#oc: Halaena

[crowofjudgements-blog]

Kaleidoscope

Astarion x OFC Halaena

Content Warnings: Exploration of past traumas, sfw, mentions of sex and seduction

Synopsis: basically the ‘mirror’ scene but better suited for my character!! Please please leave some feedback in the comments, especially on my characterization of Astarion. I’m working on character development and portrayal in my writing so any feedback is welcome and appreciated!!!

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The moon hung its full smiling face high amongst the heavens, silvery strands of light danced across the clearing below as the stars themselves seemed content to watch over the enlivened encampment of mere mortals seeking refuge, comforts for the body is soft and easily bruised. Beyond the fire pit where hearth set ablaze dead centre of the camp, Astarion lounged, snow-white curls haloed in the firelight as he cast a pensive gaze across languid bodies lounging unbidden; for now, the looming fear of monsters in the shadows and curses round every corner had dissipated, enough that they were content. In those days, it was a scarce thing to let muscles relax and forget the blood and viscera that paved young adventurers’ path to absolution. Astarion scoffed as he sipped bloodwine from a crystalline goblet; how fragile peace is, shattered as soon as glass on concrete.

Copper lingered heavy on his tongue, choking almost. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so- secure? It was a fragile, fleeting thing, but to be fed and cared for is to be changed. Gone were the empty recesses that lined his face, hollowing out distant eyes that stared unseeing, unknowing. In its place, resplendency curls silky smooth and oiled, skin dewy, lush and plump as he lost the baseness of his deathly pallor, lips pressed into a petulant purse- though it wasn’t like he could see the change, he still felt it. Even he had to admit, this was good, no matter how infuriatingly easy it came in this place.

The object of his ire was that explosive little wizard, Halaena. Even her name grated at his frayed nerves; how could someone like her, someone unbound to the weirdos and malforms that blanketed camp in their obnoxious presence, choose to come anywhere near any of them with a 50-foot pole? Let alone take care of them, offer shelter, food, and comfort? The premise was enough to pull a carted snort from his chest whenever he thought about it for a moment too long. She had no evident reason to protect them, which meant she likely had her own reasons, and Astarion knew just how dangerous personal agendas could be to the greater good.

Do not get it twisted; the pale elf had no interest in the greater good or the whole lot of them. If he had the means, he would have pursued this adventure alone, guarded; after all, the only thing he truly craved was release, freedom from his cruel master. But- often, he found himself in a rather precarious position. On one hand, he was smart enough to know he was in no position to lead himself to the promise of freedom. Most days, his mind was a complete muddle, too awash with his obsession in finding an escape that he’d likely end up getting himself and everyone else killed before they even made it past the threshold of the Gate. On the other hand, this wizard -strike one right off the bat- just showed up one day and whisked him and a whole band of misfits and strays on this wild adventure, and she seemed to be the one person on this earth that Astarion could not seduce.

Of course, it was in his luck to be stuck with the sexless zealot more interested in ancient tomes and spells over touch, connection. It’s not necessarily that he wanted to bed her; quite the opposite, the very thought of being intimate with someone like that again made bile rise in the back of his throat, made his hands tremble and gaze sharpen. No, he didn’t want to sleep with her, but it unnerved him that she didn’t want to, that she shot down his every proposition kike an arrow to his defences, to the very protection he feared he barely clung to.

She just gave without the expectation of anything in return- granted, she was a wizard, so her curious nature and ascetic ways led them astray much more than he cared for, but that irritant did not erase the fact that this lack of transaction made her presence, her care and light, conditional. If he couldn’t perform, couldn’t be a precious doll for her whiles and whims, what was stopping her from simply abandoning him on the side of the road? He’d be left for dead or worse- left a feast for Cazador and his vultures to pick at until there was nothing left but bone and marrow. It-

Scared him.

He raised his gaze from the brim of his goblet when he heard an underfoot rustle approaching; his gaze fluttered up as he caught sight of pearlescent curls and airy amethyst robes. Snowy lashes brushed against the chisel of his cheeks when he finally looked up at Halaena, and he immediately fell into his role; a placating smile curled at the line of his lips; he softened his gaze and watched with apparent rapt attention as Halaena made move to sit nearby.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he cooed as she got settled a few paces away, earning a reproachful snort as she sank back on one of his plush pillows. An orchestra of cicadas and quiet nightlife accompanied them, but even the rest of camp seemed to fade when he looked at her. Seeing the soft vulnerability behind her gaze, a clenching twist in his chest tightened. Astarion found Halaena a trivial, enigmatic thing- one that he most certainly did not want to unravel, mind you. He had his own deals and devils to worry about without giving care to her or her big forlorn eyes, or her issues. Gods, just acknowledging her tasted like bile on his sharp tongue.

“Oh, spare me. I see how you glare,” she giggled and shook her head, looking towards him with those eyes. He hated those eyes—big and bright, alighted with a hope that should have long been crushed. He just wanted to take her squishy cheeks in his palms and shake her head, see if there were any actual brains in there or if it was empty, like he suspected. “How is your daily brooding going, hm? Manage to bore a hole through anyone with your eyes just yet?”

“Ha ha, a wizard making fun of someone else for being broodsome? The comedy writes itself,” he retorted, voice dripping with his signature sarcasm and sass, and a fleeting sense of pride bubbled up in his chest at her cloying laughter. He bristled slightly, all ruffled up like a disgruntled peacock. At the same time, he laid back and followed her gaze, finding her eyes fixated where they usually rested: upturned towards glittering stars and the dark expanse of inky night.

“I suppose I can’t be the cat to call the kettle black; I’ll leave that to the poets, I think,” she mused as she looked down, seeing the little trinkets and baubles strewn haphazardly around. There weren’t many signs of Astarion scarce, even in his own space. Instinctively, Halaena reached out a hand to grasp an ornate handle sticking out from under some blanket or other. If her companion noticed, he didn’t move to stop her as she raised the glass to inspect her face.

The shattered glass reflected a kaleidoscopic view of her visage, distorted and wrong. She frowned as she inspected the thing, ornate in its construction, yet broken, unnecessary to keep around. She looked to Astarion then, seeing his eyes reflect a hunger that wasn’t obsessive or indicative of a desire to devour- no, they were bitter and longing, even though he tried to mask it behind a heavy brow. Her thumb brushed over the gilded applique decorating this beautiful thing- a mirror far more beautiful than anything it could ever reflect.

“Vanity is the fall of man, but it is nice to see oneself,” she finally said, not ignorant to the flare of his nostrils or how his shoulders tensed.

“Let it be-”

“How long has it been then? Since- you last saw yourself, I mean.”

Astarion stared at her so long she thought he meant to kill her with the viciousness brimming behind his eyes. His hands flexed at his side momentarily as he struggled to choke back a biting response, something cruel, something to make her feel. Instead, he swallowed down his words and looked at the mirror, gaze intense, before he opened his mouth to speak.

