#myrielle x aegon

[ashblooddragons]

You Broke Me First

A oneshot for my beloved @sugutoad for Aegon and her oc Myrielle.

word count: 2028

Warnings: mention of miscarriage, grief, smut, p in v smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), nipple play, lactation kink, Aegon is just trying to fuck his girls pain away, tell me if I missed something, yet again still new to writing smut so take that as you will.

Summary: it's been three moons since they lost Baelon, since Myrielle had her miscarriage. three moons of tears, screaming and wishing for nothing more than to feel the comfort of each others bodies, and now they finally can.

I sit on a plush green velvet armchair staring into the flames that flicker and swirl within the fireplace. I feel grief, but the thing I feel the most is rage, rage because of my mother. 

She hated me all these years, even when she passed she couldn’t help but inflict pain upon me. I think with a scowl as I touch the little bump that used to be larger, used to hold a sweet baby boy who should have lived, grown, and ridden a dragon. 

My mind often turns to the frail little babe, my sweet little Baelon, too little and too soon to live. I held for only three days before leaving me and Aegon behind to live with the Stranger instead. 

This pregnancy was already high risk, the Maesters said I should rest and stay in bed but when I heard my mother had passed, the grief was too much and I lost my sweet baby boy. 

I was so deep in thought I hadn’t heard Aegon come into our chambers, hadn’t heard him walk over to me, which is why I about jumped out of my skin when I felt his hand rest against my shoulder giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“The Masters told me you're fully healed?” He says kissing the crown of my head trying to find any way to reach, talk, mourn with me. 

“Yes, they said I am ready to bear children again when you see it fit.” I say reaching for his hand on my shoulder wishing to hold him as well. 

I hear him chuckle and turn to look up at him confused. “I did not ask that because I wished to pump another babe into you, I asked because I wish to make love to you again, when you see it fit of course.” He says with that cocky smirk that always takes my breath away, always leaving me wanting for him. 

But though his smirk makes my heart skip a beat, it is not the reason for the tears that come to my eyes and roll down my cheeks. It is his words the way he wants me, for me, the way he wishes to lay with me for the pleasure of it, not the want for a child, it’s the want for me. 

There are days I wonder how I could ever be so lucky to have him, a man who loves me unconditionally. And with that thought, I turn and look up at him and say. “And what if I see it fit now?” 

He only smiles wider before slamming his lips to mine, the ferocity of it making me gasp giving him room to delve his tongue into my mouth. I must fight to not rub my thighs together so he doesn’t have the satisfaction of knowing that only a kiss by him drives me mad with need. 

The feel of his tongue gliding along mine is intoxicating and when he nips at my lower lip I can’t fight the helpless moan that leaves.

“Gods I’ve waited two whole moons to hear those lovely songs again little bird, please keep singing for me. Let me hear you sing for me again.” He groans out as he breaks the kiss to stand in front of me looking down at me with a wolfish grin as if I’m merely a sheep for him to feast upon. 

The way his eyes wrack down my body brings a shiver to my spine and takes my breath away, I know I am wearing a nightgown and that he has seen all of me on multiple occasions but how it leaves me feeling like prey, like the most beautiful woman in the world has and always will make me dizzy with desire. 

“As much as I wish to feel that tight little cunt of yours grip my cock, I have been having dreams of tasting that cunt again so if you don’t mind.” He says as he gets onto his knees in front of me lifting my nightgown so he can see my plush thighs. 

I can’t help but smile as he kisses his way up my leg until he reaches my dripping core. He grabs my hips and pulls me towards the edge of the seat so he can reach me better.

“Fuck, your already dripping little bird, is this all for me?” He asks as he circles my little bundle of nerves knowing it drives me mad with need.

All I can do is nod in response.

“Well, what kind of man would I be not to enjoy this wonderful treat?”

He doesn’t give me a moment to respond before I feel the flat of his tongue against my core making me whimper with need. When he tastes the sweet tangy flavor of me he lets out a deep throaty groan gripping the flesh of my thighs most definestly leaving bruises that I will admire later. 

The feel of his tongue against me, his lips sucking at my pearl has my mind sprialing and the only thoughts in my head are Aegon, Aegon, Aegon. But when I feel his fingers sink into me the most obscene moans leave me, I just know our guards have either left or are very uncomfortable as there is no way they have not heard the moans leaving me nor the growls and groans that have left Aegon.

As If they hear my thoughts I hear a guard clear his throat and hear the sounds of his armored boots trailing away. But strangely I don’t seem to care, not when Aegon curls his fingers just right that I see stars only to then nip at my bud sending me over the edge to one of the strongest and quickest orgasm of my life. 

Once my peak has finally subsided does Aegon finally relieve my sex from his onslaught of pleasure. 

“Seven hells, little bird, how the fuck did I last this long without your songs?”

I can’t stop the giggle that erupts out of me at his words, for it is not that it is funny but that he is dead serious and seems to be contemplating his life choices for the last three moons as he’s waited for me to heal.

But just as the giggle rises out of me it stops at the look of complete awe on his face. “Don’t stop little bird, I’e missed that laugh much more than I’ve missed this cunt. That laugh has saved me more times than I can count or you want to know.” He says as he rubs circles into the skin off my thighs.

“Stop, you will make me blush.” I say but there is no bite behind it as we both know I’ve missed laughing just as much as he’s missed hearing it. 

“Hmm, is you blushing truly supposed to stop me? Because as far as I’m aware of it only makes a man lik myself wish to tease a woman like you more.” He says as he stands unbuttoning his jerkin and sliping it off letting it fall to the floor before reach for his undershirt pulling it oer his head in quick succession.

“Then give me something to laugh about.” I say breathlessly as I watch his hands go to the cords of his trousers. 

He only hums letting out a deep chuckle from the back of his throat. “You don’t seem to be in the laughing mood anymore, little bird, and neither am I.” He says as he lets his trousers fall to the ground stepping out of them only to pik me up and sit in the armchair instead of going to out marital bed. 

Something i’ve learned about Aegon in our years of marriage is this, he will take me whenever, wherever, and however he sees fit ‘court be damned of I want my pretty wife I’ll have my pretty wife.’ as he loves to say. So you can guess there have been a great many nights where he has taken me in this chair in this very position of me stradling him as he grips my hips hammering up into me. 

I feel him slowly lift my nightgown up my body until it is over my head and he throw it somewhere off to the side of our chambers. I feel the chill wind move past my skin sending shivers down my spine and hardening my nipples to hard peaks. 

“Gods your perfect.” He groans out as eh rakes his eyes up and down my body only stopping to watch as he rolls my hard peaks between his thumb and forefinger making me whimper as my legs shake with need. 

I feel something warm roll down my chest and look down to see Aegon has made my mothers milk leak out, when I go to apologize he hushes me and licks it up as he positions himself at my wet, warm entrance. 

When he sinks me down we both let out a groan of relief, him for ‘being home’ as he likes to say call it and me because I’ve missed this, feeling him stretch me so perfectly just on the edge of pain that it makes my eyes roll into the bac of my head. There is no better pleasure than feeling Aegon pulse and thrum inside me, for I know he is mine, that I am the one who makes him feel safe and at home.

He continues to suck and lap at my hard peaks knowing they have been hurting and uncomfortable as they have yet to dry up, only being a reminder of what we’ve lost, but in this moment it only makes me moan out his name as if it is the only think I know or wish to say. 

I about scream when he finally starts to thrust into me but it got caught in my throat by the sob pleasure instead. He hammers into me gripping my hips so tightly it burns just right. 

“Fuck, little bird, I’m gonna stay burid inyou until we have our Baelon again. I’m gonna chain you to that bed over there once I’m done with you here so there will be no escape from my seed inside you. You’ll be full with my child again soon enough.” He growls out as he hit the spoke he knows makes me see stars each time. 

“I–I want that! I want your babe in me again, I want to feel your seed in me all the time!” I moan scream out just as I cum on his cock choking on a sob of pleaure as my eyes roll back into my head.

“Fuck!” He moans out as he pills his sead into me thrusting once and twice more riding out his peak with a groan and a look of pure bliss. 

We sit there catching our breath for a bit, me still straddling him with his now soft cock inside me and him sitting in the chair rubbing my back and kissing the crown of my head. But instead of bliss and happiness I feel tuemoile and sick to my stomach.

As if sensing this Aegon taps my nose and says “What is on your beautiful mind, little bird?” 

And liek always I can not resist a request nor demand made by him. “Is it wrong? Is it wrong I wish for your seed to take again and for it to be a little boy? For me to have our little Baelon back in my arms?” I ask tears rolling down my face from the guilt and shame of this want, this dream.

“No, but if anyone says it is, I’m sure there is a spike or two for them and their family.” Aegon responds with a cocky smirk and jesting raise of his brows. 

It makes em giggle again, making him smile. When we look at each other again I can see we both still hurt, may always will, but if we have each other we can make it, the grief won’t drown us and we can make it to the shore together.

@sugutoad @ilikefelines @baybaybear1 @classicsimpforaaronwarner @sachaa-ff @mmogurl

[sugutoad]

MASTERLIST FOR ‘MY LOVE MINE ALL MINE’

Sypnosis: A Bridgerton and House of the Dragon Crossover. 𝐀𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 is set to begin her debut into the society. Born between the loving reunion of Daemon Targaryen and Rhaella Targaryen, she is offered the world on a silver platter. But she does not want it. 𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 is the second son of Dukes Viserys Targaryen. He has no land to inherit and no riches. But, he has one thing that is his - Aelys Targaryen. When Aelys is told that Rhaenyra is heir to the Targaryen fortune, she knows she must find a way to stop it. Sure, she doesn't believe that Aegon should be named Duke, but he is better than her aunt. That is until she looks at Aemond and a new plan emerges. 𝐌𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢 is a legitimized bastard, but still a child born of an unholy reunion between the Pope and the Lady Alaria Redwyne . Ever since childhood, she has known herself as lesser than everyone else. When expected to join society, she expects herself to be a spinster for there were not many who would want someone like her in the comforts of their home. 𝐀𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 does not believe the inheritance of House Targaryen belongs to him. When his father newly changed the inheritance to fall in his hand upon his death bed, rather than his older sister, his world flips. This is what his Mother always wanted, not him. Aegon only knows of one thing that he wants, but she seems to be a distant dream who Aegon can only graze with the tips of his fingers. Aegon Targaryen only wants one thing for himself, Myrielle Vallici.

CHAPTERS

Prologue

Chapter 1 - A New Season

Chapter 2 — As Was Expected

TAGLIST: @coffeebooksrain18 (tell me if you want to be added or removed)

Found on Wattpad under @sugutoad (the same url) and on ao3 under @coffeebooksrain

[slymreddwyne]

So Aegon III absolutely chose Daenaera so Gaemon could have a friend his own age to play with and stop cramping Aegon's style around Myrielle Peake right?

[coffeebooksrain18]

Oc matchup trade for @sugutoad hope you like it girly!

I match Myrielle with...Harwin Strong!!!

HEADCANONS

The day they met was at a tourney, she was sitting next to her brother Alaric hoping a knight would crown her their queen of love and beauty. Ever since Harwin was a boy he had a crush on Myrielle, so to see her favor not be taken yet put nothing but pure joy through his soul. He quickly asked for it on his first match and when he won the tourney he named her his queen of love and beauty.

