remain calm for her daughter’s sake.

“I am responsible for protecting my chastity mother! What if–“ the young girl gestured around the room, filled with her brothers and their nursemaids.

It was wrong, but Rhaenyra could not stifle a laugh. “They are infants, and I am your mother!” she argued, “These woman have been taking care of you since you were a babe, we all love you so–“

“Love will not protect me,” was Aemma’s final answer. The girl bathed in her thin cotton shift, to protect her modesty, even from herself.

Rhaenyra was fraught. Queen Alicent thought the behavior odd, but seemingly harmless. Once becoming Queen, Alicent’s own staff grew seven fold, she had not been used to bathing in a room filled with people without Rhaenyra in their youth. Alicent too longed for the days were she could bath in peace.

“Perhaps, she simply wishes to be alone?” the Queen offered, her back straight as she sipped her mid-morning tea. “She is growing, she might find the boys…an annoyance?”

Rhaenyra shook her head, slouched into a cushion, one of her feet propped up on the chair beside her. “But, what if we’re missing something?”

Alicent let out a sigh, she knew when her childhood friend wanted to talk freely, to work through an idea that plagued her in such a way she could not be swayed. “What do you mean?” Alicent asked, after picking a particularly beautiful (and large) cake from the tea offerings, it was covered with berries and cream.

Rhaenyra leaned herself forward, with the look in her eye when recounting ancient war strategies, “Laenor, once, told the children a favorite war story of his and both Aemma and Jace were frightened for days, so never again. But, that was years ago, and Jace does not even remember it ever happened.” Rhaenyra said. “I have spoken with her Septas, about what they could possibly be teaching those girls. It’s all falderal and men exchanging dutiful wives and stories about how rain once covered the entire earth.”

The Queen attempted to allow her words to flow past like a gentle steam, Rhaenyra had always had a contempt for the teachings of the Seven, and Alicent had agreed to the tea in good faith. Alicent was a woman in control of herself, and would not leave the table over a slight so simple, no matter how much she wished to.

“Well, it is not all,” Alicent began, “as you say, falderal. Many of the stories are great examples of honor and responsibility…” Alicent could tell that Rhaenyra was losing interest in her speaking, “And perhaps, a daughter wanting to protect her own innocent is not the worst thing to be faced with.��

Alicent sipped her tea while the two shared a silent look.

“Helaena is similar, I must admit,” Alicent changed the subject. “I find she prefers not to be touched. I thought it was by my own failing, but she seems to not wish it from anyone.” Alicent shrugged. “Perhaps, she too wants to take control of her own innocence and chastity? There is nothing wrong with that.”

“But, what if there is something wrong?”

“You worry too much,” Alicent offered something small, a hand reaching across the table.

“I never imagined having a daughter would be so tiring,” Rhaenyra laughed, not taking Alicent hand but offering a smile at the gesture.

“Well!” a new voice entered the room. “Isn’t that a sentiment I have been waiting to hear all my life!” Viserys entered the room with his cane first, Rhaenyra noticed a new missing tooth amongst his smile.

“You would make your mother proud,” the King offered, his daughter taking his hand.

Alicent swallowed, a deep breath, and then joined the smile herself. “Yes, step-daughter, Aemma is in good hands, with us all.”

Outside of the castle walls, Aemma Valyrian was the Realm’s Delight. Since a young age, the little girl would wave towards the crowds on her daily trip to the Great Sept. She carried flowers to gift other children during the springs, and bread to offering during the winters. Helaena joined along, but preferred the serenity of the wheelhouse over the roar of a crowd.

Helaena’s eyes were always elsewhere, the skies, the dirts, her own mind. Aemma refused to enter the dragon pit, so Helaena was rarely afforded the opportunity. Aemma complained the smell made her sick, and would heave until they either left or she became sick and they were both taken back to the palace, where Aemma would spend endless hours pampering her hair.

Before Aemma was even old enough to understand, she could read it on the faces of those at court, there was something wrong. The Queen had never spoken ill of her mother in her presence, but Aemma suspected she had always just finished speaking before the young girl was close enough to hear.

Aemma devoured every drop of information she could find from those around court. Queen Alicent had packed the halls with any second born noble that wished a chance at the presence of power. They all had something to say. Aemma had learned to hide around corners and disappear into shadows in order to hear.

She learned and she knew.

And in the aftermath of the birth of her brother Joffrey, Aemma was ready to strike.

“Oh, so now you care about who I am to marry!” Aemma spoke as if she were a woman grown, as Rhaenyra had thought since she was first born. “You speak to the Queen about wedding me to Aegon after he had already refused me!”

Rhaenyra was taken aback. “You have asked him? Aemma you are a child! You–“

“And I would never have such a leacher as my betrothed! Aemond has already agreed–“

“Aemond?” Rhaenyra’s head was spinning at the information coming. “Fine, fine,” she finally relented. “Either way, we are returning to Dragonstone, we have–“

“You shall to whatever you like, I shall be remaining with my betrothed, as we are to be married!”

“Aemma, my sweet, you are still a child! You shall marry, but for now we are going home–“

“THIS IS MY HOME!”

...the tableware shook at the ferocity of her words, along with goblet she threw.

Rhaenyra did not like when her daughter stopped speaking, for she had no way of knowing what was going on in her mind. She watched as a smile stitched itself across Aemma’s mouth. Rhaenyra never wanted to speak ill of her precious child, but the girl’s teeth were too large for her mouth, it created a smile stretching across her cheeks like a jackal.

“If you make me go, I shall tell everyone,” Aemma spoke softly, pulling the air out of the room.

“Tell them what?” Rhaenyra tried to keep her breathing stilled.

“I shall tell them about father,” her smile only grew.

Rhaenyra’s breathing halted.

“He’s….he’s…a buggerer of men! I have seen it with my own eyes, the King’s nameday last, as he was tending to those Bracken horses, and you’re protecting him!” Aemma enjoyed being right, it was simply the only way to be. “How could you ever lie with a man like that?” she asked, disgusted. “But, I supposed. You did not lie for him long.”

Aemma’s eyes wondered to the dark haired babe asleep in his cradle.

“I suppose, I should thank you, Mother. You managed to at least produce one heir,” Aemma’s spoke what she had never spoke before.

“Heir?” Rhaenyra’s forced a laugh, “You have always been content with your brother, Jacerys, taking on the mantle after me.”

“You dare suggest someone like him sitting the iron throne?”

Rhaenyra couldn’t help but laugh, for the girl knew not what she spoke. It would only take a few words to cut the girl down, drown out every candied dream that filled her stupid head. “You wish to rule?” the heir-to-the-throne asked.

Aemma’s words were spitting, hissing venom at her birther, “There is no Queen amongst the Seven! I wish to honor The Mother, and to fulfill the only purpose for which I was brought down from the stars! I pray to the Crone to guide me to the path of fruitfulness and to The Maiden to protect by virtue from peoples like YOU.”

Food and plates and chairs and jewels flew through the room, leaving a path of destruction matching a dragon in a herding pasture.

“Fine! Remain here, be the ward of the Queen, for she is the mother you have always wanted!” Rhaenyra gave in, and left the girl to her own devices.

Queen Alicent had not been prepared to see Aemma breaking her fast the next morning. “Aemma! What are you–” she exclaimed, the girl had been seated alone in the large room used for family meals, always the first to arrive.

“Mother left me here,” Aemma sighed into the words, sipping her morning tea.