“Long before your mother first set eyes upon her precious babe, I know that much,” he bristled as he plucked his wine goblet from beside him and took a quick, placating gulp. Warmth flooded his senses, and before he spoke again, Astarion let out a grumbled huff. “Not since- well, not since Cazador turned me into this undead creature,” he scoffed, bitterness overtaking any warm lilt and the lingering saccharine taste that usually coated his tongue. She set the mirror aside with an almost wistful nod, her touch brushing against it one last time before her attention shifted back to the pale elf.

“I’m sorry.” The words almost made him snort; so simple and yet intangible in the grand scheme. A single apology didn’t erase two centuries of torment and certainly did not paint him a reflection. He watched her with baleful eyes, pale brows knitted tight as she moved to sit before him on her knees with her hands clasped in her lap. He felt the familiar crackle of the Weave pulsing in the air around them, a sudden shift in the nighttime chill. Halaena looked at Astarion as though her eyes themselves could offer an embrace, seeing into him as though he were pitch as glass.

Finally, she dropped her gaze to a pulsing manifestation of magic erupting from her palms, coiling up her arms as she raised her hand. Instinctively, the spawn jerked away from her magical light, an instinct borne from years running from the sun. But instinct quickly gave way to curiosity as he observed her weaving of magic. Even Astarion, for all his spangled sass and suspicion, could admit there was a kind of beauty in watching the stitching of Weave, especially in her well-orchestrated hands. He wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing, at least not until the energetic amalgamation of magic began to take shape.

Ghostly features took shape; a face moulded like putty in the air with the grace of embroidery, the planes and lines almost familiar to him even now. Pale and resplendent, but ghostly, hollow, a reflection of him written in the Weave. Upon closer inspection, he noticed it wasn’t exact- of course, it matched his essence. He was looking at himself, but the heaviness of his eyes was much softer than he would have expected, alabaster skin imperfect with lines that characterized this reflection with kindness so foreign to him it burned the edges of his ribs, cloying, clawing, even his mouth lacked its usual mirthless smirk, replaced with dewy lips pulled into what could only be a genuine, sweet line, almost a smile, no matter how faint. It wasn’t what he’d envisioned when he saw himself, no hard lines or rugged charm, there wasn’t the barest hint of seduction reflected back at him. This was undoubtedly a warmer, kinder visage. When Astarion’s eyes flickered tentatively, quickly, towards Halaena, he saw a face of curious wonder: pale lashes lined wide, inquisitive eyes, all smiles and bashful interest.

So, again, Astarion was faced with such a disdainful conundrum. She seemed so genuine; where pretty words lie, one cannot simply fake reflection. Quiet moments of introspection, studying dusky skin, wild, kindly eyes that shone back the Weave in reverence, disarrayed curls of near pearlescent white- how he despised the folly of man. His eyes snapped back to the spectral figure lingering in the air, a fleeting memory actualized. “That’s me?” He nearly laughed at how disbelieving he sounded to himself, but all the wizard did was nod.

“Perfectly preened curls and all,” she mused, a warm lilt in her voice as she casually turned the spectre in the air, slow and languid. She watched his visage a while, too- admiring the simple beauty crafted in the thread of her Weave. Such gentle intricacies and reverent touches sculpted into his face. It cast such a pretty purple glow across his features. “I know, in a way, what it’s like to have such a large part of oneself pulled out of them, worse than pulling teeth,” she quirked an edged grin, “I know time heals and all of that, but you know if we don’t have all that much time left I figured; you deserve to see your face at the very least.”

Astarion swallowed hard, his pupils darting between the spectral image and her face, meeting her gaze finally. Vampire and wizard stared each other down unblinking and estranged as though those eyes had anything further to scrutinize one another. After a long silence, Astarion’s mask returned all biting mirth and barely contained resentment. “Right, I get to see my face, that’s it? What do you get? What is it you see here?” His voice came out venomous as he stole his gaze back to the visage.

The quiet stretched like an expansive cavern between them; the crackling fire and bordering camp-wide chatter accompanied the pair before Astarion noticed the slight wavering in the fabric edges of his projection’s face. His brows pulled together as wide eyes sought the last traces of this magic’s hold before his face faded before blood-laced vision. The clearing dimmed, the faint glow of the firelight offering the only illumination as Astarion sank back on his haunches, a twinge of painful longing nipping at the hollow cage of his ribs. He noticed the Drow then, soft gaze fixed on him as she awaited his collected bearings.

“Most times, I just see you.’” Such simple words, simple, were they? If so, why did Astarion’s mouth go dry, and why did he feel the barest traces of a fluttered heartbeat echo in his chest? Such mortality was alien, near monstrous in his vampiric existence. Vulnerability quickly felt like exposure, and the man shot to his feet, eyes ablaze as he glared down at Halaena. His mind stuttered, entirely short-circuited, when he saw her big eyes staring up at him, not a hint of malice behind them- or thought, for that matter.

He let out a strangled sigh before he cast his gaze downward, a hint of melancholy briefly flashing across the furrowed planes of his face before the tension slumped from his pale form. Astarion straightened himself up, looking up at the starry night sky to avoid the wizard’s stare and the darkness that crept around them. “Right-“ he looked like he wanted to say more, needed to say more, but the little star lost its emboldened fury, replaced simply by Astarion, who stood there truly not knowing what he could do. He hated this helplessness, the confrontation of not just her but himself. Words felt biting on his tongue, rationalisation like razors. He was overwhelmed, and so, defaulted on what he knew best.

“I’d love to stick around and chat, darling, but I’m afraid I have rather important things to attend to before the night’s end,” he hissed with a tight-lipped smile and narrowed eyes. I’ll leave you to your conjurations; far be it from me to spoil the fun.” He was about to leave, flee into the forest to drain an unruly bear or something, when he heard her speak up, and he froze.

“The woods are a terror this time of night, Astarion. You can always find me in my tent for an easier meal.” She stood then, craning her head to look up at him. The pair stood together, bathed in a silvery wash of moonlight, and Astarion only nodded after casting his sights away once more. She didn’t push him to look at her, only smiled and nodded in return before she moved past him and headed back to the crimson-gold canvas of her tent set up towards the centre of camp. Astarion didn’t watch her go, instead looking over to the edge of the woods.

The forest beyond the temporary camp comforts called to him, a siren’s song away from the raw, gaping pain he felt incessantly in his chest. He ran a hand through snowy white curls, irritated, tugging on his pretty locks as he raked sharp fingers over his scalp. The trees and underbrush hid a veritable feast—succulent game would put up a fair chase. He could snag some birds for a crunchy snack or fight some big beast for the satisfaction of stealing away his meal, their lifeblood.