After the tournament, your father and his quickly set up a betrothal, so the two started with walks through the gardens, then picnics by the beach, and at some point, they were sneaking off to abandoned halls to kiss. to say rumors were following the two of them would be an understatement. so much so your fathers agreed a quick wedding was in order and Harwin and Myrielle didn't put up a fight. for why should they, they already wanted this.

one of their favorite pastimes if for Harwin to sit her in his lap and have her read to him. her voice soothing him after a hard day with the city watch, and calms her for all she wants is to feel his touch, feel his heart beat as she rests her head upon his chest. and both are more than happy to oblige the other.

the night Myrielle went into labor for the first time was terrifying for both of them. her because her mother became ill after her, and Harwin cause he has to see his wife, the love of his life in excruciating pain and there is nothing he can do to help. the maesters do try and make Harwin leave but when he refused no one really wanted to argue with the man nicknamed "Breakbones".

when their son is born, a chubby thing with thick brown hair that already curled, neither could stop staring at him. he was too precious, too innocent, for how could they have made something so pure? "what are you thinking for a name, my love?" Harwi asked as he twirled a piece of their sons hair around his finger. "I was thinking...Lyonal. after your father." Myrielle answered with a smile. so Lyonal it was, and just so you know he was a wild child there wasn't one hour one of those two wasn't chasing after him screaming "NO! GET BACK HERE!"

HOUSE

I put her in House Tyrell, her soft and kind nature mixed with her cunning and ambitious nature matches them perfectly! also her redish brown hair matches them as well so it was a obvious choice for me to put her in house Tyrell.

DRAGON

I give her Silverwing! her kind and gentle nature matches Sliverwing perfectly! so much so that even before reading Myrielle's info I knew who her dragon would be. I think when she claimed Silverwig it was more of the dragon claiming her than the other way around. Myrielle was sitting on the beach with her son, Lyonal, when a great silver beast landed next to them and stared straight at her. She quickly picked up her son ready to run away or at least try to when the beast nuzzled up to her and laid on the ground before her. when King Viserys was told the story he knew that Silverwing had found her new rider.

SHIP TROPES

Brute (Harwin) x Gentle (Myrielle) Idiot always getting hurt (Harwin) x Personal nurse (Myrielle) Kind x Kind

SHIP SONG(S)

What Makes You Beautiful by One Direction Espresso By Sabrina Carpenter

OTHER RELATIONSHIPS

Rhaenyra Targaryen and Myrielle don't like each other one bit. at first, they didn't care about the other, but when Harwin came to Myrielle telling her how the crowned Princess tried to seduce him by calling him into her chambers and stripping in front of him. he swore he left and the next day when Rhaenyra would glare his way is the moment Myrielle knew he told the truth. Rhaenyra had turned to another lord to have her children instead.

Aegon Targaryen had always had a little boy crush on Myrielle, she had always found it cute and let him chase after her. He followed her around so much little Lyonal and Aegon became best friends, their friendship was so strong it would be sung well into Aeny II's ruling.

Alicent Hightower was dear friends with Myrielle, she was one of the few people who didn't treat the Queen poorly or in fear, she treated her like another Lady of Court only with a bit more respect as she is owed. because of this, it isn't a strange sight to find the two drinking tea and venting about life.

Larys Strong had always unnerved Myriellle, she would be kind to him but if she didn't have to interact with him she wouldn't. his calculating eyes and how it always felt like he was using her like some pawn. to say she was relieved when Harwin decided to take over his families seat would be a understatement.

Simon Strong was a funny old man in Myrielle's eyes. he loved to tell stories on Harwin's childhood. Harwin tries to stop them but even then he's laughing at the memories. hearing these stories makes Myrielle realize why their son Lyonal is so wild, because Harwin was. Myrielle adored Simon so much the next time she was pregnant and it was a son, she quickly named him Simon.

MOONBOARD

[aemondslefteyeball]

Sic Transit Gloria Mundi (6)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

[Modern!Aemond x Fem!Reader]

[Warnings: Substance use, gore, spooky shit]

[Summary: Origin of the McNugget]

(See you next week bbys drink water have a good time)

Word Count: 5.9K

Chapter 6

The cold winter air nipped at every exposed part of your face. Lys had the closest thing to a perfect climate– according to tourism boards– but you had always longed to watch the snowfall. You pulled the squirming kid into your arms before the two of you settled onto the rocking chair. You rested your head on Jaehaerys’s, the wool fibers tickling your chin. “That one is called Pleiadys.”

“Why?”

 By this point, everything you said was met with the same response but you found yourself endeared by his curiosity. Raising a gloved finger to point at the constellation, you moved an arm to cradle the boy as he shifted to look. “It means the seven sisters.” Jaehaerys nodded eagerly, face alight with curiosity and a thousand more questions. “And that one, right there.” You moved your hand across the freckled sky, pointing to a new target. His gaze shifted to the general area to which you were pointing, but you knew it needed a finer eye. Wrapping your hand around his, you gingerly led it to the exact one. “Is Rigel. It’s my very favorite star.”

“Why?” As you continued babbling about the constellations, you caught sight of the toddler’s eyelids starting to grow heavy. His head rested against your chest as you tiptoed through the mansion before quietly tucking him into bed.

A tense quiet sat over the car. You found yourself wondering once again exactly what unspoken rule you had broken but decided to let your husband seethe just a little bit longer. “I specifically told you to not speak with him,” the low growl eventually emerged. You turned to see him gripping the steering wheel as hard as humanly possible. You rolled your eyes and turned back to the window, a small smirk on your face as you shook your head in disbelief. “You may be naive, but I know Aegon.” Sometimes it caught you off guard at how jealous he was, especially for somebody who spent so much of his time actively pretending you didn’t exist. If anybody could be upset over you tossing a child to another man, of course it would be him. 

Taking a deep breath in you thought for a moment more, gaze fixed on the street sign across the way. He stayed put at the red light for just a second longer before his eye snapped to meet yours. You didn’t grant him eye contact, knowing that if you did he would try to cow you into relenting once again. You just waited for him to hiss through his teeth and drive again. “Yeah.” Leaning back into the chair, you turned to finally look at him. “I’ll really convince your family we’re happily married, by ignoring all of your male relatives.” Silence fell over the car once again. It continued into the next few days until a gift bag containing earrings was draped onto your bedroom door handle. What a lovely gift from his secretary. 

You crouched next to a fern, putting your hands on your thighs before reaching out to tear a leaf off. “Seriously?” Myrielle stood and kicked a nearby bush, dropping the bucket on the ground with a clang. “How are there no fucking berries?” Rolling the leaf between your thumb and index finger, you pushed down the memories of a girl’s trip with Tanselle to the Highgarden Conservatory.

“Could be birds picking them off. Or like, mice.” 

“Gods, I could eat the fuck out of a mouse right now.” Sabitha mused, a chorus of disgust ringing out amongst the group. 

“You know some animals live off eating their own vomit?” You piped up, unsure of exactly where the compulsion to do so came from. Letting the ball of plant matter fall back to the ground, you suddenly regretted speaking at all.

“Okay, thanks for that image Y/N.” 

“Did the ghosts tell you that? Or do you just, like, talk about blood and stuff?” Ever since the seance it was like this every day with Myrielle. 

Smacking your hands onto your knees before rising, you shot her the most passive-aggressive smile you could. “Mostly we just chat about how Rymund Manwoody dumped you for his cousin.” You didn't wait for her to retort, walking off and ignoring whatever she shouted after you. You came to a small clearing, and behind a felled tree a stag bent down. Holding a breath for a second and thinking of the quietest way to get Baela’s attention, you took a step back. The stag lifted its head, horror bubbling within you as you saw viscera coating the antlers. Stealth damned, boots rustled softly against the dirt as you backtracked. 

“Hey, look, ignore Myrielle.” Sabitha reached a hand out to jostle your arm. Noticing your expression, she paused for a second longer. “You doing alright?” You simply nodded your head in response and looked back at the deer once more before walking back to the cabin.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dinners with Helaena and the twins had come to be a ritual, and in a way, Aemond relied on it. It went the same way each time. She entered, fussed over him, and asked how therapy was going. The past two times he had simply ignored her, or answered with a hard stare. This time, he looked at her for a second before mumbling “Fine.” It was still a waste of his time, but he couldn’t argue that it wasn’t improving his work performance. Besides, the better he performed and the more people would realize that he was alright. After they continued their meal in relative silence, he looked at her. “They’re doing a scan.” He forked a piece of chicken and chewed on it, swallowing before he continued. “Over Moat Cailin.” 

Helaena’s gaze softened as she spun her chopsticks around in the sauce and rice mix covering her plate. “You’re really good at keeping up with the updates.” Aemond sighed tiredly, hoping this wasn’t a segue to unsolicited life advice. 

“It’s the right thing to do.” He moved his fork over to a piece of bell pepper, lifting it to his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. By this point, he had sunk more money than he was comfortable thinking about into the search efforts and strong-armed Aegon into following suit. Aegon, as per usual, seemed entirely unaffected by the lives of those around him imploding. He idly wondered exactly how Sara would react to seeing his brother again before his mind drifted to when he would reunite with you. 

“I think it’s good.” Helaena paused, her expression careful as she set her utensils down. “That you care about… doing the right thing.” 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The brush slipped through Barba’s hair effortlessly. Pulling it back before parting it into three sections, you began to braid her hair. The insects chirped as the two of you sat there. Barba’s gaze was tilted upwards as you worked on the sections at her crown. “Do you think survival training will be like this?” Barba laughed softly, her face lighting up. 

“I think we’ll have an edge up on everybody else there.” You sat for a moment longer, the braid laxing before you tighten your grip again and weaved the next few sections in. 

“Okay, but like.” Taking a deep breath in, you let your hands rest against her. “What about a psych eval?” 

Barba nodded, chewing on her lower lip for a second. “I don’t think we’re at the point where we need to worry.” She finally stated, her sing-songy voice comforting against the chirping of insects. “I think we’ve got a good shot at getting out of here.” You went back to plaiting her hair. “I have an idea.” When the final sections of hair were done, you wrapped it up and tapped her on the shoulder. Taking it as a sign to continue, she turned to face you. “The Cessna.” Her tone was laced with naive hope, and your stomach sank. 

“It’s not safe.” Shaking your head you brought your fingers to rub against your temples. The desperation in the camp was growing, and you were all starting to feel the effects of hunger. But human sentimentality was not so easily relinquished.

“It’s not safe for us to sit around and wait either. We’re on our own.” 

From a strictly rational standpoint, you know she had a few good points but couldn’t stop the fervent shaking of your head. “Barba, no. We have no clue how long that thing has been sitting there. We have no idea what condition the fuel is in…” She had set her jaw, pulling her long black braid over her shoulder. “With our combined flight hours, we’re not qualified to even apply for astronaut training.” The futility of the last few years suddenly dawned on you. All the early mornings you spent at the airfield, all the hours you cracked open books. And it was all fucking useless here. “And these conditions… the mountains would fuck up even seasoned pilots. We are grad students who go joy riding…” 

“Y/N.” Barba had sat silently while you had rambled on, her expression too calm for your liking. “The sacrifices we have to make?” Her icy blue eyes locked onto yours, her face uncharacteristically stoic. “That doesn’t just start when they hand you the helmet.” We can’t even be considered for wearing a helmet. Kids playing heroes.  She reached a hand out, rubbing your knee gently. “If I die doing this, it’ll be no different than if I die in space.” She pulled her hand back and grasped the weirdwood pendant on her neck. “The Gods are going to see us through this.” 