The Queen made a sound showing that she had heard the young girl’s words. She had heard of the aftermath left behind in Rhaenyra’s chambers, and Alicent was sure she now found the cause.

“You are to…?” Alicent sat near the child. In all of the Queen’s dreams of Rhaenyra taking her spawn and fleeing, she had never imagined one staying behind. Though, she now knew it had always been the only possibility.

“I am to remain here as your ward, my queen!” Aemma threw back her chair, and supplicated herself before the queen. “Allow me to learn from you! You, a true virtuous and pious woman. You are the portrait of The Mother, who I shall model my every action to glorify her name."

Alicent had seen this look before. The eyes glazing over, looking past and through. The same way those worshippers looked at the dragons of Old Valyria, the reverence in the presence of a god. Alicent was Aemma’s god.

“I shall be faithful to you, as my lord paramount, you shall guide my every action and I shall become whatever it is that you want me to be so that I can avoid the endless firey pits of damnation that awaits all those sinners that I shall seen––“

“Enough! Enough, that’s enough, dear,” Alicent hushed her, shaking her out of whatever trace had taken over. “It is fine, you may stay. Just, please no more–”

“Um! What is she doing here?” Aegon was never up this early, and all the thanks he received was being greeted by the Realm’s Annoyance. “Why can’t she go back to Dragonstone with the b–”

“Aegon!” the queen hissed.

Neither Aemond or Helaena were excited to see her that morning, but it was clear she would need to be removed from the castle in chains, if at all.

Aemond supposed having a betrothed was fine. He had known from birth that his marriage was to be arranged, and that he supposed he was prepared to do whatever duty the crown demanded but, this felt different.

He had not spent much time imagining what his future bride would look like, but the time he had, his mind wondered to that of Cinda Lannister, his mother’s closest lady. When she peppered his face with kisses, it wasn’t wet and revealing like some of the older women of court. Her hugs were warm and long, and he was almost tall enough to be face height with her chest.

Aemma always had ill words to say about Cinda’s wardrobe, always finding something despisable about how she showed her body, complaining about the slightly elder Lannister’s overly exposed skin. Aemond was not sure if they were always speaking of the same dresses, for Aemond could always imagine Cinda in more scandalous clothing.

“You aren’t thinking about Cinda Lannister’s breasts, are you?” Aemma gasped, as she caught his mind drifting off in the wheelhouse ride to the Sept.

Aemond could feel every drop of blood rushing to the tips of his ears, it was almost painful. “No!” he lied.

“Good,” Aemma said, knowing she had picked the right choice of betrothed.

She had close to him during meals, moving their chairs to almost be touching. There was a part of him that hungered for the attention, and he knew that his prayers had been answered. Although, hallow.

She gifted him small things, she once sowed a silver trinket dragon into his sleeve. “Now you shall not need to go to the dragon pits any longer, for here if your own dragon.”

Aemond enjoyed when she dumped wine on Aegon when his brother mocked him. But, he did not like their mandated walks through the gardens and her constant questions about the state of his mind.

It was not Aemma’s words that haunted Aemond from the night be lost his eye, it was the imagined droves of ladies at court that would soon he saying the same thing.

Aemma shouted at her child brother, Lucerys, from her place at the Queen’s side, “I can not marry him now that he has one eye!”

Aemond was honestly glad to get rid of her, she had completely ignored his existence during his healing process, though she informed him that he was in her prayers.

“Thanks,” he would respond flatly.

“Perhaps someone with a large castle,” Queen Alicent mused, trying to think of that to do with the leftover princess. “She needs something to constantly busy herself.”

“Harrenhal is the largest of castles,” Lord Larys offered, from across the sitting table filled with their scheduled warm meal.

"Say that again, and I shall make her marry you,” Alicent buffed back.

“Then I shall be sure to never speak of it again,” Larys assured.

Ser Criston waited patiently outside the Queen’s chambers, and never interrupted her meals. Though, he knew the topic of discussion. The cunt princess’s actions were always so cutting towards the Lady Queen, and she needed to be cut down to size.

Ser Criston offered the plan late one night, he could tell that his Queen was drained from the girl’s constant will and talks of a world being engulfed in endless flames.

“My Queen, if it please you,” he started. “The Princess Aemma has grown…fond of me,” he was not sure how to proceed. “If you ever would want me to…”

They both stopped, neither green enough to need it said fully.

Alicent’s hands wrapped themselves around the stone railing, digging the grit into her palm. “You, the man who once asked me to order your death, hear me now,” she said, “If I hear of such things again, I shall take your hear myself. You will treat the princess as her station demands, you will be cordial and nothing more. Or I shall see your white cloak run red with your own blood. Am I understood?”

She was understood.

Somewhere deep, across the barren fields that wrapped around her mind, down a dark corridor, a tunnel of darkness, a moat of unpassable waters, there was a box under the floor boards that held a small wooden box. And inside that box was were Alicent kept what she knew to be true. That Princess Aemma was no ward, but a sacrifice Alicent was willing to make, and heir for an heir, if it were ever come such blows. And it was Alicent alone who could give that order.

a/n: THANKS FOR READING! as always~ I posted a bit of her earlier this week, hated it, took it down, and re-wrote some of it LOL Anyone want more? Any suggestions or requests? Lol she needs to have a ultra religious girl-gang lol

tags: @targaryenswhxre sorry for the mult tags Im a mess LOL

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unusual-raccoon · 1 year ago

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OMG, OMG it’s you.

Someone very, very special to me (it’s @sorceressfyre) would show your amazing artwork because she’s on Twitter & I’m not not.

I am so so honored you drew something inspired by my fic, thank you 🥹🤍.

trueborn!Jace

#I haven’t finished silver son yet either so it’s more than okay 🤍#you’re amazing #jaceluke #jaceluke agenda #hotd fanart #my fanfic: silver son

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novaursa · 2 months ago

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Fire and Heart

- Summary: You accept your life with Aegon, finding happiness in him and your growing family.

- Paring: sister!reader/Aegon I Targaryen

- Note: This is one of possible futures of The Broken Crown series. If these events happen, the reader doesn't go to Dorne.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @fiction-fanfic-reader @fireandblood-mharmie @poisonedsultana

You stand in the nursery, the sound of laughter and playful giggles filling the warm air. Your son, Aerion, chases his sisters, Aelora and Vaella, around the room, their silver hair flying like a cascade of moonlight. You smile softly, watching them, your heart swelling with a love so fierce it almost frightens you.

"Mother, look!" Aerion shouts, his eyes shining with pride as he catches Vaella, pulling her into a tight hug. She squeals, pretending to struggle, her face a picture of pure mischief. Aelora claps her hands, her laughter ringing out like bells.

"Well done, my brave little dragon," you praise, brushing a stray lock of hair from Aerion’s face. He beams up at you, his expression so much like Aegon's that it makes your heart ache. You reach out, smoothing Aelora’s dress and patting Vaella’s hair. Your children, your precious gems.

A soft knock draws your attention to the door. Aegon stands there, his gaze intense and thoughtful, as it always is when he looks at you. He steps into the room, his presence commanding and undeniable, even here, among his own blood. The children rush to him, their small arms wrapping around his legs, and for a moment, he is not the conqueror but simply a father, smiling down at his brood.

