#names for laena' son | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

macheriee · 3 months ago

Text

𝒜pocalypse ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

⌗ everyone knew the boy’s father was lord commander of the city watch, that much was apparent. to your mother he was another insult to the throne, to you he was just the bastard, until he wasn’t.

ᯓ��𐭩 tags enemies to lovers, hate-fucking kinda, aunt-nephew incest, targaryen-hightower!reader, TW: dub-con (oc struggles w/ accepting she got the hots for jace) call it horny guilt lmao but the first encounter is very much dubious but she gives in, lust at first sight, domesticity, fingering, pussy-eating, jace is low-key a simp/sub, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, impact play(?), breeding kinks cause it’s HOTD, rough sex, oc is mean asf at first, happy but angsty ending, light to medium angst, pregnancy mention, kinda canon it lowkey follows ssn 2 n some of 1 but not by a lottt (ex. mentioned scenes/flashbacks), oc n jace have been aged up (20), tweaked a few things to make sense so not completely canon, slow-burn ish but then it’s just fast burn lmao, curly-headed!jace 4ever, TW: oc has a panic attack

ᯓᡣ𐭩 word count 10.7k

your lips my lips, apocalypse..

“Bastards,”

You’ve heard the strange term tumble from your mother and grandsire’s lips the day king Viserys brought forth princess Rhaenyra’s children. They each stood mockingly with their dark unruly curls and equally colored eyes, an uncanny resemblance to the city watch commander.

The truth of it was they were no true Velaryon, nor Targaryen—but a Strong. You wondered if Rhaenyra felt shame the way they came out with their plain features, mayhaps not as your mother said the princess was as stubborn as her dragon mount.

From the start Jacaerys was an aggravating little thing to look at as children when you both clung to your mother’s skirts. His eyes were filled with curiosity as were yours before Alicent found herself shielding you from his sight like she was afraid he’d sully you.

It was clear she had zero desire for her children to associate with Rhaenyra’s much to the king’s dismay (but when has father ever cared?) Your mother hardly kept you out of her sight and if it wasn’t her you were accompanied by your siblings, a handmaid, or Cole.

You never lacked in needing “friends” and grew fine without their company as you had Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena. Occasionally you saw Jacaerys and his brother running about like little savages in the halls but you’re pulled away by a Septa just short of crossing paths.

Jacaerys was the one who intrigued you the most. It might have been age but you didn’t understand why it was so bad? What had Jacaerys done for your mother to forbid you from speaking with him? He was a bastard, yes, but what did it exactly have to do with you?

Jace—Jacaerys, wasn’t a threat. You had no throne nor a title of some sorts to claim; there was nothing to your name, so why?

As children during joint lessons there were timid but not so secret glances exchanged. Mostly curiosity but it was something both Cole and your brothers disapproved of, especially Aemond who had come to Helaena’s chambers angry after a lesson in the dragon pits with Aegon and Rhaenyra’s sons.

Eventually they left for Dragonstone, never to be seen again until a day before your tenth name day when you’re called to Driftmark for Lady Laena’s funeral. Why you were called upon such a thing you don’t know, nor care really as you hadn’t known the lady much.

The entire event was a waste—your brother was maimed, the king being the king chose his eldest’s side and the family further divided. Alicent wept and mourned Aemond as Rhaenyra’s bastards would have your brother’s eye. You looked at Jacaerys in anger, resentment, and frustration.

Who was responsible, you don’t care, what angered you was the fact that they paraded their entitlement so freely and shamelessly. Rhaenyra could have outright said she wanted Aemond’s head and your father would still find a way to make excuses for her. (Maybe even give her what she wanted.)

That was the last you ever saw of him before leaving for Kings Landing to resume life without them. You found it much more enjoyable without your half-sister and her family around, in fact you’d rather it stay that way forever.

On occasion you found yourself thinking of your nephew. The memories clung to the walls leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, one in particular haunting:

You and the king stood together atop the balcony watching as Ser Cole trained with the princes—including Rhaenyra’s sons. It was clear Cole favored your brothers evident in the way he praised one side but barked orders (or completely ignored) at the other.

“They’ll make fearsome knights, don’t you think?” Your father turns to you with a gentle smile, his tone warm but distant.

“Possibly, if Aegon ever decides to leave his cups.” You fall into silence shortly after.

You never knew what to say to your father having been so distant and neglected it felt like you didn’t know him at all. You tolerated him at best and affection was out of the question leaving you with nothing, just mere acquaintances.

The king chuckles quietly and his mouth parts to speak with his Hand but Jacaerys interrupts with his angry cry as he charges forward at Aegon. Your lips part in surprise and out of the corner of your eye you see Ser Harwin circling, watching.

Aegon uses the straw dummy to avoid Jacaerys. He’s quick to corner the smaller, kicking Jacaerys down in the process.

“Don’t let him get up.” Cole barks which spurs the commander into action.

You watch in amusement as Cole is beaten to a bloody pulp by the bastard’s father. The king turns with concern, given this was no sight for a lady, “Why don’t you go and see if your mother needs something, perhaps your sister?”

You bow in courtesy, escorted away by your sworn shield but your mother’s apartments aren’t the place you’ll be going, no, you want to watch this mess play out a little longer.

“I wish to see my brothers.” You command softly, already walking towards the training grounds even if your knight was willing or not.

They’re pulling Harwin off when you step foot outside, Jacaerys and his brother huddle close while your older brother in particular looks both amused and bored of the entire ordeal already. No doubt still pissy about being grabbed and promptly scolded by the king (‘Aegon!’) .

“Sister,” Aemond greets once you’ve joined him and Aegon.

“How were your lessons?” You quietly fuss over his messy tunic whilst checking for any bruising or cuts on his face, thankfully none.

Aemond responds in kind with Aegon loudly interrupting but you ignore him and his poor manners. You can’t help the way your eyes flit over him and his brother from across the yard, your gaze scrutinizing and judgemental like your queen mother often wore when she expressed her displeasure.

The little bastard actually rises to the challenge. “Jace!” You turn in time to see him advancing quickly, expression full of anger and accusation.

“Is there something you have to say?” Jacaerys glares.

You look over your shoulder with a cool expression, “I don’t have anything to say, what makes you think that?” It’s agitating having to explain yourself to him of all people.

“Because you look like you have something to say, so say it!” It’s comical the way his cheeks and entire face glow red from anger.

You slowly turned to Jacaerys with folded hands placed politely over your front (as the Septa and your mother taught you), “I was merely talking about how Strong the two of you were out here.”

This immediately draws the attention of Ser Harwin. His face easily betrays his emotions but you simply smile at the commander, “It’s a good thing they have the city watch commander to guide them, isn’t it?”

Challenging little cunt you were, Harwin forces a tight smile, “Indeed, princess.”

He doesn’t get to stay much longer as the guards begin pushing him in the direction of the castle, away from his two Strong boys. You were going to wipe the smug face off that bastard–

Aegon shoves Jacaerys first into the dirt, sending the poor boy flying back as Lucerys panics calling out for him. Lucerys charges with a wooden stick in hand, his face twisted in anger and fear as he swings for Aegon, “Let my brother go!”

You scoff and stick your foot out, tripping the boy as you swiftly place a foot over his back pressing down, “Dohaerās!”

You put more pressure with each passing second he squirmed and cried. “Get off of him!” Jacaerys shoves Aegon off and runs at you, pushing past Aemond knocking him down too in the process.

You turn in time to see a head full of dark curls charging, your father yelling for everyone to put an end to this nonsense. “Or what? You’re going to run to mommy and tell her what I said?”

He stops dead in his tracks when you stalk towards him with a predatory look in your eye, “What’s wrong? Not strong now are you?” You shove him harder, causing him to stumble over the wooden sword, “Better yet, why don’t you call for your father to come save you?”

Harwin stills by the doors and the entire yard grows silent. Jacaerys clenches his fists tightly, “Ser Laenor isn’t here.” He grits.

You lean closer, eyes meeting Ser Harwin’s over Jacaerys’ shoulder, “Is he?”

The ‘Velaryon’ stiffens and you can’t hide your grin, “I was merely joking, relax.” You finish softly pulling away.

Aemond is there holding his elbow out for you to take, the two of you (Aegon included) disappear into the castle passing by the commander. Aemond himself shoots Harwin a look before uttering loud and clear:

“Bastards.” No one corrects him.

You remember the outrage you and your brothers caused with Rhaenyra. She demanded justice—especially towards you after learning you pushed her Luke to the ground and commanded him like an animal. She pushed for a harsh punishment, hell-bent on it.

Alicent, who usually was spoken over by her husband and every other man in her life, for once refused. Your mother made sure of it that no one, not even the king, was to touch or harm you, fiercely defending you against your half-sister.

‘Over words? You wish to have my daughter flogged over an insult?’

Needless to say your mother had the last say after some unsavory words and threats were exchanged in the council room. As Rhaenyra passed you met her eyes briefly before Alicent covered you with her own body.

They left like dogs with their tails tucked between their legs. You, Aegon, and Aemond stood over a balcony watching the ships sail and dragons pass overhead. It was as if they were never there to begin with.

It wasn’t always unpleasant you suppose but with age you slowly begin caring and thinking less and less about those Strong boys.

༺ ──────────── ༻

“There’s to be a petition in court.” Your mother solemnly mumbles from her place by the open windows, she’s in one of her moods again and you wish no part of it. Was it Aegon who went and managed to piss her off for the umpteenth time?

You barely look up from the embroidery you’re working on (it’s a beetle for Helaena who has been feeling blue these days), “A petition for what?”

Alicent turns to you with a melancholic look on her face, she’s smiling but it falls short and her somber mood once again returns. “Nothing of importance my sweetling.” She lifts her skirts to take a seat beside you on the floor, “What are you working on?”

“A beetle, for Helaena.” As you’re showing her the doors to your rooms open and a handmaiden stands by with a soft ‘Prince Aemond, your grace,’

“Mother, y/n.” Aemond greets as he takes a seat in the chair next to you, leg crossed over his other. “For Helaena?” He murmurs, leaning down to get a better look.

You speak amongst quiet whispers while Alicent watches, content to see her two children together. “Mother, the petition does it have anything to do with Rhaenyra and her sons?”

Aemond, who had taken the embroidery to try for himself, stops in his tracks. Alicent feared she wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret, especially not with you two being so perceptive all the time. Her prolonged silence was enough answer anyway.

“Yes,” she finally relents, “Lord Corlys’ younger brother wishes to challenge Lucerys’ claim for Driftwood.”

Her tone is hesitant and careful, she looks at Aemond when she says his name. She’s treading carefully with her third born knowing he was particularly sensitive when he got angry.

“By extension the rest of her I presume?” You reach for a lemon cake mumbling to Aemond (‘Share one with me… I said to split it, not have it all.’—‘I did.’)

With the king bed-ridden nearing death and his first born off at Dragonstone, there was no need to hold your tongue. “Her claim will be questioned, as will her first born and second,” Aemond adds.

“I worry sometimes,” Alicent finally says, silence following, “for you, Helaena, Aegon—the children.” You know exactly what she means to tell.

“I do believe Helaena has been in need of some company. You may leave me, I have Aemond.” You reach for her hands and gently squeeze, “I will catch up with you two, yes?”

Alicent studies your face in worry before settling on brushing a few stray hairs out of your face, “Alright, I will see you.” She lays a gentle kiss over your head and rises to her feet.

Once the doors slam shut you finally release the sigh you’ve held in through the entire conversation with half a mind to ask for a bath to soothe your oncoming headache. “Seems our dear nephews will be arriving on the morrow.” He comments.

“Hm, seems so.” You’re not entirely sure how you feel, are you supposed to feel anything?

Things were different now you suppose, your hatred died down over the years without their insulting presence. You didn’t like them either, merely tolerated the idea of them.

Then there was the great Jacaerys Velaryon, future of the realm and heir to the throne, the same boy who plagued your dreams and memories all these years.

And he was to be here tomorrow, the first since Lady Laena’s funeral (which you had believed to be the last time you would ever have to see him).

“You’re free to speak plainly sister, we’re in private, we don't have to keep pretending.” Aemond mutters, head lolling in your direction as he stares at you.

You tilt your head, “And what would you have me say? That I’m looking forward to their little visit?”

“What excuse will it be this time? I don’t think she can easily sway the people with the evidence right there in plain sight,” he hums.

The more you think about her and her children coming here into your home tainting it all over again—you grow furious.

“Help me up will you? I think I’ll take a bath and meet you with mother.” You hope it will be enough to curb your anger for now.

Aemond holds you upright and levels you with a stare, “Something’s bothering you.”

“Well, yes–”

“Not them.” Aemond replies quietly and for a second you still.

You gently stroke the side of his face, watching as Aemond leans into your touch with a closed eye, “I’m fine,” you murmur, “now go.”

Luckily Aemond’s just as sweet on you and Helaena as he is stubborn and observant. He lets it go (thankfully) and you’re left alone to think about tomorrow. You could easily feign sickness or escape to the Sept (you were due for a prayer anyways) but mother would never let you as much as she would like to—your grandsire’s word evidently still strong over her.

You soak in the boiling hot tub, enjoying the steam delicate scents from the oils you regularly use. “That’s a problem for another day,” you find yourself murmuring to no one in particular as you sink further into the tub, eyes slipping shut.

༺ ──────────── ༻

You had done your best to carry on with your duties the following morning.

Nearly an hour had passed since you sat around staring at your reflection instead of allowing the handmaids to dress you. By this hour you’d be with your mother and Helaena in the gardens. Your absence however prompts the queen to come searching.

“What’s wrong?” Alicent whispers sitting beside you on the bed with worry etched on her brow as she gently moves your hair from your shoulder, “y/n?”

You place your hand over hers, “Braid my hair, like when I was child?” You hold the brush out for her to take.

She has you sit on the floor in front of her, gently combing the hair brush through your soft locks handling each strand of hair with care. The two of you fall into comfortable silence (save for her soft humming). All of your frustrations quickly lift off your shoulders the more you sink into her gentle caring touch.

“The dress is beautiful, when did you have this tailored?” Alicent comments softly, it was no secret to anyone that she saw herself in her youngest daughter—dutiful, composed, a good daughter.

The only difference was you had freedom she never did. While she had been made a child bride by her own father, you remained an unwed maiden at the age of twenty by choice. Alicent didn’t push for proposals and Otto knew better than to try and meddle with you like he had with Aegon and Helaena.

(‘Aemond had it made for me, Helaena has one in blue.’—‘The fabric, I don’t believe we have that around here do we?’) Your doors open and your drunken (maybe hungover) brother comes stumbling gracelessly.

“Well don’t you look darling.” He comments under his breath and saunters over to where you sit, falling flat on his back with his head in your lap.

“Aegon.” Alicent warns as she starts on another braid.

You look down and flick his forehead, “You smell of wine, and you're going to dirty my dress.” Despite the annoyance you still comb your fingers through his hair affectionately.

Aegon snorts unceremoniously, “Is it a crime to visit my sister now? My very beautiful sister—do say, when are you going to choose a husband? You’re past the age, and well nearly every lord in the realm’s been asking for your hand.” He smirks slyly knowing very well the topic of marriage angered the shit out of you.

“Aegon that’s enough, stop pestering your sister.” Alicent sighs heavily.

Your eyes flick over to the wine pitcher in your maid’s hands, the threat clear. A harmless grin forms on his face, one you can’t help but mirror teasingly as the two of you settle in silence as to not disturb your mother with children’s banter. You left that for your niece and nephew to do.

“There,” Alicent shows you through the mirror, “do you like it?”

“I love it, thank you.” You leaned back to lay in her lap.

Normally she would frown at receiving such affections but because it was you she held her tongue, never truly bothered by any of it. She allows it for a little longer before gently patting your shoulder.

“I must go and see to it that preparations for our guests are going well my sweetlings. I will see you in court later.” She departs hastily.

“Have you eaten?” You ask Aegon, who shakes his head as you rise to your feet together, “I haven’t either.”

Rhaenys and her granddaughter are the first to arrive on dragonback, and then your dear half-sister with her entourage of children and Daemon.

‘Ha, so they really did it,’ Lady Laena hadn’t been dead for a week and these two had already frolicked around (the night at Driftmark, you’re sure the two figures on the beach were them).

No one had been there to receive them—you certainly didn’t bother, you doubt any of your siblings would. You’re outside in the yard watching Criston Cole train with Aemond again, your brother much more swifter than the knight in comparison to when he was a child.

There’s a proud smile on your lips when Aemond emerges victorious, looking your way with a grin. “Come to watch me?” He tilts his head.

“What does it seem like?” You muse softly after seeing that Aemond has garnered attention from other knights and maids, making a spectacle of his sparring in a outstandish way.

“It seems you want to spar with me,” he smirks.

“Daor.”

Aemond snorts, “Fine,” he picks his sword back up and points it to Cole, “again, I wish to win this next round in my sister’s honor.”

A handmaid is quick to bring you a chair, the sound of swords colliding once again filling the yard. Aemond’s eager to prove he’s surpassed Ser Criston and judging by the small crowd forming he’s eating the attention right up. You hear distant murmurs and whispers but pay no mind, it must’ve been the women from court again who didn’t know how to keep their mouths shut.

“Just look at their hair..” One of them says.

Everyone knows, father, just look at them..

“Princess? Are you alright, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” you hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath in shock and anticipation the entire time.

The swords have stopped and everything goes still, Aemond stands with the tip of his blade pointed in your direction—not at you, but behind you. He had that crazed look in his eye again. You share a look and rise from your seat slowly.

“Nephews, have you come to train?” Your brother’s tone is cold with bitter hate.

Jacaerys stands dumbfounded and unable to form a response, you watch his (soft, plump) lips part but not a single sound comes.

“Nephews.” You quietly say with the tiniest of nods, “It’s been long hasn’t it? I take it the trip over was comfortable, was it not?”

Neither Lucerys nor Jacaerys answer at first with the younger curly-headed boy awkwardly muttering his response, very unbefitting of the next Lord of the Tides.

You barely spare him a look as you turn to Jacaerys, “Would you like me to show you your rooms? I’m sure they’ve been prepared already.”

“..We would appreciate it,” he finally replies, his voice no longer squeaky and high—rather low and suave, “seeing as there was no one to properly welcome us earlier.” His snarky response makes your skin crawl and your temper flare, but for appearances you reel yourself in.

“Apologies, nephews—it’s been a rather exhausting day preparing for the guests.” You force a polite smile.

He fixes you with a dark stare, his gaze dropping from your lips and then back up, “Mm.”

“Follow me,” you hum disappearing into the castle with the two Velaryon boys following close.

Neither one of you made an attempt to speak. What was there to talk about, they were practically strangers and you doubted Lucerys would’ve enjoyed recounting the last time the three of you had the pleasure of sharing the same roof. Jacaerys on the other hand must’ve believed you to be a fool if he thought you hadn't noticed him looking.

Annoyance runs hot through your veins as you finally reach the wing where their rooms sat, “I hope everything is to your liking, don’t hesitate to ask if you need something.”

‘Thank you.’ You hear Lucerys mumble but Jacaerys offers nothing but his heavy stare. “I’ll see you later,” your voice is soft and silky but the lingering (wanton) look you give speaks in volumes.

“Later.” You hear him faintly reply once you’re out of earshot, you can’t help the tiny smirk on your lips.

༺ ──────────── ༻

Court was as you expected—boring and another waste.

You stood by sweet Helaena, who was equally bored, listening as the second son of Driftmark cried over being replaced by a child. A bastard no less, you could only imagine the embarrassment he must have went through—or rather going through because it didn’t seem like he’d be getting a rest from it anytime soon.

During his speech you made eye contact a few times with Jacaerys. You don’t know why it felt natural, like gravity pulled your gaze to him over and over. When you would look he was already watching with the same hunger from before.

The whole fiasco ended in total failure because Vaemond’s killed leaving no challenger. You’re not surprised things worked out in Rhaenyra’s favor after your father wobbled his way to the throne and then had to be carried out because he overexerted himself.

Aemond shields both you and Helaena from the dead body lying on the floor, “That’s enough for today, you’re all dismissed. Someone dispose of the body.” Otto barks through the mess caused by Daemon.

You manage to sneak a last look before being ushered out by your mother and brothers. The walk back quiet and awkward, what was there to say?

“That was..something.” Aegon finally breaks the tense silence.

Your mother doesn’t reply and Aemond snorts, “It was another mess that’s what it was.” You murmur loud enough for them to hear, “Like always, they make a spectacle of themselves and father comes to save the day.”

“Should’ve known father would do that.” Aemond adds in, and it’s true.

You already knew the petition against Rhaenyra’s children of all people would be useless. It was as if the king had a sixth sense when it came to Rhaenyra. Funnily, he was sick enough to be bedridden these past years but well enough to come defend his first born one final time.

“Helaena, why don’t we take the children to the gardens? I’m sure we could both use some fresh air.” You find yourself asking, desperate to forget.

You end up spending the afternoon with Helaena in the gardens talking about everything and nothing. It was always a relaxing affair when it came to your sister and her children. You liked lounging around and watching the twins with a lazy eye. It felt nice having this small escape, kept you from ripping your own hair out over the family drama.