“How do you know, though?” Barba came to sit behind you, pulling your hair over your shoulders before she started to run the brush through your lengths. She was right, in that the career field the two of you had chosen was dangerous. But it wasn't a tangible danger. It existed as an abstract. 

“I don’t, but I also don’t think faith is mutually exclusive to knowledge.” You sighed, nodding slightly before she yanked on your hair in a silent command to stop moving. Quiet permeated the woods around the two of you as she continued. Upon completing the braid, she moved to sit next to you again. “Hey, I know you’re stressing about this.” She grabbed your hand. “But you’re going to do fine, if you’re really so worried just… edit.” Moving her hand, she reached to grab yours. “But I don’t think you’re crazy.” 

You hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear somebody else say it, nodding quietly as you pulled your lips back over your teeth. “In your religion...” You let the words hang in the air for a second. Neither of your parents had been particularly pious, and your father’s funeral was the last time you stepped foot into a Red Temple. “I’ve been having really weird dreams.” Letting out a breath and gathering your courage, you faced her. “I think I’ve been having visions. You guys have like, tree prophets, right?” 

“We call them greenseers.” Barba corrected with a small smile. “But yes. The old Gods sometimes send visions to guide us.” 

“It doesn’t feel like being guided. It’s… disorienting.” Truthfully each time it happened it felt like your very soul was hungover. 

“Well, they could either be a warning or a revelation.” 

“But how do I know I’m not just crazy? And even if I have some gift from the Gods, I’m just a fucking person.” The plastic bracelet twisted on your wrist. “How do I know I won’t fuck up the interpretation?” 

“I think, because the Gods gave them faith. Faith is the substance of things that are hoped for. And the evidence of things unseen.” She paused for a second, looking down. “I know people think I’m weird. Just as I know that no Maester has found concrete proof of religion or magic. Better yet, I know that we kind of just pray to trees. But I also don’t think it’s a coincidence that every culture on the planet has independently come to the conclusion that there’s something more than just the trees. But I know it because I believe it. I think it would help you to open yourself to that.” She lowered her eyes to yours, “Look. The Gods want us to do the right thing. No matter the religion, that tends to be a basic tenet.” You nodded, avoiding eye contact. “Even if praying to the trees isn’t what you want, there are lessons that can be learned from it. If you open your heart to greater things, they will help you discern the true from the false.” 

“I don’t…” You pressed your lips together. “But how would I even open my heart?” 

“I want to show you something tonight.” A smile broke out across Barba’s face as she stood up and headed back towards the stack of firewood.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aemond sat at work, tapping his finger against the mouse. There was some tune that was stuck in his head, but he couldn’t identify any lyrics. Or knowledge of where he had actually heard it. Huffing at the earworm, he went through his usual day. Have meetings, check to see if there are any updates on the search, lunch, emails, paperwork. Routine. His fingers tapped until he finally shifted them to the keyboard. His search finally led him to the website of a boutique tucked into the beachfront of Lys. Aemond Targaryen was a man of principle, and he had to rectify his mistake. To his chagrin, your duvet had stopped being sold years ago. Gladdened that at least the worst part of his workday was also the end of it, he sat in his car for a few moments. He started it but sat parked in the lot. He had known this was coming for some time, but a touch of guilt still tugged at him. Not enough to stop him from pulling up the familiar contact number and pressing call. 

“Hello?” Alys’s voice had the same seductive edge to it that it always possessed. Years ago it had excited him, but these days his life was too turbulent to keep up with all of it. Alys, sensing the ominousness of the time he took to answer, sighed. “Aemond. I’m busy.” 

“I don’t think you should come around anymore.” It shocked him how easily the words flowed from his lips. They hardly lived a white-picket life but they had still been sleeping together for the past few years. He should feel guiltier, but just couldn’t muster it.

“Okay.” Okay? Alys waited a minute longer before sighing once more. “I should’ve seen this coming earlier.” He could sense the disappointment in her voice, but he got the feeling it wasn’t because of him breaking it off. Rather that she didn’t have the power of breaking up with him. “You’ve been stringing me along for a dead woman you hated. For months. You’re an asshole.” Three little beeps sounded. Aemond supposed that he shouldn’t have been surprised. He felt angry and thought about what Dr. Greenwood had said. He rolled his eyes in disbelief that he was actually falling for the bullshit she peddled. Figuring that he might as well make use of his money, he sighed and thought about it for a second. He knew he was an asshole, that bounced off him like rubber. It didn’t bother him that she pointed out him stringing her along. She was objectively right about that as well. ‘I want you to focus on what thoughts you’re experiencing when your anger starts to get above a five’ Aemond leaned back into the headrest, closing his eyes. You aren’t dead, and I didn’t hate you. I don’t hate you. He opened his eyes once more and shifted the car into gear, leading an uneventful drive home. Fingers tapping on the steering wheel.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You coughed so hard you thought your lungs might burst out of your mouth. Waving the smoke away with your hand, you took another puff before passing it over to Sabitha. She inhaled deeply, before following it up with another hit. She passed the joint onto Aly and leaned her head back, half-moaning. “Fuck. I didn’t know how much I needed that.” Sabitha handled it like a champ but you, unfortunately, have bitch lungs and proceeded to hack a little while longer. 

Aly smirked at you and nudged your shin with the toe of her shoe. “Try not to die on us, yeah? This would be a really weird death to explain to your Mom.” The three of you laughed around the little fire. You came out here when you needed to clear your head. This evening Sabitha and Aly showed up with a much-needed offer for company, but more importantly, a joint. Since the plane was private, pretty much all of you had taken the opportunity to smuggle things airport security would normally confiscate. Thankfully for you, Sabitha apparently packed a garbage bag full of weed in her carry-on. 

Taking another two puffs off it before quickly passing it to Sabitha, you held it in a few seconds before a fit of coughing wracked you. “If I die, who's going to third-wheel for you two?” Sabitha nodded and shrugged before exhaling. “Do you guys?” The high had started to sink in at this point, your muscles relaxing. Your question was cut off by the next round of hits, coughing again before composing yourself. “Do you guys think you feel better or worse having each other out here?” 

The two of them looked at each other in quiet contemplation. Aly glanced back at you for a moment before she put the joint out. “I don’t think I’ve really thought about it.” Sabitha nodded in agreement. “It just kind of… is. You know?” 

Sabitha bit her lower lip in brief concentration before exhaling. “It fucking sucks that she’s in the shit.” She admitted, unable to look at her girlfriend. “But I don’t think I’ll ever not be grateful she’s with me.” 

Aly awwed and you pantomimed gagging before throwing a pebble at the two of them. “Yeah, yeah. Rub it in.” 

“Well if you wanna talk about rubbing…” 

Aly shot a look at her girlfriend, and Sabitha just smirked in response. Aly turned back to you, her expression soft. “You’ll see her again soon.” 

You wanted to believe it but just sighed instead. “I know it’s selfish.” You had grown up a Navy brat until your teenage years. A Dear John letter wasn’t a foreign concept, but you didn’t even have a fucking address here. Everything hung in limbo. “I just really hope she’s missing me, you know?” You steadied your breath before fiddling with your bracelet. “I know it’s not fair because we have no idea when or if help is coming. But I just want her to wait for me.” After your admission, Aly flicked another match and lit the joint again, passing it to you. Gratefully, you took an especially long hit before leaning back and exhaling slowly. You wondered what Emerson was doing– if she was sleeping well at night–  and took another hit. “I really fucking miss her.” 

“Hey, soon enough you can divorce Aemond, and the two of you can do whatever the fuck you want.” A smile broke out across your face at the thought, your forgotten wedding ring sitting somewhere with the rest of your stuff in the cabin. 

“God, that time could not come quickly enough.” You threw your head back and groaned, digging your heels into the dirt. 

“Aww, what? You don’t miss the hubby?”

“Fuck no.” Sabitha could barely finish her question before you spat out the response. The two of them wasted no time breaking out into laughter. “Seriously. I hope he gets kicked in the shins every fucking day.” You rolled your eyes and took your hits before passing it on once again. “You know he demanded that I start sleeping with my door shut so that his cat wouldn’t come nap with me?” The problem was only exacerbated when the two of you discovered that Vhagar could somehow open doorknobs as long as they weren’t locked. You had no fucking clue how, but at this point, you had accepted she was higher than you on the pecking order. It’s not like you hated waking up to a sweet old cat purring into your shoulder either. 

The two of them looked at each other conspiratorially before Sabitha spoke up. “Okay, but I have to know.” You furrowed your eyebrows suspiciously as soon as she said it. “You’ve met his girlfriend, right?” You sucked the air in through your teeth. Alys was actually pretty nice, as it turned out. The two of you had once chatted for a few minutes about the news before Aemond stormed in and put an abrupt end to whatever friendship could have formed. “You know. The thing is that.” You let the two of them wait on the edge of their seats, using it as an opportunity to take an extra hit. “She’s really fucking hot. Quick as a whip too.” You pulled your lips back into a smirk just as Sabitha broke out into laughter. 

“Okay, but you realize what you have to do though, right?” You gestured for Aly to elaborate, while she just smirked and turned to look at Sabitha. 

“Y/N entering her Mr. Steal Yo Girl era.” 

“Yeah, I got it” You giggled, nudging Sabitha with your shoe. “In the divorce, he gets the house and I get the girl.” 

“Rom-com in the making.” Sabitha japed, finally tossing the dead joint into the fire. Once the joint was tossed in, you poured a pail of water over the fire before the two of them went back to camp, and you went to the clearing where you had met Barba earlier. 

She held a hand out, the firelight from her torch flashing in her icy eyes. You hesitantly stepped forward and grasped it before she led you through deeper parts of the brush. After countless scratches and spiderwebs, she stopped in front of you suddenly. You were off the game trail and felt the need to watch each footstep. Almost running into her, you let go of her hand and raised your eyes. Before the two of you stood a massive tree. Blood-red leaves shone black in the gathering dusk, and red sap dripped down the sturdy branches. A strange feeling overtook you right then, an animalistic understanding that you were in the presence of something ancient. Something primordial. Torchlight danced across the terrible face carved into the tree, crusted red sap flowed down the forehead but the rest of the face was twisted in rapture. You stepped back, suddenly frightened. Barba caught your upper arm with her hand, shushing you softly. “It’s okay, the Gods want this.” With that, you took her hand and approached the tree. The two of you stood next to each other as you both stared at the ancient, gnarled thing in awe. 

“What do I say?” You looked at her for a second, a dull throbbing in your forehead. Ghostly blue eyes affixed on the blackening leaves once more. 