“Aegon,” you greet, your voice soft but steady. There is no resentment anymore, no lingering bitterness over the betrothal he shattered, the future he stole and replaced with his own desires. It took time, but you forgave him. You learned to love him, to see beyond his ambition and pride, to the man who is as much yours as you are his.

“Sister,” he replies, though there’s a warmth in his tone that belies the formality of the word. He bends down, lifting Aerion into his arms. The boy laughs, a bright, carefree sound, and Aegon’s face softens. He looks at you over your son’s shoulder, his violet eyes dark and deep, like the sky before a storm.

“How do you fare today?” he asks, his voice quieter now, meant only for you.

You smile, a small, genuine curve of your lips. “The children keep me busy, but they are good. They bring me joy.”

Aegon nods, his gaze lingering on you, something unspoken in his eyes. You step closer, reaching out to smooth a crease in his tunic, your fingers brushing against his chest. His hand covers yours, warm and strong.

“You��ve given me a family, Aegon,” you say, your voice steady, though there’s a strange, fluttering sensation in your chest. “Three beautiful children.”

He inclines his head, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. “And you’ve given me more than I ever deserved.”

You take a deep breath, gathering your courage. You’ve thought about this for a while, weighed your fears against your desires. You look up at him, holding his gaze.

“I want another.”

For a moment, there is only silence, the children’s laughter a distant sound. Aegon blinks, his expression shifting from surprise to something else, something deeper, warmer. His grip on your hand tightens, and there’s a flicker of something almost like hope in his eyes.

“Another child?” he asks, his voice low, as if afraid to break the spell.

You nod, your heart racing. “Yes. I want to give you another child.”

Aegon’s lips part, but no words come out. He looks at you as if he’s seeing you for the first time, or perhaps seeing something he’s always hoped to see. Slowly, he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, lingering there, his breath warm against your skin.

“Are you sure?” he murmurs, his voice rough. “After everything…?”

“I’m sure,” you whisper, looking up into his eyes. “I want this, Aegon. I want to give you another child, to have another piece of us in this world.”

He closes his eyes, exhaling a long, shuddering breath. When he opens them again, there’s a light in his gaze, a kind of fierce joy that you’ve rarely seen.

“Then I will give you what you want,” he says, his voice a promise, a vow.

You smile, something tight and warm loosening in your chest. You rise on your toes, pressing your lips to his, a soft, lingering kiss. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin with a tenderness that still surprises you, even after all these years.

“Tonight,” he whispers against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. “Will you send the children to bed early?”

A soft laugh escapes you, the sound light and free. You nod, your forehead resting against his. “Yes. Tonight.”

Aegon pulls you closer, his hand cradling the back of your neck. “I love you, sister,” he says, the words quiet but fervent, like a prayer. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“I love you too, Aegon,” you reply, your voice steady, true. “And I always will.”

In that moment, with your children’s laughter surrounding you, Aegon’s arms around you, and the promise of another life between you, you feel whole. Complete.

And you know, without a doubt, that you have made the right choice.

The candles flicker softly in your chambers as you wait, nerves fluttering in your stomach. The children are asleep in the nursery, nestled together with their cousins, Aenys and Maegor. The quiet stillness of the castle feels almost heavy, as if it’s holding its breath along with you.

You stand by the window, looking out at the darkened skies, when you hear the door open behind you. You turn, your heart skipping a beat. Aegon stands there, the door closed behind him, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

Before you can speak, he crosses the room in long strides, his hands finding your waist, pulling you against him. His mouth crashes down on yours, hot and insistent, swallowing whatever words you were about to say. You melt into him, your fingers tangling in his hair, the kiss consuming, overwhelming.

“Aegon—” you gasp against his lips, but he doesn’t let you finish. His hands are everywhere, rough and urgent, tugging at the laces of your dress. You can feel the raw need in him, the desire that has been simmering between you all day now boiling over.

His lips trail down your neck, and you arch into him, your pulse racing. “I need you,” he breathes against your skin, his voice rough and desperate. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with hunger. “I need you now.”

There’s no hesitation in you as you nod, your hands fumbling with the fastenings of his tunic. Your fingers brush over his skin, feeling the heat and strength beneath, and a shiver runs through you. He shrugs out of his clothing, his hands never leaving you, stripping away the barriers between you with a swift, practiced ease.

Your dress falls to the floor, forgotten, and then his hands are on you, his body pressing you back toward the bed. You don’t break the kiss, your mouths locked together, tasting, claiming. The world narrows to just the two of you, the heat of his skin against yours, the scent of him filling your senses.

He lifts you, and you cling to him, your legs wrapping around his waist. You can feel him, hard and ready, pressing against you, and the anticipation coils tighter in your belly. He lowers you to the bed, his body covering yours, his weight a welcome, familiar pressure.

“Please, Aegon,” you whisper, your voice breathless, pleading. He groans, his lips capturing yours again, his hand sliding between your thighs. He finds you wet and wanting, and he curses softly against your mouth.

“Hold on,” he murmurs, his voice a strained growl. And then, with one powerful thrust, he’s inside you, filling you, stretching you. You cry out, your back arching, the sensation both achingly familiar and exquisitely new.

He pauses, his forehead resting against yours, his breath ragged. “You feel… gods, you feel perfect.”

You grip his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you adjust to the fullness of him, the heat spreading through you like wildfire. “Move,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Please.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He begins to move, his hips snapping against yours in a hard, relentless rhythm. Each thrust sends a shockwave of pleasure through you, your body rising to meet his, your breath mingling with his in gasps and broken moans.

There’s no gentleness in him tonight, no restraint. His hands are rough on your skin, his mouth devouring yours, his need a wild, untamed thing. You respond in kind, matching him stroke for stroke, your bodies a tangle of sweat and heat and desperate longing.

“Aegon,” you gasp, his name a prayer on your lips, your fingers clutching at his back. He buries his face in your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as he drives into you, deeper, harder.

“I want to fill you,” he growls, his voice low and fierce, each word punctuated by a thrust. “I want to give you another child. I want everyone to know you are mine.”

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice breaking, your body trembling beneath him. “Yes, Aegon. I’m yours.”

His hand slides between your bodies, his fingers finding the sensitive spot that has you crying out, your body clenching around him. He thrusts harder, deeper, his movements becoming erratic, his control slipping.

The pressure builds inside you, winding tighter and tighter until it finally snaps, a wave of pleasure crashing over you, stealing your breath, your voice. You shatter around him, your body tightening, convulsing, and he follows you over the edge with a hoarse shout, his body going taut, his release pulsing deep inside you.

For a long moment, there’s only the sound of your breathing, harsh and uneven, your bodies still joined, still trembling with the aftershocks. He collapses against you, his weight warm and solid, his arms wrapping around you as if he can’t bear to let you go.

You hold him close, your fingers trailing through his hair, your heart still racing. He shifts, lifting his head to look at you, his eyes soft, the fierceness replaced by something gentler, something almost tender.

“Are you all right?” he asks, his voice a rough whisper, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

You smile, a slow, languid curve of your lips. “More than all right.”

Aegon’s lips find yours again, softer this time, lingering, as if savoring the taste of you. “I love you,” he murmurs against your mouth, the words quiet, but there’s a depth to them that makes your heart ache.

“I love you too, Aegon,” you whisper, your hands cradling his face.

He smiles, a rare, unguarded smile that lights up his eyes. “We’ll have another child,” he says, his voice filled with a quiet certainty. “A strong, healthy one, just like the others.”