He looked over his shoulder towards Halaena’s tent, seemingly undisturbed as it stood sturdy amongst the shadows. He swallowed hard; he’d be a fool to deny that her offer didn’t intrigue him. But that part of him, the recesses of Astarion’s consciousness cautioned him against this inevitability. He’d supped from her before, finding the blood of a Drow quite delectable comparatively, and he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t a pull to that tent, to the tasty little morsel curled up amongst her silks and furs. Dry mouth and twitching hands, Astarion looked back to the forest once more. It loomed large, an imposition ready to swallow him whole. Furs and silks sounded more satisfactory than a romp in the mud for mediocre blood.

Decision made, the vampire turned on his heel and headed toward the centre of camp, where she lay reposed. He stepped upon his broken mirror, left discarded upon his blankets with a telltale crunch of glass splintering and crunching undertow.

[daemontargaryenwhore]

And Halaena looking up to the falling flowers during the funeral was also a foreshadowing bit.

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Targaryen Hearts Entwined: The Princess and The Pauper

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Helaena Targaryen. slightly Jacaerys Valeryon x Helaena Targaryen. Jacaerys Valeryon x Female OC

summary: The Princess Helaena and the pauper Ariah have to survive the schemes of Larys Strong.

Word count: 8,3K

Warnings: Angst, manipulation, kidnapping, arrest

A/N: This is HEAVILY based on the Barbie movie Princess and The Pauper. There are some things that were changed and some facts that were also changed.

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

The chambers of the Red Keep were filled with the hushed whispers of seamstresses and the rustling of luxurious fabrics as Princess Helaena Targaryen stood before a full-length mirror. She wore a breathtaking gown of ivory silk, adorned with delicate lace and intricate beadwork. It was a wedding dress fit for a Targaryen princess.

Helaena’s mother, Queen Alicent, stood beside her, her eyes filled with maternal pride. King Viserys, Helaena’s father, watched from a distance, a thoughtful expression on his aging face. They believed this union was essential for the future of House Targaryen, a way to unite the fractured branches of the dragon’s bloodline.

“Such a vision of beauty,” Queen Alicent said, her voice soft but laced with expectation. “You will make a radiant bride, my dear.”

Helaena managed a demure smile but couldn’t hide the turmoil in her eyes. She had known this day would come, the day when her parents would arrange her marriage for political advantage. But the chosen groom was not the one her heart desired.

Jacaerys, her nephew and heir to the Iron Throne, was to be her husband. It was a match that would bind the two parts of House Targaryen, but it was not a match of love. Helaena’s heart belonged to her brother Aemond, a secret she guarded with utmost care.

As the seamstresses continued their work, Helaena stole a glance at King Viserys, hoping to catch a glimpse of understanding in his eyes. But his gaze remained fixed on her, and she knew she could never reveal her true feelings.

For the sake of her family, her house, and the realm, Helaena would don the wedding gown and marry Jacaerys, all while harboring the love she could never confess.

Her reflection in the mirror seemed to mock her, as if it knew the depths of her heart’s desires. The wedding preparations continued around her, each stitch of the gown a reminder of the path she was forced to tread.

Queen Alicent leaned closer, her voice tinged with the weight of expectation. “Helaena, my sweet daughter, you will bring honor and strength to our house with this marriage. The union of House Targaryen must be our utmost priority.”

King Viserys nodded in agreement, his eyes distant, lost in the intricacies of politics. “This is the path we must take, Helaena, for the future of our bloodline.”

Helaena’s gaze flickered between her parents, her heart heavy with the knowledge that her desires would forever remain unspoken. She would never disappoint her parents, especially her mother, who had orchestrated this union with a meticulous hand.

Her thoughts drifted to her brother Aemond, the one person who truly understood her. Their bond was unbreakable, but it was also a forbidden love, a secret that could shatter their family and their house.

As the final adjustments were made to her wedding gown, Helaena steeled herself for the future that lay ahead. She would marry Jacaerys, uphold her family’s legacy, and conceal her love for Aemond deep within her heart.

Little did she know that the intricate web of secrets, desires, and ambitions within House Targaryen would soon unravel, changing the fate of the realm forever.

As Helaena continued to stand in her opulent wedding gown, a heavy sigh escaped her lips. Her thoughts drifted to a place far removed from the Red Keep, where she could be free to follow her heart’s desires.

In her daydreams, she imagined a life where she wasn’t bound by the expectations of her royal bloodline. A life where she could choose her own path, explore the world beyond the castle walls, and, most importantly, love whomever her heart truly desired.

The vision of a life unburdened by duty and politics danced before her eyes. She saw herself riding freely through open fields, her hair flowing in the wind, with Aemond by her side. They would explore the Seven Kingdoms together, sharing their dreams and desires without fear of judgment or scandal.

But the harsh reality of her situation always brought her back to the present. She couldn’t change the course her parents had set for her, and the weight of her duty as a Targaryen princess pressed down on her shoulders.

Helaena’s gaze remained locked on her reflection in the mirror, her eyes filled with longing for a life that could never be. She yearned for the freedom to choose her own destiny, but for now, she was trapped in a world of politics and duty, where love and desire could only exist in the secret corners of her heart.

Far from the opulence of the Red Keep, in the bustling streets of King’s Landing, another girl named Ariah struggled beneath the weight of her own destiny. Born into a family burdened by poverty, her parents had taken a desperate measure when she was but an infant, borrowing from the greedy seamstress Lana to provide for their newborn child.

Ariah had grown up knowing only the shadow of her debt, toiling day in and day out in Lana’s cramped, dimly lit workshop. The woman’s heart was as cold as her scissors were sharp, and though Ariah had already repaid a significant portion of her family’s debt through her labor, Lana insisted on keeping her as a virtual servant for the foreseeable future, citing “interest” on the debt that seemed to have no end.

At the tender age of ten and nine, Ariah was trapped, unable to break free from Lana’s clutches. She watched the world outside through the workshop’s small, grime-covered window, yearning for a life beyond the stifling walls and the ceaseless drudgery. Her dreams were of a simple existence, far removed from the cruelty of the seamstress, where she could be free to make her own choices, perhaps even find love.

But the reality of her situation was inescapable, leaving her feeling helpless and distraught. Ariah knew not when, or if, her debt to Lana would ever be paid in full, and the weight of her uncertain future bore down upon her young shoulders.

In the rare moments of respite from Lana’s relentless demands, Ariah allowed her mind to wander into the realm of what-ifs. What if she could break free from Lana’s clutches and escape the suffocating workshop? What if she could live a life unburdened by debt and servitude?

In her daydreams, Ariah saw herself walking through the bustling streets of King’s Landing, her steps light and her heart unencumbered. She imagined the simple joys of buying a loaf of freshly baked bread from the market, feeling the warm sunshine on her face, and sharing laughter with newfound friends.