“You don’t have to say anything.”  Her head tilted back as she closed her eyes. She took a deep breath in and tapped the side of your hand. “Listen.” The expression on her face was placid, and she reached out a single hand to put on the tree. As you closed your eyes, you took a deep breath in and held it for a few seconds. “Open your heart.” That’s when it started again, the dull chanting that whispered beneath the surface of the breeze. A gale burst through the canopy of the forest and howled through the Weirwood leaves. You reached your hand out and placed it on the bark. 

The first thing that registered was the lack of gravity on your body. You were falling but with no force. Blackness enveloped the void you had found yourself thrust into. Your hands waved and your breath bubbled. Bubbled? Every instinct screamed against what was happening. But panic didn’t overtake you, just acceptance. 

Water pooled on the floors of the stone tunnel. You put your right hand onto the wall. Flashes of dragonfire licked through every crevice of the mazes. Dragons roared in the sky as Andals turned to ash before you. Stepping back in horror, you looked at where your hand had been and held back the urge to wretch. Scoured into the maze wall was the humanoid form of somebody dead centuries before your birth. You took a few deep breaths to steady yourself, nails digging into your palms. As far back as you could remember, your Dad had been a huge horror buff. Shortly after you turned eleven, he finally deemed you old enough to watch The Shining with him. ‘There’s a trick, you know.’ Your heart beats harder at the memory of his voice. ‘Keep going right.’ Unclad feet splashed through the puddles on the floor as you continued onward. That’s when a familiar silhouette entered your peripheral vision. A stag raised its head to you when it finished lapping at the pools of brackish water. It led you to a staircase that had candles interwoven with the spiral of the structure. Your calves started to ache as you ascended. A sense of foreboding twisted in your gut and you knew better than to open any of the doors that shifted along the sides of the staircase. Those few doors that were open showed you things that made your stomach churn. Doorways kept moving, and candles continued to flicker as you ascended to the clouds. You looked down and a vast structure of oily black stone rested at the base of wherever you stood. Disoriented, you turned back from the balcony to enter the room. A shrine sat on the opposite end of a new room. Dozens of candles burned, filling the air with the sweet scent of lavender. In the middle stood a terrible black cylinder. You reached a few fingers out to touch it and hissed when they came back coated in blood. A few droplets ran down the blackened glass, and you sucked on your finger for a moment before looking back to the surrounding candles. Taking a wooden lighting stick, you held it into the flame until the end curled and turned black. You lifted the stick to the top of the glass candle and lit it before blowing the stick out. Queer colors flickered across the room, white light burning your eyes from the intensity. Yellows danced across the walls as gold, and the shadows sank into an abyss that awoke primordial fear in you. The light of the glass candle grew brighter, as a form started to emerge from it. Barba’s hand was on the back of your neck, a warm smile on her face as she greeted you. Her face darkened to shadow as the light of the candle overtook it. Blurred into a humanoid form, light overwhelmed your field of vision. Joining it after came a flash of flames, burning in a halo around her concealed face. You screamed as her face twisted in concern. 

“Y/N?” You wrenched yourself from Barba’s grasp as quickly as you could, chest heaving as you ran to put distance between you and the tree. “What is it?” 

Your hands shook as you started to rub them against your neck, shifting your weight between your legs. “I saw fire, and light.” Your voice cracked, but Barba’s lit up. She felt as if you had been touched by divinity, you felt as if you were being eaten alive by something within. 

“That’s the light of the Gods, Y/N.” She pulled you in for a hug, beaming in the darkness. “You’ve let them into your heart.” Her thumbs rubbed circles into your shoulders, and you stared over her shoulder into the terrible face of the weirwood.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aemond hated strangers being in his home. From the first day he met you, up until now when he was forced to accommodate a whole party’s worth of strangers. His Mother talked to one of the radar techs, her face twisted in worry. Helaena met your gaze with a small smile. Aegon had his face buried in his phone, and between them sat the team that had been giving updates since the disappearance. At the very edge of the table, Emerson was being emotionally supported by Taenys. Your girlfriend at least had the presence of mind to look worried, her friend just made doe eyes in the brunette’s direction. As his singular eye met Emerson’s hazel ones, hers shifted away immediately. Emerson usually didn’t miss an opportunity to fight with him, which told him everything he needed to know about how her life had been evolving. Her presence here was a formality after all, as far as the search team knew she was your wife’s close friend. His eye bored into her for a few minutes more until techs finally spoke up. “We’ve been given permission to repurpose military equipment for the search.” A smile fell across his Mother’s face, relief written on her features. He didn’t understand why she was so attached to you. She wasn’t particularly close to his cousins or nephews either. “But the conditions in Moat Cailin aren’t ideal for this kind of thing, you have to understand.” The happy look on Alicent’s remained there, but the hope in her eyes dimmed. “It’s likely that the plane crashed there, but the plant life effectively turns it into finding a needle in a haystack.” It was bleak, but by this point, almost every meeting had been the same. Some vague solution is proposed before they come up with another excuse for their own failures to find you. All the while they found a way to avoid telling the families that they weren’t expecting to find much other than remains.

“Why do you guys think it crashed in Moat Cailin?” Helaena piped up, running her middle finger along the rim of her glass. 

The man who had been explaining looked over to Helaena, his face unreadable for a moment. “Well, drones have combed through every inch of the north from the Neck to Winterfell. If a plane carrying twenty people had crashed there, somebody would have noticed it.” His voice droned on, and the man made eye contact with him and Aegon as he explained. “So the area around Greywater Watch seems the most likely culprit for where a plane of that size could crash and go undetected for as long as it has.” 

Aegon was on his phone while the man was speaking, looking up every few seconds and pretending that was multitasking. Helaena chewed on her lip for a moment before taking a sip of wine. “What if you’re looking too far south?” She suggested, spinning the wine in her glass. “What if they’re further north than Winterfell?” Her eyes rested on the opposite wall, expression detached. 

The tech smiled for a moment, rubbing his face before turning back to Aemond. “Yeah, that’s uh.” He met eye contact with another tech there, raising his eyebrows at the other man. “We’ll look into that, Ms. Targaryen.” Slender fingers tapped against the wine glass before Helaena once more started running the pad of her finger along it. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You swore at that moment that Baela was salvation itself. The deer was being carried on a pole by your best friend and Jacaerys. Choruses of joy rang out from the group as they all crowded around the pair excitedly. When you took a closer look at the stag, your eyes widened in horror. 

“Whoa. That thing is gnarly.” Sabitha’s face twisted in disgust at the viscera hanging off the edges of the antlers. You took a few steps back, your calves brushing against the front of the log. 

“It’s like Freddy Kreuger and Bambi had a baby.” Nettles’s eyebrows wrinkled at the sight of it, her arms coming to cross over her chest. 

“I’m not eating that.” Luke’s voice rang out as he shook his arms, locking eyes with Jacaerys. 

Criston shot him a weary look. “C’mon, guys. Deer shed their antlers every season. It’s perfectly normal.” He crutched closer to where the dead animal rested on the ground, looking back toward the group. “Floris, do us the honors?” She nodded and grabbed the knife that Jace had passed to her, kneeling in front of the stag. Digging the knife in with a well-practiced cut, you held back the urge to wretch as the smell of rot filled the air. The abdomen of the stag was crawling with maggots, the flesh sloughed into a pinkish slurry. Floris lifted a hand covered in gore and insects, shaking it off before wiping it on a rag. 

“That normal too?” Sara crossed her arms and locked eyes with Ser Criston. 

You lowered yourself to sit on the log, pulling one leg up to your chest before looking to Barba. “I’m not crazy.” Her hand rubbed along your shoulder blade. 

“No, you have a gift.” 

“We can’t keep fucking doing this, you guys!” It was the first time you had ever seen Aly actually lose her shit. Her arms came up to her head, fingers weaving into her dark hair. “What happens when winter gets here? We fucking starve to death or freeze?” She gestured at the festering deer, the glop that was once entrails seeping out of Floris’ incision. “We can’t count on getting rescued anymore.” She shook her head, a threat of tears wavering in her tone. “All of us know that is not gonna happen. We have to save us. I’m heading south in the morning to go find help. Be there after breakfast if you want to get out of this fucking hellhole.” 

Sometimes dreams came to you in fractals, and tonight was one such night. You sat up in your bed, looking around yourself. Seeing Baela’s chest slowly rising and falling, you got up. By now you were practiced in avoiding all the creaky floorboards, and you looked back at the sleeping bodies in the cabin before grabbing a lantern. The stag’s head that had been mounted onto the wall decades before you got there stared emptily back at you. Shuddering once again at the memory– and smell– of the diseased creature you opened the door and stepped into the night. The moonlight lit the clearing in a glow that was almost loving, kissing against your exposed skin. Goosebumps rose at the chill slowly accumulating off in the distance, and you found yourself wishing you brought a hoodie. The smell of weed still faintly lingered in the air of the clearing, and you lowered the torch to your side before sitting on the log and gazing up at the stars. You sat and listened to the wind for a few moments. The whispers on the breeze bounced around the inside of your skull, and your head snapped in the direction of a sound you hadn’t registered prior. Picking up the lantern, you raised it and approached before finding the source in the tree line. There, Alysanne Blackwood was crouched in the dirt. Her expression ghoulish as she shoveled a fistful of dirt into her mouth, letting out feral growls only to replace it with the next handful.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @chainsawsangel

[dragonbanexxi]

The Dragon Queen

*Not Canon Complaint*

Jaehaera Targaryen x Aegon III Targaryen

Chapter 1: Aegon

The incessant chatter of his small council was beginning to irritate him. Though his face didn’t betray the cool facade of indifference he normally sported, the flex of his hand did.

Glancing at his ring finger, it was modest sized emerald on gold band that had to belonged to his predecessor. The Usurper’s jewelry for the most part had been repurposed. Made more into the current rulers taste.

However this specific ring he had kept untouched. It was engraved with Valyrian symbols. “Jaehaera my strength” it said on the band. This ring had meant something to the Usurper.

While Aegon hated thinking of the man who fed his mother to that wretched dragon, Aegon knew this ring could be used as an olive branch. It was an strange concept to understand that the Usurper for all his faults being a rapist, drunkard, demented murderer; had loved his children dearly.

The Silent Princess was somewhere out there in Essos. A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing he thought to himself. Aegon had sworn long ago that he would find his cousin and bring her home. She belonged here with them.

Viserys and Baela spat at the idea. Saying that it’s best to forget her, that her family has destroyed to much already. Yet Aegon couldn’t bring himself to agree with his beloved siblings. They saw Jaehaera as an enemy. The last of the greens meant to finish what her family started. Aegon didn’t believe that. The girl was just as much a victim of war as he and his siblings were.

Why should Jaehaera pay for her families crimes?

Aegon must have looked like he was getting distracted. He could feel his brothers amethyst eyes on him, drilling holes into the side of his face; the young monarch just ignores it. Some days Aegon Targaryen the third of name didn’t care to discuss issues of realm.

Today was definitely one of those days. Divine right and proper decorum be damned.

Eighteen years of life for him felt too long. Not even in his prime yet, hell not even married yet; the young king felt like an old man withering away in his own gloom.

The council had started the conversation again on proper candidates for the title of Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Myrielle Peake was spoken of. Aegon didn’t have anything against the lady, it was her father, his Lord Hand Unwin Peake he was beginning to mistrust. The man was pushing the maiden to forcefully in his kings direction.