You nod, your heart swelling with a fierce, protective love. “Yes, we will.”

And in that moment, with his arms around you, his body still warm and close against yours, you believe it. You believe in him, in the life you’ve built together, in the family you’ll continue to grow.

Tonight, the future seems as bright and boundless as the stars outside your window. And for the first time in a long while, you feel truly at peace.

#fire and blood #game of thrones #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #aegon i x you #aegon i x y/n #aegon i x reader #aegon i targaryen #aegon the conqueror #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon x y/n #aegon x you #house targaryen

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takeachillpillshawty · 1 year ago

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Things I need to see in more\ want to happen twst fanfics

Vil living as Vil Schoenhiet the student at NRC and not THE Vil Schoenhiet model, actor, and influencer.

Kalim angst. I love him but sometimes I love seeing my babygurl suffer, and not Jamil betraying him angst. No, I want him to question his self worth as a dorm leader in general, I want him to be on edge at the thought of an assassin at school, I want him to worry about the people he befriends knowing that getting involved with him will put their lives in danger just like him.

Leona's hinted depression being discussed.

Jade finally being seen as the scarier twin than Floyd, I don't care Jade lovers your mans is scaring away the hoes.

Yuu\ Prefect \ YN adjusting to the world or Twisted Wonderland... Literally, getting used to the oxygen, atmosphere, eating fruits or food that doesn't exist in their world, so on and so on.

Riddle being a kid.

Vil enjoying his flaws and accept that there are people who genuinely love him even if he isn't the fairest one of all.

Trein and Riddle having father son moments.

Jamil realizing that his parents played a bigger role of his hatred for Kalim, and that it was possible for he and Kalim to be friends after all.

Silver and Sebek being brothers. Yes, I see them as brothers Silbek shippers don't come at me.

Ortho being creepy as fuck, like as in uncanny valley creepy. I know with my full heart that is Ortho was real he'd give major uncanny valley effect. I love him, he's still my son.

Lilia going through the grief of losing Meleanor.

Grim and Prefect some how fusing together into one being, A being able to do magic and be accepted as a student.

Kalim being unhinged, like feral. Not in the sugar rush kind of way, like giving a 5 year old the power of God kind of unhinged.

Cater, Kalim and Lilia all just collectively crying together to let all the stress, frustration, anger and sadness out. They usually do this during club hours.

N I E G E L E B L A N C H E.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland shitpost #heartslabyul #riddle rosehearts #twisted wonderland original character #azul ashengrotto #jamil viper #kalim al asim #floyd leech #deuce spade

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black-widow134 · 7 months ago

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Got back into reading fanfiction again, here are some (more) of my favourite dadneto/magneto family fanfics;

(will be adding to the list)

Every cloud has a silver lining (and a scarlet one) // 53851 words // 10 chapters - https://archiveofourown.org/works/37596463/chapters/93843133

To the stars who listen… // 91686 words // 20 chapters // Magneto (xmen apocalypse) fic - https://archiveofourown.org/works/31485110/chapters/77883419

The Night Shift // 30113 words // 7 chapters // dadneto — https://archiveofourown.org/works/33331009/chapters/82772923

Edge of Nineteen // 4900+ words // 4 chapters - https://archiveofourown.org/works/29933331/chapters/73678035

The Witch's Vindication // 41433 words // 17 chapters // xmen evolution fanfic — https://archiveofourown.org/works/23212645/chapters/55570771

The Adventures Of Young Peter Maximoff // 35071 words // 13 chapters — https://archiveofourown.org/works/23684482/chapters/56861197

Twin Troubles // 26k+ words // 9 chapters — https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12423578/1/Twin-Troubles

The beginning of something familiar // 10k+ words // 5 chapters — https://m.fanfiction.net/s/11955883/1/The-Begining-of-Something-Familiar

Late Again // 132498 words // 19 chapters — https://archiveofourown.org/works/7082626/chapters/16097917

Five Times Quicksilver Doesn’t Tell Magneto He’s His Son and the One Time He Does // 11855 + words // 6 chapters — https://archiveofourown.org/works/19247407/chapters/45770434

Tiny Terrors // 26144 words // 9 chapters - https://archiveofourown.org/works/32943280/chapters/81760546

Peter Maximoff v Life, Terrorists, & Awkward Family Conversations // 13764 words // 1 chapter — https://archiveofourown.org/works/6890533?view_adult=true

Reverse Star Wars // 8k+ words // 7 chapters - https://m.fanfiction.net/s/11956321/1/

Infinite Variations of a Summer Day // 76,953 words // 12 chapters - https://archiveofourown.org/works/30764972/chapters/75935630?view_adult=true

No Escape from Reality // 73,360 words // 15 chapters, unfinished - https://archiveofourown.org/works/35173735/chapters/87638068

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fanonimus · 3 months ago

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I bring you another dream I remember! Mostly.

The first one

Context: Sometimes I dream up random episodes about media I am obsessed with at the time with proper animation and dialogue and stuff.

So this is TimKon, which is less surprising bc I was reading Timkon fanfics before going to sleep.

The animation style is Teet Titans.

The dream is blurry, but I can fill in the gaps. Mostly.

There was no intro this time.

The scene opens with Dick, Bruce, and Damian talking to a nervous looking Tim Drake, who's in a white tux with golden accents. He looks nervous as Dick fits a golden flower crown on top of his black hair.

"You okay, chum?" Bruce asks.

"I'm nervous. What if he leaves before we can do this?" Tim asks, fiddling with the sleeve of his button up shirt. Damian batts his hand away, currently doing Tims makeup.

"Kon is a good man, Tim. You two are good for each other." Dick says.

"And Todd is armed with cryptonite bullets, if he does leave." Damian adds as he finishes off, closing the makeup kit.

"Damian!" All three say in unison, with disbelief. He just shruggs.

Fade to black, then to another room. Kon is admiring himself. He's wearing a black tuxedo with silver details. Jon is excitedly rambling off about all the fun stuff he and Damian will do after the ceremony. Clark is going over Conners confession or whatever while Lois fixes up his makeup.

"He's not going to come." Conner says, sounding dissapointed. Jon frowns.

"He's a bad man. He would surely ruin the whole thing." The boy says.

"I know, but he's still my bio dad, too." Conner says.

"It's Lex Luthor. I would be surprised if he did come." Clark sighs and patts Conners shoulder. "Focus on your husband, son, don't let Lex ruin this for you." Conner nodds, we fade to black.

Wedding music plays, we open to rose petals blowing in the wind. Conner and Tim smiling at each other as they walk down the aisle. Batfam, superfam, and all of their friends are there, cheering. Even some rouges were invited. (Harley vipes a tear in the background, while Ivy is the one contributing the petals. This was strangely specified.)

Jason Todd is the priest.

The ceremony goes on, when the doors open and Lex stepps in.

"I ob-" Before he can say anything, Jason pulls a gun on him.

"Sit down." Lex sitts down. Tim and Kon let out a small giggle.

They say their vows, and all I remember from that is the love in their words. It was warm and nice.

Anyways.

The only other thing I remember is the kiss scene. Tim pulls Conner in, and hey kiss, and then they break apart and touch foreheads, and they are laughing and crying while everyone is cheering, and Harley even lights up some fireworks.

There was also a speech Damian gave, and everyone cried. Damian talked about how he came to care about Tim and how the man helped him realize that his place in the family was his ever since he arrived. He also threatened Kon.