Love, too, was a distant but cherished dream. Ariah envisioned a kindred spirit who would see past her humble beginnings, someone who would hold her hand as they explored the city together, under the watchful gaze of the Red Keep’s distant towers.

These fleeting fantasies were her refuge, a glimmer of hope in the darkest hours. Ariah knew that breaking free from Lana’s grip was a daunting challenge, but the dream of a life where she could make her own choices, breathe the air of freedom, and love without fear was a light that burned brightly in her heart.

Back within the imposing walls of the Red Keep, after the wedding gown fitting, Helaena found herself in the luxurious chambers that would soon become her new life. The room was adorned with silks, tapestries, and ornate furniture, a stark contrast to the simplicity of her earlier daydreams.

Jacaerys, her nephew and soon-to-be husband, had showered her with lavish gifts. Exquisite jewelry, rare perfumes, and finely crafted books adorned the room, each item a testament to his desire to please her. His intentions were kind, and Helaena appreciated the effort he put into making her feel welcomed.

Yet, as she examined the gifts, she couldn’t shake the underlying truth that they were still, in essence, strangers. Helaena’s heart ached for the deep bond she shared with her brother Aemond, but he had been taken from King’s Landing when her sister Rhaenyra left for Dragonstone, leaving Helaena isolated from the family she had once known.

The week leading up to the wedding felt like a whirlwind, filled with preparations, meetings, and discussions of alliances. But amid the grandeur and the political maneuvering, Helaena couldn’t help but feel like a pawn in a larger game.

She knew that in a matter of days, she would be married to Jacaerys, sealing the union of House Targaryen. Her duty to her family and the realm weighed heavily on her, but the thought of spending her life with a man she barely knew left her feeling like a stranger in her own future.

As the morning sun cast a soft golden glow over King’s Landing, Helaena’s heart still felt heavy with the weight of her impending wedding. Aemond, her ever-watchful and caring brother, could see the sadness in her eyes and was determined to lift her spirits.

With cloaks concealing their distinctive Targaryen hair, they hatched a plan to sneak out of the Red Keep for a brief respite. The streets of Flea Bottom were bustling with activity as they ventured into the labyrinthine alleys, determined to escape the politics and expectations that loomed over them.

Aemond turned to Helaena, his voice gentle and reassuring. “Let’s take a walk, sister. Just for a little while, to remind ourselves of the world beyond these walls.”

Helaena agreed with a nod, and they set off into the heart of the city. Their Targaryen identities hidden, they blended in with the common folk, observing the everyday struggles and triumphs of those who lived in Flea Bottom.

Passing a vendor selling sweet pastries, Aemond’s eyes danced with mischief as he suggested, “Shall we indulge in a treat, Helaena? Like the commoners do.”

Helaena’s laughter filled the morning air as they shared a pastry, the simple joy of the moment lightening their hearts. They spoke of dreams and hopes, of a life where they could choose their own destinies, free from the constraints of duty.

Aemond gently squeezed Helaena’s hand. “Remember, sister, our hearts are our own. No matter what lies ahead, we’ll always have this bond.”

As Helaena and Aemond strolled through the vibrant morning streets of Flea Bottom, they encountered a bustling market stall with a long line of people. The scent of fresh juice wafted through the air, and Helaena’s curiosity was piqued.

Aemond noticed her interest and said, “I’ll fetch us some juice, sister. You can rest for a moment.” He headed towards the line, leaving Helaena to explore on her own.

As she wandered a little, Helaena’s ears were graced with a melodious voice that seemed to resonate like an angel’s song. She followed the enchanting sound and soon found herself in a small gathering of people. There, a young woman, roughly her age, stood before them, her voice pure and captivating.

The crowd watched in admiration as the young woman sang, her song touching their hearts. Helaena couldn’t help but be drawn into the performance, her own worries momentarily forgotten as she listened to the beautiful melodies and lyrics.

The singer’s eyes met Helaena’s briefly, and there was a flicker of recognition, as if they shared a momentary connection through the music. It was a reminder that beauty, art, and shared emotions could bridge the gaps that duty and responsibility often imposed.

For that brief interlude, Helaena felt a sense of freedom and a connection with the common people of King’s Landing, a world far removed from the Red Keep. It was a moment she would carry with her, a glimpse of the life she longed for but could only experience in stolen moments like these.

As the young lady finished her soul-stirring song, the crowd burst into enthusiastic applause, their appreciation evident. They began placing coins into a small cup by her side, where a small cat lounged nearby, observing the scene with curious eyes.

Before the talented singer could reach for the cup, an older woman, clad in tattered garments, abruptly snatched it. She emptied the coins into her own palm with a greedy grin and declared in a harsh, commanding tone, “I’ll be takin’ every penny this girl makes until the debt is paid!”

A murmur of disapproval rippled through the onlookers, some voicing their objections, while others watched in silent anger. It was a cruel and heartless act, seizing the young woman’s hard-earned coins right before her eyes.

Helaena, standing on the fringes of the crowd, couldn’t help but feel a sense of injustice. She glanced over at Aemond, who was still waiting in line for juice, but she couldn’t bear to let this cruelty continue unchallenged.

As the crowd dispersed, leaving behind the young girl with the empty cup, Helaena’s heart swelled with empathy. Summoning her courage, she approached the girl, who was softly talking to her cat, sharing dreams of a future free from the weight of her debt.

Helaena knelt beside her, offering a gentle smile, and placed some coins into the now-empty cup. The girl’s eyes widened in shock at this unexpected act of kindness. She looked up at Helaena, her voice trembling as she spoke, “Thank you, kind lady. You have a generous heart.”

Their eyes met, and for a moment, both Helaena and the girl froze in astonishment. It was as if they were looking into a mirror. As Helaena and the girl, with her strikingly similar face but brown hair, uncovered their hair beneath the cloaks, they stared at each other in wide-eyed astonishment. It was as if they were looking into a mirror, their features so alike that they could easily be mistaken for sisters.

Helaena’s voice quivered with disbelief as she whispered, “You…you look just like me.”

The girl’s eyes shimmered with a mixture of emotions. “I’ve heard stories about a Targaryen princess, but I never thought I’d meet one, especially one who looks like…you.”

Helaena’s heart swelled with a newfound connection. She reached out and gently touched the girl’s shoulder. “What’s your name?”

The girl’s lips curled into a hesitant smile. “Ariah. I’m just a peasant girl, though.”

Helaena shook her head, her own smile warm and genuine. “Ariah, you’re not just any girl. You have a spirit and a strength that I admire. We may look alike, but it’s our hearts that truly connect us.”

As they stood there, Helaena and Ariah, two young women with a shared face but different backgrounds, found solace in each other’s presence. In that quiet, empty street, they were no longer defined by their station or their debts. They were kindred spirits, bound by the unbreakable thread of their shared humanity.