Another candidate was Lady Daenaera Velaryon. Introduced to him by his own sisters; the Princesses Baela and Rhaena. “Brother if it pleases you, we found your new Queen.”

Even he had to admit the Lady’s beauty. Valyrian locks of silver hair and eyes as blue as the simmering ocean. Yet in the pit of his stomach he knew this girl wasn’t the one for him. She smiled too frequently, with knowing eyes of a woman thrice her age. No Daenaera Velaryon wouldn’t do either.

“If we can change topics for a brief moment your grace.” Julious Corvo spoke. The spymaster of Kings Landing spoke up. He was a Bravosi man who developed an intricate network of spies who were rumored to be involved with the Facless Men.

Whatever this man wanted to speak about, Aegon knew it was worth listening too. “Of course Julious. Speak freely.” All eyes were now on the Bravosi man. Taking a small parchment out of his sleeve, unrolling it he said “I have news from Essos” The King and his brother share a glance.

“Jaehaera Targaryen.”

It was dead silent in the council room. Tension growing thick. Julious has yet to say anything and the men in room grow weary. Aegon could almost smirk. A little girl of six and ten, could unnerve men thrice her age without even being present. Now that was power.

Julious looked the sullen king “The Usurpers Daughter has three hatched dragons”.

Viserys was the first to speak. “Impossible! One person cannot be capable of hatching three dragon eggs! The bond of a dragon is to one dragon rider and one dragon rider alone.”

Aegon agreed with his brother. There has never been a record of a dragon rider hatching multiple eggs.

“Julious how credible is this source?” Aegon spoke calmly. Trying his best not to put his council on the edge. The last thing he needed was to look weak. The spymaster handed him the parchment. “The seal on the parchment your grace look at it please.” The seal was that of man wearing a helmet with no face. “The Faceless Men” was all Aegon said.

Julious continued “The Facless never lie your grace.”

All he got was a flat hum from the King. “I wish to be alone with my brother.”

Mutters of ‘yes your grace, of course your majesty’ were heard. The high lords made haste out the room. Not wanting to upset their king.

The large wooden doors closed and Viserys wasted no time.

“We need to dispose of her brother.” Viserys stood up from his chair making his way to pitcher of wine. He served a cup for his brother and one for him. Aegon accepting his goblet while glaring at Viserys.

“I will not have our cousins blood on my hands!” He hissed, “I’m no kinslayer” taking a quick swig of his arbour gold. “Besides how do we know she is a threat to us brother?”

Viserys gave an exasperated look towards him. “She has THREE dragons brothers!” He enunciated the three. “We only have ONE dragon and an injured one at that! Rhaena herself said Morning isn’t recovering as quickly as she hoped.” Sighing Viserys set his goblet on the table, “One day those dragons will grow to their max capacity, what will stop Jaehaera from burning the realm to ash and dust if she decides that SHE is the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms?”

Amethyst eyes locked with Amethyst eyes.

“Should she attack us unwarranted then yes we shall retaliate. However if she does not attack.” He used his kingly voice for this. “We don’t harm her!” Aegon stood up from his seat staring down at Viserys with stern eyes. Viserys was quick to understand he lost this argument.

“The Princess Jaehaera will be brought home where she belongs.” And that was an absolute order.

[ashblooddragons]

My Love Mine all Mine

this is a fic me and my bestie @sugutoad are co-writing. at the beginning of each chapter, I will put either mine or her usernames so you know who wrote what chapter. this fic is purely self-indulgent for us. also in this Aelys face claim is Elle Fanning as this is who will be her face card in @sugutoad fic. me and her are sharing ocs cause why the hell not and we want to. Hope you like this Bridgerton au for our girls and their boys!!

Synopsis: A Bridgerton and House of the Dragon Crossover. 𝐀𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 is set to begin her debut into the society. Born between the loving reunion of Daemon Targaryen and Rhaella Targaryen, she is offered the world on a silver platter. But she doesn't want it. 𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 is the second son of Dukes Viserys Targaryen. He has no land to inherit and no riches. But, he has one thing that is his - Aelys Targaryen. When Aelys is told that Rhaenyra is heir to the Targaryen fortune, she knows she must find a way to stop it. Sure, she doesn't believe that Aegon should be named Duke, but he is better than her aunt. That is until she looks at Aemond and a new plan emerges.  𝐌𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢 is a legitimised bastard, but still a child born of an unholy reunion between the Pope and the Lady Alaria Dayne . Ever since childhood, she has known herself as lesser than everyone else. When expected to join society, she expects herself to be a spinster for there were not many who would want someone like her in the comforts of their home. 𝐀𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 does not believe the inheritance of House Targaryen belongs to him. When his father newly changed the inheritance to fall in his hand upon his death bed, rather than his older sister, his world flips. This is what his Mother always wanted, not him. Aegon only knows of one thing that he wants, but she seems to be a distant dream who Aegon can only graze with the tips of his fingers. Aegon Targaryen only wants one thing for himself, Myrielle Vallici.

PROLOGUE

The New Season As Was Expected

Moonboards

[ashblooddragons]

My Love, Mine All Mine

Moonboards

Myrielle is @sugutoad oc, and this is apart of our fanfic were co writing.

Myrielle and Aelys Friendship Board

Aegon and Myrielle Relationship board

Aelys and Aemond Relationship board

[ashblooddragons]

The New Season (Chapter 1/?)

@sugutoad Wrote this chapter!

The sun peeked through the rustle of leaves, but Aelys felt not the sun on her pale skin (she partially blamed it on the parasol her mother insisted on taking with her to avoid upsetting the ever-judging Lady Alaria Vallici.), but a gentle breeze that whispered through the air, softly caressing her cheeks like a lover’s touch. Aelys tightened her grip around the slender arm of Myrielle Vallici, though her raven-headed friend hardly seemed to notice the pressure. A joyful giggle bubbled from behind her, drawing Aelys’ gaze back to her mother

 Mother’s arms were hooked with that of Alaria Vallici, Myrielle’s Mother, her face adorned with a smile so bright it could rival the sun itself as Father would say. She leaned in closer to Lady Alaria, the pale blonde ringlets of her hair brushing lightly against the noblewoman’s cheek as she chuckled about something. Lady Alaria stood as rigid and upright, her head tilted upwards as any noble woman should (A giggle blossomed in her heart, but Aelys bit her lips to prevent any sort of problems. Alaria Vallici wasn’t even a proper noble; she was merely a mistress, yet she carried herself as if she were superior to them all. Aelys kept the laughter in, she did not want to upset her friend for laughing at her mother). Oh, how different their mothers were!

 Lady Alaria mustered a small smile, although Aelys assumed it was a smile to seem polite rather than true amusement at whatever her Mother so eagerly told her. It truly ticked Aelys off, her nose unknowingly scrunching and her eyebrows furrowed above pale lilac eyes.

  “You must not do that, Aelys,” Myrielle frowned at her. “The season is starting shortly, and I cannot have you appear in front of everybody with a wrinkled face.”

  Aelys rolled her eyes at her fussing, her eyes wandering off. She simply couldn’t muster the same concern that Myrielle did. It would be Aelys who would be the newest gem of this season, not Myrielle. Her friend had already began her season last year when Edwina Sharma had been declared Diamond of the Season. Aelys simply assumed Myrielle feared of being a spinster as her heart was not so different from other noble women. 

  But Aelys was a Targaryen. And although she was a daughter of a second son, the world and all its riches were offered to her on a silver platter since she had been born, simply waiting for her to claim them as hers. Aelys truly believed that it should have been her father, Daemon Targaryen, who should rightfully bear the title of Duke Targaryen — not ViserysTargaryen and certainly not his drunkard son and heir, Aegon Targaryen.

 “Aelys, dear!” Her sudden thoughts of her lesser family and their possible demise (though she had to admit, some of them, particularly Aemond Targaryen, held a special place in her heart) were interrupted by her Mother’s voice. Aelys swiveled around to face her, spotting her Mother setting down a sheet for the four of them to rest upon.

 “We are coming, my Lady.” Myrielle piped up, pulling Aelys with her. Aelys silently swore to herself as the blades of grass kissed the hem of her dress. She had worn a pale blue dress and for all she knew, it would now resemble the blue Himalayan poppies decorating her room. 

 Ruffling her dress in annoyance, Aelys sat beside Myrielle. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Myrielle nervously fidgeting with her fingers, stealing glances at the pastries laid out before them while glancing uneasily at her mother.  Aelys let out a frustrated sigh, before bending over and grabbing the strawberry tart placed in front of  Lady Alaria.

 With the tart now in hand, Aelys’ eyes betrayed her as they flicked upward. Lady Alaria was clearly striving to suppress a glare. Violet eyes glanced down once at her before a sigh escaped her and she looked away. Aelys smiled at herself, plopping back and trying to not gorge down pastry in mere seconds. Aelys, after all, did have some manners, she was a high born lady and a pretty one at that. After all, she was a highborn lady, and it would be a waste to mar her pretty face with sticky strawberry sauce

 Once noticing Aelys’ action, Myrielle grabbed the blueberries laid in front of her. Myrielle did not even like blueberries! Snapping the sticky goodness in her own hand, she handed one half to Myrielle. “Thank you, Aelys,” Myrielle replied with her usual politeness, but she shook her head, refusing the tart. “I am.. I am not hungry.” 

 Aelys’ smile faltered. Who would ever refuse a strawberry tart? “Myrielle needs to be in shape for this season. We can not have her left without a suitor again.” said Lady Alaria and Aelys got her answer. Mother bit her own lip, not entirely knowing what to say. Aelys snapped her head toward her, her eyes wide as she let out a breathy chuckle. “Perhaps the girls would be better off on a stroll?” Mother intervened, placing a gloved hand on Lady Alaria’s shoulder

“Without a chaperone?” Lady Alaria countered. 

  “Do not fret, Mother. We shall stay near.” Myrielle spoke up, her throat bulging as she swallowed hard. Never had Aelys wanted to hit an older women, but this truly was tempting her. Lady Alaria let out huff, her head motioning for the girls to leave. What sort of Mother would ever think such things of her daughter? Aelys silently prayed—Myrielle’s habits were beginning to wear off on her—and thanked God for her own gentle mother, who would sit with Aelys while she cried over a tear in her dress and later buy her a prettier one. Myrielle, of all people, deserved a mother with a soul as gentle as her own.

 The two silently walked and Aelys had a sudden urge to straighten her back as Myrielle had. Although the two girls had attended the same etiquette classes — that is where they had met afterall — Aelys did pay much attention nor care for the lessons. She already knew this all, why should she learn it again? Perhaps this is why her and Myrielle had not quite been friends back then as Myrielle preferred the company of Daphne Bridgerton over her own. 

“It would not be so bad,” Myrielle shattered the silence and Aelys could only look at her in confusion. Upon noticing her face, Myrielle let out a laugh. “I mean, it would not be so bad if I were to be a spinster. My brother would support me. And…” 

 Myrielle turned to her, grasping onto Aelys hands and pulling them near her. “And perhaps, we both can be spinsters!” She began giggling and Aelys could not, but joined in. The two girls giggled and giggled over such a ridiculous idea. But deep down, Aelys wondered if perhaps it wasn’t so absurd after all. A life free from the expectations of a rich lord—who could very well be older than her own father—might be the ideal life. 