I think Jason and Stephanie also gave speeches, but I don't remember what they said.

This is it. Thank you for tuning in. This was a really nice dream.

Here I made some art for it:

#timkon #tim drake #conner kent #kon el #jason todd #damian wayne #bruce wayne #dick grayson #stephanie brown #poison ivy #harley quinn #jon lane kent #clark kent #lois lane #this was a wild dream

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unusual-raccoon · 8 months ago

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Update on Silver Son!

Chapter 2 will be out tomorrow 👑👀

#my fanfic: silver son #jaceluke #jaceluke agenda

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maggie-stormborn · 3 months ago

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"Our Songs of Ice & Fire" by @t0adsav on Instagram for my fanfic "Truly The Mother of Dragons" - Thanks again for doing this commission.

"Daenerys sat against Drogon, holding her newborn babes in her arms, taking in their tiny features. Two had the silver and gold hair of House Targaryen, while the other had thick, dark curls like her father, save for a bright silver streak on one side. She had had a golden haired and brown eyed daughter, whom she named Rhaenyra, to honor the first true Targaryen queen before her; a son with indigo eyes and silver hair named Aemon, for the only member of their house his father had ever known or been raised by; and a second daughter, with her own violet eyes and Jon's dark hair, whom she named Daenys, after the dreamer of Valyria of old who had set their family on the path that had led to this miraculous birth. House Targaryen, born again, while the hatchlings flew above singing overhead, and Daenerys held her sweet babes in her arms as the sun rose, with bittersweet tears streaming down her cheeks."

#game of thrones #got #gameofthrones #hbo #truly the mother of dragons #daenerys stormborn #daenerys art #daenerys targaryen #babies #triplets #targlings #house targaryen #george r.r. martin #grrm #my fanfiction #fanfiction #my fanfic #support fanfic writers

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whoishotteranimepolls · 5 months ago

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Since we're allowed to ask for someone to explain the appeal of characters, can I add Silvers Rayleigh, Benn Beckman, and Marco to the list? I do not understand why so many of you find them attractive. I mean on the Funny tags post. Rayleigh and Beckman have the most extensive sections, and Marco has some funny ones, too. However, I find them highly unappealing. I mean, Rayleigh is just your drunk Grandpa, and Beckman is your drunk uncle. Marco, unfortunately, looks like a pineapple and is part bird. So I seriously don't know how anyone finds him appealing, but I know his fans are out there, and they're very loyal. So can any of their fans. Please explain to me their appeal. Apparently, you guys exist and not just exist. You guys appear to be ride-or-die loyal, and I do not understand.

Now, I watch One Piece. I enjoy One Piece, and the show has so many attractive male characters, but you guys are going crazy for Silvers Rayleigh, the drunk grandpa with a gambling problem that I'm pretty sure the family only keeps around because he taught everyone how to do tax evasion and is willing to take the fall if anyone gets caught because at his age live in prison doesn't mean all that much anymore

Or Benn Beckman, the drunk uncle with the smoking problem. Now, I'm pretty sure he only has the smoking problem because he had to finish raising Rayleigh's red-headed disaster of a son he found as a stray when Shanks was. What 15? Dealing with a teenage Shanks would turn anyone gray and to smoking, but I don't think gentle parenting works on Shanks, and Beckman should have tried something a little bit more forceful. In fact, I think he should be demanding compensation from Rayleigh because Shanks has only lost one limb on his watch. But back to the point, I'm pretty sure most people find him attractive because of his competency kink. Still, there has to be more to it because of how much is in that section on that nicknames and tags post because, apparently, his fans are. How should I put this? Absolutely rabid for him, and I would love to know why. That's the term I think works best. If you don't believe me seriously, go check out that post

Or poor Marco, that haircut does nothing for you. It's just cursed you with the nickname pineapple head. He's also technically part bird, well actually part Phoenix close enough. And I don't understand why anyone would want to get down and dirty with a Phoenix, but I have seen way too much fanfic to prove otherwise. So, can his fans explain His appeal because? I am just trying to understand you guys.

Because again, I watch One Piece, and there are so many attractive guys on that show, especially of the DILF variety, but I do not understand the Rayleigh, Beckman, or Marco fans. So can any of their fans explain their appeal

Defend Your Blurbo #3

Please remember this post is about curiosity and genuine fandom discourse. Be kind with your answers because this is not a debate essay, this is a discussion between fans.

Well, here are some photos of the blurbos and questions. Now, they are right when they say Beckman and Rayleigh have two of the most extensive sections on my nickname and funny tags post for one piece, which I will link. So I do understand where they're coming from on that part because when I was first putting that post together, I did not expect those two to have such long sections

Otherwise, One Piece Fandom, Defend Your Blorbos

#defend your blurbo #benn beckman #silvers rayleigh #marco the phoenix #one piece #not a poll #spicy

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thoughtfullyrainynightmare · 3 months ago

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Hi how are you? Could you please do a reaction where Nozel falls in love with a very pretty dancer, but who is a commoner? (if possible, she would be distantly related to Yami) ❤️

Hiya~! ^^

Tired ^^' Because of work, but otherwise I'm good. This has been in my inbox since forever, but I felt a spark of inspiration now, so I hope you like it ^^

Pairing: Nozel x reader Fanfic type: Oneshot Genre: General/fluff(?) Contains: Nozel ponders about approaching reader, who is a commoner, and who he this is beautiful and graceful, pretty safe work

Of all the things Nozel hadn’t expected in the world, seeing you, on that day, was certainly one of them.

The way you glided over the dance floor. The way you moved seamlessly, like water, wind, a song that he could name. Every twist and turn. Smile and laugh. All that was you, in that moment.

He couldn’t quite believe them to be true.

Because, surely, he had seen countless people on the dance floor. In ballrooms and the festivals. But none of them seemed to have ever compared to your grace. Your … innate ability to move in a manner that captivated his every sense, while catching his breath so that he began feeling the slightest bits of dizzy. Which added to his state of deliria.

And yet he couldn’t turn away.

He couldn’t, didn’t want to, look away, no matter who might see. Just like a helpless sailor, caught in the song of a siren. Only that this was dry land, and you were not a sea fae or alike, ready to lure an unfortunate soul into their demise.

He was convinced of it. But… it was only after he had managed to catch his breath, that he realized… the make of your clothes, was not noble. The accessories that adorned your ensemble, were handmade, not bought with silver and gold.

Which… for the eldest of the royal house of Silva, posed a problem. Because, he had even seen himself marrying someone who could uphold the name. The family. And the responsibility.

And that, for a good part of it, meant someone who knew their way around the noble etiquette.

Though… as his eyes wandered back to you, he was certain that you were already more graceful, more beautiful and lady like than some of the noble born he had seen. No… you held none of the crudeness of those individuals.

He was sure that there was some, hidden beneath. Must’ve been. But everyone had crudeness. Even he himself. He knew as much, though he might not admit it.

However, you did carry yourself with dignity, so the crude that would surface, he was certain, wouldn’t be the most of you. The major part of you. Because this kind of … being, the way you just were, couldn’t be crafted.

This was real. You were real.

And… though he might not-, would not deserve someone who was true, he wished for it. Wanted it. Hoped that he might be granted a chance to ask for you to be by his side; to be his.

The Eldest son of the royal House of Silva, wished to have you as his.

Wouldn’t demand, because such things, true things, couldn’t be demanded. So, all that was left for him, would be to ask.