“We could be sisters,” Helaena remarked with a smile.

Ariah, still in awe of the uncanny resemblance, asked, “What’s your name?”

“Please call me Helaena,” Helaena replied.

Ariah’s eyes widened in realization. “Helaena? You have the same name as the princess.”

Helaena laughed awkwardly, a blush coloring her cheeks. “Well…”

Ariah’s initial shock quickly gave way to a deep curtsy, and she stammered, “Your highness…”

Helaena, touched by Ariah’s humility and kindness, stepped closer and gently lifted her chin. “No need for formalities, Ariah. Today, we’re just two young women sharing a moment of understanding and friendship.”

In that fleeting exchange, titles and differences faded away. Helaena and Ariah, both with the name Helaena, became not just princess and peasant but kindred spirits, bound by a shared moment of connection in the heart of King’s Landing.

As they continued to walk through the quiet streets of Flea Bottom, Ariah couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of curiosity. She turned to Helaena and asked, “Why are you out of the castle, Your Highness? You’re a princess.”

Helaena sighed softly, her gaze drifting to the bustling city around them. “I suppose I wanted to savor one last taste of freedom before my impending marriage. It’s to a man I barely know, and the thought of it… it weighs heavily on my heart.”

Ariah nodded in understanding, her eyes filled with empathy. “I can’t even imagine how that must feel, to be bound by duty and expectations.”

Helaena gave Ariah a wistful smile. “It’s a heavy burden, but for now, I’m grateful for this moment of respite and for meeting you, Ariah. You’ve given me a glimpse of the world beyond those castle walls, and I’ll cherish it.”

As they walked and talked, two young women from vastly different backgrounds found solace in each other’s company. The weight of their respective burdens seemed lighter in each other’s presence, and for a brief moment, they were free to be themselves, unburdened by titles and responsibilities.

Ariah nodded with a knowing look in her eyes. “I understand more than you might think, Your Highness. I have my own duty to pay back a debt to Lana, the seamstress who holds my family’s debt over my head. It’s a burden that’s kept me bound here for as long as I can remember.”

Helaena’s gaze softened, and she placed a comforting hand on Ariah’s shoulder. “It seems we both know the weight of debts and expectations all too well. But perhaps in our shared understanding, we can find the strength to face our respective futures, no matter how daunting they may seem.”

Their bond deepened as they continued their walk, each step bringing them closer to a friendship forged in the crucible of their shared experiences. In each other, they found a source of solace and support, a reminder that they were not alone in their struggles.

Ariah, with a playful grin, tried to lift the mood. “Well, Your Highness, at least you’re not an indentured servant like me.”

Helaena furrowed her brow in curiosity. “An indentured servant? What does that mean?”

Ariah began to explain, her tone a mixture of resignation and humor. “It means I’m bound to work off my family’s debt to Lana, the seamstress. If I want a warm breakfast, I have to pay for it, and that includes fetching the eggs myself from a barn that’s a mile away. But, in my mind, I imagine I’m still asleep, snug in my bed.”

“Really?” Helaena asked horrified and confused.

“Really, but it’s alright, I mean I’m used to it. And you?” Ariah shakes off Helaena’s concern. Her eyes wide with curiosity of the life of the royal princess.

Helaena chuckled, admitting sheepishly, “Well, Ariah, I do have a servant. I can ring a bell, and they bring me breakfast. My maid even rubs my feet as I eat. But, you know, I prefer studying about bugs.”

Their conversation took on a light-hearted tone as they shared their differing experiences and comforts. In the midst of their laughter and stories, Helaena and Ariah found solace in the simple joy of connecting with someone who understood the intricacies of their lives, whether it was through the hardship of indentured servitude or the peculiar fascination with bugs.

Ariah’s gaze met Helaena’s, and she spoke softly, “I’m just like you.”

Helaena raised an eyebrow, curious. “You are?”

With a gentle smile, Ariah began to sing:

“You’re just like me,

There’s somewhere else we’d rather be,

Somewhere that’s ours,

Somewhere that dreams come true.

Yes, I am a girl like you.”

As the melody filled the quiet street, Helaena listened with a growing sense of understanding. Ariah’s voice carried the sentiment of their shared experiences, their yearning for a world beyond their current circumstances.

Helaena joined in, her voice harmonizing with Ariah’s:

“You’d never think

That it was so,

But now I’ve met you, and I know.

It’s plain as day,

Sure as the sky is blue,

That I am a girl like you.”

Impressed by Ariah’s singing, Helaena asked, “Are you a singer, Ariah?”

Ariah chuckled and shook her head. “Oh, no, nothing quite so grand. I work at Madam Lana’s penitentiary.” She corrected herself with a smirk, “I mean, dress emporium.”

Helaena laughed, appreciating Ariah’s humor. “Well, I must say, you have a talent for both singing and making people smile. Perhaps there’s more to you than just working with dresses.”

As they continued to chat and walk through the streets of King’s Landing, the weight of their respective burdens felt a little lighter, thanks to the newfound friendship and camaraderie they had discovered in each other.

Helaena admired the dress she was wearing and remarked, “I must say, I love Madam Lana’s dresses. They’re truly exquisite.”

Ariah’s eyes sparkled with pride as she confessed, “Well, Your Highness, I happen to be the one who made the dress you’re wearing.”

Helaena’s surprise was evident, and she gestured to the intricate design. “This dress looks quite complicated to make.”

Ariah waved her off with a confident grin. “It may look that way, but I assure you, I stitched it together without a hitch. It’s all in the details, and I’ve had plenty of practice.”

Helaena was impressed by Ariah’s craftsmanship, and as they continued their walk, she couldn’t help but appreciate the artistry that went into the creation of her own gown. In Ariah, she had discovered a talented and skilled artisan who possessed a unique talent for fashion.

As Helaena and Ariah prepared to part ways, they both put their hoods back up, concealing their hair just in time for Aemond’s return. He called out for Helaena, and both girls turned to him.

Aemond, his eyes wide with shock, dropped the juice cups he was holding at the sight of Helaena and Ariah together. He had never met Ariah before, and the striking resemblance between her and Helaena left him speechless.

Helaena and Ariah couldn’t contain their laughter at Aemond’s stunned reaction, and they shared a knowing look. It was as if he had seen double.

Amid their laughter, Helaena and Aemond knew they had to return to the Red Keep before anyone noticed their absence. Helaena whispered to Ariah, “Thank you for this moment, Ariah. I won’t forget it.”

Ariah nodded, her eyes filled with warmth. “And thank you for brightening my day, Your Highness.”

With a final shared smile, the two girls parted ways, disappearing into the bustling streets of King’s Landing as they resumed their roles as princess and peasant.