 Myrielle’s laughter died down, replaced by a wistful smile. “Though my lady mother might poison me if I don’t marry this year. She is still quite upset that I did not marry Anthony Bridgerton.” 

  Aelys rolled her eyes at the mention of his name. “He is a douche with the most horrible sideburns. You deserve someone better.” Myrielle smiled at her.. 

“And you deserve someone as great as you.”

Aelys did not want someone as great as her. She did not want anyone.

She shook her head. “Not a single man in this ton fits my fancy. They are all unsuitable.”

Myrielle raised an eyebrow, her red lipstick smudging slightly at the corners of her lips. “No one? Not even Aemond Targaryen?”

 Aelys huffed out a laugh, her hands quickly covering her face. She wanted to rip her eyeballs off, but her nails were done so well today she could not bear to ruin them in crimson. “He is my uncle! My Mother’s own brother!” Aelys hissed. Aemond was handsome. He was brave

and intelligent. But he was her uncle from Grandfather Viserys’ second wife, the Lady Alicent Hightower. And Aelys? She was the daughter of Viserys’ second daughter with his first wife and cousin, Lady Aemma Arynn. 

 It wasn’t that Aelys cared what others thought; she would damn them all if she could. But she could never disgrace her mother or father like that. So much scandal had already followed when her mother married her own uncle, and Aelys would not allow her gentle mother’s soul to endure such disgrace again.

 It seemed Myrielle quickly took note of her thoughts. She always did. “Of course, Aelys,” she smiled. “He is your uncle, and nothing more.”

 Aelys jabbed a finger in Myrielle’s arm. “You should not be speaking such! Not when Aegon Targaryen exists.” Aelys smiled in triumph as Myrielle cheeks turned into a hue almost identical to the red ruby hanging near her chest by a golden thread — given by Aegon. “There is absolutely nothing concerning him! Of that I can assure, my dear.” 

 Myrielle looked away, doing a poor job of hiding her embarrassment. “Of course, Myrielle,” Aelys mocked. “He is your… What exactly is he even?” Myrielle glanced back at her, her lips quivered upwards. She leaned in close, her lips only a fingertip away from Aelys’ ear.  

“Perhaps, we can marry both brothers and be sisters!”

  Aelys stepped back, a grin plastered on her face. The absurdity of that remark almost made her laugh. 

“Aelys! Myrielle!” Her mother’s voice echoed from across the bridge, a faint sound that snapped Aelys back to reality. She hadn’t realized how far they had strayed from their mothers. Glancing at Myrielle, Aelys noticed the light in her friend’s eyes dim, a sigh escaping her lips. A part of Aelys felt guilty for some strange reason, not that she even was

 Aelys locked her fingers with Myrielle. “That would be nice.” Myrielle smiled back at her and the two girls began to head back.

 It truly would be nice. 

[ashblooddragons]

PROLOGUE of My Love, Mine All MIne

@sugutoad wrote this!

𝐀𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 is set to begin her debut into the society. Born between the loving reunion of Daemon Targaryen and Rhaella Targaryen, she is offered the world on a silver platter. But she does not want it. The day she had wailed her first in this world, everything was seemingly placed in front of her on a jeweled platter. 

 It had excited her at first, but it was not of her heart's desire. Aelys looks to her parents — a fruitful reunion of true love. If her parents can have something so pure, why can she not? Is she not worthy? No, Aelys is aware of her own worth. It is simply that no man is of her fancy. Not when Aemond Targaryen seemed to be in every corner of the palace halls and in every breath she took. And no matter how many times she told herself to not, to never fall in love with  the one-eyed princes, fate always seemed to work funny. 

 𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 is the second son of Dukes Viserys Targaryen. He has no land to inherit and no riches. But, he has one thing that is his - Aelys Targaryen. When Aelys is told that Rhaenyra is heir to the Targaryen fortune, she knows she must find a way to stop it. Sure, she doesn't believe that Aegon should be named Duke, but he is better than her aunt. That is until she looks at Aemond and a new plan emerges. And Aemond knew he was better. Better than Aegon. Better than Rhaenyra. 

 But if glory means to marry Floris Baratheon, the youngest daughter of Lord Borros, and not Aelys, he begins to wonder if he truly wants such a thing. To live a life without the girl with the heart of fire and her hair of ice, is to live a life  in which Aemond could only ever dream about in his worst of nightmares. Yet, his mother urges for him to marry. Why should he? He is not the first son, for it should be Aegon getting married off to Floris Baratheon ( as lovely as a girl she was, she was rather too meek for Aemond). Aemond Targaryen is set to find a way in which he will have both — or will he have to choose?

  𝐌𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢 is a legitimized bastard, but still a child born of an unholy reunion between the Pope and the Lady Alaria Dayne . Ever since childhood, she has known herself as lesser than everyone else. When expected to join society, she expects herself to be a spinster for there were not many who would want someone like her in the comforts of their home. 

When she is declared to marry Yorick Greyjoy, a man she believes to be no different than a monster, her heart desires nothing more than to run away. She had read plenty of stories as a child where the princess of a fairy tale would cocoon herself away, only to emerge as a beautiful butterfly beloved by all. But Myrielle is no princess. Torn wings would spread open and her cage would be left unlocked, yet every time she tries to fly, it seems she is destined to forever fall. Yet, this time, a certain Duke seems to catch her in the safety of his arms. 

 𝐀𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 does not believe the inheritance of House Targaryen belongs to him. When his father newly changed the inheritance to fall in his hand upon his death bed, rather than his older sister, his world flips. This is what his Mother always wanted, not him. Aegon only knows of one thing that he wants, but she seems to be a distant dream who Aegon can only graze with the tips of his fingers. 

Aegon believes his mother must hate to bring him forth in such a cruel world. To force such a birthright on him that it was snatched before he could even take his first breath (it had been stolen when Lady Aemma, Father's second wife, took her last breaths), but perhaps Aegon was destined to never be promised to anything. For he can rely on nothing in this world, except when he escapes the comforts of his home to venture in the streets like a dog, drowned in the finest wine with his beloved's older brother, Alaric Vallici. But why should he take another sip, when one look at the raven haired woman with the stars in her smile looks at him and he finds himself floating? Aegon knows of only one thing he wants, not the title of his forbearers, but the bastard daughter of Coren Vallici.

[sugutoad]

𝔐𝔶 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔐𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔄𝔩𝔩 𝔐𝔦𝔫𝔢 — Chapter 2

A Bridgerton and House of the Dragon Crossover co-written with @coffeebooksrain18

Title: 𝔸𝕤 𝕎𝕒𝕤 𝔼𝕩𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕

Sypnosis: A Bridgerton and House of the Dragon Crossover. 𝐀𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 is set to begin her debut into the society. Born between the loving reunion of Daemon Targaryen and Rhaella Targaryen, she is offered the world on a silver platter. But she does not want it. 𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 is the second son of Dukes Viserys Targaryen. He has no land to inherit and no riches. But, he has one thing that is his - Aelys Targaryen. When Aelys is told that Rhaenyra is heir to the Targaryen fortune, she knows she must find a way to stop it. Sure, she doesn't believe that Aegon should be named Duke, but he is better than her aunt. That is until she looks at Aemond and a new plan emerges. 𝐌𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢 is a legitimized bastard, but still a child born of an unholy reunion between the Pope and the Lady Alaria Redwyne . Ever since childhood, she has known herself as lesser than everyone else. When expected to join society, she expects herself to be a spinster for there were not many who would want someone like her in the comforts of their home. 𝐀𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞�� does not believe the inheritance of House Targaryen belongs to him. When his father newly changed the inheritance to fall in his hand upon his death bed, rather than his older sister, his world flips. This is what his Mother always wanted, not him. Aegon only knows of one thing that he wants, but she seems to be a distant dream who Aegon can only graze with the tips of his fingers. Aegon Targaryen only wants one thing for himself, Myrielle Vallici.

AUTHORS NOTE: So so sorry about the late chapter! My life has been absolutely busy. I originally wanted this to have 2 POVS but I was like “one is enough!” So Myrielle’s chapter is next!

 “My Lord.”

 Mother’s maid bowed down their head as Aemond walked into his mother’s chambers upon her request. All Aemond could return was a simple nod before his gaze fell upon his mother, the Lady Alicent Hightower, wrapped in green cloth, her fingers drumming against her study table, her eyes downcast and brows furrowed over some sort of work fallen upon her now that Father was growing ill. The fabric of her dress, the loveliest green silk, fell into a square opening near her bosom, the hem embroidered in dainty gold flowers. His red-haired mother looked up, a tired smile gracing her face.

“Aemond, my son,” she quickly got up, her hand almost knocking down the golden cup placed in front of her. “I have been meaning to see you for.. for something of importance.”

 She always got to her point unlike Father who would speak in riddles (it only worsened when he became ill a year ago). Aemond could only take a few steps near the bed, placing a single hand on the wooden frame, the alabaster wood scraping against the tips of his fingers. He knew what his Mother wanted of him. 

To marry.

 It has been his duty, his fucking duty, since Aegon failed to marry a wealthy lady during his youth. And while his drunkard brother could certainly pursue a marriage at six-and-twenty, it seemed he would rather strip himself in the company of auburn haired prostitutes, a wine cup twiddling in his hands as Aemond performed his duties for their house. Mother had certainly lost her faith in hopes of her eldest son marrying, but Aemond? 

 Aemond was the perfect son. He knew he wasn’t the golden son — that was his little brother, Daeron — but Aemond always abided by his duty. He was always abiding and listening to whatever his mother wished him. Shall courtship ever befall upon him, he knew it was expected to marry the daughter of a Duke. 

 His hand twitches by his sides, quickly clasping into one another behind his back. 

“I shall marry whoever you see fit, Mother.” 

 If fulfilling his duty as a true Targaryen meant to marry, should he not be given to another Targaryen? Such marriages between Targaryens were not uncommon, a practice that had quickly become a known tradition to their House. His Uncle Daemon had married his own niece and Aemond’s sister, Rhaella. Aemond pushed back every thought crawling through his brain, which were nothing but fantasies for the lost, little boy wandering through his heart. The little boy must be cold, for his only warmth would be the laughter of Aelys dancing in his heart and even that Aemond had to lock away. 

 Mother’s eyes almost brightened, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lip. Aemond almost pitied his Mother. She had sent her favourite son already to study under the guidance of Uncle Lorent, and now it shall be him who will tug gently at her heart, telling and lying to her (and himself) that his departure shall be fine, before rippling the thread completely leaving their hearts shattered pieces of pieces of glass. The shards decorate their lives, each step piercing, leaving drops of crimson and reminding them of duty.

 Aemond’s left eye throbbed. Years of wearing his eyepatch, he expected to be accustomed to this pain that was meant to be nothing, but it was almost an infectious pain. Shutting his eyes closed, he focused on the build up of pain, before his Mother broke his silence, practically ripping out his other eye with her suggestion.

 “I have received a proposal from Duke Baratheon. He wishes for you to consider his youngest daughter as a possible match.”