You’re in the middle of playing with Jaehaerys when your mother’s sworn shield interrupts, “Forgive me princesses but your mother has sent me to escort you to tonight's dinner with the king, he has requested all his children be present.”

Helaena’s smile fades and your mood is spoiled for the day, of course the king would pull a stunt like this.

“Hel.” You put a tentative hand on her shoulder, relieved she merely relaxes under your touch. The two of you hesitantly part from the children after promising sweets and more playtime.

Everyone’s barely arriving with your seat being between Aemond’s and grandsire. Aemond looks disinterested (as does everyone else) but you try to put up a farce for the dying old man being carried in. It was possibly his last dinner, might as well make it a memorable one you suppose.

No one wants to speak, Aegon’s got his hands cupped in front of him in exasperation like he’s itching to reach for his wine goblet. Helaena is mumbling to herself mostly and Rhaenyra’s other children stare at their plates.

“Father,” all eyes are on you, “forgive me as I know it was your wish for us to dine together but I’m feeling unwell and would like to rest if I may..” You trail off softly placing your hands on the table, ready to flee.

Jacaerys is still looking down at his plate with a deathly tight grip on his fork. The old croak waves his hand dismissively, smiling painfully, “Yes, go on that’s fine.” He offers a gentle nod at most, you don’t think he even remembers your name.

“Thank you, if you’ll excuse me.” You bow politely,

quickly moving for the exit without a spare glance.

You hear another voice but you can’t make out what they said other than the sound of a chair being pushed out. Something was telling you it was your Strong boy and the thought brings a mischievous smirk to your face as you look over at your sworn shield.

“Leave me, I’ll retire to my rooms alone; you’re dismissed.” You calmly begin walking away.

“But Princess—”

“Go Ser, I will be fine.” You leave no room for argument and hear him reluctantly let out a sigh before heading in the opposite direction.

With the guard handled you find your way through the halls humming in high valyrian until you reach your destination: the king’s council room. It’s dimly lit inside by candles, the windows are open with sounds of small folk singing and dancing heard below.

The slightest creak has you looking to the side without turning your head, “Unwell you said, you must like lying a lot..” He trails off in amusement as he plays with an ornament nearby.

“And what have I lied about nephew? Enlighten me.” You reply softly.

There’s no denying the thrill you’re getting out of this, Jacaerys was bold for following you like this, in a room all alone with no guards around. The secrecy excited you because if anyone were to find you two together—oh they’d think the worst.

An unwed maiden and the prince bastard of Dragonstone.

“You’re acting dense on purpose, putting up a farce—tell me does it make you feel better? Your words, actions—they’re insulting. I don’t think for a moment you’ve had a change of heart.” He scowls, stopping short of the king’s chair.

You spin around to face him with your hands behind your back, “Whatever do you mean?” You can’t help but bat your doe eyes.

Jacaerys hesitates for a second, “You know what I mean, do you take me for a fool.” He says low and threatening, ever so guarded with you.

“Hmm, I’m afraid I don’t know and if you’re just going to keep repeating yourself the door is right there.” You enjoy the look of anger on his face and part your lips to speak once more when he stops you with a hand on your forearm.

The touch is hot, scorching even as you feel the rush of arousal and excitement hit you all at once. No one has ever grabbed you this roughly, or been in the same proximity long enough to keep their head (you had your own way of dealing with unwanted advances).

Yet, Jacaerys still has his hand.

The audacity. “Let go you—” You move to slap him but he grabs your wrist just short of connecting to his face.

“You what? Go on, say it,” he eerily whispers as his hot breath fans over your lips.

Your calm demeanor slips and eyes narrow in anger, “You fucking bastard—unhand me right now!” Your yells are muffled when he seals his lips over yours.

You violently flinch backwards, the kiss bruising as you try pushing him off. In response he merely tightens his hold reminding you he was much stronger than the brat he used to be. Where you move he moves and if you take a step back he takes one forward. Jacaerys slips his hand through your hair and tightly grips, yanking you forward to keep you in place whenever you squirm too much for his liking.

You somehow manage to sneak a hand below your skirts for a dagger you kept and without hesitating bring it up intending to puncture his side. He sees and quickly seizes your wrist, squeezing tight as the blade slips and lands with a clank on the ground.

“I can see the way you look at me,” he whispers all breathless and breathy, “and it kills you to know you want a bastard like me doesn’t it—I wonder if you picture the same things I do,” he briefly pauses as his eyes trail over your swollen lips.

He crowds you into the table with a hand dropping to your hip, “It’s only you and I,” his lips connect with your ear trailing downwards, “you don’t have to pretend; all you have to do is let go.”

Your spine involuntarily arches from his electrifying touch with goosebumps erupting all over. You can’t help the soft gasp when he tugs you towards him by the hip. The very large bulge in his slacks presses stubbornly into your pelvis, hot and throbbing.

“Jacaerys we can’t,” you begin quietly.

“We can’t or you won’t?” He questions dismissively like he doesn’t believe you.

Your lips part and a shaky sigh escapes when he begins leaving open mouthed kisses over your collarbone and shoulders. You pray he doesn’t leave any marks to the naked eye as you’d hate to have to explain the marks on top of your request for moon tea.

“I can’t.” You hope he’d reconsider but to your utter horror Jacaerys sucks harshly over the soft skin of your chest where your tits sit perfectly cupped and pushed together in your dress.

You cry out from the surprise and sensitivity as your hands came up to grip his shoulders tightly. He gives your other tit the same treatment before dropping to his knees with the same lustful look in his eye from earlier.

“Tell me you want this as much as I do,” he pleads as if he desperately needed to hear it from your lips.

“I..” Do you really want him as much as he believes you do? The very thought of him defiling and tainting your purity caused a dark swirl of emotions within you—you want all of him.

Jacaerys licks his lips hungrily and pushes up your skirts until he’s settled in front of your soft thighs. His hot breath fans over them as he inches closer until he’s eye level with your moistened, throbbing cunt.

“..Yes,” you find yourself whispering after a few moments.

A pleased rumble leaves him and he closes the distance between him and your aching cunt. The first stroke of his hot tongue over your sticky folds has you keening in pleasure and your eyes rolling shut, head thrown back. You can’t help your lewd moan—all high and breathy.

Jacaerys works his tongue over your throbbing clit in firm strokes, hands greedily feeling every inch of your smooth skin. You choke when he throws one of your thighs over his shoulder, the angle shattering as he gains more access to your soft virginal pussy; ripe for the taking.

His lips part over it and he takes your aching bud into his mouth, vigorously sucking and lapping. “Jacaerys–” You choke out as his fingers tread over your folds dipping in to press against your soppy hole, the digits gliding rather easily aided by your dripping wetness.

His middle finger slips through—poking and prodding—until he breaches and pushes past the resisting barrier. There’s a sharp whine as your cunt flutters, greedily swallowing up his fingers, “Mmn..”

You notice how he gets when he hears you make those filthy little noises, the flick of his tongue sharp and his grip growing just a bit tighter. You can’t help eagerly rolling your hips on his face, shuddering as your bare cunt slides over his hot mouth and the tip of his nose dips between your folds brushing over your clit.

“Oh gods,” you gasp breathlessly, hips baring down faster and your grip on the table getting tighter.

There’s a filthy moan below your skirts, the vibrations against your pussy have you mewling needily. With little strength you manage to smother your cunt over his face again until he decides to stop teasing and seals his mouth over your throbbing clit once again.

You whimper out a garbled version of his name as the pleasure simmers hot in your lower belly. Your release hurdles towards you fast, almost knocking the breath out of you from how intense.

“Fuck Jacaerys..!” You gasp as the coil finally snaps; leaving you with legs spread wide and hips angled down with your clit in his mouth and his fingers curled up inside you.

You’re blinded by the hot white pleasure and the slick dribbling down your thighs (to which he greedily licks it up with loud unabashed slurps and moans). You shakily push his head away from your sore spent pussy, whining when he lands one last lick over your throbbing clit before letting up.

Jacaerys stands before you in a disheveled state with his swollen, glossed over lips. His tunic’s slightly rumpled and hair clearly out of place from being buried under your skirts for so long.

“Jacaerys,” you quietly start but he quickly silences you with another kiss, this one sweeter than the last.

You can’t help your sigh leaning into his touch, he treats you much more delicately than his harsh bruising kisses from before. He handles you like you’re meant to be—gentle, pampering, soft. The sentiment leaves you eager but disappointingly he pulls away and just..leaves? If you hadn’t been so out of breath you’d call out to him.

You lay your hand over your chest shuddering at the cool sensation of drying slick between your thighs. A rational side of you argues it’s for the best things ended before escalating but another wants to seek him out.

“Princess?” You hear one of your ladies in waiting from the other side of the door.

You shove your skirts down and fix your hair in an attempt to look modest. “Princess,” her face relaxes and she approaches you with open arms, “your mother sent me, are you still feeling unwell?”

“I’m fine, I’d like to have a bath now,” you take her arm biting your inner cheek to fight the fierce heat blossoming over them from embarrassment, “you shall speak nothing of this to my mother, yes?”

“Yes, my lady.”

No one comments on your troubled look while they bathed and dressed you. They knew better than to poke at the dragon; especially one that was upset.

You’re dressed in a white dainty dress you’d gotten as a gift from Aegon (though you suspected he had other intentions when he gifted it to you). You’re left sitting prettily over soft comforters and cushions, skin still smelling like rich oils and softer than a fox's fur.

“That will be all, thank you.” You bid your ladies good night and see them out just as your sworn shield takes his place in front of your chambers.

༺ ──────────── ༻

Sleep does not come as quickly as you had hoped. You’ve lost count of the hour, too entranced by the crackling firewood and waves hitting the cliffs. The candles have long died out and the moonlight took its place as your source of lighting.

You were tempted to escape to Helaena’s room using the secret tunnels but your sister could either be with Aegon or asleep. Your mother was out of question as she would chastise you about how unbecoming it is of a lady to be sneaking around during the hour of the owl.

(You’d never hear the end of it you’re afraid.)

As you roll over onto your stomach your breath hitches when the soft material glides against your swollen cunt. You quietly hiss and rub your thighs to ease the tension but it only worsens. Your clit pulses wildly, simmering heat boiling in your belly.

“Fuck.” You mutter rolling onto your back with your knees knocked apart, Jacaerys had really done a number on you.

You swallowed harshly thinking about his thick fingers and how your pussy was stretched to the brim. Your cunt flutters as you gasp softly, gods how you wanted to finish what he started earlier in the council room.

Would he lay you down tenderly and fuck you sweet or would he have you like one of those women from the streets of silk? Like a whore bent over and mounted like a bitch where he’d fuck years of hate and anger into you. Anger for what you had done and said about him and his brothers.

The thought does not bother you in the slightest, rather you’re aroused. You don’t have to pretend; all you have to do is let go..

You set your pride aside and slip into slippers sneaking into the secret tunnels. You walk with haste recalling where every room was after Aegon first showed you and Aemond the tunnels. You stand before his door waiting anxiously after giving three hard knocks.

The tunnel floods with light and Jacaerys stands over you, his own body casting a shadow. You stare up at him with parted lips and a dreamy glaze in your eyes. He doesn’t hesitate to bring you closer until your cheek is pressed against his chest.

“Jace,” your voice is nothing more than a whisper yet the grip you have on his robes says otherwise.

He hauls you into his arms leaving you no time to gasp before he’s pinning you onto the silken sheets. He stares down at you intensely, his grip around your wrists tight and secure. Both arms encase you on either side of your head leaving you to marvel up at the Strong Velaryon boy.

Jacaerys says nothing when he tugs his own tunic and robes off with one hand. Each article of clothing falls one by one onto the ground, the bed creaking in protest under his weight as he comes to kneel over you once again.

Throughout this whole ordeal you’ve held intense eye-contact with him, a challenge you most certainly welcomed as he still possessed those flames of desire and anger from before. With a clenched jaw he brings both your wrists to one hand and reaches below with his free to grasp his hard cock.

You can’t help but look, having to bite down on your tongue to hold in the whine that threatened to escape. The weeping head dripped pearly white seed over your soft mound from where he stroked himself. The pulsing heat between your thighs quickly becoming unbearable.

He lowers his hips until his pelvis is smushed into yours, his hard dripping cock trapped between the two of you pressed into your inner thigh. The contact is scalding with the way it throbs, how you yearn for him to take it and fuck you silly with it.

“Jacaerys,” you quietly choke, voice raspy and thick with want & need.

“This will hurt.” He carefully gauges your reaction for any discomfort or hesitance.

“Show me then, my lord Strong. Claim me as you would if I were yours, your ‘plain’ appearance is not of importance to me sweet nephew,” you purr sweetly, “we share blood of the dragon, you and I..”

You decide he needs one last push.

“Imagine a babe just like us…he wouldn’t look like a bastard, no,” his nose flares and grip tightens, “but everyone will know when they see his strong curls—”

A cry spills from your lips as Jacaerys slams his cock into you, buried to the hilt where his soft balls meet your pert cheeks. The pain burns but it’s laced with pleasure in a bittersweet way, still you can’t help the soft hisses that slip through clenched teeth each time he shifts around.

You struggle to house all of him inside, what he lacks in length he makes up for in girth; fat and thick with swollen pussy lips stretched around him wrapped tight and snug. To your utter surprise however, he’s not upset at your small jab—he looks as if he were actually picturing a child with you.

“And yet you still lie beneath me, speared on a bastard’s cock,” he grunts.

Jacaerys rolls his hips, not giving you any time to adjust, “You’ll bear my children fearing they won’t come out like their father—brown hair,” thrust, “brown eyes,” thrust, “every bit of me.” He whispers low and menacing in your ear, his speed relentless and punishing.

The stinging pleasure worsens and your eyes water, it’s a sort of bone deep pleasure balanced out by the pain that was beginning to dull. You were powerless under the Velaryon Prince as you could only helplessly toss your head back from the sweet pain.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? To have my bastards?” He licks his lips and switches his pace to a more smoother one, still jabbing nonetheless but albeit more calmer.

You grit your teeth in refusal to answer, but he didn’t need your answer as he descended upon your lips hungrily and fucked into you faster. Your moans get swallowed up by both him and the slick accompanying his wet thrusts causing you to burn with embarrassment over your filthy coupling.

Your traitorous gaze drops downwards again, the sight leaving you in breathless awe. He has specks of blood smeared against his skin, his cock faring no better as it’s covered in creamy pink. You experimentally squeeze around him just to watch his mouth drop open in a small ‘o’ shuddering through the pleasure.

“Again,” he groans softly, “fuck, more.” He gasps while desperately grinding into you.

You wrap your shaking thighs around his waist and tug him closer until he’s trapped against you unable to pull out. He huffs and kisses your sweaty skin, his hips tilting to bump and grind into that sensitive spot from before.

“Oh Jacaerys,” your back arches and toes curl.

Throaty little moans spill from his lips over each rhythmic squeeze around his swollen cock. He fucks into that soft sticky heat just listening to the filthy wet sounds your cunt makes. He enjoys the soft thwacks of his balls slapping against your taint, splattering creamy slick over the sheets.

“Oh,” you shudder, peak hitting harder than ever

You feel the warmth and utter bliss/satisfaction when you come down from your high. Dollops of wet slick spill from the sides of your stuffed pussy, a phantom pulsing sensation most likely from the aftermath of your orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m gonna–” He bites back his needy moan, pressing deeply to ensure every drop gets buried in your cunt. It seemed like you were going to pay a visit to the maestar soon for moon tea.

However you were far more concerned about your ability to walk, you could barely even feel the space between your legs much less your cunt and knees.

༺ ──────────── ༻

Peace never really lasts long in the Red Keep, not with the never ending feud between both your families.

From what you heard, shortly after Jacaerys left you the first time he joined dinner again only to find himself punching Aemond while Aegon slammed Lucerys into his plate. Aemond had done it again with his taunts over your nephew’s legitimacy.

Rhaenyra was leaving again after those years gone, which meant Jacaerys would be gone too. You hadn’t voiced your displeasure nor let it show when the boys were seen off to their dragons at the pit. You hid by a column, peeking out watching them saddle up for their journey home.

Jacaerys doesn’t notice you at first but when he does he stops and his gaze softens with pity. “Aunt.” He greets striding over with his arms behind his back.

“Jacaerys.” You greet quietly, refusing to meet his eyes in a stubborn act of defiance.

He tilts your chin up gently and forces you to look, “This doesn’t have to be the end you know,” he brushes a stray hair from your face, “unless you want to stop?”

“I don’t,” you find yourself snapping quicker than he can finish which makes him smile, “you know I don’t. I just don’t see how it’s possible to continue..this, if you’re so far away on Dragonstone.” You mumble and cup his cheek.

Jacaerys leans into your touch with a hum, “I’m a dragon ride away my love,” your cheeks burn at the endearment, “I’ll send ravens if I have to—you don’t need to worry about a single thing.”

You gently peck his lips and sigh, “..If you don't write to me, I will..” You trail in high valyrian whilst squeezing his hand until it pops threateningly. He laughs low and brings your hand up to kiss, instantly quelling your temper.

“I swear it,” he replies, kissing your knuckles once more despite Luke calling out to him in the background, his dragon calling out for him.

You allow a soft smile as you whisper ‘go’, no doubt your mother would be looking for you as well. You watch him leave your side once again only this time you knew he’d be returning sometime soon as the king neared the hour of death.

No one knew of your little letters you exchanged with Jacaerys over the course of weeks. He would send you flowers and other things he’d find around Dragonstone while you sent perfumed handkerchiefs or oil scented letters.

You knew he particularly loved when the paper smelled like you. (You’d be rewarded with vulgar responses.)

‘My beloved, everything reminds me of you and how you might enjoy this if you were here. I’d give anything to have you here by my side dressed in Targaryen colors. I personally think red suits you best my love, don’t you think? I’ll have a dress tailored to fit in all the right places, perhaps we can arrange a slit for easy access? You’d enjoy that wouldn’t you?’

If your mother noticed your odd behavior, she didn’t comment. Alicent knew very well what a lovestruck girl looked like as she had been one herself not too long ago. No one comments on the frequent visits to the dragon pit where you’d disappear for hours on end returning once the moon had risen.

The illusion shatters however when Viserys dies.

Right away your mother and grandsire crown Aegon as king. You should feel indifferent about the throne but you can’t help the ugly feeling you get upon seeing Aegon the conqueror's crown over your brother’s head. He was no king. He was not made to be king.

War was coming. With Aegon usurping Rhaenyra, as if that wasn’t enough, Aemond goes and fucking kills your nephew in some petty child’s game.

You heard the boy sunk into the waters after Vhagar mauled his tinier dragon. When you were flying over you heard Vermax’s loud cries of anguish, no doubt feeling his riders emotions as Jacaerys mourned Lucerys.

Your own dragon cried out in return as you swiftly landed and hopped off, stumbling through the sand as Jacaerys quickened his pace. You meet each other halfway with him falling into your arms, brokenly sobbing.

His loud cries are drowned out by the harsh waves hitting shore and seagulls flying around. At that very moment it’s only you and him standing on that beach wrapped up in each other’s arms. You press a series of kisses against his temple, tightening your hold when you feel him tremble.

“Shh.. sh, my love. I’m here.” You murmur soothingly.

Jacaerys swallows harshly, “He…he killed him,” he croaks out, “he’s gone.” It physically hurts seeing him unable to speak, just choking up over his words like a little boy crying for his mother.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

You hold him until he grows tired of sobbing, resorting to softer sniffles as he cowers in your hold. Jacaerys has a death grip around your waist where his fingers dig into you unknowingly. “I can’t lose you.” He mutters.

You will never forget the haunting look in his eye. Jacaerys had already lost his brother, he would not be losing you either..

༺ ──────────── ༻

..A son for a son they said after the ratcatchers beheaded Jaehaerys in his sleep.

You were up for days unable to process the grief and horror, moreso you felt for Helaena (beautiful Helaena who hadn’t deserved any of this). The way your mother had allowed the death of a child—her own blood—to be handled was despicable.

You saw Otto Hightower for what he was: a power hungry cunt. Your own brothers were strangers to you, Aemond having killed his own nephew in cold blood and Aegon a bloodthirsty idiot who didn’t know what he was doing.

You understand why Viserys favored Rhaenyra now.

“He’s a fool, mother was right to tell him he would be more useful doing nothing,” you sharply reply.

You’re in Jacaerys’ room after a sneaky endeavor in his bed all afternoon, complaining about your stupid brothers. Your lover lays on his side with a hand supporting his head listening attentively with a loving gaze.

“What was it you said that he told Aemond—I can have to make a war?” Jacaerys snorts in amusement brushing his fingers through your hair.

“He’s an idiot. It’s a wonder anyone can actually stand being in the same room as him, if he’s not crying about Aemond making plans behind his back then he’s crying that no one respects him.” You shake your head.

“Hm, my mother still thinks we can avoid war,” he sighs deeply, “if only it were easy, right?” He slides your hand in his, holding it tightly while stroking over your knuckles with his thumb.