That night, as Helaena sat in her room, she heard the unmistakable sound of a cat meowing. She immediately recognized it as the cat she had taken in a couple of months back, a peculiar feline she had affectionately named Anna. Anna had been a guardian of sorts for Helaena’s beloved collection of bugs, showing no interest in eating them but instead seeming determined to protect them.

Helaena, curious about what might be troubling the usually stoic cat, called out, “Anna?”

The meowing persisted, growing louder and more urgent. Concerned for her feline friend, Helaena decided to investigate. She followed the sounds of the meowing down a corridor, her footsteps echoing in the empty halls.

Finally, she arrived at an isolated corridor where the meowing seemed to be coming from. Helaena’s heart sank when she saw Anna, the cat, meowing in distress from inside a box. She approached the box, intending to free the cat and offer her comfort.

However, before she could reach Anna, a sudden darkness descended upon her. A bag was placed over her head, and strong arms seized her, pulling her away from the box. Panic coursed through Helaena as she was forcibly taken away from Anna, her cries for help muffled by the bag covering her head.

The next day, Aemond entered Helaena’s room and found a letter placed on her desk. As he read its contents, his brow furrowed in concern. The letter claimed that Helaena had run away because she didn’t want to marry Jacaerys, but Aemond knew better. He had grown up with his sister, and he recognized that this was not her handwriting.

Intrigued by the mysterious disappearance of his sister, Aemond decided to take matters into his own hands. He couldn’t let this situation escalate into chaos at the Red Keep. Determined to find out what had truly happened, he sneaked back into Flea Bottom in search of Ariah, the young girl who had shared a unique connection with Helaena.

Aemond found Ariah at Madam Lana’s dress emporium, and he approached her with urgency. “Ariah,” he began, “I need your help. Something’s happened to Helaena, and I suspect foul play. The letter I found in her room wasn’t written by her. Do you know anything about her whereabouts?”

Ariah’s eyes widened in alarm, and she replied with concern, “I don’t know where she is, but I promise I’ll do whatever I can to help you find her, Aemond. She’s a friend, and she doesn’t deserve to be in danger.”

As they huddled together, plotting their next steps, Aemond and Ariah knew that they needed to act swiftly to uncover the truth and bring Helaena back to safety. Their unlikely alliance was forged in the face of a looming mystery, and together, they were determined to find the missing princess.

Aemond leaned in closer to Ariah, his voice hushed as he made a bold proposal. “Ariah, would you be willing to come with me to the palace and pose as Helaena until I can find my sister and bring her back? It’s the only way to prevent a panic and buy us time to save her.”

Ariah hesitated for a moment, her eyes reflecting the weight of the request. Then, she nodded resolutely. “I’ll do it. For Helaena and for our friendship.”

With their plan set, Aemond and Ariah left Madam Lana’s dress emporium and ventured toward the palace. Aemond knew the secret passageways that would allow them to enter unnoticed, avoiding the prying eyes of the castle guards and courtiers.

As they made their way through the labyrinthine passages, their hearts filled with determination and hope. Together, they were embarking on a daring mission to rescue Helaena and to ensure her safe return to the Red Keep.

In the quiet confines of Helaena’s room, Aemond set to work on their daring plan. He had gathered the necessary supplies to transform Ariah into a convincing substitute for his sister. With a deft hand, he began by dyeing her brown hair into the unmistakable Targaryen shade of blonde.

As the transformation took shape, Ariah couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. She turned to Aemond and asked, “Do I look like Helaena now?”

Aemond gave her an encouraging smile. “You’re getting there, Ariah. Now, let’s work on your attire.” He carefully selected a princess-like gown and helped her into it, ensuring every detail was perfect.

Once Ariah was dressed, Aemond started the crash course in princess etiquette. “Remember, Ariah, posture is key. Stand tall and graceful. And when you walk, it’s a glide, not a stride.”

Ariah did her best to mimic the graceful movements Aemond demonstrated. “Like this?”

Aemond nodded approvingly. “Exactly. Now, let’s practice your speech. A princess speaks eloquently and with poise.”

For hours, Aemond patiently guided Ariah through the intricacies of royal behavior, from table manners to polite conversation. It was an intense crash course, but Ariah’s determination and Aemond’s expertise made for a promising transformation.

As they continued their lessons, Aemond couldn’t help but admire Ariah’s willingness to step into the role of a princess to help rescue his sister. Their bond grew stronger with each passing moment, and they both knew that they were in this together, determined to bring Helaena home safely.

The day arrived when Ariah, posing as Helaena, was to meet Prince Jacaerys, her nephew and the man she was supposed to marry. The weight of her role bore down on her, and she couldn’t help but feel nervous about the impending encounter.

Aemond, her mentor and guide through this charade, knew that Ariah needed to be prepared for any questions or conversations that might arise. He decided to share a piece of Helaena’s genuine passion with her – her love for bugs. After all, it was common knowledge among the court that Helaena had a deep fondness for these small creatures.

“Ariah,” Aemond began, “if anyone asks about your interests or hobbies, you should mention your fascination with bugs. It’s something everyone associates with Helaena. Just speak of it with the same enthusiasm that she would.”

Ariah nodded, her nerves beginning to ease with Aemond’s guidance. “I’ll do my best, Aemond. Thank you for helping me through all of this.”

With their preparations complete, Ariah, now assuming Helaena’s identity, was ready to face Prince Jacaerys and continue the charade. As they made their way to the meeting, they knew that their deception would be put to the test, and their hopes rested on their ability to maintain the illusion until they could find the real Helaena and bring her back to safety.

As Larys Strong was on the verge of mentioning Princess Helaena’s disappearance in the throne room, where the king, queen, Rhaenyra, Daemon, Jacaerys, and Lucaerys were all present, the heavy doors swung open, interrupting his words.

A hushed silence fell over the room as Aemond entered, guiding Ariah, who now bore an uncanny resemblance to Helaena. The two girls looked strikingly alike, and if anyone didn’t know better, they would be hard-pressed to tell them apart.

Larys Strong, who had been about to reveal the disappearance, found himself in a state of shock at the sight. His eyes widened, and his expression betrayed a mixture of horror and disbelief. Still, he tried to maintain his composure, hiding his true feelings behind a carefully crafted facade.

As Rhaenyra suggested the idea of Helaena and Jacaerys taking a dragon ride, Aemond quickly intervened with an excuse, his voice carrying a note of authority. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” he stated firmly. “Helaena’s dragon is about to lay eggs, and it’s not advisable for her to fly at the moment.”

Ariah couldn’t help but release a subtle sigh of relief, grateful that she wouldn’t have to face the intimidating prospect of approaching a dragon, knowing the consequences if she did. Aemond had indeed saved her from a potentially perilous situation.