 Aemond straightened, nodding slightly at his Mother’s suggestion. “Floris Baratheon?” He replied, the name tasting like the bitter wine his elder brother would force him to drink down so Aemond could also become a ‘true man’ like him. Aemond could imagine a life with her – a raven beauty of her own with a heart so kind, perhaps a bit too kind for Aemond’s own liking. Aemond’s upper teeth grazed his bottom lips. “Should it not be better to marry Cassandra Baratheon, if this marriage is truly for the sake to solidify the power and alliances of our house?”

 Cassandra Baratheon was after her father’s heir. A bore who complains about almost every little thing, but an heiress nonetheless. 

“Floris Baratheon would be a good match,” Mother pressed, her tone was soft yet resolute. “It is a matter of alliances. The more houses we can gather towards us, it will strengthen Aegon’s claim to his rightful Dukedome.”

 Aemond blinked at his Mother, scoffing under his breath as he took a few steps away from her, his hand now resting on her chair, the soft leather itching against his finger. Mother sighed behind him, walking beside him and placing a hand on his arm. Aemond let himself soften against his Mother’s touch. 

  He understood his mother's reasoning, but the thought of marrying someone so... gentle, so meek, was repulsive to him. And yet, he said nothing. He would never argue with her. He was her son. And he had long learned to bury his own desires, his own dreams, in service of the family.

 But it should be him, who should be Duke of Stormlands. Aegon can take the Red Keep to himself, but Aemond worked hard for what? For nothing to be placed in his now calloused hands? It was Aemond who studied into the night, onky to wake up in the library with a blanket placed atop him. It was Aemond who trained with Sir Criston until blood replaced tears and a sapphire replaced his eye. It was him who deserved something of sort. He could not say it nor admit it out loud, but this was all because he was the second son. Because he was set to inherit no land from his Father nor allow his Mother to set her ambitions upon him because he was born second. 

 Because he was born weak.

“And Cassandra Baratheon wants someone who is first born, I presume?” 

“Aemond, you know it is not because of.. Cassandra is simply looking —“

“Cassandra?”

 Before Aemond could even muster a single word, the door had swung open with a creak, and his older brother stumbled in, a scent of wine swirling around him. Aegon always believed himself untouchable when consuming wine, a god in his own eyes. Yet his brother was anything but that as he looked up at Aemond, lilac eyes bleary and pink, pale blond hair tousled with strands falling all over his face (their Mother’s face if Aemond had to say. Aegon took his breath in the world, stealing both his mother’s face and her girlhood). 

 Aemond turned to face Aegon. “Yes, Cassandra Baratheon.” His brother could only look at him with amusement before turning to Mother.

“What about Cassandra Baratheon?” 

 Mother visibly cringed at Aegon’s slurred words, sighing to herself. “Your brother persists that he should marry Cassandra, although,” she hesitated, gesturing her head at Aemond, “It is Floris who would be more suitable for him.”

 Aemond almost scoffed (although he would never truly scoff at his beloved Mother) before assuring her. “And I have said that I will marry who you choose. If it is Floris you find the best choice for me, it will be her I will court and marry.” Aemond paused himself a second, deciding to himself if he had been discourteous to his Mother and quickly chose to shut his mouth before anything else escaped. 

“Ah, brother, still brooding over your duty?”Aegon slurred, a lopsided grin etched on his face. “When will you learn to live a little? You are quite better off with a bottle of wine and a dancing partner than to discuss matrimony with Floris.”

Aemond’s lips twitched, almost smiling at his brother’s words, though it faded quickly. “I am not the one lost in the bottle, Aegon,” Aemond replied, his own tone much flatter than that of Aegons. “And, I would not prefer to risk our family’s future on your whims.”

“Touché,” the French word rolled out of Aegon’s mouth naturally, as he leaned against the doorframe, his feet planted firmly on the floor as if the very wood of the frame might collapse under his weight. If Aemond had to assume anything, it would be Aegon collapsing on his own weight, not that of the door. “But really, Aemond? Floris Baratheon? You might as well marry a storm. At least they are exciting.”

 Aemond’s jaw tightened at his brother’s words, but he did not let his irritation show. If he did, Aegon would boast about his new ‘accomplishment’ for weeks to come. Instead, he turned slowly, his gaze flicking towards Aegon. His brother always seemed to find some sort of joy in Aemond’s misery. 

“Excitement is not what I seek. But at least, a storm serves its purpose,” Aemond left the words hanging in the air for a moment, eyes prying at Aegon. “Unlike your wine-soaked adventures.”

 Aegon’s grin faltered, just for a heartbeat, before it returned once again — although it resembled a grimace more than the smile he once had plastered on his face. Aegon’s tongue wet the bottom of his lips, a hand running through his hair, as to steady himself.

“Aemond,” Aegon said with a dismissive chuckle, his eyes widened. “Always so serious. If you spend half as much time living as you do brooding, maybe you’d find some joy in something.”

“Living,” Aemond murmured quietly, almost to himself. “You think I’ve had no joy because I live for others, but I live for my family. For our House and wishes.”

 Aegon only raised an eyebrow at his words. “House Targaryen? Or Mother’s wishes? You can not do them at the same time, no matter how hard you try.” When Aemond looked at him, Aegon simply shrugged, cocking his head to the side as he justed out his bottom lip. Aemond’s fingers clenched into fists at his side. His words did stung, but it was the truth, that only his brother had the courage to say, that hurted the most. 

 Aemond was a slave to his duty— and for what? So he could marry a Baratheon girl he barely knew? To tie his own future to a family that had no more ambition than to sit in the shadows of the Targaryens?

 Mother stood quietly to the side, her eyes flicking back and forth between her sons, sighing softly, her fingers twitching against one another. Harmony did exist between Aegon and Aemond, but only for a moment before it would falter away and slip further from her reach with every word ever passed between them. 

“Aegon,” Mother said sharply, her voice cutting the tension intoxicating the room like a blade. “Enough. This is not time for your ridiculous games.”

Aegon straightened, his face twisting in a mockery of respect. “Of course, Mother. You always know what is best for us,” his tone dripped in sarcasm, before he whispered quietly, only for Aemond to hear. “For you.”

 If Mother did hear what Aegon, she chose to ignore, as she did often.

“Floris Baratheon,” she repeated, her gaze flickering between the two of her blond sons. “She is the match that will strengthen both of our Houses, and Aemond shall court her. End of discussion.”

“And we shall have to deal with Lord Borros’ temper and complaints at family gatherings? Think of the joy…”

“Aegon!” Mother’s voice was harsh, much harsher than she was accustomed to when she spoke with her other children. “Do not mock Lord Borros. Do you understand?”

It wasn’t truly a question for Aegon to solve, it was a command given by a Mother to her eldest son.

Aegon made a low, mocking sound. “Floris, Floris, Floris! Tell me, Aemond, what will you do when the wind blows and you find yourself tangled in not her hair, but that of Aelys? Will you wish to marry Floris when it is Aelys who turns herself into a storm?”

 Aemond turned to his brother, unable to hold back his anger any longer. To speak of Floris was one thing, but to speak of Aelys was another matter. “You speak of storms like they are mere inconveniences, Aegon. But storms can be controlled, can be ridden, can be used. You, however, only know how to let them consume you.” 

 At least I have Aelys, all you have is your delusions about Myrielle Vallici consuming you. Aelys loves me, and you? Do you know love?

 Aemond did not need to say anything more, for Aegon understood what Aemond meant. Aegon looked up at Aemond as though he was seeing his younger brother for the first time, the drunken haze in his clearing just enough to catch the spark of fire that burned beneath Aemond’s heart. Aemond was not one to quickly act in anger, but he was a Targaryen and the fire only grew in his heart. 

 Aemond stayed pinned down, his feet firm on the ground. Aegon’s once slacked jaw tightened. Aemond should apologise, he truly should. But his voice was stuck in his throat, he would not, would never, humiliate himself in front of Aegon. 

 But for Aegon to be humiliated or put down by others was something else. His face would be veiled with a blank look similar to that of when Mother would yell at him. When she would yell, compare and do anything that made Aegon hate himself. It wasn’t that Aegon personally told Aemond about Mother or Grandsire complaints, no, that courtesy would be given to Alaric Vallici. But Aemond has ears. He had always been the quietest of his brothers growing up; his ears were practically everywhere. They never would acknowledge his existence, so Aemond was left behind, but he would observe every single action — like how Aegon would fiddle with his hands when he was nervous like Mother, or how Alaric simply looked at his sister with admiration far greater than glances shared between normal siblings. 

 A vein in his throat throbbed, his heart practically crawling in his throat and clawing at his chest to say something, but an angry fire consumed every thought. For all Aemond knew, Aegon would tear him apart, but would he? With Mother watching? 

He would. 

 The last Aegon could ever care for is their Mother’s opinion as far as Aemond knew his lilac eyed brother. And yet, he stayed still, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Aegon was quick to anger and quick to act, but his eyes remained downwards, flicking up to Aemond.

“You think you could tame a storm, Aemond?” Aegon asked, his voice low, almost thoughtful, as he cocked his head to the side. “You can not. It is not in your grasp and not of your worth.”

 The worth of a second son was almost non-existent and Aegon knew how to jab it into Aemond’s heart — his brother much bolder with his words than Aemond who concealed everything behind riddles and words his brother’s idiotic brain would not comprehend.

 Aemond opened his mouth to say something — to say anything that would belittle Aegon’s worth once again. His drunk brother spoke so eloquently about Aemond’s worth, but what of his own? Asides his status as the eldest son, Aemond knew his brother was of no value to his family, much less anyone else.

“Aegon,” Mother’s voice interrupted, softer this time. “You will do as you are told. Do not make this harder than it has to be.”

 Aegon’s expression faltered, his grin shifting into a solemn mask. Aegon was not one to give up so easily when it concerned himself, but he tried so hard to please Mother sometimes. And yet, Mother would never blink an eye towards him. Aemond almost pitied his brother at times. Almost. He gave a resigned sigh and looked at Aemond, who stood there like an idiot of sorts, not even sparing him a glance. Should Aemond have to glance at Aegon’s face once more, he feared for what he would do to his brother. 

“Fine,” Aegon muttered. “Floris Baratheon, then. Do what you will, little brother. I suppose it is the only thing you can do to make Mother proud,” Aegon hesitated, before mumbling quietly. “Though, I doubt she’ll ever be proud of me.”

 He turned on his heel, stumbling slightly before allowing himself to fall back into Mother’s bed, his hand rubbing his forehead. He paused, glancing upwards at Aemond, and Aemond stood silently for a moment. There was a flicker of something — perhaps, regret — shining in his eye. “You might want to start learning how to live a little, Aemond,” he said, his voice was quieter now, but a rasp still itched at Aegon’s throat. “Before you start to look for things to tie you down.”

 The air felt a rope around him, slowly choking him and preventing him from mustering any noise. All Aemond could hear was his Mother’s soft breath beside him. Before saying anything, he turned to Mother, meeting her eyes.

 Mother’s lip tightened as she placed a hand on his arm, nibbling at her bottom lip. “Do not let him provoke you, Aemond. You are the one who will carry this House, you know this.” She hesitated, then spoke again, her voice so soft as if Aemond’s heart was that made of glass. “Not Aegon.”