You can’t help but squeeze back, “Patience my love, everyone already sees how incompetent Aegon is. He’s already the usurper in their eyes and nobody really listens to him so to speak.”

“Suppose you're right about a few things.” Jacaerys’ gaze drops to your plush lips, still swollen and bitten-raw from his punishing little nips and aggressive kissing.

Your stomach swoops with excitement as a playful grin forms over your lips, “Only a few things?” You lean down to whisper, lips inches away from his.

He smiles lazily and cups your cheeks, “Of course not you know I trust your judgment, my love.” He mumbles soothingly while brushing over your loose curls.

He looks beautiful like this—the sheets hung low around his bare hips and the love bites littered across his shoulders and neck. You’d like to stay forever like this with him, all tangled up and the only sounds being your soft voices and the waves hitting the cliffs by his open window.

“Do you? Or is my prince only saying that because he desires a kiss?”

It’s comical the way Jacaerys lights up like a child faced with a fresh batch of lemon cakes. He eagerly slots his lips over yours and draws your naked body closer to him until his stirring cock is pressed flush against your hip—still coated in wet slick and oils from earlier.

You reach with one hand to tangle it through his soft curls, yanking his head back, “That isn’t an answer my love; does my prince want a kiss or not?” You ask firmer this time.

His eyes hollow darkly as he licks his lips, “May I? Your prince desires it.” He whispers low and breathy. When he says it like that you simply can’t deny as you eagerly press into him.

Jacaerys wraps his arms around your back and hauls you under him pinning you down against the soft sheets. You moan into his mouth reaching below to grasp his heavy cock in your soft palm and squeezing the head.

“Seems he desires more than a kiss,” you husk, tugging at his cock and enjoying the way he chases your touch.

“I want to claim every inch of you until you’re filled with my cum, maybe this time you will catch,” He finishes with a growl in high valyrian.

His cock slides between your sticky folds bumping and slipping against your clit. You angle the tip downward until it catches against your rim with a hitch, “Jace,” you sigh.

You feel every inch until he’s fed your cunt his cock. The stretch is mouthwateringly good, you don’t think you’ll ever find anyone else who could come this close to pleasuring as Jacaerys did. He wastes no time in rocking into you with long forceful thrusts.

“Oh fuck,” you thread your fingers through his hair turning your head away.

Jacaerys messily mouths along your neck and shoulder with muffled groans while desperately covering every inch of your skin with his mouth. You catch him off guard when you wrap your limbs around him and roll the two of you over.

“Lie back my love,” you seductively whisper.

He watches, entranced as you set your hands over his bare chest and push. The delicious weight combined with the heavenly warmth around his cock has his head rearing back and a long moan escaping.

You bite down on your lip taking in his every reaction. From this angle he strikes deep leaving you with a pleasant ache you’d be feeling the coming days. “Oh fuck.” You gasp, hips stuttering in their movements.

Jacaerys gets his hands over your hips and tugs you back down over his lap causing a groan to bubble out of your throat. He uses his newfound grip to bounce you in his lap until a low fopping sound from his thighs smacking into your cheeks fills the room.

Your gasps come out in short stuttered breaths with the occasional ‘mm’ thrown in there. Mid-roll you manage to firmly plant yourself in his lap trapping his fat cock in your wet cunt. You feel it twitching inside, desperate for another release.

Soft ‘ah, ah, ah’s fill the room alongside the sounds of sheets shuffling and seagulls in the distance. You’re lost in the moment basking in sunny rays and hot bubbling pleasure. His grip not once loosening nor slipping.

“Seven hells, you’re going to be the death of me.” He breathlessly groans.

His cock pulses faintly and then you’re being filled with thick spurts of white. He lazily squeezes your soft cheeks, watching with a blissed out expression. While you had yet to reach your own peak, you also didn’t mind just this.

Your hips came to a stop and you found yourself laying over his chest staring out at the orange-pink sky as you mumble, “I love you.”

༺ ──────────── ༻

Helaena hasn’t spoken much about your nephew since the funeral. She says she’s fine but you doubt that’s any true, you supposed she grieved differently. Helaena has always been a special case (in a positive light).

“Aegon left to battle,” you find yourself saying after an hour of silence, “Aemond too.”

Helaena can offer no insight as she kneels before her caged insects, speaking in soft whispers like she usually did, only this time her tone accompanied by her soft hums.

“How is Jaehaera?”

“..Fine.” More humming.

“And what have you embroidered as of lately–”

“You can go,” she softly interrupts, “everything is fine.” You’re stunned, maybe you overstepped and she wasn’t in need of visitors. That was fine, Helaena’s doing fine—

Your sister reaches over to grasp your hands tightly, staring into your eyes, “Everything will be fine. You must leave or else it will be too late,” a pained smile forms over her lips, “you will be one soon, and then two.”

“..what about you?” Your eyes watered, you dread the thought of leaving her here to suffer alone at the hands of Aegon.

Helaena lays a sweet kiss over your head, “There’s a storm coming, it makes flying harder.”

You wipe your tears and shakily nod, embracing her one last time before rushing through the hidden tunnels to your room. In a satchel you threw a few items of importance along with jewelry you doubt you’d need but something in your gut told you otherwise.

It’s easy to slip unnoticed through the tunnels and keep, the city proves much harder. You manage to pass through the small folk using alleys and hidden paths until you’re outside of the dragon pit. None of the dragon keepers question you and simply bring out Melaxes.

She senses your anxiety and begins to whine, “Shh, lykirī.” You’re quick to soothe her by leaning your forehead against her side.

When she calms down you guide her out of the pit, “Soves,” you murmur and Melaxes roars into the sky disappearing into the thick clouds.

You will be one soon, and then two.

Realization dawns: you haven’t bled for two moons now. Your hand immediately comes up to cover the swell of your stomach. Of course, what were you expecting?

You didn’t drink fucking moon tea and Jacaerys never cared to pull off. Your throat tightens up and tears spring to your eyes, “No,” you claw at your collar heaving.

Rook’s Rest. Rook’s Rest. Rook’s Rest. Your eyes widened—Larys Strong had heard talks of Princess Rhaenys and Prince Jacaerys going to battle together..

“Naejot!” You plunge forward until Melaxes zips above the sea, you pray to whatever god listening that Jacaerys is there safe and sound waiting for you.

You leave her not too far from the castle as you run up the hill towards the one place you knew he’d have to be. It’s a miracle no one notices Alicent Hightower’s youngest daughter storming through the halls until you reach Rhaenyra’s council room.

No one’s there.

“Oh fuck..” You whisper with a hand over your stomach, “No, no, no, no.” (There’s a loud ringing in your ear and it won’t stop.)

The tears come before you can even stop them as your vision quickly blurs. There’s something in your throat but it won’t come out no matter how much you heave and gag on your saliva.

“Mmn,” you whimper in discomfort and pain while curling away, refusing to believe Jacaerys was gone. You want your mother.

Your arm shakily shoots out to grab onto the stone for balance, “..please,” it comes out as a wheeze.

“y/n?” Was this a cruel dream? Jacaerys frowns and immediately starts walking to your side, “What’s wrong?”

He’s met with your lips and a tight crushing grip when you bury your fingers through his hair. You fiercely smother him in a desperate kiss which draws out a hiss from him when you bite his bottom lip.

“..We have to leave,” you mumble.

“Leave?” He frowns, “What do you mean?”

“Jacaerys, please trust me—we need to go,” you desperately plead.

Jacaerys shakes his head, “y/n you’re not making sense right now, leave where? And what of my mother? What of Baela, Rhaena, Joffrey? What of my duty as heir to the throne? You say it as if it’s so simple.”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“Why won’t you just tell me?!” He slams his hand over the table.

“I’m expecting a child,” you choke up, “and I don’t want my baby to die, Jacaerys. I want our baby to live.” You cry softly.

Jacaerys goes eerily still, silently watching you weep all you’ve held in until now. His eyes cast downward over the Targaryen pin on his tunic, glistening under the light shining proudly as a reminder of where he came from.

He says nothing and reaches up to unpin the dragon sigil resting over his shoulder. He reaches over to silently do the same with your own before neatly placing both over the table, releasing his sharp breath.

There’s no other way around this regardless if you stayed or not your child was in danger simply by living and breathing. The Greens would come after you, maybe Aemond would be the one to kill you or perhaps even Daemon. Your child would be dead either way as the king made it obvious how he felt about bastard children.

Jacaerys turns to you with a gentle but pained smile, and in that moment you knew what he chose. Your lip curls sadly and with an outstretched hand you accept him. He squeezes tightly like he’s afraid you’ll vanish into thin air.

“I love you.” He whispers, pressing his forehead to yours, his hand manages to sneak between the two of you to press into your stomach where your child would soon grow.

Neither one of you says anything while Jacaerys packs what he plans to take. He writes to Rhaenyra and leaves the letter in plain sight over his desk. It’s quiet but comforting as he leads you to Melaxes and Vermax.

When she finds the letter Rhaenyra weeps. She can’t find it in her to be upset with him and while yes you had been another insolent brat as a child; you were still her half-sister who was now carrying her grandchild.

“If we fly out now we might catch up to them.” Daemon seethes as he paces back and forth before the queen, “This is just absurd, has the boy officially gone mad? A Hightower cunt no less.” He scoffs.

“Leave them, they’ve made their choice and we will make ours.” Rhaenyra shoots a pointed look at anyone who dares protest. She knows she’s vulnerable now that she’s lost two heirs.

..and if she hears the small folk speaking of two dragon riders traveling across the narrow sea, months later after reclaiming Kings Landing; she turns a blind eye and prays.

+ translations:

dohaerās (serve)

daor (no)

lykirī (be calm)

soves (fly)

naejot (forward)

#hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys smut #hotd smut #house of the dragon

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zaldritzosrose · 7 months ago

Text

Lessons In Pleasure (Aegon x Reader x Harwin)

Summary: Your marriage to Aegon was as good as expected, but you wanted a little more...passion. Rhaenyra, ever the dutiful sister knew just who to send to give your husband a few lessons in pleasing a woman.

TW: Minors DNI, She/Her pronouns, afab reader, Harwin Strong and his horse cock, Rhaenyra being the best sister, Aegon (kinda) getting cucked and liking it, fingering, oral (fem receiving), multiple orgasms, praise kink, p in v sex, Harwin showing Aegon how to fuck, canon-typical incest, twin/targcest, they are happy families in this, use of High Valyrian.

Reader has more Hightower coded features but isn't explicitly described.

Words: 5088 (yes...I know)

THANK YOU to @legitalicat for not only trusting me with this idea but betaing for me too! You're an angel!

Hāedar = little sister

Valonquar = little brother

Ābrazȳrys = wife

Valzȳrys = husband

Rhaenyra was grateful to have been given the chance to decide on her own husband. When originally presented to her, she was disgusted by the idea of marriage all together. But when Harwin Strong made his affections for her clear, she knew that was the man she would marry.

After almost two decades of marriage and having three boys together, Rhaenyra could safely say she had chosen well. Not only was Harwin an amazing man and wonderful father to their boys, but he kept her well satisfied. The man was nearly solid muscle and hung like a horse. In their times alone, it was not unusual for his head to be placed between her thighs or for him to him to rut into her like she was a bitch in heat.

Harwin was nothing if not devoted to his wife. He would give her the world if she asked. He stood at her side, the ever-looming presence that reminded those around them Rhaenyra was not to be toyed with. He knew she was capable of protecting herself, of course, but he could not allow himself to leave his wife to her own protection.

Their devotion and love to each other, however, was in complete contrast to the marriages between Rhaenyra’s siblings. Well, one of them. The marriage of Helaena to Cregan Stark had been unexpected, yes, but having met the man at a tourney, he was all her sweet sister desired. Nobody would deny Helaena. Aemond and Daeron were too involved in their studies to give much mind to marriage. Their time would come, of course, but for now they could do as they pleased. The problem marriage was yours.

When Alicent had given birth to you first, Viserys was disappointed once more. What is a king without a son? But within the hour, your twin finally made his presence known. The King finally had a son. Aegon Targaryen, second of his name, had accomplished more just with his birth than anyone would hope from you.

As you grew into people, you and your twin were far different. You were far different from any of your siblings. You had fewer Valyrian features if any at all. But there was a fire inside you that left little room for doubt of your heritage, complete with a dragon you claimed not long after the time Aegon claimed Sunfyre.

The fire in you was different too. Most of your family were hot headed, quick to anger and rash in action. You wouldn’t say you were smarter, but it was like you controlled your fire instead of the other way around. You could remain calm. Your logic could outweigh your desires time and time again.

Until it came to your twin. For better or worse, he was half of you. You were devoted to him as much as Rhaenyra was devoted to Harwin, or your Uncle Daemon to his wife Laena. Every moment he needed defending, it was you who did so. If he needed soothing, he would find you. As you grew and matured, he loved you as you loved him.

The problem came with his drinking. He was nearly always drunk by the time you both were fourteen. He functioned well throughout the day even if he was drunk. But once the sun gave way to the stars, he got sloppy. Drinking so much he made a mess of himself was how he chose to spend every evening. He would stumble to his bed, stinking of wine.

Luckily, Rhaenyra was a good and comforting presence in your life. Listening to any and all issues you wished to unload on her.

As a child, it would range from not yet having a dragon, which was rectified by the tender age of twelve when you claimed your precious Starfyre. That pale purple dragon, almost iridescent, a contrast to the golden scales of Aegon’s Sunfyre, but somehow complimenting him perfectly. Just as you did with Aegon.

Then as you had aged and began to notice boys, Rhaenyra was the one to talk about romance, courting and all it entailed. Explaining the more, as you would bemoan, embarrassing parts of a relationship but you knew Rhaenyra wanted to look after you. But she did also tell you, that the King would likely choose your husband for you.

And you knew what that meant. You would be given to someone. Someone that, if you were unlucky, you did not know.

But the gods were on your side when your betrothal to Aegon was announced it seemed. Marrying your twin would surely be better than a stranger, you hoped. But Aegon was still a drunk. Unable to refrain from wine no matter the time of day. Not exactly the husband you craved and wished for.

As always, Rhaenyra was there. Comforting you where Aegon could not. It was not that he did not love you. He adored the very bones of you, and he would tell you time and time again.

But he was a mess of a man, by his own admission. Struggling with the weight of being the King’s eldest son and now, your husband. He had never meant to make you feel the way you did, you knew that. Because how could he, if you had never told him what you were feeling.

You had always known Aegon had a voracious appetite, for wine, for pleasure, anything really. Yet, you felt as though he was focused on completing the deed when he bedded you and you could not understand it. You listened, now when Rhaenyra was gushing about Harwin, after you had begged her to. Just to hear how it should be.

“Please, Nyra…” you held her hand tight, the look in your eyes desperate enough to convince the elder princess.

“Do you really wish to know of my bedroom activities, hāedar?” Rhaenyra asked, tugging you to sit on the couch by her fire.

You nodded in earnest.

“There is a reason and I beg you not to tell Aegon.”

Rhaenyra could see you were serious, you never kept secrets from your twin unless you must. She relented then, waiting for your first question.

“I have to know, is it…normal…for the husband to spend so little time on the wife’s pleasure before the act?”

Your voice was so unsure. Not embarrassed to tell your sister, but more embarrassed to voice on the topic at all. Sex was not an easy topic for some, you included. But you knew Rhaenyra was the right person to talk to.

“No, hāedar. Not in my experience. Harwin is quite intent on bringing me pleasure as many times as he can before I even see his cock.” Rhaenyra smirked, both at your reaction to her crass words and at the memory of that morning. When Harwin had delayed his duties just to feast upon, in his words, ‘the most delicious meal a man may have, his wife’s cunt’.

You sighed then and Rhaenyra instantly saw the change in your expression.

“Is something the matter, does our brother not give you the same treatment?”

She was not mocking you, for you could see the genuine concern in Rhaenyra’s expression and hear it in her tone. You only shook your head.

“Not that he does not do anything. He just…it seems like he is not as interested in what comes before as much as he is the sex itself.”

You did not know the word for it. Anything a couple did before sex, but you knew there must be more than having Aegon’s fingers momentarily buried in your cunt before he would rut into to you and chase his own pleasures, before passing out beside you. By Rhaenyra’s expression, you knew you were right.

“Have you told him, told him what you want him to do?” Rhaenyra asked, though she was already formulating a plan.

Again, you shook your head. You knew of Aegon’s past. The way his name was known in every whorehouse in the city, and yet that debauched nature seemed to never reach you. Rhaenyra took your hand, a mischievous in her eyes.

“Leave it to me, hāedar.”

You thought nothing more of your conversation with Rhaenyra as you prepared for your usual dragonflight with Aegon. Something the two of you did weekly.

“Ābrazȳrys,” Aegon smiled, knowing hearing his High Valyrian was a weakness of yours and he was right, a soft blush on your cheeks as he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in your neck.

Drunk, but not stumbling. His usual state, functional enough to navigate the day. He squeezed you a little, the way he had hugged you since you were both small. A gesture you were glad he continued.

“Valzȳrys,” you responded, feeling him smile against your skin.

“Shall we?”

“You want me to do what?” Harwin asked, not for the first time. It was like he could not believe the words Rhaenyra spoke.

Aegon followed you to your dragons, his arm loose around your waist as he walked. He was not shy with his public affections, and you could never deny he loved and desired you. But speaking with Rhaenyra had told you something was missing. As you mounted your dragon, all thoughts of that conversation left you the moment Starfyre left the dragonpit and made for the skies, Sunfyre on her tail.

“Teach my brother how to fuck his wife, properly. The poor girl is woefully unsatisfied.” Rhaenyra stated, as if she were talking of the weather or that night’s meal.

Harwin simply stood there, all thought, and reason gone from his mind. His wife wanted him to show her brother how to fuck? The prince who was known in all whorehouses and more for his depravities and salacious appetites? Rhaenyra could not be serious.

“I will not say it again Harwin. My sister deserves a man who knows how to care for her every need.” Rhaenyra smiled, stepping close enough to press her body to Harwin’s, her grin widening when he sighed in defeat.

“Show him, do it yourself first if you must. Hold his cock and put it in the right place if needs be.”

Harwin’s eyes were nearly burst from their sockets. It would not be the first time he had bedded someone at Rhaenyra’s behest. But these were her siblings. The look on her face however, and the love he held for you as a sister, was enough to convince him.

“Fine, you are lucky I love you so…”

Harwin had heard the prince and princess had returned and retired to their chambers. Rhaenyra had near pushed him out the door at the news. It was now or never it seemed, though he had no clue where he would even begin.

He was a few feet from your chambers when he heard the soft moans and the gentle movement of the bed. Harwin took a breath and prepared to close his eyes as he shoved the thankfully unlocked door open.

“Harwin!” you exclaimed, grabbing a nearby sheet, and shielding your naked form.

Aegon was less concerned with his nudity but used his body to shield you a little.

“Is there a reason you have walked into our chambers uninvited, good brother?”

Harwin locked eyes with you, and you knew. Rhaenyra had sent him, because of your conversation.

“Rhaenyra?” Was all you said and Aegon looked entirely confused, his gaze swinging between you and Harwin.

The knight nodded, a silent exchange that told you what you needed to know but not Aegon. Your husband was more than confused and sat back on his haunches to look at you.

“What is going on?” he asked you, but Harwin answered.

“It appears, that your wife is not entirely satisfied with your abilities, good brother.” Harwin spoke firmly but gently as he settled down onto the couch parallel to your bed. His eyes stayed trained, for now, on Aegon.

But Aegon was looking at you.

“Is this true?” He looked hurt, those perpetually sad eyes staring down at you.

You sat up, holding the sheet close to you with one hand while the other nervously toyed with one of your auburn curls, a trait inherited from your mother.

“He is not wrong. I want…more.” You tried to maintain eye contact, and Aegon did not look angry which was good, you supposed.

“More? Like inviting Harwin in, more?” He asked, still not quite grasping the situation.

Harwin could see you floundering, and he spoke up.

“Not quite like that, Aegon. More…to show you what you are failing in.” Harwin did not mean to sound harsh, but it was the essence of it.

You wished for what Rhaenyra had. A man who would worship you from head to toe before fucking you senseless. Something it seemed Aegon was not doing. Aegon opened his mouth to speak but said nothing as Harwin stood up, removing his outer layer and moving towards the bed.

“It seems you are in need of lesson, my prince.” Harwin smiled, watching the blush on your cheeks as he got closer and closer.

You had always found Harwin handsome, telling Rhaenyra how lucky she was to have someone like him so devoted to her. Not that Aegon was not to you. The closer Harwin got, the more Aegon realised just what he meant by ‘lesson’.

Silently, he moved aside, watching as Harwin kneeled at the foot of the bed. He was just above eye level with your body, and you sat up on your elbows. Anticipation had you, the way his deep brown eyes bored into yours had a fire in your blood you had not felt in a little while.

“Now, princess, do you wish me to show your husband how a man worships his wife?” Harwin asked, his voice lower than you had ever heard. A sound that sent a shiver down your spine. You nodded, but that was not enough.