Daemon’s suggestion for Jacaerys and Helaena to take a walk in the gardens was met with agreement from Ariah and Aemond, who exchanged a subtle nod of understanding. With Jacaerys leading the way, the trio left the throne room, leaving the courtiers behind.

As Jacaerys and Ariah walked together, with Aemond serving as a discreet chaperone, Jacaerys believed that Ariah was indeed Helaena. The charade was working, and the true identity of Ariah remained hidden from everyone, including Jacaerys himself.

As they strolled through the palace gardens, Jacaerys took the opportunity to engage Ariah, believing her to be Helaena, in conversation. He was eager to learn more about the woman he was betrothed to.

“So, Helaena,” Jacaerys began with a warm smile, “tell me, what do you enjoy doing in your free time? What are your interests and hobbies?”

Ariah, maintaining her guise as Helaena, mirrored his curiosity. “Well, Prince Jacaerys, I find myself drawn to many things. I have a particular fondness for the natural world and its creatures. I enjoy studying insects, their behavior, and their intricate designs.”

Jacaerys nodded, genuinely interested. “Insects? That’s quite fascinating. I must admit, I don’t know much about them. What else do you like?”

Ariah kept up the conversation, asking about Jacaerys’s own interests and pursuits, ensuring that her curiosity matched his. In doing so, she hoped to maintain the illusion and avoid raising any suspicions about her true identity.

As the days passed and Ariah continued her charade, she found herself drawn to Prince Jacaerys more and more with each interaction. His kindness, his words, and the thoughtful gestures he extended toward her began to melt her heart. She cherished each touch, each caress, and every gift, no matter how simple, like a flower he would pick for her.

Yet, Ariah knew the cruel reality of her situation. She couldn’t allow her feelings to surface or act upon them. She was posing as Helaena, and her duty was to help find the real princess and ensure her safety. The thought of confessing her true emotions was a secret she could only share with her loyal companion, Wolfie, her small cat who could keep her secrets.

In the midst of her growing affection for Jacaerys, Ariah faced a constant internal struggle, torn between the charade and her genuine feelings. Each day, she found herself sinking deeper into a love she couldn’t acknowledge to anyone but her feline confidant.

Stuck in the remote and abandoned farm, far from the safety of the palace, Helaena knew that her only chance of escape was to outsmart her captors. With quick thinking and a determination to break free, she hatched a plan.

Helaena enlisted the help of her loyal cat, Anna, who had been her silent companion during her captivity. Together, they devised a clever ruse to deceive the two men guarding her. Anna’s cooperation was invaluable, and the plan hinged on her feline agility and stealth.

As the opportunity presented itself, Helaena and Anna executed their plan. With the men momentarily distracted, Helaena managed to deceive them into unlocking her door. Swiftly, she covered them with a sheet, rendering them temporarily blind to her escape.

Helaena wasted no time. She ran from the farm, her heart pounding with adrenaline, clutching Anna in her arms. Her escape led her to a horse, and she mounted it with urgency, galloping away from the abandoned farm and toward the hope of freedom.

As the wind whipped through her hair, Helaena knew that she was on the run, determined to reunite with her family and uncover the truth behind her abduction.

The moon hung low in the sky as Helaena approached the towering gates of the Red Keep, her heart heavy with determination to return to safety. She had endured captivity and danger, and now she sought refuge within the walls of the castle.

But as she neared the guards stationed at the entrance, she felt a knot of unease form in her stomach. The guards had already seen Ariah with the royal family and believed her to be the true Helaena. To them, Helaena was the imposter.

Helaena’s voice quivered as she addressed the stern-faced guards. “Please, you must let me in. I am Princess Helaena, and I have been held against my will.”

The guards exchanged skeptical glances. They had no reason to doubt the presence of the supposed Helaena inside the castle.

One of the guards stepped forward, his tone dismissive. “You are mistaken, girl. The princess is already here. We will not be fooled by your lies.”

Desperation surged within Helaena as she was turned away, her plea for help falling on deaf ears. She retreated from the castle gates, knowing that she had to find another way to reveal her true identity and rescue herself from captivity.

The second Helaena stepped into the street of thread she was grabbed harshly by the woman she saw take Ariah’s money on the street. She got thrown into her shop before she could defend herself even.

Locked inside Madame Lana’s dress shop, Helaena found herself in a dimly lit, oppressive space filled with luxurious gowns and fabrics. Her eyes darted around, searching for any means of escape, but the shop’s windows were heavily barred, and the door was securely locked.

Madame Lana stood before her, an imposing figure with a cold demeanor. “You thought you could deceive us, imposter,” she hissed, her voice dripping with disdain.

Helaena’s pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears, and the door was locked with a resounding finality. Her heart pounded with fear as she realized the gravity of her situation. She was trapped, and her captors believed her to be Ariah.

Helaena knew that she had to find a way to escape this place and prove her true identity. She could only hope that someone would come to her rescue or that she could outwit Madame Lana and her guards.

Aemond had managed to slip away from the commotion in the Red Keep, finding a secluded spot where he could eavesdrop on the conversations of the courtiers. Among the voices that reached his ears, he overheard the sinister plans of Larys Strong.

Hidden in the shadows, Aemond strained to listen as Larys spoke in hushed tones to his co-conspirator. The words sent a chill down his spine, for they revealed a treacherous plot to deceive the court and claim the princess as his own.

Larys spoke with a venomous edge to his voice, “Once we capture her, I’ll act as her savior. I’ll gain her trust and convince her that I rescued her from her captors. Then, I will propose to marry her. The throne will be within my grasp, and there will be no one to challenge my claim.”

Aemond’s heart raced as he comprehended the gravity of Larys’ intentions. He knew that he had to do something to stop this dangerous scheme and protect the true princess, Helaena.

Intent on thwarting Larys Strong’s treacherous plan, Aemond had decided to confront him, but fate had other ideas. As he moved to expose the plot, he was discovered by Larys’s guards.

Aemond’s protests fell on deaf ears as he was swiftly captured and subdued. His hands were bound, and he was led away from the shadows and into the harsh light of the Red Keep’s corridors.

Larys Strong himself appeared, wearing a sinister grin. “It seems we have a meddler in our midst,” he taunted, looking triumphantly at Aemond. “You won’t be able to stop what’s coming.”

Aemond’s heart sank as he was taken away, realizing that he had failed in his attempt to prevent Larys from deceiving the court and stealing Helaena and trying to get to the throne. Little did he know that his own fate would soon become intertwined with that of the true princess in a perilous underground prison.

Helaena had been locked inside Madame Lana’s dress shop, her desperate escape attempt foiled, and her only hope lay with her loyal cat, Anna. She had entrusted Anna with her ring, which bore a tag from the shop, a faint glimmer of hope that someone might find her.