And he’d need to do so now. Before you disappear into the wide, wide world. Out of his reach. Because… while Clover was a small kingdom, he knew very little of how to find commoners. Where to go. From where to begin his search, if he’d let you slip by now.

Unless he’d start a kingdom wide search. Which would seem… desperate. Obvious. And would place expectation onto the two of you.

Something he didn’t want.

So, he’d need to be brave now. And not just… keep looking at your from the distance.

He’d need to be brave.

Right now.

#black clover fanfiction #black clover x reader #nozel silva x reader #nozel x reader

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hanafubukki · 1 year ago

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Hi ! Here cottage life with Lilia and the Knight of Dawn as Silver mom in the past Anon (I think I will need to find myself an smiley-)

First, thank you ! I'm happy this idea please you and other people 😊

But yes this OT3 is so so cute- My brain run free for it since then.

The relationship those three have...it's just melting my heart 🥹 The perfect trio. Lilia is a bit jalous that the first baby isn't from him -bat boi have his pride- but he just love Silver so much it doesn't matter much 🥺 Little funny fact about Lilia/Knight bromance: before Silver birth, him and the Knight (need to find a proper surname for him-) had a discussion. Like they didn't know who was the father between them, they had a unique way to deal with it: after the baby birth- when who is the father will be more clear- the guy that isn't the bio dad would name the baby. So no one would felt left away from the family.

Lilia blessed the baby at birth, and like in Chapter 5, the baby hair turned white. So Silver's name was back like that 😂

So much things about them...like, rumors runs fast thanks to the forest fairies. But the little family -except when Lilia is called to the castle- don't go often outside to not scare any fairy. So...one day, a toddler Silver ran away to the famous "Castle" were "Dada Lilia" was kept against his will by "This cruel brat of a Princess who want him to "babysit" (Something really cruel and scary from Dada Lilia word-). So Meleanor first encounter with Lilia rumored "son" was this child -monkey- pleading her to -politely- give his Dada Lilia back.

And this is only some funny story 😭 The guilt our time traveler could felt is also interresting. Silver was born and will grow up way before what he was supposed to do. Did this child is -will be- even the same Silver she knew ? And he will never met Sebek in this life. Will this child will be ressentful ? What kind of right does she have to change history -fate- like that ? What will happen if she dissapear, like she came- and go back to her time ? What will happen to her new found family, her husbands, her child ?

But a single giggle of her lovely silver haired baby is enough to make her worries dissapear in a smile. How scary it is, to be so happy at the point you fear the day it will be end.

(References: Fanfic, Ask 1, Ask 2)

Hello Cottage Life Anonie 🌻🌺💚

I’m labeling you Cottage Life Anonie until you find a emoji or nickname you prefer ☺️🌺 please feel free to choose whichever that makes you comfortable and happy.

Anonie you have no idea how happy I was when I saw you in my inbox, I was already kicking my feet in excitement ☺️🌺

Hehehe my evil plan of getting more people to like this OT3 is working 😈🙌 lolol I’m really happy that you and others like it. It makes me happy and I’m glad I can share these thoughts with others who like it too.

A knight of dawn x reader x lilia vanrouge pairing has so much potential and routes that I’m just thrilled at all the possibilities 💞💞

Lilia being jealous of the first child not being his is adorable. I can just see him make that face that says he’s pouting but denying it 😂 but he adores Silver so much and he’s also your child, so how could he no love him? Baby Silver with his glittering eyes and you just being so loving with him is perfect.

I adore that agreement Knight and Lilia had about naming the child. It’s so sweet and smart! And another way to include the mutual partner! No one is left out and everyone is loved 🥹 it’s so sweet!! (We need a name for Dawny, I hope we get one for him in twst 🙏)

Oh oh Anonie! Now that you mention the hair color change, some theorize (because of the sprite) that the upper layers of Knight’s hair is blond and the bottom layers are silver!! So if that’s the case, Lilia just turned Silver’s hair fully silver which is also what Dawny has on his lower tresses so this bromance keeps getting sweeter and the connection is still there 🥹

Absjsjshs tiny Baby Silver just toddling away to the castle to save his Dada Lilia like a true knight in shining armor!!! That’s so freaking adorable 🥹💞😭 I can imagine that the little fairies that love Silver and love mischief helped teleport him to the castle where he meets Meleanor and Lilia. You have this sweet child asking so nicely and the Queen’s heart just melts (she also adores his bravery). Meleanor then tries to smite Lilia because of the “bratty” comments 🤣🤣

Now I can imagine Meleanor require a weekly dinner with everyone, she can see Baby Silver, and if malleus is hatched, he can have a playmate. She can also meet the Knight and the Reader (not on the battlefield for once). It’s awkward at first but nothing that time and Silver’s bubbly laughter can’t fix 🥹💞

There’s so many angst potentials! Ahhhh the guilt of the time traveler wife. Silver not growing up with Sebek, not living in the same timeline ( would his friend be mama zigvolt in this case? 🤔).

Would wife tell the husbands about her situation? What happened in her timeline? I feel like if they knew they would understand, and their hearts would ache from the sacrifices she made to have them be happy. 🥹😭

I want to focus a little bit on the if she ever went back to the present, well, this new present that’s the same yet so different. I feel like if YN did go back she would at first be devastated once she realizes she’s back and what she lost. But but but, we have powerful fairies on our side. 👏🙌

I believe in this case, with the help of Meleanor and Lilia (maybe even Levan? He’s smart so he might know more about it). They would put both Silver and The Knight of Dawn to sleep until they are reunited with YN 🥹💚

So, this would solve a few problems actually! Sebek would be in the picture again, and we have Malleus and his parents, and of course, we have Lilia too.

Lilia could be waiting for YN at the spot she said she was teleported from the first time and they could have their reunion before waking the other two. 🥹💞💞 The reunion would be so sweet between the four. Lilia was waiting but at least he had his sister and baby malleus and the rest of his family and friends while he waited. He can go to that cottage and relive memories and remind himself of his loves.

The way this OT3 AU has a grip on me 😭💞💚

Anonie, Anonie, I am shaking you.

“How scary it is, to be so happy at the point you fear the day it will be end.” This line!! This line!! Oh my heart. 😭💞💞

Thank you for sending this in Anonie 💚🌺, ahhh I’m enjoying this so much and my mind is whirling with so many possibilities. You’re my partner in crime now ☺️🌺

#answered #anonie ask #🌺cottage life anonie🌺#twst knight of dawn x reader #twst knight of dawn #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge #twst knight of dawn x reader x lilia vanrouge #🌷gifts🌷#twst silver #meleanor draconia

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mysticalprincesskitten · 6 months ago

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Aegon II Targaryen x OC // House of the Dragon fanfic

Yandere!Aegon, Dark!Aegon

Trigger warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, mdni, dark themes, bondage, kidnapping, yandere?? Targcest, OC is Viserys and Aemma's daughter, OC is named Daenerys, OC looks like Elizabeth Olsen

Part Three

The crown had changed Aegon.

No longer was he merely a youth craving his mother’s kindness, his father's attention, forever in the shadow of who he was supposed to be. Now he was King of the Seven Kingdoms, at war with his half-sister for the throne on which he sat.

Fate had forced this on him, but Aegon had embraced it. For the sake of his family, for Mother and Aemond and Helaena and their little twins, Rhaenyra could not ascend the Iron Throne. She would kill them all.