“Words, sweet girl. I need to hear you say it, and I am sure your husband does too?”

You looked at Aegon, who was flitting his eyes between you and where Harwin waited at your feet. He looked torn between being upset and impossibly aroused, based on the faint flush on his skin and the half hard cock between his legs.

“Show us.”

Harwin was gentle, far gentler than he would be with Rhaenyra as he gripped your knees. Tugging you down the bed and pushing the sheet from your body. Now, fully exposed you felt a flush of heat send your skin pink. You could feel his breath on your skin, the roughness of his palms on your thighs as he kneaded the flesh of them.

“Watch carefully, my prince.”

Your breath hitched the moment you felt Harwin’s lips on your inner thigh. Gentle kisses as his large hands pushed your thighs wider. Everything was already so different. Aegon was always gentle, but he was not as tender and slow as Harwin was being.

“You must take your time…savour everything you have before you…” Harwin mumbled to Aegon as he moved higher and higher, the coarse hair of his beard already sending pleasure shooting into your core.

Aegon did as he was bid and watched. Watched as Harwin kissed and nibbled your thighs until his nose brushed the apex, just shy of your cunt. He listened to the soft moans and whimpers that left your lips. Sounds he had heard at times.

But the moan that left you when Harwin finally reached your mound was near sinful, your head shooting up to watch what the knight was doing.

“Oh!” Was all you managed to exclaim the moment Harwin’s tongue took its first taste of you.

Harwin could not lie, you tasted divine. It seemed Targaryen women were each as delicious as the other. He took his time, easing you into it. His tongue taking languid strokes between your folds as his nose pushed against your pearl and his beard scratched your thighs.

The moans you let out were no more than incoherent sounds, your hands already gripping the sheets as Harwin had you hurtling towards your peak. His eyes looked up then, meeting yours for a split second before he took one of your hands and placed it on the back of his head.

“Show me what you want, sweet girl.” He urged, slowing down to force you to take control.

With a whimper and a quick glance to Aegon you gripped Harwin’s hair, which he’d left out of his usual tie. Pulling softly at the strands, you held him against your core and let your body choose what to do. Hips rolling gently as he let his tongue slip back between your folds. Before you knew it, your stomach tightened, and you were whimpering what sounded like Harwin’s name.

Aegon could not tear his eyes away from you now. He had never really paid attention to what you looked like when you came. Flushed skin, your eyes screwed shut as you let out those sweet, soft moans. And he realised he needed to watch you do it again and again. What surprised him now, was that Harwin did not stop.

Your hand loosened on the knight’s hair, but his mouth did not leave you. His hands found your hips and pulled you back to his mouth, listening to the surprised yelp you gave as he began to devour you. There was no other word for it. He was not as gentle as the first time.

Now he was showing what he was capable of.

With grunts and groans of his own, Harwin gave you know reprieve as he fucked his tongue in and out of you, holding you with one large hand as his other moved down to let his fingers join his tongue.

Your eyes rolled the moment he pushed a finger inside. They were thicker than Aegon’s, the rough skin only adding to your pleasure. Curses began to slip from your lips and Aegon could feel his own cock hardening watching you writhe against Harwin’s face. He resisted the temptation to touch himself, to intent on watching you fall apart again.

Harwin pulled away as you peaked, giving you the chance to relax and breathe slowly. And when he looked over at Aegon, the prince could see the faint sheen of your release on the knight’s face and beard.

“Never let her only peak once, the more she comes now, the more sensitive she will be later. And trust me, it is all the better for you.” Harwin rumbled out as he stood.

He shed his own clothing quickly. Finally revealing the sheer length and girth of his own cock. Even Aegon could not help but stare. No wonder Rhaenyra was so well satisfied, he thought.

Even you began to wonder if he expected to be able to fit that inside you, as you assumed that was where this was going. The rest of Harwin was just as impressive. This muscle built his entire body. Just the sight of him a fresh rush of arousal dripping from you.

“Are you ready, princess, we will take our time?” Harwin asked softly, climbing on to the bed next to you, helping you move slightly to accommodate him.

“Yes...” you replied softly, the aftereffects of your two previous orgasms still lingering.

Harwin let his hands trail over your body, as if he was marvelling at just how small you looked beneath them. From your hips and up to your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh gently to gauge your reaction. And when you whimpered softly, he was a little firmer, adding his lips to the mix.

What surprised you, was when he reached out to Aegon. Taking the younger’s hand and placing it on your other breast.

“Copy what I do.”

Aegon watched as Harwin let his hand cup your breast as his thumb began to swipe gently over your nipple, watching the skin pebble and perk as your whimpered out in pleasure. Aegon did his best to replicate the movement, watching and listening as you reacted just the same, back arching to meet his hand.

“My best advice will always be, to listen. If she moans and pulls you close, keep going.”

You were barely listening to what Harwin said, too focused on the different sensations. Where Harwin’s palm was large and rough, Aegon’s was a little smaller and softer. But the touch from both was enough to have you craving more. When Aegon’s hand slowed to watch Harwin, your own gripped it, begging him to keep touching you. And he did, knowing that you were showing him exactly what you wanted from him.

“Good girl.” Harwin cooed and you moaned in response.

“Do you hear that? Our princess likes being told she is a good girl…” Harwin but emphasis on the praise, listening as you groaned softly again.

Aegon did his best to listen to you and Harwin. Putting everything he heard and saw into his memory. He had never considered you would have your own wants and, dare he say, depravities. He had been afraid of treating you too much like his whores of the past. He wanted to make love, not fuck you. But maybe he had been wrong.

Harwin’s lips were latched to your neck and Aegon was quick to copy, following the path Harwin took on your opposite side. And your moans increased the harder they kissed. Aegon even began to take his own initiative when you gave out a whimper at his lips on your pulse. Kissing you harder until you moaned out his name.

“Well done, my prince.”

The knight let his hand move down your stomach, trailing over your hips and down to your cunt, feeling the slick skin and spreading your arousal around to prepare you for the next lesson.

“Time to learn how to properly fuck your wife.” Harwin smiled. He had to admit, he was having a little fun with this. You were just as responsive as Rhaenyra, but with a little more softness and innocence.

Large hands gripped your waist and lifted you gently. Your body was like putty in Harwin’s grip, two orgasms already making feel light. He settled you on his stomach, the rough trail of hair hitting your pearl just right as your got comfortable.

Harwin knew any position would be a lot for you to take him in, he was fully aware of his more than average size. This was about your pleasure, and he did not want to hurt you. He was already rock hard and waiting, but he let you take the lead here.

“Go slowly, princess. I am a lot to take.” The wink he gave you made you giggle, relaxing you a little more.

You moved slightly and Harwin held your waist with one hand while his other wrapped around the base of his cock. You were not sure you were ever going to be quite prepared, but the anticipation was too much. You had only ever laid with Aegon, this would be a change.

Harwin guided you down, listening to your soft whimper at the stretch. He kept up his praise as you took him inch by inch. And he was impressed to see you sink down to his base.

“Well done, sweet girl…” he smiled, stroking his hands up the curve of your hips and back again, letting you adjust to the intrusion.

Aegon watched in near disbelief. Seeing Harwin’s cock disappear between your folds, the sheer stretch of it and the moans you could not hold in. With a little encouragement, you began to move. Rolling your hips slowly and coating Harwin’s cock in your slick. The stretch stung, but not enough to take away the pleasure.

And soon you were rolling your hips in earnest. Your hand on Harwin’s broad chest to steady yourself. You had ridden Aegon a handful of times, usually having too little confidence in your ability to move as you should. Harwin’s hands held you steady, helping you keep your rhythm.

“Let her lead. When she is on top, she is in charge. When you are, you control the rhythm.” Harwin instructed through rough groans. Your movements getting more confident and drawing out his own pleasure.

Aegon let his own hand drift to his cock. He could not resist the throbbing pleasure any longer. You looked so beautiful, and something about seeing you on top of another man had him more aroused than he expected. His hand was tight on his cock, eyes never leaving you as he watched the roll of your hips against Harwin’s body. Adding in your gentle moans and Harwin’s growls and grunts, it had him near coming just from the sight.

“Not so fast, Aegon. I will let you put what I have shown into practice soon enough.” Harwin grunted, his hands now bouncing you up and down on his thick length.

Your moans were louder than Aegon had ever heard. Sounds he had not thought you capable of. But he had been wrong about many things today it seemed.

“Gods…I...I…” You panted as your nails dug into Harwin’s chest.

He had not been wrong, Aegon realised. The two previous peaks had left you sensitive enough to already be so close to a third. Your body was glistening in sweat, skin flushed, and your head thrown back as you panted and moaned your way through your third peak of the night.

“Fuck…” You groaned as Harwin rolled your bodies over and began pounding into you with abandon.

Aegon could feel his own cock throbbing painfully as he watched you moan and writhe under Harwin, the bed hitting the wall with the force of the knight’s thrusts, but you seemed to be enjoying it all the more. Soon enough, Harwin was pulling out of you and coating your stomach with his seed, growling, and grunting as he tugged his cock to release. Your eyes were closed, and you looked well and truly fucked out, your breath coming out in heaving pants as your high subsided.

“That is how a woman should look when she has been well fucked, my prince.” Harwin panted, pushing his hair from his face.

Aegon could do nothing but nod, as Harwin left the bed and retrieved a cloth to clean his seed from your stomach. Your eyes opened and saw only Aegon. And then his still hard cock.

“It is your turn now, is not, valonquar?” You smiled, your hand reaching out for him.

Aegon did not hesitate, pressing his lips to yours like he was a man starved. Forgetting that Harwin remained in the room, his hands settled on your waist as Aegon’s lips took a path down your neck and lower.

“Do not forget, take your time, my prince.” Harwin called, as he dressed.

Aegon only grunted in response. He had never felt quite so desperate for you. Whether it was desire or jealousy he did not know. But he did not care. He wanted to show you he had listened and learned.

His hand kneaded your breast as it had before, while his lips found the unattended one. Harwin had settled himself on the sofa, watching as though to ensure the prince truly had learned a lesson.

Aegon took his time as best he could, listening intently for your moans. Feeling how your body arched to chase his kisses and touches. Your hand in his hair to keep him close to your body. Confident now, in silently asking for what you wanted. And Aegon was quick to oblige, remaining where you held him until you tugged him away.

“Fuck me, please…” You whispered; you had never asked that way. Never asked so directly.

And it sent a shot of pleasure right to Aegon’s cock, earning you a groan in approval.

“Anything for you, my love…” He whispered into your neck as he took his place between your thighs.

His thrusts were slow to start, knowing three orgasms in now had you more sensitive than ever. But he wanted to do this right. He eased into you, before glancing at Harwin for approval he did not realise he needed.

“Hold her thigh at your waist, let her hook her leg round if she needs to.” Harwin instructed, knowing what Aegon needed now.

No one was doubting Aegon’s experience. But a whore was different to a wife, in some respects.

Aegon did as instructed, and the gentle change of angle had your eyes rolling back and Aegon’s name slipping from your lips.

“Praise her, you know she likes it now.” Harwin called again and Aegon leaned down to capture your lips.

He knew well enough what to say.

“My good girl, taking me so well after three peaks…” Aegon groaned into your ear as he sped up, all but pounding into you now, desperate for his own release.

The moans he got in return only spurred him on. You were both wound so tight it would not be long.

“Yes, good girl…” He whispered again, as he gripped your thigh tight and pulled it higher.

Both of you cared only for release now. He could practice Harwin’s teachings another time. Your nails were digging into his skin, and you were urging him on with your heel at his back.

“Please...” You moaned but you knew you needed to be clearer.

“Harder Aegon…”

That was enough for him. He wanted to give you everything you wanted and more. You had never been this vocal with your needs in bed. And he would deny you nothing. His hand moved from your thigh to the headboard as he went as deep as he could, wanting to show you he could do as well as Harwin clearly had.

You were so close to your fourth peak that Aegon could barely thrust into you with the way your walls clenched around him. His own cock throbbed hard within you as he felt his own release pulsing through him.

Neither of you heard Harwin leave, too lost in your own pleasures. But the knight could hear your loud moans and the slam of the bed into the stone wall. A stark contrast to the soft, timid moans he had entered to.

He was a few feet from your rooms when he heard you near scream Aegon’s name, a sound that told him Aegon had learned, and learned well. Harwin could only smirk and mumble to himself as he walked away.

“Well done, my prince.”

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon x reader #reader insert #house of the dragon #aegon ii smut #harwin strong x reader #harwin strong smut #aegon targaryen smut #house of the dragon smut

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tomriddleslovergirl · 7 months ago

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House of the Dragon characters x Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of child death, pregnancy, mentions of sex, mentions of threesomes

Daemon has trauma from what happened with his past wife, Laena. He's terrified that you'll die during childbirth, and will have a Maester check up on you every moon.

Daemon loves to gently press his forehead against your stomach, humming a song under his breath as you fall asleep.

He'll pick out a few dragon eggs for you to choose from for your guys' baby.

If there are any complications during the birth, he'll threaten to put the Maester's head on a spike if you don't make it out alive.

He'd rather you survive than the baby. You can always have another baby, but there's only one of you.

It was no surprise that you got pregnant since the both of you were constantly fucking.

b i g b o o b s

His hands and mouth are constantly on your breasts and once you begin lactating it will probably get worse,

Like Daemon, Aegon would choose you over the child if it came to it. You are one of the only things that bring him some version of happiness and he'll be damned if he losses you.

Aemond has thought of being a father before. Of course, since he was the second son, he would need heirs. He had also sworn that he would be a better father to his children than Viserys was to him.

Aemond does get a bit possessive when your pregnant and would prefer to be the one helps you bathe and gives you massages when you complain about back pain.

Though Aemond is usually reserved and shy about his touches, once he finds out your pregnant, he becomes more confident. Something that should of been a simple kiss, would end up with his hands wandering towards your breasts.

Ser Harwin probably got you pregnant during one of the multiple threesomes you have with him and Rhaenyra.

She's over the moon when she finds out your pregnant.

Her hands are constantly on your stomach.

Rhaenyra has a lot of experience when it comes to pregnancy and childbirth. She'll be there for you, listening to your worries and reassuring you.

She'll go throw a list of baby names with you, and you'd land on Aemma and Baelon being one of your top picks.

Buys you long necklaces and new dresses that show off your breasts, and gives you a cheeky smirk when you catch her looking.

#house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader #x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon the second #aegon targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen

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0silver0dreams0 · 2 months ago

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"Whispers of Devotion"

Yandere House of the dragon x ModernReborn!Reader Pt. 2

Summarized: Despite her mother, Queen Consort Alicent's attempts to control her, (your name) felt a stronger attachment to Rhaenyra and her children, which created jealousy and tension within the family. Aemond's frustration at not having a dragon fueled his anger, which grew daily, especially after Laena's tragic death. This escalating conflict ultimately led to a tragedy.

Warning: mentions blood, eye of Aemond taken out, incest, vulgar languege and a little of angst.

<< Pt. 1

Sunlight streamed through the window, accompanied by the giggling voices of small children, curious at the sight of a little baby, only a year old, as they tried to make her speak. The two children were trying to get her to say their names, each hoping that she would utter even the faintest hint of recognition, perhaps even a small peek of one of their names.

"Come on, (your name), it's easy—Helaena, or Ena, please," the girl said slowly, hoping that speaking more clearly would help. "No, no, Aegon," the boy interjected, "(your name), Aegon is easier!" he insisted, eager for her to acknowledge him.

Their efforts were abruptly interrupted by the arrival of someone else.

"What are you two doing here?" the queen exclaimed, a hint of frustration in her voice. "We were just trying to get (your name) to say our names," Aegon replied, glancing nervously at his companion. "Sorry, Mother, we just wanted to spend time with (your name)." "Well, you both need to leave now. (Your name) is only a baby, and it's best if you go and play with Aemond or someone else. Poor girl," Alicent said, turning her attention to the baby.

Before the Queen could exit the room, the princess appeared. "My Queen, what are you doing with this precious girl?" Rhaenyra asked, much to Alicent’s displeasure, as she blocked her way. "Nothing much, I just took her for a brief stroll through the gardens." "Well, perhaps she could have a playdate with Jace. He’s eager to play with her, and maybe her brothers too." Alicent furrowed her brow, and before she could refuse the offer, Viserys entered the room. "I think that's a splendid idea," he said, dismissing the queen’s look of disapproval. "Then it’s settled, isn’t it, sweetheart?" Before the princess could take (your name) in her arms, Alicent objected, "Fine, I'll go with her," as she held (your name) close.

On the way to the rooms where Jacaerys were, there was a palpable tension. No one spoke, except for the little baby, who was utterly fascinated by her mother’s hair. When they entered the room, a little boy was playing alone. As soon as he noticed someone entering, he looked up.

“(your name)! She’s arrived!” The little boy exclaimed, rushing to Alicent. “Yes, she’s here, and she brought her brother's along too,” Rhaenyra said, her eyes sparkling with happiness at the boy’s excitement. “Can I hold her?” The boy asked, his eyes gleaming with eagerness. “No, she’s too small and delicate. I don’t want—” “Please, Alicent, it will be fine. She is a dragon, after all,” Rhaenyra interjected before Alicent could protest further, swiftly taking (your name) from her arms and into her own. “Just be careful. Hold her like this,” Rhaenyra instructed, placing the little girl into her son’s arms but keeping a bit of (your name)’s weight supported by her own. “See, it’s easy, isn’t it?” she asked, beaming at Jace. “Ye—” “No! What are you doing?! She’s mine! She’s my sister!” Aegon interrupted, protesting loudly.

Before anyone could react, the little boy seized the girl roughly, causing her to cry out from the jarring movement.

“Aegon! What are you doing?! Give me the child now!” Alicent scolded him angrily. “No! She’s mine—!” The boy’s protest was cut short by the sound of a slap, prompting Rhaenyra to swiftly take (your name) back into her arms, soothing the baby. “What were you thinking?! She could have been hurt because of your foolishness! What’s the matter with you?” “But it’s not fa—” Another slap was heard, “You will be punished, young man. You won’t see your sister, play, or even leave your room for a long time.” Alicent then took her son’s arm and led him out of the room, with Helaena following behind.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, it’s alright. I’m here, calm down, honey,” Rhaenyra cooed as she walked around the room, demonstrating to Jace how to hold (your name) properly. “Look, now it’s just the three of us. Do you like it?” she asked her older son. He simply nodded happily, his gaze fixed on (your name).

Just then, a maid entered the room.

“My Princess, it’s time for Prince Jacaerys’s lessons,” the maid announced. “Go on, sweetheart,” Rhaenyra encouraged. “Perhaps by the time your lessons are finished, (your name) will still be here.” With that, Jace hurried off with the maid.

Rhaenyra looked down at "her" daughter with a wistful smile. “My little girl, soon enough, you’ll be all mine. Your scheming mother won’t be around, and you’ll be with me all the time. Perhaps I can find a way to make that happen sooner.”

The rage and desperation grew with each passing year. You had become far too close to Rhaenyra for her liking. Even when she set boundaries, you wouldn’t listen. Even when she locked you in your chambers and punished you, you still wouldn’t listen. Even when she spoke ill of Rhaenyra and her bastards, calling them cruel by nature, or cursed your whore of a sister—claiming she cared nothing for duty or family—still, her precious child wouldn’t listen. Even if you were a little wary of them, you still preferred their company over hers or your brothers’. And, truth be told, she couldn’t entirely blame you. Aegon was Aegon, always deflecting blame for his own failings, jealous and cruel to anyone who didn’t fit his mould or threatened his swollen ego. Aemond and Helaena were peculiar in their own ways too, always lingering around her darling girl, bickering over who had your attention. Even Helaena, the strangest of all, wouldn’t leave your side. When you wished to rest, she would follow you to your chambers and sleep next to you, clutching you tightly, gifting you butterflies or little insects that you adored. Of course, she loved Helaena, but her oddities were sometimes too much. You were perfect—pure, intelligent, beautiful, kind—qualities neither Aegon, Aemond, Helaena, nor even Daeron possessed. And she was proud of you, proud of what you were.

But there were times when you angered her. She didn’t want to punish you, but you left her no choice. You wished to explore, to see the world, so she had to teach you that this was wrong, one way or another. You were supposed to be perfect. You are perfect, but sometimes you’re not, and that was unacceptable. That made her furious. Then she would punish you, reprimand you, give you more lessons than you could bear, or even lock you away in your chambers until you understood—you must be perfect. She believed she was only doing what was best for you, for your own good.

Even though you only wanted to be perfect, you longed to see the world, to go beyond King’s Landing, even if it was just to Dragonstone. But how could you do that to your mother? She only wanted what was best for you.

“(Your name)! What’s this?” Alicent stormed into the girl’s chambers. “It’s just a wooden sword, mother,” the girl answered, her face showing confusion. “You shouldn’t have this. This is not for a princess. What’s wrong with you, darling? You shouldn’t have this!” Alicent approached her, anger and bewilderment clouding her expression. “You’re grounded. You’re not to leave your room for the next two days. Maybe that will teach you how to behave.” “But, mother—” “NO MORE FIGHTING! I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF IT!”