 Aemond wanted to scream at her, to tell her that all this, that he, would never be enough. That it wasn’t about duty. It wasn’t about the Baratheons or their alliances or him. It was about a hunger that had clawed at him for years, a hunger for something—someone—he could never truly have.

 From her bed, Aegon chuckled, half of his face buried in a pillow. Aemond’s chest felt tight with hundred words unspoken. His gaze fell to the floor. Mother’s touch tightened for a bit, almost as if she was trying to reassure him before letting go. Her steps almost echoed, before she left, her presence all, but a phantom.

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?” 

 Aemond turned towards his brother, who had steadied himself. He ignored Aegon’s mockery of his Mother. Aegon could spend all his life trying to learn what Mother meant, but his hands would remain empty of any semblance of the duty he was meant to follow. 

Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? 

He hated those words, each letter nothing, but a reminder of the day where Aemond lost his eye. He'd made the mistake of belittling his nephews, calling them bastards during a fight. And then it was gone, his right eye was gone. And no one stood by his side, but his Mother, whose face had been so devastated that Aemond wanted to cry again — in the room where all eyes pried at her, waiting for her to make a mistake or to give up, she stood up and asked for justice. 

A mother’s rage was a dangerous one. 

 Footsteps approached once again, and Mother came before them. Misery of all these were etched in her beautiful features and yet, Aemond believed his Mother to be the most beautiful of women. A small — almost eager — smile coloured Mother’s face. 

“I forgot to tell you, but we are invited to dinner,” her eyes steer the room as if she were looking for something, but set her gaze on Aegon instead. “At the Vallici’s. They have been graceful enough to host the annual dinner this year. I expect both of you to be ready and on your best behaviour, especially you, Aegon.”

 Aegon looked sheepishly at Mother, and Aemond wholly believed his brother’s brain was still comprehending that they were to visit the Vallici Family. It was not something special to Aemond, afterall, it was expected of either the Targaryens or the Vallicis to host an extravagant, but private dinner before every season. It was simply a chance that the Vallicis were going to host it this year (it truly was expected though. Rhaenyra hosted last year's dinner, Uncle Daemon and Rhaella the year before and Mother the year before that).

“Of course, Mother.” Aegon nodded and Mother returned the nod with a smile — much to Aegon’s delight and Aemond’s dismay. The second Mother left, Aegon plopped himself on his arms, almost forgetting the entirety of what happened less then ten minutes again. Aemond could only ever wish to have his brother’s carefree nature. 

 The sight of his older brother, so carelessly sprawled on the bed, made Aemond feel something akin to disgust. He had squandered everything, his place in their family, his mother’s trust, even his own dignity. 

 Aemond’s gaze narrowed, his hand instinctively gripping the back of the chair again. It was so quiet now that Mother had left and Aegon allowed his delusions to fill his head. He wanted to speak, to tear into Aegon for his words, for his carelessness, but he knew it would be fruitless. Aegon never listened. Aegon never cared.

 Yet it seemed his brother could hear the very thoughts that consumed him. Aegon stood up, tired, but still he was moving — not towards him though, but rather a wine-filled vase. 

And Aemond watched.

 But Aegon did not drink. He simply looked at the chalice in his hand, twiddling it around and then, he looked up at Aemond. He opened his mouth to say something — Aemond could already tell it would be another attempt at provocation — but he stopped and lowered his head down. 

“I didn’t mean it,” Aegon mumbled, more to himself than to Aemond. “You know I didn’t.”

 Aemond nodded, though it was a slow, reluctant motion. Aegon was always the more pathetic of the brothers — the desperate one who needed everything in his hands yet he would not ask in fear of appearing weak. He did not trust his brother’s words, but surely it would be better to agree than to engage in another fruitless fight. Instead, he simply sighed, his shoulders sagging with the weight of it all.

“You never do,” he said, his voice quiet (almost soft), but laced with the bitterness he held often in his voice when speaking with Aegon. “But it’s fine, is it not? As Mother said, it is not you who will be forced to carry this House.”

 Aegon gave him a blank stare, then a hollow laugh. “Carry the House,” he repeated, his tone mocking. “You always say that. But who’s going to remember you when you’re gone, little brother? Who’ll care about your dutiful sacrifices? People will remember me, not you, the second son with his nose up in his duties, but the eldest son who marked a new point in his society. You always say you have responsibilities. Responsibilities or burdens? There’s a fine line, brother. Perhaps you should consider what you truly want.”

 The words landed heavier than they should have, cutting deeper than Aegon had intended. He wanted to shout at Aegon, to make him understand, but instead, he simply clenched his fists and turned away. Aegon was not the one to make some ‘point’ of his in this life, nor any other. If anything, his brother would forever be known as the rake he was, his life spent away drowned in wine and whores.

“You should go,” Aemond said, his voice steady. “The dinner is tonight. You’ll need to look presentable.”

Aegon’s eyes followed him, his lips twisting into a smirk. “I’m always presentable.”

“Do not drink as much as you did last time.” Aemond shot back at him, slowly walking past his brother, leaving him there, standing in their Mother’s chamber. 

“Only if you let me choose your next dance partner when Lady Danbury hosts the first ball of the season!” Aegon retorted, almost screamed as Aemond made his way to his chambers.

Aemond didn’t respond.

Aegon was, but a ghost he left alone and Aemond was nearing his own chambers. But his steps began to slow down, not ready for the preparations that awaited him.

He would go to this dinner, as expected. 

He would present himself, as expected. 

He would endure, as expected.

TAGLIST: @coffeebooksrain18 (tell me if you want to be added or removed)

[coffeebooksrain18]

My babies!!!!! No let one of your mama's wipe those tears! Anna come help me, I got Aemond and Aelys you help Aegon and Myrielle!

Oh, I love it and I hate it at the same time Hidin' all of our sins from the daylight

a little something for me and @coffeebooksrain18 and our doomed babies with their deranged ans sad targ boys

[dragonbanexxi]

The Dragon Queen

*Not Canon Complaint*

Jaehaera Targaryen x Aegon III Targaryen

Chapter 5: Unwin Peake

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She burned a Dothraki Khal alive at the stake! Along with two others!” The Master of Ships said heatedly.

“She’s just as barbaric as her father!”

Lord Unwin Peake agreed with his colleague. The realm has just barely returned to it’s normalcy from the war that took place a little more than a decade ago. All damages brought upon from the Dance of Dragons have been repaired.

King Aegon the third of his name though still very young; is proving to be a quick learner. No doubt history will remember him as good leader. That is if he doesn’t give into childish ideas such as this. The King’s want to bring The Usurper’s Daughter back to King’s Landing is plain stupid. Yet his want to bring the girl back along with her three beast is just a death sentence for everyone.

“If Lord Corvo’s sources are correct, the girl not only has three dragons but now has gained a horde of a thousand Dothraki men.” Lord Unwin interjected coolly.

He noticed his kings jaw tighten.

“Why would one have the need to acquire a thousand savages if not to raid and pillage, your grace?” He said. “Or worse invade?”

Unwin needed the council on his side to back the young monarch into a corner. If they all united against the idea of the Green Princess’s return it’ll leave time to discuss more important matters. Like the Kings hand in marriage.

Lord Peake had been ecstatic when he heard about King Aegon’s rejection towards the Lady Daenaera. The girl was said to be crying cats and dogs while packing her things to return to Driftmark. The airhead made her ambition for the king too obvious, ultimately ruining her chances of becoming queen of the seven kingdoms.

Lord Unwin had heeded his own daughter Myrielle to learn from the Velaryon girl’s mistakes. Myrielle would become queen or the Lord Hand would die trying to make her one.

The king broke his silence “I wasn’t asking for suggestions on the matter my lords, I’m commanding she be brought to King’s Landings.”

His voice stern with regal authority.

“Jaehaera Targaryen will return home because I Aegon the third of his name. King of the Andals, Rhyonar and the Firstmen will it so.”

Unwin and the other members share looks of worry. For the two years Aegon had ruled in his majority he had never used his title against them. He always sat in his council and listened to everyone’s input politely agreeing or disagreeing but never pulling rank.

Unwin for the life of him could not understand why the king was so adamant about this little girl.

“Why?” Unwin said before he could stop himself.

Amethyst eyes locking with his black ones. A chill passed through his body. The kings sharp glare unnerving the Lord of Starpike greatly. Unwin found it in himself to continue.

He needed to know.

“Why do you want the girl back so badly, your grace?” The air of the room so tight.

Unwin and Aegon never breaking eye contact. He watched his King hesitate, flexing his ringed hand on the chair.

“I intend to make Jaehaera my queen.” He confessed. “And put an end to this war once and for all.”

The northern brogue of the Warden of the North was heard. Surprising because Lord Cregan had been suspiciously quiet this whole meeting. Unwin hadn’t even remembered the Lord of Winterfell had came south to the Crownlands.

“That sounds like a promising idea your excellency.”

Unwin wanted to scream and throw the most undignified hissy fit of his life. Of course the biggest nuances of north would back these idiotic ideas. The Hand of the King felt his nails breaking the skin of his palms.

His plans were being foiled before they could actually unfold.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[coffeebooksrain18]

Girl you got me blushing!!!🤭🥰

IM SCREAMING IN JOY! Look at this beautiful moon board @coffeebooksrain18 made for Aegon and Myrielle (my hotd oc who I have yet to introduce 🤭) this is so soft and adorable, I will forever cherish this in my heart! I’m sobbing and giggling like a madman in my bed!

[coffeebooksrain18]

I LOVE THEM! They are so cute together and your plan for them makes me so anxious for when your story comes out!!!

Ok so I open Tumblr after a tiring day and my bestie @coffeebooksrain18 sends me this beautiful board? I’m literally screaming and running circles because this is absolutely beautiful. I love love love the golden theme color with the soft color!

[coffeebooksrain18]

It's out! It's out! It's out! This is mostly for me and her but if ANY of you wish to read it as well ease give your feedback as it will really make our days!

MASTERLIST FOR ‘MY LOVE MINE ALL MINE’

Sypnosis: A Bridgerton and House of the Dragon Crossover. 𝐀𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 is set to begin her debut into the society. Born between the loving reunion of Daemon Targaryen and Rhaella Targaryen, she is offered the world on a silver platter. But she does not want it. 𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 is the second son of Dukes Viserys Targaryen. He has no land to inherit and no riches. But, he has one thing that is his - Aelys Targaryen. When Aelys is told that Rhaenyra is heir to the Targaryen fortune, she knows she must find a way to stop it. Sure, she doesn't believe that Aegon should be named Duke, but he is better than her aunt. That is until she looks at Aemond and a new plan emerges. 𝐌𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢 is a legitimized bastard, but still a child born of an unholy reunion between the Pope and the Lady Alaria Dayne . Ever since childhood, she has known herself as lesser than everyone else. When expected to join society, she expects herself to be a spinster for there were not many who would want someone like her in the comforts of their home. 𝐀𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 does not believe the inheritance of House Targaryen belongs to him. When his father newly changed the inheritance to fall in his hand upon his death bed, rather than his older sister, his world flips. This is what his Mother always wanted, not him. Aegon only knows of one thing that he wants, but she seems to be a distant dream who Aegon can only graze with the tips of his fingers. Aegon Targaryen only wants one thing for himself, Myrielle Vallici.

Prologue

Chapter 1 - A New Season