Besides. Aegon was the rightful king. Father had agreed as much finally on his deathbed; as the firstborn son, Viserys’ crown passed to Aegon. The Great Council had reinforced tradition by seating his father on the throne instead of Rhaenys, but Father, in his arrogance, opposed tradition by naming his favourite child heir. Mother said so.

If only his wife could see the truth.

Daenerys was a hellcat. A she-dragon. Since Aemond had ambushed her at Storm’s End, forcing her to dismount Grey Ghost and return to King’s Landing lest Vhagar rip her beloved dragon to shreds, Daenerys had refused to touch Aegon, to speak a kind word to him. It made him whine and whimper, a kicked dog. Daenerys loved him. She always had. She was the only one who knew him, who didn’t expect him to be something he wasn’t.

And now she wouldn’t be close to him unless he bound her to their bed.

His grandfather was a fool, but he was right about one thing — the king needed an heir. Daenerys and Aegon had been wed for a couple of years and they had yet to conceive. It had never bothered Aegon before — one less person to steal her attention from him, truth be told — but that was when he'd been Prince Aegon.

King Aegon needed a trueborn heir from his queen.

And Aegon had missed her so, so much.

“How dare you?” His she-dragon thrashed anew in her bonds. “I am not your broodmare, Usurper!”

Aegon flinched. Then the fire within his own blood met to meet hers.

“How dare I? How dare you, sweet sister. My beloved bride. We are married, whether you like it not. You are mine. Do you think I could bear for you to leave me again? I let you slip from me once and they forced a crown on my head.” His lip wobbled, even as he held her wrists tight enough to bruise. He wanted his marks on her. His his his.

She was all he had, his only good thing. Daenerys had been by his side all his life, a playmate and partner. Sometimes she insisted they include Helaena and Aemond in their play, and Jace and Luke, but most of the time, if he pouted just so, he could get her to play just the two of them, chasing each other through the Red Keep, bumping into servants and high lords alike, playing monsters and maidens and come-into-my-castle.

And when childhood faded to adulthood, his sister’s soft curves and smooth skin made him stiffen in his breeches at the worst possible moments. He found himself transfixed by the dimple of her cleavage, a faint line peeking from the silver and cream gown she wore.

His Nerys refused to wear green, but rarely donned their House colours — Rhaenyra’s colours — either. Her heraldry honoured her dragon instead, the wild Grey Ghost. She liked silver Myrish lace and ivory Lyseni silks the most, beaded with opals and moonstone. Aegon liked how her gowns looked scattered across the floor of their bedchamber.

“It’s not too late,” she breathed, violet eyes wide and watery. “We could leave, Aeg. We could leave King’s Landing. Leave the Seven Kingdoms. Fly to the Free Cities with me. We could explore new lands, taste new cuisine, where nobody from this dreary kingdom would ever find us. We could see the Dothraki Sea, the old lands of Valyria's empire. Please, Aeg. Please.”

He could see her vision clearly: clouds covering exotic lands, blades of emerald grass below. Both of them, together. How they had always been. Wasn’t that what he’d wanted before his mother marched him to his coronation?

But another path lay open to him now. What if they didn’t have to flee? The crown was heavy, but Aegon found his liked it’s weight.

He was King. Nerys was his queen. She would give him trueborn princes and princesses that would fill the Red Keep, enough to lay his claim so deep inside her she could never claw it out.

A frenzy overtook him. He crashed their lips together, and she kissed him back, Seven Hells she was finally kissing him back, finally, she loved him again, she did she did…

His tongue tasted the sweetness of her mouth, overwhelmed with the need to possess. “I love you,” he gasped, “I love you so much, Nerys…”

“Untie me.”

He stilled. Stroked silver curls from her forehead, gazing at her with pain in his chest.

“No.”

Her face grew cold. “You won’t leave. Not now. You’ve supped from the king’s cup and now you mean to gorge yourself, like you always do.”

“Enough,” he snapped. “Stop spoiling everything.” His lips returned to her throat.

“Aegon, no! Stop!”

He didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

Grandfather had spoke sense that morning during the Small Council meeting. Without an heir, Aegon’s grasp on the throne was tentative. Rhaenyra had six sons to succeed her. Should anything happen to Aegon before he sired a son, the throne would pass to Aemond.

Aegon often wondered whether his brother would be happy if he died. Aemond lusted for kingship, for Helaena and a dragon to call his own. He had two of those things already.

“Get off me!”

“Hush.” His right hand clenched her throat, the other trailing beneath her nightgown where her legs were bound together, seeking the wetness between her thighs.

“Aegon…” Nerys moaned.

“I know how to touch you, Nerys. Your body might as well be my own.”

She started to curse him but another moan strangled her words. “You disgust me.”

Don’t say that. “Do I? This tells a different story.” His fingers thrust into her.

She cried out.

“That’s it, darling. Let me take care of you."

#aegon x oc #yandere aegon ii targaryen #yandere aegon ii #dark aegon x oc #yandere aegon the second x oc #hotd fanfic #pro daenerys

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novaursa · 10 days ago

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The Conqueror's Legacy

- Summary: Dragon blood is meant to twist and coil on itself, and so Aegon wishes to bethrode his children to each other.

- Paring: sister!reader/Aegon I Targaryen

- Note: This story is part of The Broke Crown series. These events happen after Fire and Heart. The masterlist is pinned to the top of my blog.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @fiction-fanfic-reader @fireandblood-mharmie @poisonedsultana @sunset18rose

You watch as Aegon’s figure cuts through the misty morning on the high ridge where Balerion waits. The sun catches his silver hair, casting a glow around him that feels both warm and commanding. Your son, Aerion, grips your hand tightly, his young face a mixture of excitement and fear. This will be his first flight on Balerion, the Black Dread—a rite of passage for a Targaryen child.

Aegon turns his gaze towards you both, a rare softness in his eyes as he walks back toward Aerion, kneeling before him. “Are you ready, my son?” he asks, his voice both gentle and firm.

Aerion swallows hard, his little hand clutching your fingers tighter. “I am, Father.” His voice trembles, betraying his nerves.

You kneel beside him, brushing his silver hair back. “Remember, Aerion,” you whisper, “Balerion is mighty, but he knows us. There is nothing to fear with your father by your side.” You give Aegon a small nod, silently entrusting him with the task of guiding your son into the skies.

Aegon’s hand, large and steady, rests on Aerion’s shoulder. “Hold on tight, and trust in me,” he says to the boy, a faint smile on his lips as he rises, extending a hand to help him onto Balerion’s massive saddle.

You watch, heart thudding, as Aegon lifts Aerion onto the dragon’s back and secures him. Turning his gaze back to you, he reaches out a hand. “Come, Y/N,” he calls. “Let us show Aerion the skies as we know them.”

With a nod, you join them, swinging up onto Balerion’s back and sitting just behind Aerion. The dragon beneath you shifts slightly, his wings stretching as he senses the journey to come.

“Are you ready, Aerion?” Aegon asks once more, his hands steady on the reins.

Aerion nods, clutching the saddle as tightly as his small hands can manage. “Yes, Father.”

With a powerful thrust of Balerion’s wings, you feel the ground fall away beneath you. The air whips against your face as you ascend, the dragon’s mighty beats echoing in your ears. Aerion gasps, and his grip on the saddle tightens.