(Your name) simply stared at the floor, defeated. Without a word of protest, she nodded. Alicent stormed out of the chamber, the sound of the door locking behind her echoing through the room.

Time passed, and when it was time for tea, no one came. That was normal when you were grounded—until Rhaenyra and Jacaerys entered your chambers, accompanied by maids carrying the tea.

“Hello, dear!” Rhaenyra greeted you warmly, with Jacaerys following behind her. “We heard your mother was being difficult. What if we have tea with you instead?” Rhaenyra moved to your side, taking your hand. “But she’ll be furious, Nyra. I don’t want to be grounded again,” you replied, worry evident in your voice. With a pitying look, Rhaenyra kissed your hand. “She won’t know we’re here.”

At that, a small smile appeared on your lips as you reached for the desserts Rhaenyra had thoughtfully brought—your favourites. Jacaerys stayed close, holding your hand as the three of you talked.

“How’s your dragon? I bet they’re incredible!” you asked excitedly.

“They’re amazing! Every lesson, we learn something new! But…” Jacaerys’ voice grew more irritated. “Aemond’s been hanging around again, and he doesn’t even have a dragon. He’s just there to annoy everyone.” “Well, he is Aemond,” you said with a laugh. “He’s just a bit too obsessed with dragons. Mother says he loves them more than anything else. But could you try to be nice to him? Please? He’s still my brother.”

After you spoke, you winced slightly as Jacaerys unintentionally squeezed your hand too tightly.

“Sorry, (your name), I didn’t mean to.” “It’s alright. It wasn’t on purpose,” you said with a smile.

Even though it was never openly discussed, everyone knew about Jacaerys’ quiet obsession with (your name) since you were a baby. He always wanted to be near you, and no matter how much Alicent tried to keep you isolated with endless lessons and punishments, they always found a way to see you. Even when Rhaenyra was busy with her own baby, she would sneak into your chambers, and somehow, they always got away with it. And you were happy for it. No matter how much Alicent, Aemond, or Helaena tried to intervene.

“A pig! They gave me a pig!” Aemond’s furious voice echoed through the corridors of the Red Keep. His footsteps were heavy with frustration as he stormed towards your mother’s chambers. Your heart sank; you knew this wasn’t going to end well.

You rushed down the hall, your small feet trying to keep up. Aemond had always been so determined to prove himself, and once again, he’d come back from the dragonpit humiliated. Jace, Luke, and Aegon had gone too far this time. You always tried to keep them from fighting, but this… this was bad. His shouting grew louder as you neared the room. When you entered, Aemond was pacing like a trapped animal, his face red with anger, and his silver hair messy. Your mother stood nearby, looking pale and worried. She had tried to calm him, but Aemond was beyond listening now.

“They mock me!” he shouted, his purple eyes blazing as he turned to you. “They gave me a pig, (your name). A pig with wings! Like I’m a joke!”

For a moment, you just stood there, unsure of what to say. You could see how much it hurt him. It wasn’t fair.

You walked up to him slowly, your small hand reaching out to touch his arm. “Aemond…” you said quietly, trying to sound brave. “They’re just being mean… but it’s not because of you. You’re going to get your dragon, I know it. And when you do, they won’t laugh anymore. You’ll be so much stronger than them.”

Aemond didn’t say anything at first, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white. “But when?” he muttered, his voice shaking. “When will it be my turn, (your name)? Everyone else has their dragons… and they treat me like I’m nothing.”

You could see the hurt in his eyes, the kind that words couldn’t fix. You took a deep breath and squeezed his arm gently. “I don’t know when, but it will happen. I promise. You’re not nothing, Aemond. You’re strong. You’re my big brother.”

His shoulders seemed to relax just a little, and he looked away, the fire in his eyes dimming. For a second, you thought he might feel better. But deep down, you didn’t know that his anger would only keep growing. Every joke, every cruel word was feeding a fire inside him that no one could see.

Laena was dead. She had faced complications during childbirth and, in the end, took matters into her own hands. She went to Vhagar and burned herself alive. You hadn’t seen her or your uncle Daemon since then; in fact, you had only seen him twice: once on your sixth name day, and now. You could feel how deeply this loss had shaken Rhaenyra; she wasn’t herself. Even if you didn’t want to admit it, you felt a heaviness too. Baela and Rhaena were there, their sorrow so clear it was almost suffocating, and Laenor seemed utterly lost.

You didn’t know what to do. You always tried to help everyone, but even now, you couldn’t see a way to make things better. The air was thick with grief, yet it felt distant—like a heavy fog that clouded every interaction but kept everyone apart. You walked slowly, the weight of your steps echoing on the stone floors of Driftmark. The silence seemed to carry the presence of Laena’s death in every corner of the hall. It was strange, surreal even, to be here at a time like this, when everything felt like it could unravel at any moment.

Daemon’s reaction puzzled you. His laughter during the ceremony had sent an eerie chill down your spine. Maybe it was his way of coping, or perhaps there was something darker within him. But that was Daemon—unpredictable and always impossible to fully understand, playing by his own rules.

You approached Baela and Rhaena, their small forms huddled together near the edge where the sea raged below. Their faces were pale, eyes red from crying, but they were silent now—their grief too deep for words. They looked so fragile, and it made your heart ache for them.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the wind. “I know I can’t make anything better, but I’m here if you ever need me.”

Baela gave a small nod, biting her lip, while Rhaena gripped her sister’s hand as if it were her lifeline. Their sorrow was overwhelming, but they remained silent, offering only a brief glance in your direction. You knew it was all they could manage right now. Still, you gave them a small, comforting smile, hoping it might bring them even the tiniest bit of comfort.

Your gaze shifted toward Daemon, who stood off to the side, staring blankly at the horizon. He seemed unfazed by the storm raging around him—the physical one or the emotional one. You couldn’t tell if he even cared or if this was just another chapter in his chaotic life—another loss in a sea of turmoil. Even at your age, you had heard the stories whispered about him: his first wife, the things he had done. But then, his gaze flickered toward you, and for a brief moment, your eyes met. Something passed between you—an understanding, maybe. No words were exchanged, but you smiled at him softly before turning away.

You moved toward Helaena, hoping her presence might offer some solace—or perhaps just a distraction. She stood alone, her eyes focused on a bug crawling on the ground, lost in her own world as always. There was something calming about being near her, a quietness that made the weight of the day seem a little less oppressive.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping beside her. She looked up at you, her eyes filled with a strange sort of wonder you couldn’t quite place.

You both stood there in silence for a while, just existing together. It felt easier that way, less forced. The grief that surrounded you seemed lighter when you were near her. Still, everything felt heavy, and the urge to escape—to be anywhere but here—grew stronger. The sea crashed violently below, the wind howled in the distance, and yet you stayed, tethered to the weight of your family, the expectations, the sorrow, and the unspoken pain that filled the air. For now, all you could do was stand and wait for the storm to pass.

Dreams filled your mind, peaceful and free from nightmares, until you heard voices and footsteps outside the room you were in. Curiosity quickly overtook caution, and despite knowing your mother would be furious, you decided to have a look around. Peeking out, you saw two heads of brown hair and two white ones—it was Baela, Rhaena, Jace, and Luke. But why were they outside at this hour? You hesitated, feeling a little nervous, but decided to follow them.

From one of the windows, you caught sight of him, Aemond. And Vhagar. He’d done it. He had claimed a dragon. You ran, trying to catch up with the others, but in your haste, you lost them for a moment. Unbeknownst to you, a knight had started following you, trying to usher you back to bed. But you were determined.

Then, you found them—and they were fighting. Aemond was holding a rock. Why? Why did he have a rock? What was happening? You were confused, your heart racing.

“Stop! What are you doing?!” you shouted, your voice desperate as you tried to understand the chaos in front of you.

Aemond turned to look at you, his face a mixture of anger and pain, but before he could respond, dust was thrown into his eyes.

And then it happened—the dagger slashed across his face, slicing through his eye.

“No! What have you done?!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, rushing towards Aemond, trying to help him, panic rising in your chest.

"Let me see, Prince, let me see," the knight said, appearing beside you as he tried to assist your brother, his voice urgent.

You were scared, your hands trembling as you reached out to Aemond, but there was nothing you could do. His eye was gone.

You were still trembling when the knight led you back into the hall where everyone had gathered. The air was thick with tension, and the weight of what had just happened made it hard to breathe. Your mother, Alicent, was standing over Aemond, her face twisted in a mixture of shock, grief, and fury. She had seen the wound, seen the blood pouring from her son's ruined eye. Aemond sat there, the maesters fussing over him, trying to stop the bleeding, but he remained calm—too calm. His face was eerily blank, as though he had already accepted his fate. But you hadn’t. You were still shaking, the image of the dagger slicing through his eye burned into your mind. And yet, the horror of it all was drowned out by the fear rising inside you. You feared her. You feared Rhaenyra.

Alicent's voice rang out, sharp and unwavering, as she demanded justice. "An eye for an eye," she declared, her voice filled with a cold rage you hadn’t seen in her before. "They have maimed my son! They must pay for this!"

You tried to shrink back, standing near the edge of the room, trying to stay out of sight, but Aemond wouldn't let you, holding your hand more tightly and looking at you with his now only eye. You didn’t want to be part of this, but there was no escaping it. The words your mother had whispered so many times before now echoed in your head, louder than ever. 'Rhaenyra is dangerous.' 'Her sons are a threat to you and your siblings. They will stop at nothing.'

And as much as you didn’t want to believe it, after what had just happened, you felt that maybe your mother had been right all along. Rhaenyra stood across the room, tense and defensive, her eyes flashing with worry for Jace and Luke. Sometimes she tried to look into your eyes, but you always looked away.

You didn’t understand. She had always been so kind to you, and you had always liked her. You could even say that you wished she were your mother instead of Alicent. And Jace and Luke had always played with you, promising they would be kinder to your brother. But now, with Aemond’s blood staining the floor, you saw something different in her—a danger that you hadn’t seen before; their promises were all fake.

“I demand justice,” Alicent said again, stepping forward, her eyes locked on Rhaenyra. Your heart pounded in your chest as you watched, unable to tear your eyes away.

King Viserys stood between them, his face pale with exhaustion and grief. He tried to calm the storm, but you could feel the fury radiating from your mother.

“I will have one of her sons’ eyes!” she cried, her voice trembling with emotion. She was wild with rage, desperate for justice. You had never seen her like this before, and it terrified you.

Viserys shouted for calm, trying to bring order to the chaos, but it was no use. Alicent was already reaching for the dagger at his side.

You gasped, your small hands covering your mouth as you watched in horror, taking your hand away from Aemond’s hand. Your mother, the woman who had always taught you to be measured and composed, was now lunging for Rhaenyra with a blade in hand. You wanted to scream, but the words caught in your throat. You were frozen in place, too scared to move. The clash was swift and brutal. Rhaenyra caught Alicent’s wrist before the blade could strike, and the two women stood there, locked in a furious struggle.

“You’ve gone too far, Alicent,” Rhaenyra hissed, her voice low and dangerous.

For the first time, you saw the true divide between them. And you realised, in that moment, that this wasn’t just a fight over Aemond’s eye. It was about power, about the throne, and in that moment, you didn't know that it was also about you.

“You see now, do you?” Alicent’s voice wavered, her eyes burning with a mix of heartbreak and rage as she looked at Rhaenyra. “Everyone can see now what you truly are.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stood there, too young to fully understand the depth of the betrayal, but old enough to know that nothing would ever be the same. You thought of all the times you had laughed with Jace and Luke, how you had always felt safe around Rhaenyra. But now, doubt gnawed at you. Maybe your mother was right; Rhaenyra was truly dangerous. You now saw that you were a threat to her throne, just as much as your brothers and sister were.

Aemond’s voice cut through the chaos, calm and cold, chilling the room. “It was a fair exchange,” he said, his one remaining eye burning with defiance. “I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Even Alicent froze, her dagger still clutched in her hand, as everyone turned to look at Aemond. His words were final, like the closing of a chapter.

And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that now everything had changed, that you no longer saw Rhaenyra as you once had. Now you despised her, despised Jacaerys, and despised Lucerys.

You didn’t trust them now.

Pt. 3>> (Coming Soon)

Author's Note: Hi everyone! I apologize for the delay in updates; as a full-time college student, I have a lot of assignments to juggle. I promise I’ll try to be quicker with my posts from now on. I’ve also added a poll to my profile where you can vote on whether (your name) will have a dragon, and if so, which one. If you don’t want to participate, that’s completely fine! Thank you for your understanding and for reading!

Tag list: @ursinaw @dakota-rain666 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @pookiedragonfire @jjggdfvvy @maryldrsstuff @1soultaken

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 3 months ago

Note

OMG no way are you going to write an AU of Daemon's visions at Harrenhal??? I know its AAAAAGES away from where you are in the current story but desperate hos wanna kno ;)

Ask, and ye shall receive!

until i bleed myself dry

Note: This is technically using the characters/characterisation I have established in my terms of endearment series, but really you only need to know that the Reader is Rhaenyra's younger sister and that, instead of marrying Laena, he spent a decade ho-ing it up in Pentos before coming home and getting dazzled by his niece before deciding to wife dat gurl.

WARNING: Please note this is dark, dark stuff. Discretion is advised. Please use your judgement wisely before engaging.

Triggers: graphic depictions of violence, violence against children, character d*ath, MAJOR hallucinations, sexual scenes including visibly underaged character/s.

There is something fucking wrong with this place.

Daemon feels like a skittish child as he withdraws to his chambers, covers drawn up to his neck like the fabric will keep away the very worst of midnight evils. He does not know if the steady drip, drip, drip he hears is in his head or if the stone ceiling is cracked enough to let through the rain. Knowing Harrenhal, he would hardly be surprised by the latter. Still, the noise only serves to speed the racing of his thoughts, turning them fearful as he has not felt since the weakness of his youth.

In this moment, he curses his own doings. If he had stayed his hand—if he had held his tongue—the boy would not be dead, and mayhaps you would not be so wroth with him. He would not be alone in this shithole of a keep a world away, chilled to the bone and miserable as he thinks of you warm and safe in your bed with the children. Without him.

When he finally falls asleep, he dreams.

He knows it is a dream, for he can hear your humming. Soft, sweet, the kind of tune you sing to Daeryx after one of his tantrums. His head lifts from the pillow and he finds himself back in your shared rooms on Dragonstone, eyes finding you in the chair by the hearth. Your hair, unbound, shines like molten amber in the firelight, swaying softly as you tend to business that is concealed from his gaze. Enthralled, he rises, making his way to you.

Drip, drip, drip.

He pauses. That sound… it doesn’t belong here. He calls your name. You ignore him. He moves closer, tentative.

“Come look,” you murmur suddenly, startling him. “Come, kepus.”

His feet move unbidden, out of his control.

Bile pools at the back of his throat, gut curdling at the sight of the boy—the boy—cradled in your lap. You and he are wet with blood, and it drip, drip, drips to the floor, echoing eerily. His eyes are open, face petrified, and Daemon realises that the dark at his neck is not in fact a shadow but a gaping wound, made jagged by the weapon used.

You look up at him, skin shining with sweat and expression exultant. “Look at him, kepus. Look at what you made.”

Memory flashes—he brings his son back down to rest beside his daughter on your lap, two moonshine miracles side by side. “Look at them, kepus,” you whisper, spellbound. “Look at what we made”—and his lungs constrict. You make to lift the child up, but the movement jostles his head off its perch, and it rolls to the ground to stop by his feet. He cannot move. He is frozen, horrified.

You smile, tucking the headless corpse under your chin. Gore pulses against your throat as your chin settles to the yawning maw of the child’s open neck. You rock in your seat, a faint squelch each time your shifting weight disturbs the sodden cushion beneath you.

“I love him,” you whisper, lips pressing to where flesh meets innards. Your mouth comes away red. “I love him so much.”

Daemon awakens with a yell. He swallows once, twice, and then—

He leans over the side of the bed, retching violently. When it is over, he curls up on his side, shaking, staring at his hands. They are wet with blood.

It does not take long for terror to settle in his bones like a longtime companion. It follows him each day, in every waking moment, manifesting in strange visions that he knows—he knows—must be untrue, cannot possibly be real, and yet… And yet. There is a sort of verity in them.

Dark Sister feels like a leaden weight at his hip as he stalks the keep, a reminder of his earlier encounter with Rhaenyra. Only she was not the Rhaenyra he knows, and instead a strange sort of blend of child-queen, the face of the girl peering out accusingly from under her father’s too-large crown, exclaiming all manner of hurt as she stepped from the Iron Throne upon which she perched.

“You put me on that throne. And you love me, and you hate me for it. You created me, Daemon. Yet you are now set on destroying me. All because your brother loved me more than he did you.”

And, without warning, he had taken his blade up in arms and struck off her head, a puppet on strings pulled by another. As her body fell, it morphed into the boy again. Jaehaerys. The child he had murdered. He heard your humming even while Simon Strong’s voice filtered through his unconscious mind, alerting him of the raven that just arrived.

The healer woman’s concoctions have helped little. He still wakes to strange noises, still finds himself stalking after his monstrous one-eyed nephew down the halls, only to find that it is himself he is pursuing. He hears the words you yelled at him in that last great quarrel— “get away, leave before you turn on us and murder us like you murdered that boy”—interspersed with the sound of your screams, and perhaps they are the screams you let out when birthing his children, or perhaps they are screams of a different kind, a version of himself making good on the implication of your words, steel in hand and pursuing his love, his life, his blood—

These figments blur with reality to the point that he becomes unsure of what is before him and what exists only in his head to haunt him. He comes to dread the resting hours, only to find their horrors bleeding into daylight. Whatever strange power has come to roost in his mind serves only to bring him torment.

Perhaps this is why he is not immediately suspicious when he comes face-to-face with you once more.

You stand by the window, the dim light filtering weakly over your bare form. Your back is to him, curls spilling to brush the tops of your buttocks. Their gentle sway—the barest kiss to your skin—is tantalising, and his mouth dries even as he watches your neck crane, sly smile tossed back over your shoulder at him.

“Daemon,” you beckon. Like a cuntstruck fool, he is helpless to resist the call.

His hands settle to the familiar divots of your waist, up and up and up to cup the fullness of your tits. You lean into him, a quiet huff of pleasure escaping as his fingers squeeze and his lips fall unbidden to the slope of your jaw. He inhales deeply, stirred even now by the simplicity of your scent, a throbbing line straight to his groin. You turn in his hold, nose nuzzling against his chin.

“You were right,” you say, eyes shining. “You were always right.”

He is under some enchantment, surely, for he is incapable of coherent speech. All he can do is feel the satisfaction heat his veins, allow it to tug at the corner of his mouth. I knew it, he thinks. I knew her will would bend eventually.

You speak still, even as he backs you toward the bed. “Papa was weak. Rhaenyra is weak. Only you are the true blood of the dragon.”

You shift backward onto the mattress, legs parting invitingly. The split of you opens, revealing flushed folds and the teasing glimmer of want, shining slick for his hungered gaze.

“Fearless”—your hand trails down your belly, fingers tracing around your pearl—“brave”—you venture lower, pressing teasingly at your cunt, your lip caught between your teeth—“strong.”

Daemon drops to his knees before you, tongue licking through the spill and catching on your finger. He bullies it out of the way, arms locking around your thighs as he gluts himself on the sweet tang of you, senses clouding and narrowing to a singular point of existence. You grip his hair, the arches of your feet digging against his back.

“It is not my place to question you,” you breathe, twisting and writhing with his ministrations. He watches your face, enraptured by the toss of your head and the shape of your lips as they form moan after moan. Your release is quick, a final sobbing yelp followed by a flood of slick warmth. When your eyes reopen, they are blazing with reverence. Reverence for him. Your knees flex up, your lower half folded almost to your chest. Your cunt contracts, fluttering like the wings of a butterfly. “I live to serve you, my king.”

His head feels heavy as he rises just barely to crawl over you. He frowns. When he lifts his hand to extricate yours from his hair, he finds not flesh, but cool metal. A crown.

“My king,” you coo below him.

Your surroundings are changed. It is not the meagre offerings of Harrenhal that frame you now, but the sumptuous trimmings of the king’s chambers in the Red Keep, only brighter, more lavish than they ever have been. Jewels sparkle at your throat, in your hair, at your wrists. The sheets are molten gold against your silver-pale, and you wind your hips up at him provocatively, catching his cockhead against your opening.

“You belong on the throne, husband,” you say, fist closing around his shaft and pumping once, twice. You lead him back to the core of you, nudging him just inside. “Uncle. My love. And I belong at your side—at your feet—under your body.”

“My queen,” he gasps, driving forward with a grunt, and oh, he has missed you, missed this, missed the clutch of your walls like a mother’s embrace and the sound of your breathy cries as he plunges deep. Plunges home.

“My king,” you call out, rising into him with unrestrained abandon, precious gems clinking frantically with each fevered hitch of his hips against yours. “My lord. My master. I was made for you.”

“Yes…”

“Chain me to this bed, my king.” Your spine arches toward him, hands grabbing for his own and leading them above your head. He takes this for the encouragement it is, pinning your wrists to the pillow and rutting harder. You shout, elbows flexing to no avail. “Give to me my purpose. Give me your heirs.”

He is helpless to stop the noises escaping his mouth, feral and uninhibited, fucking with near painful intent. You take it all, curving yourself deeper, holding yourself more open so that he may lay claim to his conquest. As only a king can.

“And when I have birthed one,” you say, though now it is more a prolonged keening sound, “give me another. Never stop. Oh! Make me—make me take it—”

He does not know if he is imagining it or if it is happening before his eyes, but he can see it: ruling the Seven Kingdoms, sitting the Iron Throne the way his brother never could, striding down the halls of the keep as the commons bow and scrape to their sovereign, bursting into his chambers after small council to find his queen, to find you where you always are, naked in his bed and belly round and leaking milky white between your thighs, for it is his kingly law that the only part you play here is this, waiting for him to find you and fuck you and fill you and keep you, his little niecewifequeenpet—

He snarls, pulsing and burning. You squeal as he pushes past onslaught and straight to violence, bodies colliding so forcefully that his bones ache and his brain feels like jelly wobbling in his skull. What leaves his mouth can only be bestial in nature now. “I’ll make you—”

“Yes, make me take it until I cannot. Until my cunt is ruined by you.” He feels his end rushing up with every word you wail, his joints locking and grinding and gut roiling with the anticipation of it. “Until my womb is destroyed. Until I bleed myself dry, my king. Only for you.”

“Wha—”

The horror of it escapes him, for it is too late: the release crashes on him like a tidal wave, shoving him below its surface and imprisoning him in its current. He makes a noise like a wounded boar, chasing through the high despite the alarm in his mind, so at odds with the soaring rhythm in his loins.

You laugh, tilting welcomingly to receive him. “Make me bleed, my king. Make me bleed like my mother.”

It is enough to chill the heat in his blood to ice, destroying any semblance of enjoyment. But he cannot stop the unsteady eking out of what remains of his peak. He tries, but he cannot stop.

“No,” he says, a contradiction to the enthusiasm of his flesh prison. “No, no, I cannot. No—”

“What do you mean?” you ask, a strange quality to it. A duality. It crystallises into something comprehensible with every word that comes from your lips. All at once, it is not your voice he hears, but something much higher, younger, blending and overlapping with the cadence he recognises. “You already have.”

He looks down as he makes his final groaning thrusts, only to feel his stomach drop through the floor. Your thighs are soaked in blood, his cock sluicing a path through it all the while. All that flesh covered in red, and he glances up, only to see that you are gone, you are replaced by someone so small, so frightfully small, and he realises you are not replaced, it is you, but it is a you he has not seen for well over ten years, eyes wide and frightened and gleaming like game stuck through by an arrow and taking its final breath.

Daemon rears back, but it is too late. You begin to cry. A dark patch spreads out from underneath your broken body, from where he had torn your fragile opening apart. What have I done? he thinks.

“It hurts, kepus,” you say. “It hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, fixed to stillness by revulsion. “I’m sorry. I never meant to—”

“But you did,” you insist, childish pout despite your obvious agony.

Your hands reach out, and he leans away, too horrified to touch you—and he doesn’t know if it is you or he that he is more afraid of in this moment—but you are not searching through the air for him, no. Instead, a bundled weight is settled in them, and you bring it into the crook of your arms, gripping it as though it is the most precious of objects. You smooth the fabric from the top of it to reveal a tiny head of silver hair. The babe gurgles and roots at your flat chest, absurd and awful.

“This is what you wanted,” you say, eyes filled with betrayal. “Am I going to die now, kepus?”

Your Grace…

He shakes his head, but he is no fool. You are too little to withstand the sheer volume of blood you have lost if the bedding is anything to go by. He feels it stain his legs. He feels it drying on his cock.

“Your Grace?”

“I will, though. I’m too young. You’ve killed me.” The babe begins to suckle, and you cry harder. Your body isn’t built for this task, not yet, not like this. He wants to protest, to tell you that this is not his work, cannot be, for he has and would never do something so foul, so wholly inhuman, that the you he has gotten with child has only ever been a woman grown, but it is like you know his thoughts for you scoff and say, “You’re lying to yourself. I was always too young. You just refused to see it.”

He stares down at you, immobile, unable to even think. The metallic scent of your life leaving you fills the air, floods his nostrils with stinging heat.

“… Your Grace?”

Daemon jolts, blinking. Ser Simon Strong looks back at him. “Is the duck not to your liking, Your Grace?”

All at once, you are gone. The king’s chambers are gone. He is not even within his dank chambers at Harrenhal. Instead, he sits at the table in what passes for the dining hall here, a plate full of food steaming before him. The smell makes him ill.

“There’s also goose, if you’d prefer…”

He swallows, trying to ground himself in the present. Voices waft all around him, but he finds it difficult to pay attention.

“I’m not hungry,” he says shortly. It sounds stronger than he feels.

A pause, and then—

Simon clears his throat, turning to his companions. “I was saying, given the rather dire news…”

Daemon tries to concentrate. He does. He knows the others are speaking of matters of utmost importance. Of Rook’s Rest, of his nephew, of the war. But his mind can only turn over his encounter—his vision? His nightmare? Or is it merely truth finally unveiled to unworthy eyes?—with you, the last of your words haunting him near to madness.

“I was always too young. You just refused to see it.”

He has grown restless here, revolving between the frustration of securing an army from those who see naught in him but the very worst and the torment of these terrible visions that seek him out at their pleasure, heedless of his duty or desire. Tedium or terror—when he is entrenched in one, he wishes for the other, and there is always a sick sort of irony in the granting of said wishes. In truth, he is able enough to tolerate the resistance of these riverlanders, insulting as it is. The phantasms that pursue him have almost become too much to bear.

What is worse? The accusations from the mouth of a juvenile Rhaenyra, full of admonishments for the way he’d so thoroughly undermined her claim before she ever got the right to exercise it? The condemnations from Viserys, a retracing of steps trod so long ago, brought to life once more and forcing Daemon to relive the very worst of his brother? The boy’s laughter darting through the stone halls, an ominous prelude to the sickening sound of steel sawing through skin and the rolling of his head, landing always at the feet of the one responsible for his fate?

They are all bad enough as they are, but for the simple fact that they do not surprise him. Monster, they call him, and he wears the name well. In most all aspects, he is a monster. But never has he thought himself monstrous to you.

He has come to despise the sight of you here, sometimes docile and worshipful, sometimes angered and raving. Sometimes you appear as a siren come to lure him to iniquity, and like a fool he always falls into the trap. Other times, you are battered, caged, a shell of yourself. No matter how it begins, the end is always the same: bloodied, beaten, fading from the world, and it is always his hands he finds the cause of it in. A new reminder every time of all the ways he has thought of taking you, owning you, keeping you. Always, he thinks to save you—to protect you. Always, he destroys you.

Just as he thinks himself finally driven to the edge of all reason, the Rivers woman beckons him to the godswood.

“When you came here,” she says, “you were a closed fist. You wished to bend the world to your will. But you’ve discovered, I think, that… this world will not be governed. There are omens here for those who seek them.”

She pauses. The air seems to whisper, to creak in the dark. Daemon suppresses the urge to shiver. Her eyes move to him, an odd little quirk to her mouth. Amusement, he thinks. Or pity.

“You do not scoff?” she asks.

How can he, after all he has seen here? He has been brought to the very edge of sanity by these omens. What irony, it is, after the great complaints he has made of superstition in past weeks (and months, and years).

“I’m no longer inclined to,” is his short reply.

She laughs. “I’m pleased to hear it.”

She stops before the heart tree and turns to him, expression solemn.

“Do you wish, then, to learn what is given to you?” The answer must lie in his face, for he cannot do anything but stare, silent, tense. “All your life, you have sought to command your own fate”—she takes his hand—“but today, you are ready.”

Gentle pressure at his wrist, and something in him knows to move past her, to take those final few steps so that he is close enough to make out the details of the face carved into the wood. His arm raises by itself, acting on its own power, or perhaps some higher power, his fingers brushing bark and the hot pulse of… blood? But he has no time to truly question it for—

He is flying—

No—

He is a raven, staring at the face of a pale-haired man with a wine-dark stain on his face and he flies into the forest, towards an army, only there is something wrong with the soldiers, they are blue and their eyes glow ice-cold and their breath is frosted with death and their bodies carry the look of corpses stood upright once more—

And then the dragons are dead, all of them, the ground wet not with water but with blood and he walks through it, falls straight into the ground and he is drowning, steel plate armour dragging him down into the depths and he looks up at the sky—

A red comet bursts through the air, hot like fire, and he sees eggs embroiled in flame, a girl sat in ash cradling the bodies of three newly-hatched dragons, a whisper of a memory on the air, “we are the only ones able to bring the fire to life… It is the secret”—

And he is before the Iron Throne, suddenly silent.

Rhaenyra stands before the seat. Viserys’s crown is in his hands. She moves toward him, down the stairs of the throne. He hears her speak.

“From my blood…”

But she does not finish. A roaring conflagration engulfs her and she screams, twisting and warping before him, burning, only not, because you step from the flames, unburnt, voice mingling with that of your sister’s, a haunting echo.

“… come the Prince Who Was Promised…”

You are before him, taking the crown from his grasp and retracing the steps your sister took, and then you are stepping over a charred body, Rhaenyra, oh gods, and ascending the steps. You sit. You lift the crown. You place it on your head.

“… and his shall be the song of ice and fire.”

He is on his knees now, right on that final step at your feet. He feels the warmth of you as you bend forward, your palm caressing his jaw. You look otherworldly in the shadow, backlit silver and gold and wearing a king’s accoutrements far better than any of your predecessors.

“You know what must happen now, Uncle,” you say gently, kindly. “You know what you must do.”

He bows his head to kiss your ring—the seal of the king—no, the queen—and then wind is whistling in his ears, chilling him to the bone and spraying his hair about wildly, so much so that he can barely hear the words yelled at him by the boy sitting astride Vhagar.

“You have lived too long, nuncle.”

—and he wrenches away, panting, body collapsing before the heart tree like a puppet with its strings cut. The world comes back to him in fragments: the scent of dirt and woodlands, the sharp sting of cold, the ache in his muscles that has since settled like sludge at the bottom of a river, ever-present and persisting. Finally, finally, he withdraws with hands washed clean, free of his many sins.

At last, he has come to the crux of it. At last, he understands.

He sits at the base of the tree, stunned and overcome, as faint words slither on the breeze, a final knell from the liminal space of prophecy. Your name. A cheer.

“Long live the queen! Long live the queen!”

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aphroditelovesu · 11 months ago

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Yandere Viserys I Targaryen w/Second Wife!Reader Headcanons (Romantic)

❝ 🐉 — lady l: Happy New Year!!! First headcanons of the year and I hope you like it. I hope you have a great year, good things come to you and good reading! Forgive me for any mistakes ❤️✨️.

❝tw: unspecified age gap, overprotection, not compatible with canon and Reader is the mother of Aegon, Helaena, Daeron and Aemond.

❝🐉pairing: yandere!viserys i targaryen x female!reader.

Viserys never wanted to remarry after the death of his beloved Aemma. The idea of replacing her with another woman made him sick. He didn't want to get married again, but he was the King and he had his obligations to the Realm. To have a strong bloodline and strengthen the House Targaryen.

Although he didn't like the idea, Viserys after a period of time began looking for a potential bride. He received several powerful offers, such as the Velaryon and the Hightower, but he did not feel comfortable marrying Lady Laena or Lady Alicent.

So he kept looking and that's how he met you. An attractive young woman, but older than the last ones, and from a house powerful enough to provide strength to the Realm. Viserys was immediately attracted to you and knew he wanted to marry you.

The preparations were made quickly and well, Viserys was excited to be able to call you his wife, but in the days before the wedding, he spent time by your side, getting to know you better.

With that, Viserys found out as much as he could about you, about your childhood, your family, and your likes and dislikes. He was more than pleased, especially seeing that you were as interested in history as he was.

Rhaenyra also liked you, although she was apprehensive about the idea of a stepmother, about the possibility of you providing a male heir, she liked you. You were kind to her and assured her that even if you have a son, you will not try to replace her on the Throne.

When you became the second wife of Viserys, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, he was already in love. Much faster than he would like to admit, Viserys was already in your domain and became yours even sooner than anticipated. At first, he felt guilty, guilty that he might be betraying Aemma's memory, but quickly, those thoughts went away. Aemma was dead and you were alive.

Viserys was more than happy to see that you and his daughter were getting along, it made him feel relieved inside. He couldn't wait to have children with you, to grow his family. When he learned of your first pregnancy, Viserys almost cried with happiness, but there was concern. What if you died during childbirth? He couldn't take another loss, couldn't lose you.

You were very much in love with each other, you had learned to love your husband and he was deeply in love with you. Your mannerisms, your personality, everything enchanted him. Your favorite moments together were when you talked about history, whether it was your House or House Targaryen. Viserys cherished every moment, every smile and look shared.

When you gave birth to a healthy son, Aegon, Viserys was very happy, not only because he had a son, but because you were alive and the birth was peaceful. The next pregnancies were no different, with Helaena, Daeron and Aemond.

You assured him, assure Rhaenyra, that you would not let Aegon usurp or anything like that happen when it was time for Rhaenyra to take the Throne. You adored your stepdaughter and she adored you too, seeing you as a second mother. Viserys would never admit it, but if you asked, he would name Aegon his heir if that was your wish. This shows how much he is in love with you.

You tried your best to fulfill your duties as Queen, mother and wife as best you could, discouraging any possible rivalry the children might have and reassuring your support for Viserys and your stepdaughter. Your main priority was to avoid a war. You presided over the Small Council, advising your husband as best you could.

You hold all power over Viserys, it soon became clear to everyone who really ruled the Seven Kingdoms. You could ask for anything, from the most insignificant to the most absurd thing, and Viserys would fulfill it instantly.

He is extremely overprotective, Viserys fears losing you more than anything and every time you have an entire armada comes out after you. When you are sick, he sends the best maesters to take care of you and will not leave your side until you get better.

If something were to happen to you or one of your children, may the gods be good. Viserys tries his best to avoid war and resolve any conflict with diplomacy, but all that changes when it comes to you. Any insult to you is like an insult to him and any way of hurting you will not be taken lightly.

No matter how peaceful he is, no matter how calm and rational, Viserys is still a Targaryen, a dragon and you should never mess with one of them if they don't want to get burn. Not only will you have your overprotective husband by your side, but also your children who love you deeply and will do anything for you.

You are not Aemma's replacement and Viserys doesn't think so. He thinks of you as yourself and loves you for it. He will always love Aemma, but he loves you in a different way. A more overprotective and possessive way. He can't lose you and he won't.

#hotd #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #asoiaf #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #yandere asoiaf #asoiaf x reader #yandere Viserys I Targaryen #yandere Viserys I Targaryen x reader #yandere Viserys I Targaryen Headcanons #headcanons #yandere headcanons #viserys i targaryen x reader #Viserys targaryen x reader #yandere viserys targaryen #yandere Viserys targaryen x reader #yandere a song of ice and fire

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drgnmnts · 4 months ago

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knuckles bruised (like violets) │ jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!OC

Title: knuckles bruised (like violets)

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen!OC (Daenys Targaryen, daughter of Viserys I Targaryen and Alicent Hightower)

Summary: There is no war so hateful to the gods as a war between kin, especially for those caught in between, longing only for peace as they're met with fire and blood.

_______________________________________________

Chapter 1 - Child's Play

Word count: 1.7K

Born during a warm summer storm, Daenys Targaryen came into the world only one year after her brother Aemond, unaware that her arrival would be met with her father’s painful indifference and an ever-present frown on her mother’s brow. Daenys spent the first years of her life wondering what it could be that made her parents treat her so. The possibility of being an unwanted child quickly dissipated after Daeron was welcomed with warm caresses and kind smiles. She considered that her gender might be the reason for such treatment, but her mother doted on Helaena, and every one of her peculiarities was watched endearingly by the rest. Daenys even proved herself extraordinary when, at the age of nine, she claimed Silverwing, one of the largest dragons in the history of Westeros. This achievement earned her the praise of her uncle Daemon and the jealousy of Aemond, but to her mother, it was just another source of worry rather than a remarkable feat.

The answer came to her one morning as the maids made her and Helaena’s beds, unaware that she was still in the room, looking for a book: she resembled Rhaenyra too closely in her youth. Unfortunately, there was nothing Daenys could do to fix the issue her parents saw in her, for it was intrinsic to her very being. To her father, she was a disappointment, a feeble attempt at replacing the realm’s former delight; to her mother, a constant reminder of the girl she grew up with, a friend turned adversary she both despised and deeply missed in equal measure.

It was oddly liberating for Daenys to realize that it wasn’t something she had caused or could change, making any blame directed towards her utterly senseless. With time, Daenys learned to ignore their judgmental gazes, cutting remarks, and outright indifference. It hurt, yes, but Daenys was a dragon, and dragons had thick skin—thicker even than the armor of Aegon the Conqueror.

She was now eleven, still a girl, but one who carried herself with regal composure and a dignity beyond her years. Daenys had long lost interest in her sibling’s squabbles or her nephew’s frolics: she only found true enjoyment in riding Silverwing. Her dragon was a magnificent beast, doing justice to her name with her silver scales that covered the entirety of her body, surpassed in size only by the old and mighty Vhagar. Unlike Laena Velaryon’s dragon, Silverwing was an affable and docile creature, considered friendly by the Dragonkeepers, which made sense given that her previous rider had been Good Queen Alysanne. Claiming Silverwing had given her a sense of belonging she had yearned for in her early childhood, reminding her that it did not matter what others saw in her: she was a Targaryen princess in her own right, a unique dragonrider with her own life and her own story. She might resemble her half-sister, but she was not her.

Despite her obvious inability to treat Daenys as she deserved, Queen Alicent found comfort in her daughter’s disregard for the Velaryon boys. This indifference was, of course, a result of the poison Alicent had been dripping into Daenys’ ear all her life, perhaps in an attempt to draw her girl away from Rhaenyra as much as possible. The Queen was fearful that her daughter would discover she had more in common with the King’s firstborn than just appearance, and her sons were the first tie she made sure to cut before it could bind them together. Thus, while Helaena played with little Lucerys and Aegon bickered with Jacaerys, Daenys simply ignored them, regarding the bastard boys as unworthy of her attention.

As Silverwing landed in the Dragonpit, her song alerting the Dragonkeepers that the Princess had returned from her morning ride, Daenys was met with her brother Aemond already there, watching. The egg placed in his cradle at birth had never hatched, and the boy still hadn’t found the courage in him to claim one of the wild ones. Daenys often thought about how unfair it was, since Aemond was more than eager to be a dragonrider, yet he might never know what it feels like to bond with one.

“Mother is cross with you,” he informed his sister as she patted Silverwing’s head, the dragon answering with a contented murmur.

“I wonder why,” Daenys replied, showing no sign of concern over her brother’s words.

“You didn’t break your fast with us. You know she does not like it.”

“Ah, yes… I didn’t want to listen to them fighting about Rhaenyra’s baby,” she said, “has she had it yet?”

Aemond nodded and walked with his sister through the dark corridors connecting the Dragonpit to the Red Keep, his back straight, always trying to make himself look taller than he actually was.

“Yes. Another boy. Healthy and strong.”

At her brother’s comment, Daenys snorted. It was an ongoing joke between her and her brothers how Rahenyra’s offspring looked nothing like Laenor Velaryon and way too much like Ser Harwin Strong, the Commander of the City Watch. It was an insult to the realm, something Daenys condemned greatly, often using her mother’s words when discussing the issue with her siblings.

“I’ll apologize to mother, then. She must be upset enough as it is,” the girl stated, stopping at the door to her chambers. She was in urgent need of a bath, especially if she was planning to visit her mother. “I’ll be studying with Helaena in the afternoon, if you’d like to join.”

Aemond shook his head, his eyes kind when he looked at his sister.

“Aegon’s asked me to accompany him to see how they feed Vermax. I don’t want to, but…”

“It’s alright, Aemond. Your moment will come, I’m sure of it,” she comforted him. “I wish mother would let us sail to Dragonstone… you could try to claim Vermithor. He coils with Silverwing when we fly to the Dragonmont, but never lets me get close.”

The idea had crossed Aemond’s mind more times than he cared to admit: their great-grandfather, Jahaerys I, had ridden Vermithor, just as his sister-wife Alysanne had ridden Silverwing. Their reign had been a peaceful and prosperous one, and the pair had loved each other dearly. It was a nice thought, one that Aemond indulged in whenever he pictured himself as a man: riding one of the largest dragons in the world, with his sister by his side.

A beautiful dream, but a childish one.

The door opened suddenly, a maid letting the Princess know that her bath was ready. With a squeeze on his arm, Daenys said goodbye to her brother and disappeared behind the heavy wooden doors.