“It’s alright,” you murmur to him, leaning forward to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Look around, Aerion. All of Westeros lies beneath you.”

Aegon glances back, his expression calm, though you catch the hint of pride in his gaze. “You see, Aerion, this is what it means to be a Targaryen. To look upon the world not as others do, but from above.” He gestures to the vast landscape stretching beneath, the rivers winding like silver ribbons, the mountains rising like ancient giants, and the green valleys unfurling in every direction.

“Do you remember what I told you of dragons, Aerion?” Aegon asks, his voice carrying over the wind.

Aerion nods, his awe-struck gaze locked on the view. “That they are our blood, bound to us.”

“Yes,” Aegon replies. “They are our blood and our legacy. And one day, you will ride a dragon of your own.” His gaze shifts from Aerion to you, a glimmer of affection in his eyes.

You smile, feeling a surge of pride in your son. “And on that day, he will remember this moment, with his father and mother by his side.”

As Balerion soars higher, Aegon begins to point out landmarks, recounting tales of battles, triumphs, and legends, his voice full of pride for his heritage and love for his family. Aerion listens raptly, his fear long forgotten.

After a time, Balerion’s massive wings tilt, and he begins a slow descent back to Dragonstone. You lean closer to Aegon, letting your hand rest on his back, finding comfort in the heat of his presence.

“A fine young dragonlord he will be,” you say quietly to Aegon, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest. “With his father’s strength and courage.”

“And his mother’s wisdom,” Aegon replies, his tone soft, but you hear the deep respect in it.

As you touch down, Aerion dismounts with a newfound confidence, turning to you and Aegon with a bright, excited smile.

“I’ll remember this forever,” he promises, his voice filled with a young boy’s awe and reverence.

Aegon kneels to meet his son’s eyes. “Good,” he replies, his hand resting on Aerion’s shoulder. “For one day, you may need to call upon this strength.”

Watching them together, you feel a profound sense of belonging. In this moment, high above the world, there is only the legacy you have built together.

The children’s laughter drifted through the courtyard, a sound of innocence against the heavy stone walls of Dragonstone. Aelora and Vaella, the daughters of Aegon and yourself, played hand-in-hand with their older half-brothers, Maegor and Aenys. Their silver hair gleamed in the sunlight, a reminder of their Targaryen blood, as their games wove them closer together like threads in a tapestry.

Visenya, regal and vigilant, observed the children, her expression one of quiet contemplation. She saw Maegor take Vaella’s hand, guiding her gently through the intricate game of dragon scales—a game she had taught him. Meanwhile, Aenys tried his best to keep up with Aelora’s boundless energy, his warm laughter echoing with hers.

“Aegon,” Visenya murmured, her voice barely a whisper, but Aegon’s attention turned to her as though he’d been waiting. She glanced his way, her piercing gaze softened by a hint of curiosity. “Do you mean for them to be more than just kin?”

Aegon didn’t answer at once. Instead, he watched his children, seeing something in them that ran deeper than family ties. “I do,” he replied after a moment, his voice steady. “The blood of Old Valyria runs strong in them. A union between the four would keep our line unbroken, ensuring the strength of our House.”

Visenya raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on her lips. “You have thought well on this, brother.”

“Of course,” Aegon replied. “But I will speak with Y/N when she returns from her flight. The skies bring her peace; she feels freer with Tesaerix. And with the pregnancy…” He trailed off, his gaze thoughtful. “I would not place added weight upon her without her counsel.”

Visenya’s eyes softened as she followed his gaze back to the children. “She has always been close with all young ones,” she remarked, thinking of your gentle, protective presence with Aelora and Vaella. “They adore her. When she speaks of their future, I see the pride in her eyes. She would want a say in this, Aegon.”

Aegon nodded, his expression warming at the thought of you. “She has a sense for them, a way of knowing what is best,” he agreed. “I would have her wisdom in this. And besides,” he added, a touch of humor entering his voice, “I am certain she would be eager to decide who suits whom best.”

At that, Visenya laughed, a soft, restrained sound that felt rare and genuine. “No doubt. I imagine she has her own ideas on their futures.”

Aelora’s sudden cry of joy drew their attention back to the children. She and Aenys were locked in a playful contest, each trying to topple the other over a small pile of stones. Vaella, more reserved, clung to Maegor’s hand, watching her sister’s antics with wide, curious eyes. Maegor himself seemed slightly amused, his normally serious expression softened by Vaella’s quiet admiration.

“They’re well-matched,” Visenya observed, her gaze flicking between the pairs. “Aelora has a fiery spirit, much like you. She would balance Aenys’ gentler nature.” She looked at Maegor, her pride for her son evident in her gaze. “And Vaella... she has a steadiness, a quiet strength. I believe she would understand Maegor’s nature better than most.”

Aegon nodded, deep in thought. “I see it, too. But I would hear her thoughts, her dreams for them.”

“She will approve,” Visenya murmured confidently. “She has always held our family’s future close to her heart.”

As they watched, Aelora and Aenys finished their game, both flushed with triumph and laughter. Aelora’s hair whipped around her face as she gave a victorious cheer, and Aenys gave her a mock bow, ever the polite young prince. Meanwhile, Vaella offered Maegor a small, shy smile, her hand still in his. Maegor, unsmiling but gentle, squeezed her hand in response, a quiet exchange that needed no words.

Aegon’s face softened. “There is promise in them, Visenya. A unity that could bring us all closer.”

“And yet, I think she would caution you to give them time,” Visenya added. “She would want them to come to this union willingly, even as we guide them.”

At that moment, the air stirred, carrying the distant sound of dragon wings. Tesaerix appeared on the horizon, her brilliant scales glinting in the sun, with you at her helm. Aegon’s gaze brightened as he watched you descend, your bond with your dragon evident in the graceful way you rode.

Visenya offered him a knowing smile. “Go to her, brother. Speak to her of your plans.”

Aegon nodded, a rare smile touching his lips. As Tesaerix landed, he walked toward you, watching as you dismounted with a practiced ease. He reached for your hand, steadying you with gentle strength. “You seem lighter,” he murmured, noting the glow of your cheeks.

“The skies ease me,” you replied, your hand lingering in his. “It is as if the weight of the world falls away up there.”

Aegon led you closer to the courtyard, guiding your gaze to the children as they played. “Y/N,” he began carefully, “I have been thinking of their futures.” He gestured toward Aelora and Vaella. “And those of their older brothers.”

You raised an eyebrow, a spark of curiosity in your eyes. “Tell me,” you encouraged, leaning into him.

Aegon explained his thoughts, his desire to bind the four children together, ensuring the strength of their line. As he spoke, you listened carefully, a soft smile curving your lips as you watched your daughters with their half-brothers.

“They care for each other already,” you murmured, seeing the gentle way Maegor looked after Vaella and the joy that sparked between Aelora and Aenys. “A bond would feel natural to them.”

Aegon nodded, his fingers grazing yours in a quiet show of unity. “Yet I would not do so without your voice in this. They are ours, as much your vision as mine.”

You looked at him, warmth in your gaze. “I see the wisdom in it, Aegon,” you replied softly. “But give them time to grow into this bond on their own. Let it become their choice as much as ours.”

He nodded, gratitude in his eyes. “Then it will be as you say.”

You shared a look, both of you understanding that this moment was but the beginning. And as you watched the children, your hand in his, the future felt secure, a vision built not just on legacy, but on love and understanding.

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