_______________________________________________

Queen Alicent was too busy feeling outraged by Princess Rhaenyra’s indecency, so Daenys avoided her mother’s scolding without much effort. Daenys was sitting next to Helaena, who was lost in her thoughts, explaining the various facts she knew about the bug she was examining. It was obvious that Alicent found her daughter’s explanations odd and perhaps a bit disturbing, but Daenys appreciated that at least her mother was making an effort to understand her, something that most people chose not to do. Listening to her sister’s voice, Daenys paid little attention to the book resting on her legs, a story about Valyrian customs. Helaena was a good sister, despite her distant mind and how little they had in common: where Daenys was daring and audacious, Helaena was calmer and gentler, both in speech and action. Sometimes, Daenys wished she could be a bit more like her sister; perhaps that way her mother would love her a little more.

“It has eyes, though… I don’t believe it can see,” Helaena explained, the centipede walking freely through her hands.

“And why do you think that is?” their mother asked.

“It is beyond our understanding,” she replied.

“Perhaps to cry for its own ugliness,” Daenys joked, and she could have sworn she saw the ghost of a laugh cross her mother’s features.

The door burst open, and a guard stepped inside the room, carrying Aemond by the arm. He was crying and covered in ash.

“After how many times you’ve been warned, must I confine you to your chambers?!” their mother scolded him, grabbing him by the arms to ensure he was unharmed.

“I just-,” he tried, but was quickly cut off by Alicent.

“What were you doing down there alone?”

Aemond’s eyes darted towards Daenys, which was enough for Alicent to draw her own conclusions.

“Again?!” she roared, letting go of Aemond and speeding toward Daenys. She grabbed her arm and pulled her up by the sleeve of her dress. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop filling your brother’s head with fantasies about those beasts?!”

“I didn’t! I just told him he would claim a dragon someday, it’s not-”

“As if he needed more encouragement!”

The grip Alicent had on her daughter’s arm started to hurt, and tears began to prickle at the corners of Daenys’ eyes.

“Mother, it wasn’t Daenys,” Aemond tried to defend his sister. “She encouraged me to claim a dragon, yes, but I wouldn’t have gone down to the Dragonpit had it not been for their teasing…”

“Whose?” the Queen inquired.

“Aegon,” Helaena chimed in, her eyes still observing her bugs, but somehow able to pinpoint the culprit right away.

“Yes, and… those bastards…” Aemond added, his voice barely a whisper when he pronounced the word. “They made fun of me, tricked me into believing they had found me a dragon and it… it was a pig,” he explained, visibly embarrassed.

It was only after realizing that it had been the boys who had pushed Aemond to act so recklessly that Alicent became aware of the strength she was using to hold her daughter’s arm. She immediately let go. Daenys’ face was red and her eyes watery, but the girl hadn’t uttered a word of protest to her mother’s abuse.

Alicent sighed, and for a moment she looked older than she was.

“Go wash, Aemond,” the Queen commanded her son, who turned on his heel immediately, making his way to his quarters. “We shall finish later, yes?” she proposed to Helaena, who had been a mere witness to the whole spectacle. She bent down to kiss her eldest daughter’s head and, without sparing Daenys a single look, left the girls’ chambers. It was only in Helaena’s solitary company that Daenys allowed herself to cry. Her arm hurt, but what hurt the most was that not a single day went by without her mother scolding her for something she had done or said.

“Don’t cry, Daenys,” she heard Helaena say after some time, her gentle fingers combing through her little sister's hair. “None of this will matter soon.”

_______________________________________________

No Jace in this chapter, but he's coming! I just wanted to set the tone a bit and introduce our lovely Daenys.

If you liked this, let me know in any way! :)

#game of thrones #house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon x oc #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys x reader #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon x reader #hotd #knuckles bruised (like violets)

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2rats1gogh · 8 months ago

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I’ve never really seen anyone talking about this, but I noticed that one of the main reasons why I am team green is because team green feels like an actual team that is in this whole thing together.

Team Green feels connected, united, like a family.

Team Black on the other hand is… meh.

And let me explain why:

Rhaenyra being delusional and thinking that Daemon is actually in love with her when he literally just groomed her since she was a child because he has always been after her title and now wants to be her king consort. They have one of the most toxic, creepy and problematic relationships in the entire fucking show.

Then there is the very awkward and uncomfortable moment of Rhaenyra and Daemon having sex on Laena’s funeral, while Rhaenys, Corlys, Baela, Rhaena and Laenor are mourning the loss of their daughter, mother and sister. How fucking disrespectful is this. And then the fact that they have Laenor “killed” just so they can get married and have their own perfectly blonde targaryen babies.

And Rhaenyra lying about Jace, Luke and Joff to everyone in her very own “team”, trying to gaslight not only Corlys, and Rhaenys but also her own sons into thinking they are trueborn, when even Jace himself. as a child, starts asking questions.

Then there are obviously Rhaenys and Corlys, who for some fucking reason neglected their trueborn granddaughters in favor of some dark haired white bastards their daughter-in-law is trying to pass off as their son’s children. Rhaenys is trying sooo hard to please her misogynistic husband because he so desperately wants his name to go down in history. Then the disrespectful betrothal of Jace and Luke to Baela and Rhaena. Rhaenyra is literally robbing these poor girls of their rightful claim to Driftmark and usurping them. And now, with Luke being dead, Rhaena’s claim dies with him.

Baela and Rhaena losing their mother, and now their father suddenly remarries, and has two blonde boys. Rhaenys losing BOTH her children and then seeing her son-in-law and daughter-in-law getting married soon after that.

Everyone in team black is after their own ambitions. They lie to each other, they don’t trust each other, they suspect each other in different things, they cheat on each other (with each other) and lie about it, they give each other forced ultimatums, and yada yada. All their scenes feel forced, tense, awkward and uncomfortable. They look so miserable with each other.

Team Green in this sense is the exact opposite.

Although their dynamic is far from perfect, obviously, you cannot deny that they care about each other very very deeply.

Alicent loves all of her children, and even while acknowledging their flaws, she still loves them.

Aemond might’ve been a little envious of Aegon, but he would never turn his back on him. He would never betray his brother, be would never try to take his crown from him.

Aegon was far from being a perfect man and king, but, as we know, it was his love for his family, and the fear of them getting hurt that made him a more responsible person and a more protective father, husband and brother. Sure, he is a cheater, but at least he’s honest about it and doesn’t lie to his wife. He is not a hypocrite.

Criston is working for Alicent not for ambition or for self-gain, but because he genuinely loves her, whether it’s romantic or platonic, doesn’t matter.

Helaena would never betray her family, her brothers, her mother. They are all she has. She would never switch sides even if given an opportunity.

And even Otto, arguably one of the main villains of the whole show, still loves his family. Sure, he is ambitious, but he would never become Corlys level of ambitious.

Team Green feels like they are fighting against the enemy all together, they have the same goals, they feel united and you can feel their devotion to each other. Especially after blood and cheese, when they become closer than ever. They’re in this together and only if they stick to each other, they can make it. It feels genuine and honest. They don’t hide anything from each other, they always have their loved ones’ best interests at heart, they would never in a million years betray each other. Yes, they are all doomed from the start, but their dedication and love to each other is truly something else.

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novaursa · 2 months ago

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hey boo , can i request something with a rhaenyra sister reader and the event on driftmark with the kids and basically readers daughter or son gets caught in the crossfire even though they just wanted the fighting to stop , and nobody but rhaenyra and viserys notices and the reader literally starts raging but everything hits the fan when alicent says something slick about readers child which ends with the reader going after alicent yk mothers rage , and rhaenyra gets caught in the middle which ends with alicent drawing blood and viserys actually punishing her for harming the heir to throne ❤️😚

The Unbroken Line

- Summary: During events of Driftmark, after Laena’s funeral, Alicent insults your son and you defend him with all you have.

- Paring: niece!reader/Daemon Targaryen

- Note: I was receiving pure chaos vibes from this request, so I've written chaos with slight differences from the requested plot. I've also paired the reader with Daemon for more drama. I hope you don't mind, dear anon. 🙂

- Rating: Mature 16+

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

The hall on Driftmark is suffocating and the air is heavy with grief. You stand to the side, your eyes sweeping over the crowd. Daemon is across the room, his face an unreadable mask, as always. Laena’s funeral has cast a somber mood over the entire gathering, but it is the murmurs, the whispers in the corners, that unnerve you the most.

You’re barely listening to the conversations, your mind elsewhere as your son, Baelon, tugs at your sleeve. He’s barely of six, a boy with silver hair and violet eyes that mark him as undeniably Targaryen. But the whispers that follow you both have always been cruel. "Bastard," they say, no matter the legitimacy that Daemon insists upon. And though your son’s parentage is a secret kept from most, there are those who suspect, those who sneer when they think you do not see. You feel a flash of anger surge in your chest but push it down for the sake of the evening. This is not the time.

Then, it happens. The commotion breaks out near the far end of the hall, a flash of movement, children’s cries—Aemond’s voice raised in triumph, and suddenly, a cry of pain. Baelon pulls at your hand, fear etched across his small face. You pull him closer instinctively, feeling the first sparks of dread ignite in your stomach.

“They’re fighting,” someone gasps, and then you see it.

Jacaerys, Lucerys, and the other children are in a brawl, fists flying, insults hurled. Aemond, his eye bloodied, stands among them, a smirk on his face despite the injury. He’s claimed Vhagar, and the children’s anger has boiled over. But it’s not until you see Baelon dart forward, his small form trying to push between the boys to stop them, that your heart truly seizes in your chest.

“No,” you whisper, moving forward too late.

Your son, your sweet boy, tries to pull Lucerys back, but a stray punch catches him on the cheek. He stumbles, and for a moment, the chaos feels like it slows, your gaze locking onto his wide, tear-filled eyes. Baelon isn’t used to this kind of violence. He only wanted the fighting to stop. But in that split second, the world snaps back into focus, and everything moves too fast.

“Baelon!” You scream his name as the children continue their scuffle. Panic rises in your throat as you rush toward them, only to see blood streaking from a small cut above Baelon’s brow. He’s crying now, and your heart shatters at the sight.

Rhaenyra is the first to reach you, her arms around Lucerys and Jacaerys, eyes wide with concern as she glances at Baelon. “Y/N—”

“Enough!” King Viserys’s voice booms through the hall, silencing the room. His eyes sweep over the mess of children and the adults who now encircle them. “What is the meaning of this?”

You pull Baelon into your arms, your body trembling with rage and fear. His little face is pressed against your shoulder, his small hands gripping your dress as though holding on for dear life.

Aemond stands, his face bloodied but defiant. “They attacked me,” he sneers, glaring at Jacaerys and Lucerys. “For claiming Vhagar.”

Before you can respond, Alicent steps forward, her eyes sharp, her voice laced with venom. “It was their doing, all of them—bastards!” Her gaze flicks to Baelon, and then to you. “What else should we expect from a brood of illegitimates?”

The room stills, her words hanging in the air like a dagger. You feel your blood turn to ice, then heat, a red-hot fury boiling in your veins.

“What did you just say?” Your voice is low, dangerous, the kind that Daemon uses before he kills. The hall is silent now, all eyes on you and Alicent.

She tilts her chin, as if emboldened by her own words. “You heard me. The boy is a bastard. And we all know who his true father is.”

That’s when something inside you snaps. A mother’s rage, the kind that knows no bounds, the kind that can burn cities to ash. You’re moving before you can think, your legs carrying you across the room toward Alicent, murder in your eyes.

“You vile—” The words rip from your throat, but Rhaenyra steps in, grabbing your arm as you lunge. “Y/N, no!”

Your fingers claw at the air, your vision tunneling as you fight against Rhaenyra’s hold, desperate to tear Alicent apart. The smug look on her face only fuels the fire, and your blood pounds in your ears.

“Let me go!” You scream, thrashing against Rhaenyra’s grip, but she holds firm, her own strength surprising you. “She dares—she dares insult my son—”

Across the room, you see Daemon move, his expression dark, but before he can get to you, Ser Criston steps in, blocking his path. The two men lock eyes, the threat between them palpable.

“Do something!” Alicent screeches, her face flushed with indignation as she glares at Viserys. “Look at what she’s doing!”

Viserys’s eyes harden as he steps forward. “Alicent, enough!”

She rounds on him, fury sparking in her eyes. “Your daughter is a menace! Look at her—she’s—”

“She is defending her child,” Viserys thunders, his voice cutting through the chaos like a sword. “And you will not speak ill of him again.”

Alicent recoils, her mouth opening to retort, but before she can, you wrench yourself free from Rhaenyra’s grasp, your hand flying toward Alicent in a blind fury.

The sound of your slap echoes through the hall, and Alicent stumbles back, her hand flying to her cheek, eyes wide with shock.

“You will never speak of my son that way again,” you hiss, your voice trembling with rage. “Never.”

Alicent, seething with humiliation, lunges forward, and you feel the sting of her nails as they rake across your arm. The pain is sharp, but you don’t care. You’re ready to fight her with everything you have.

“Stop!” Viserys’s voice cracks like a whip, and suddenly, Alicent is pulled back by the guards, her eyes wild with fury, her cheek reddened from your slap.

Rhaenyra steps between you both, breathing heavily, her eyes darting between you and Alicent, as if trying to assess the situation.

Alicent stumbles back once guards release their hold, her chest heaving as blood stains her hand. The red streaks across her fingers are a stark contrast to the white of her gown, and her eyes are wide, filled with disbelief and raw emotion. The entire hall is still now, everyone holding their breath, waiting for Viserys’s next words.

“Go to your chambers,” Viserys commands, his voice stern and unwavering. There is no room for debate in his tone, no softness for his wife this time. His gaze pierces through her, as though he barely recognizes the woman standing before him.

Alicent’s mouth opens, shock flashing across her face. “My chambers?” she repeats, incredulous. “You would send me away after what has happened here?” Her eyes dart to Aemond, who stands nearby, his face bloodied and wounded, the empty socket where his eye once was a grotesque reminder of what has transpired. “Our son has just lost an eye, Viserys! And it was by one of her children!”

Her finger jabs toward Rhaenyra, and the venom in her voice sends a shiver down your spine. Alicent's words are sharp, biting, desperate. She is a mother grieving for her son, but that does not excuse what she’s just done.

Viserys’s face softens only for a moment as he glances at Aemond, the boy looking small and vulnerable despite his defiance. “Aemond will be cared for,” Viserys says, his voice quieter now, but still firm. “A maester will see to him.”

Alicent shakes her head, stepping forward as if to plead with him. “This is not fair! He is my son—our son! And you let them—” her voice cracks, her fury dissolving into raw emotion, “you let them harm him.”

Viserys closes his eyes briefly, the weight of the situation pulling at him visibly. But when he opens them again, his resolve is clear. “What happened to Aemond is terrible,” he says, his tone soft but unyielding, “but what you’ve done here today cannot be ignored. You attacked the princess of the realm, Alicent.”

You feel Rhaenyra step closer to you, her hand resting gently on your shoulder as her presence offers you silent strength. Jacaerys and Lucerys are huddled behind her, their eyes wide and anxious, still shaken by the violence of the evening. Baelon remains clutched tightly in your arms, his small body trembling against yours. You can feel his heart racing against your chest.

“This matter will be handled,” Viserys continues, his voice regaining its edge. “But you will go to your chambers, Alicent, and you will stay there until I decide otherwise.”

Alicent’s expression hardens, but the fire in her eyes slowly dims as the weight of his words sinks in. She knows she cannot argue further without crossing a line that even she dares not cross. Her lips press into a thin, angry line as she glances around the room, seeking some form of support, but there is none. Even Otto Hightower stands back, silent and observing, knowing that to interfere now would only worsen things.

With one last glare, Alicent turns on her heel, her skirts swishing dramatically as she leaves the room. The sound of her footsteps echoes in the silence, and for a moment, no one dares to speak.

Viserys’s shoulders slump slightly as she disappears from view, and he seems to age ten years in an instant. The king takes a deep breath, his face pale, the toll of the day evident in his expression.

“See that Aemond is tended to,” Viserys orders one of the maesters standing nearby. The man hurries forward, guiding Aemond gently toward the exit. Aemond's eyes flicker toward you for a brief moment, and despite his injury, you can still see the simmering resentment there.

The maester pulls him away, and with that, the hall is left with only the aftermath of what’s happened. The tension lingers like smoke in the air, thick and suffocating, but there is a small relief as Alicent’s presence fades.

Rhaenyra’s hand tightens slightly on your shoulder, grounding you in the moment. Her eyes meet yours, and in them, you see understanding, sympathy. “Are you alright?” she asks softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, though your heart is still pounding, your rage only beginning to subside. You glance down at Baelon, still clinging to you, and press a kiss to the top of his silver head. He looks up at you, his eyes glistening with tears, but there’s a brave little smile there as if he’s trying to tell you it’s all going to be okay.

“We’ll be fine,” you murmur, though the words are more for him than for you.

Rhaenyra pulls you into a hug, and for a moment, the world feels a little less heavy. She whispers in your ear, her tone gentle, “You did what any mother would do, Y/N.”

But even as she says it, you feel the weight of what has just happened settle deep in your bones. The line between the two families has been drawn sharper than ever.

And then you feel another presence beside you—Daemon.

He moves with that quiet grace of his, somehow managing to cross the room without you realizing until he’s right there, his eyes locked onto you and Baelon. His gaze is intense, protective, as he stands by your side, his hand coming to rest on your lower back. You can feel the heat of him, his unspoken fury simmering beneath the surface, but he keeps it in check, his jaw tight.

“Are you hurt?” His voice is low, intimate, meant only for you.

“I’m fine,” you breathe, though you can see the way his eyes narrow slightly, scanning you as if searching for any sign of harm. His gaze briefly lingers on the small cut on your arm, and his hand twitches, as if he wants to tear Criston Cole apart or perhaps ride straight to Alicent’s chambers to exact retribution.

Baelon wiggles in your arms, and Daemon’s attention shifts to him, his expression softening just a fraction. He reaches out, brushing a lock of silver hair from Baelon’s tear-streaked face.

“He’s alright,” you say quietly, though your voice cracks slightly. “Just frightened.”

Daemon’s lips press into a thin line as he looks down at your son, the boy who bears his unmistakable Targaryen features. “He’s strong,” Daemon says softly, his tone carrying a weight of unspoken promises. “He’ll be fine.”

You meet Daemon’s gaze, and for a moment, the two of you share an unspoken understanding, a bond that is forged in both passion and shared responsibility. The world may be falling apart around you, but in this moment, you know that Daemon will stand by your side, just as you stand by your son.

Rhaenyra moves closer, her children at her side, and the three of you form an unbreakable wall around your children. The tension may not have left the hall, but for now, you stand united.

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #daemon x you #hotd daemon #daemon x reader #daemon x y/n #daemon targaryen #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen

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missglaskin · 1 year ago

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i feel like Otto would use Daemon and Rhaenyra’s secret wedding, mere days after their partners funerals, as the sole ammunition to have Rhaenyra disinherited and second-born!Reader named the Princess of Dragonstone after Otto reminds Viserys the sole reason Rhaenyra was chosen was to prevent Daemon from having the throne. and Alicent will begin planting the seeds of a doubt in Viserys mind that some may not want a the Reader on a throne because she’s adopted but if she married Aegon, the firstborn son, she wouldn’t be contested. that Aegon was better fitted as a consort anyways.

and the Velaryons have mixed feelings about the whole ordeal because Corlys really wanted his blood on the throne but Rhaenys believes the reader will be a much better ruler.

she’s kind of like the “peoples princess” if that makes sense. from a young age she began serving as the king’s cupbearer, allowing her the opportunity to watch the council work, and even there were times when she spoke up. advocating on behalf of the servants for better living conditions or pushing for repairs on the sewage system underneath the city.

not even Rhaenyra could deny that the reader would make a good queen but there’s some resentment directed to her father, angry he still won’t accept that she loves Daemon and there confusion as she watches Daemon wrap a beautiful necklace around the reader’s neck

I apologize for the long haitus, I wanted to return with something so here it is.

The plot just thickens

Before Daemon and Rhaenyra secret wedding, Alicent was already sowing seeds of doubt in Viserys's mind (the reader doesn't have any bastards, last she checked but even so it doesn’t count).And it would be a great irony if Viserys sent Otto away thinking he wanted Aegon to be king (which might be partially true), when in reality it’s the reader he desired to be in the throne. With Lyonel's death, and Rhaenyra's decision to move to Dragonstone with Laenor despite wanting to stay with her sister. Otto and Alicent are only given a better advantage to continue casting doubt on Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra and Daemon's marriage seals the deal, and soon after, they are summoned by a raven from King's Landing.

While the Velaryons may have mixed feelings, they are all in support of the reader in being the chosen heir. It’s Rhaenys who encourages Corlys’ decision to swear his fealty to her. It doesn’t help that Rhaenys believes Rhaenyra and Daemon are the cause for her son’s death and them marrying right after Laena’s death only adds salt to the wound. Rhaenys genuinely believes the reader will be a much better ruler.

When the reader is named heir, there is one final step for both Alicent and Otto to ensure her position (or as they like to say). So it comes as little surprise when the reader is revealed to be wed to Aegon. She already has gained a great deal of knowledge regarding politics throughout the years she was compelled to relocate to accommodate the entire family, from Driftmark to King's Landing to Dragonstone. Alicent and Otto took a step further in letting the reader act as the king's cupbearer, and Viserys naturally agreed. Unlike Rhaenyra who felt undermined in the council, the reader isn't cut off when advocating for herself, rather, she's backed by the green council.

As you mentioned, she has earned the title of the "people's princess” through her charity, her advocacy for improved living conditions for the castle's servants as well insistence on repairing the sewage systems and for better roads. Tales abound in the city about the princess who visits orphanages, escorted, of course, by the finest knights, among them Ser Criston Cole. With all of that, simply wedding the reader to Aegon, already wins him favor at king's landing, besides, it's evident to the court that it's the reader who holds all the power.

It's an internal struggle for Rhaenyra; she feels waves of resentment and anger, sometimes aimed at her father and other times at the reader. But, she can never take the reader's actions personally, not after she offers Rhaenyra dragonstone or when she vows to make her the hand when she ascends the iron throne. So how can she ever be genuinely upset at her beloved sister whom she also thinks would make a wonderful queen?

And for Daemon, whom she observes draping a beautiful necklace—akin to the one he gave her years ago—around her sister's neck. She observes as her ever naive sister turns to face him, beaming as thanks him for the gift.

And for Daemon who she watches wrapping a beautiful necklace around her sister’s neck, similar to the one he gifted her a long time ago. She watches as her sister turns to him, beaming and thanking him for the gift, her sister so naive and innocent. But it won’t be long before Viserys catches wind of it, and if not him, Otto and Alicent will and this is the last thing they ever wish to happen. For they know, no matter how many times they Banish Daemon, he will always find his way to return to your side.

#hotd x reader #yandere concept #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #yandere platonic #hotd concept #house of the dragon x reader #heir!reader

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writingsofwesteros · 3 months ago

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Aegon’s slutty twin seducing daemon before Rhaenyra does during laena’s funeral. She’s a little siren, always having men and women at the palm of her hand without needing to do much. She begins by playing off as a sad girl comforting her widowed uncle, sneaking some touches to get his attention. She may even voice some concerns of facing a similar fate as Laena but daemon comforts her. That’s when she knows she has him on her pretty finger, letting her uncle “ease” her fears and his sorrows by using her. Once they’re done and they see little Aemond hurt, she leaves him to comfort her brothers and daemon just watches. It isn’t until he sees Alicent attack Rhaenyra and the pretty princess teary face Aegon coded that he moves to her side. Comforting the princess and telling Aemond he will punish his daughters for attacking him. As much as Otto and Alicent would hate to marry them, they can see the princess has an effect on him. Aegon isn’t mad about his sister marrying their uncle, instead he’s happy to know that they won’t be separated. Daemon and the princess name their boys Aegon iii and Aemon ii. daemon may think after the conqueror and his uncle but the princess does it for her brothers. The boys are so close to his sons, daemon can’t see anything wrong with his nephews.

!!!!!!

Oh she is such a siren and Daemon has just fallen into her trap with ease

#daemon hot thots

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 2 years ago

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Hey can I do a daemon x velaryon!reader where she is his wife instead of laena and he comes to genuine love her through the years more than anyone they decide to come back to kings landing for laena funeral and the reader start to notice how rhaenyra starts at daemon through the entire funeral. Reader go to talk with her kids ( maegor, rhaegar, and baelon) to introduce to their cousin and she notice that daemon has left and she can’t find rhaenyra. Reader brush off her worries because she trust daemon. Later through the accident with the kid she is in the hall when she sees daemon and rhaenyra walk through she notice rhaenyra looks a bit messed up like her hair and clothes and looks at daemon. Daemon can’t even look at the readers eyes because he knows she will figure out. After everyone goes to bed she want to ask the truth but finds out that’s her brother laenor has died, reader out of grief and sadness decide to stay at driftmark for few days with her parent and tells daemon she will meet him and the children at dragonstone. Daemon and rhaenyra marry each other at dragonstone and readers children literally fly out to driftmark all three of them and tell her what happened. Readers feels angry disgusted humiliated sadness , and she decide to stay at driftmark with her children and nieces and writes to daemon that if he comes and inch close to her or her children she will gladly feed him to her dragon( the cannibal), daemon still tries but her mother tells him to leave while he still can before she does something she won’t regret and how she regrets even letter her children marry daemon and rhaenyra. Couple years the kids has grown up her sons dragon are (greys ghost vervimathior and seasmoke her youngest claimed him after laenor death) and they go back to kings landing for luke positions and daemon sees her and immediately goes to talk with her ( he still loves her and want to work things out) rhaenyra doesn’t like this at all and follows him only for them to sees the reader talking to a little girl who is spit image of reader and daemon and daemon ask who the child is only to find out its their child (reader find out she was pregnant few days after founding out daemon and rhaenyra) daemon is angry that he misses his daughter birth but accept it since he deserve it. Rhaenyra ask for the girls name and reader smirks and says visenya

And some more angst please

Fire & Blood || D. Targaryen x Velaryon!reader

GIF by @redbelles DIVIDERS by @straywords

a/n: I absolutely love this thank u for the request!! p.s this is the longest piece of ff i’ve written 😭 also keep in mind some of the events from hotd don’t happen in this and the the timings are different! And for the sake of my tiktok acc i’m making Elys as fc for the reader to make it easier for me to make tiktoks abt this!

Your darling sister. She is dead. You broke down in your bedchambers as Daemon came up to you, engulfing you in a comforting hug as you continued sobbing. “Shh” Your husband ushered, trying to calm you down.

It absolutely broke Daemon’s heart seeing the person he loved most in his entire life so broken. He wiped the tears away as he planted a kiss on your forehead.

“Her funeral is to be held tomorrow, so rest my love” He whispers against your hair as you sniffle, moving your legs to your bed, Daemon soon following.

“She wanted to die a dragon rider’s death, not on her birthing bed” You quietly spoke, your back turned to Daemon, his hand laid rest on your hip drawing circles. “I know sweet girl” He replied. Your hand coming to his to squeeze it before moving closer to him.

She was gone. The emotions started rolling in as her casket submerged in the water. You sobbed as Daemon pulled you in to his chest, kissing your forehead.

You wrapped your arms around his torso as your three children clung to your dress. “Stay strong” He rubbed your back as you wipe your tears and face the front again.

Your heart broke seeing your nieces, Baela and Rhaena comforted by your mother. You also saw Rhaenyra and her two boys, Her eyes seemed to be fixated on the man beside you before she gives a small smile to you.

“Have you seen the children?” You walk up to Daemon, his eyes somewhere else. He doesn’t reply making you furrow your eyebrows. “Daemon.” You call out again, his eyes moving from the side to your eyes.

Your gaze follows where his eyes were and you lock eyes with Rhaenyra. Turning back around, Daemon looks down at his cup. “Do you know where our children are Daemon” You repeat, “They’re over there” He gently moves your shoulders towards the direction of the boys.

He wraps his arms around your waist and gives you a kiss, “I want to introduce them to their cousins,” You say, holding his hand on your shoulder as he smiles sweetly to you. “That’s a great idea.”

Walking up to your boys, Maegor, Rhaegar, and Baelon, you hug them all giving them kisses on their forheads. “My sweet boys, I want you to meet your cousins” You say to them as you lead them to Rhaena and Baela. You look around to find Daemon but he was no longer where he was.

“Auntie,” A voice calls out as you turn your head and spot Lucerys. Confused, you still give a smile and crouch to his level. “What is it Luke?” You question, “Have you seen my mother? She’s not here” At his words, you look around and he was right. Rhaenyra was nowhere to be found.

“Uh, I’m sure she is somewhere close by. Stay with me if you’d like” You kindly smile to the dark haired boy as he nods. You completely trusted Daemon. Though not the same could be said about Rhaenyra.

Your eyes take in the sight infront of you. Aemond infront of a maester as he stitched up his eye, Luke with a bloody nose and the disheveled appearance of your nieces who were in the arms of your mother Rhaenys.

You were accompanied by your three boys, Daemon was still nowhere to be found and you had been waiting in your bedchambers for him but he never returned.

The big doors suddenly open as Rhaenyra came into view. Her hair messy and her clothes untidy. What shocked you the most was Daemon who appeared behind her. He leaned against the door, his eyes looked around but they never met with yours.

You felt a string pull your heart, a pull of sadness. No, that wasn’t right. Daemon wouldn’t do that to you, or his children who he dearly loves.

You had no doubt of his loyalty. But you did remember how in the early years of your marriage that he was always cold to you. That was when you found out he was in love with his then 18 year old niece.

You were no stranger to the Targaryen’s customs in keeping their blood pure. But as the years went on and you produced heirs for Daemon and created a family, he no longer longed for Rhaenyra, but you instead.

A loud gasp escapes your lips as Alicent charges at Rhaenyra with a blade. Your eyes couldn’t help but notice how Daemon slightly moved, like he was contemplating in stepping in but stayed.

After the whole ordeal, Viserys ordered everyone back into their rooms. Your eyes tried to find Daemon but it was too crowded to see where he was. “Where’s father?” Your youngest, Baelon, questioned as you caress his cheek.

“I will find him, go with your brothers to your rooms” You say as they nod and leave. Before you could move further, you were pulled by the hand.

“Father-“ “Your brother is dead” You blink a few times, processing Corlys’ words. “I-“ You were shocked to say the least. How could this day get worse. Losing both your siblings in a span of a day. “H-how?” You stutter as you hug your father.

“We found him in the fireplace, a quarrel of some sort we believe” He says quietly. You knew he was trying his best to keep his composure. “Where’s mother?” You say looking up at him as he looks away.

“Your mother is not in great condition-“ “I will stay here,” You interrupt him, “for a few days atleast” You were both in shock and grief and wanted to stay in the comforts of your home with your parents.

Corlys gives a sad smile and nods his head, “Your mother would like that very much.” He says before a tear drops and he is once again in your embrace.

“The boys will go with you back to Dragonstone where I will meet you in a couple of days” You sadly smile, your hands locked with Daemon’s as he nods giving a quick peck on your lips.

Maegor, Rhaegar, and Baelon rush towards you engulfing you in a hug as Daemon watches. “Be good as always” You whisper to them as they nod and you watch as their boat leaves, Daemon on Caraxes as he soars in the sky.

After a few days at home in Driftmark, you had yet recieved any letters from your husband, Daemon. Usually he would write to you when you were apart but nothing had arrived.

“Princess, your sons are here” A handmaiden knocks on the door as you look towards your mother, you had not been expecting them. You hurriedly walk outside, Rhaenys close behind as your boys come running to you.

Worried and confused, you hug all three of them. “What is it? Where is your father?” You ask them as they exchange looks at one another. “Father married Rhaenyra!” Baelon lets out as your eyes widen.

“W-what?” You couldn’t believe your ears. Daemon, your loving husband marrying his niece Rhaenyra. No. “It is true mother, we watched father marry Rhaenyra” Your eldest, Maegor quietly said as tears started forming in your eyes.

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of betrayal and disgust. How dare Rhaenyra marry your husband after your brother died not long ago. “They killed my son, your brother y/n, so that they could marry” Your mother said through gritted teeth. A few tears roll down your cheeks as you hug your boys. They were your everything.

“We will be staying here from now on” You could tell your sons felt a sense of betrayal and hurt, as much as you did. They watched their own father marry their second cousin. Later that day, you decided to write a letter to Daemon. In the letter, you wrote that if he dared to come anywhere close to you or your children, you would not be afraid to feed him to your dragon, the Cannibal.

Not even a week later, the man had the nerve to show up at Driftmark. You had to ensure your dragon wasn’t anywhere close as he would have killed Daemon right there and then. You refused to go out and talk to him so your mother did.

You listened and watched from an open window, “I commend you for your bravery Daemon for showing up here. Though this will be your last time you ever set foot here at Driftmark or anywhere close to my daughter. I deeply regret letting my children marry you and Rhaenyra!” Rhaenys fumed as Daemon listened.

He continued to say nothing before nodding and turning around, making eye contact with you as you stare at him with no emotion. His eyes however, showed regret and sadness but you brushed it off.

6 years later…

You scoff at your mother’s words. “Luke is no true Velaryon and everyone knows that,” You stand up from your seat as Maegor looks at you. “My eldest, Maegor, is the rightful heir to the Driftmark throne, he is of my blood, true Velaryon blood”

As much as you liked the young boy, the matter of your son’s righteous title was on the line. You knew everyone would be on your side, apart from of course Rhaneyra. “Daemon would be an idiot to deny that his own flesh and blood is the heir to the Driftmark throne”

His name in your mouth was odd. You say his name with such disgust. “I would agree but he seems to be blinded by Rhaenyra now” Rhaenys gives a knowing look to her daughter.

You roll your eyes. Daemon had infact two sons with Rhaenyra and one still born daughter. Rumours had spread around saying that she gave birth to a half dragon.

“Viserys is dead, I hear Alicent and her father now rule before her son is crowned King. I dislike her truly, but she only has the right mind when it comes to birthrights” You smirk as your mother nods.

“We will travel to King’s Landing to take back what is rightfully yours Maegor” You place your hands on his shoulders as he nods at you.

“Prepare the dragons, we leave in the morrow.”

“My sweet girl!” You beam as you run up to your daughter, scooping her up in your arms. You had found out you were expecting a couple days after Daemon left Driftmark for good.

It saddened you at the same time as Daemon had always wished for a daughter and here she was, but he was in no position to be able to call her his daughter.

You gave your dragon, the Cannibal, pets as you had your daughter in front of you, gripping on the saddle. You take off and you smile at the sight beside you, Maegor on Vermithor, Rhaegar on Grey Ghost, and Baelon on Seasmoke, you late brothers’ dragon.

The sight was menacing and frightened everyone at Kings Landing. You smirk at the sight of all the dragon keepers scrambling around as you and your boys land your dragons.

“Touch any of them and my dragon will feed on you” You call out as Baelon snickers. “Ah, Princess, what a lovely delight to see you” Alicent acknowledges you and your children with a smile.

“Like wise, I am here to discuss my eldest Maegor’s birthright claim to Driftmark” You say as the Queen nods, “Of course, an audience is held today on that matter” “Thank you” You bow at her before you and your children walk into the Red Keep.

How dull the place was. It was cold and grey, definitely not fit for raising a family. You valued your years at Driftmark with your family. It was filled with nothing but happy memories after you completed your family. You often remembered how much Daemon disliked this place, saying that it was more of a prison than a castle.

“Who’s side are you on Daemon?” Rhaenyra shouts at him, Daemon was sat on a chair with his left hand massaging his temple. “I’m on no one’s side!” He yells frustratedly.

“But you know deep down Rhaenyra that your boy is no Velaryon, having him sit on the Driftmark throne is nothing but disrespectful and wrong. And you know that” He points at her.

Baffled at his husband’s words she spoke up, “It’s because he’s your son isn’t it?” She spat out. Daemon does nothing but groan and stand up.

His marriage with Rhaenyra was crumbling. At first it was perfect, an uncle who once longed for his niece was nothing but a memory. He was not happy as he used to be during his marriage with Rhaenyra, quite the opposite with you, he soon found out.

He remembers how he used to lust for Rhaenyra when she was all but a maiden, but now, she was a mother who birthed 5 children. She was different to what he wanted to believe.

He thought he could chase his younger days when Rhaenyra was in her late teens. But he was wrong. They were both dragons who clash all the time. He missed you. The simpler and happy days unlike the days he was going through in King’s Landing.

Constant fighting and being at each others throats. They both knew they were out of love for each other. “He is of Velaryon blood, is he not? His mother is a true blood making him heir” He retaliates, this argument going on for far too long.

“And you forget that Luke’s father is of true blood too!” Rhaenyra fires back, knowing her words were lies. This made Daemon laugh, “Lucerys is no son of Laenor, nor is Jacaerys or Joffrey. How long are you going to keep up this facade Rhaenyra?” The princess said nothing, she was infuriated with Daemon, as always.

You walk through the halls of the Red Keep with only your boys with you. The people who walked past awkwardly stare at you and your sons, some handmaidens of Rhaenyra most likely.

You wore a deep blue dress that cinched your waist and was a square neck exposing your collarbones. Your boys grew up into spitting images of Daemon, and so was your daughter.

The doors to the throne room opened infront of you as everyone turned their heads to your direction. You spot Alicent and her father infront of the Iron throne, her children to the left. Your mother had also arrived and brought along your nieces.

Your eyes then lock with Daemon’s for the first time in 6 years. You quickly look away from him and look at Rhaenyra who was throwing daggers your way. Maegor stares at Lucerys who shifts closer to his mother making him chuckle.

You stop in between the greens and blacks. Ever since you stepped into the room, Daemon’s eyes never left yours. You looked happy, and more alive than he felt. He then looks towards his three boy, all grown up and taller than you.

He adored them, they were his first children after all. “We gather today to discuss the rightful heir to the Driftmark Throne-“ Otto loudly says before interrupted Rhaenyra.

“Which is obviously Lucerys” She butted in making you look at her, “Speak when spoken to Princess,” Alicent calmly says making her look back to the front. “Princess y/n, state your case” Otto nodded to you.

All eyes were on you as you speak up, “If my son, Maegor was to cut his veins, pure Velaryon blood would spill out. If I was to cut Lucerys’, all but Velaryon blood would spill” You turn your head to Rhaenyra.

“Is that a threat Princess?” She sneered, holding her arm out infront of Luke as Daemon stood back without saying anything. “Would you like it to be? Your son is no Velaryon, everyone in this audience can agree. I will not have a fucking bastard sitting on my ancestral throne” You raise your voice, your body now facing hers.

“My brother would be ashamed of what is happening right now, he too knows that Maegor is the legitimate heir to the Driftmark throne. Not Lucerys.” You finish before turning back to the front, not before looking at Daemon who held a small smile.

“And to add to that, I have preposed a marriage between Maegor and Baela and Rhaegar and Rhaena” You smile towards your nieces as they smile back. Anger filled Rhaenyra. Ever since she saw your youthful looking face again, she couldn’t keep a scowl off her face.

Jealousy radiated off of her as she watched you walk down the stairs, you weren’t thickened in the waist unlike her even after birthing nearly the same amount of children, you didn’t have eyebags under your eyes and most of all, you seemed happy. Something she sought out from Daemon.

Rhaenyra also noticed the look Daemon gave her as she appeared, a look he hadn’t give her in a very long time. “Princess Rhaenyra, you may state your case”

And so she did, but it was filled with nothing but lies that she continued on. Everyone wore a bored expression as she defended her illegitimate son. A final ruling was put down, one that made Maegor heir to the Driftmark Throne.

After the crowds started filling out, Daemon had the urge to follow you and talk to you. He was no doubt still deeply in love with you. He thought marrying his niece would bring back the younger days he thoroughly enjoyed but no.

Instead, when he married her, only the days with you clouded his mind. Rhaenyra followed Daemon before they both stopped infront of an ajar door where their eyes widen in shock.

“Darling, come here” You crouched to meet her level as she wrapped her arms around your neck making soft giggles leave your mouth.

You were interrupted by the door opening. “Y/n…” Daemon started, his eyes on the little girl who looked too much like him. “What are you doing here” You questioned, placing your daughter back on the ground.

Before Daemon could speak up, Rhaenyra beat him to it, moving past him. “Who is she?” Rhaenyra questioned, you could have sworn you saw a glint of jealousy in her eyes as she looked at your daughter. “My daughter, Visenya” You proudly smirk.

You knew Rhaenyra had always wanted to name her daughter Visenya but the gods has other plans for her. “What a nice name” She shakily says before giving a tight lipped smile and rushing out of the room.

Your eyes then flicker towards Daemon who had an unreadable look on his face. “When did you find out” He questions calmly, closing the door.

“A couple days after you left Driftmark” You say in a monotone voice as Visenya busies herself with a toy. The two of you watch her as a small smile made itself on Daemon’s lips.

He hated himself so much. He hated how instead of being a faithful and loyal husband to the most beautiful soul, he decided to run after a childish dream.

“And you didn’t tell me? You didn’t think to inform your husband that you were pregnant with my child-“ “Don’t.” Your lips quiver as tears began to form. “You were not my husband. You were already married to Rhaenyra so why would I tell you?” You yell at him, your handmaiden quickly walking in to take Visenya.

“I know I made a stupid decision but she’s my child too! And you know how much I love our boys-“ He points to you, “You left them fucking traumatised! They had to watch their own father marry their second cousin. How fucked up is that?” Daemon stayed quiet at this.

You sigh before sitting down on the edge of your bed, “Does she even know who I am?” He quietly said, taking a seat beside you. “Of course not. She’s too young to understand and I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to tell her the truth” You look over to him.

He gulps but nods his head. “I understand” Daemon quietly says as you stand up. Smoothing out your dress, you start walking to the door. You give a final look towards Daemon, a single tear dropped before you quickly wipe it off and leave.

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