Unbeknownst to Helaena, Larys Strong had discovered Anna with the ring and tag, ensuring that no one else saw the evidence that could lead to her rescue. Deceiving Helaena into believing he was her savior, he had taken her to the mines, where her captivity continued.

But as Larys led her deeper into the mines, Helaena’s heart sank, and dread filled her. She had been betrayed once again. Larys threw her into a dimly lit room, and as her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she gasped in disbelief.

There, tied and gagged, was her brother Aemond. A rush of relief washed over her as she moved swiftly to untie him and remove his gag. Words were unnecessary; their eyes spoke of the joy of their reunion and the shared determination to survive.

Their situation was dire, surrounded by the collapsing mine, but the room they were in remained miraculously intact, except for the ceiling, which was incredibly high above them. In the darkness of the underground, they were left to ponder their next move and find a way to escape their subterranean prison.

Inside the grandeur of the Red Keep’s throne room, the royal family had gathered for a fateful meeting. Ariah, disguised as Helaena, couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of unease when she realized Aemond was absent. Panic surged through her veins, but she maintained her composure, knowing that she had to play her part.

Her anxiety grew as Larys Strong entered the room, and he wasted no time in accusing her of being an imposter. The tension in the room escalated as he approached Ariah, and without warning, he threw water onto her hair, causing the dye to run and reveal her true appearance.

Larys spoke with a venomous edge to his voice, “Imposter!”

The king and queen, along with the rest of the family, watched in horrified realization as the disguise melted away. The room erupted in gasps and murmurs, and their expressions turned from confusion to anger.

The king declared, “Arrest her!”

Ariah, her heart pounding, attempted to explain herself as the guards moved in to detain her. She pointed an accusing finger at Larys, desperation in her voice.

Ariah urgently pleaded, “No, please, you must listen! I was trying to protect the princess from him! Aemond knows the truth! He can vouch for me!’”

But her pleas fell on deaf ears, drowned out by the commotion in the throne room. Jacaerys, watching in disbelief and shock, struggled to make sense of the sudden revelation that the woman he believed to be Helaena was not who she appeared to be. The truth had been exposed, and the consequences were dire.

In their desperate situation, Aemond and Helaena realized that if they could separate the rocks around them, they might be able to access the water pipes that ran through the mines. The water pipes offered a sliver of hope, a potential means of escape from their underground prison.

With determination in their hearts, they set to work, using whatever tools they could find to chip away at the rocks. It was grueling and painstaking labor, but they knew it was their only chance. Hours turned into days, but they didn’t give up. Their shared determination and sibling bond kept them going.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they managed to create a small opening in the rock wall, just large enough to access the water pipes. With great effort, they climbed into a barrel that was part of the water system. The barrel was designed to rise with the water level as it flowed through the pipes.

As they entered the barrel, their hearts raced with anticipation. Slowly but steadily, the barrel began to ascend, carried by the flow of water. They held onto each other, their eyes fixed on the open ceiling above. It was their lifeline, their path to freedom, and they were determined to reach it.

Ariah found herself imprisoned within a cell deep within the Red Keep. She wore a princess's dress, but her true hair, untamed and free, framed her face. The weight of her predicament bore down on her, but she refused to surrender to despair. Instead, she began to sing, her voice a soft, soothing melody that reverberated within the cold, stone walls.

Her song, while barely louder than a whisper, filled the cell and seemed to have a curious effect on the guard stationed just outside. His eyelids grew heavy, and he eventually collapsed onto the floor, emitting a gentle snore.

Ariah continued to sing, her voice a soothing lullaby that maintained the guard in his deep slumber. With each note that graced her lips, she inched closer to the keys that dangled from his belt. Her nimble fingers extended toward them, and she cautiously removed them from his belt.

The keys now in her possession, Ariah couldn't afford to stop. She resumed her singing, her heart racing as she approached the cell door. Her hope kindled the path to a daring escape.

Ariah opens the door and flees, accidentally waking up the guard in the process. Her footsteps echo as she starts running down the dimly lit halls of the dungeon, her breath coming in rapid bursts. She's quickly caught by a guard whose entire head and face are obscured by a helm, making his expression unreadable. Despite her frantic attempts to escape, it seems futile.

"You think you could escape?" The first guard's voice is gruff, and his gloved hand reaches out to apprehend her.

As the first guard reaches for her, the second guard, also clad in helm and armor, intervenes, swiftly pulling her away. His grip is firm, but there's an air of authority about him.

"The king wants to see her," the second guard says, his voice muffled by the helm.

Ariah, still trying to wriggle free, manages to step on the second guard's toes, causing him to cry out in pain. He removes his helm, revealing the face of Prince Jacaerys, his brows furrowed in momentary discomfort.

"I think I deserved that," he jokes, offering a brief smile. Ariah is both confused and shocked at the sight of him disguised as a guard to save her.

"You do love disguises," she jokes back, her own tension momentarily relieved by the unexpected encounter. Jacaerys chuckles for a moment, his eyes still focused on their surroundings.

"We have to go and save my aunt," he says, a determined glint in his eyes as he surveys the dungeon's shadows.

Aemond and Helaena managed to sneak back into the Red Keep after their daring escape from the mines. With adrenaline still coursing through their veins, they made their way directly to their parents, King Viserys and Queen Alicent, who were already in the company of Larys Strong, Rhaenyra, and Daemon.

Aemond, his voice tinged with urgency, began recounting the harrowing events they had endured. "Father, Mother, you won't believe what happened to us," he said, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and concern. "We were held captive in the mines, and Helaena and I barely escaped with our lives."

King Viserys' face darkened with anger and worry as he listened to his son's account. "Tell us everything, Aemond," he demanded.

Aemond proceeded to recount the story, detailing the treachery of Larys Strong and their desperate escape from the collapsing mine. Helaena interjected at times, providing her perspective on the ordeal.

As Aemond concluded his tale, King Viserys turned his steely gaze toward Larys Strong. "You will pay for this, Larys," he declared, his voice firm and commanding.

Larys Strong, realizing the gravity of his actions, tried to defend himself, but his words fell on deaf ears. The guards moved forward, their duty clear, as Larys Strong's treachery finally caught up with him.

Jacaerys and Ariah rushed into the throne room, their hearts pounding with worry, only to find Helaena and Aemond standing there. The tension that had gripped them finally gave way to relief.

Without a moment's hesitation, Helaena and Ariah rushed toward each other, their arms opening wide, and they embraced tightly. Tears welled up in their eyes as they held each other, grateful that they were both safe and sound after the trials they had endured.

In that moment, the bond between the two girls, one a princess and the other a commoner, transcended their differences, and they clung to each other as if they had been sisters all their lives. The tumultuous events had forged a deep connection that nothing could break, and they cherished the simple joy of being reunited.

Amidst the emotional reunion, Aemond and Helaena exchanged a knowing look. They had both carried a secret for far too long, and now, with their family gathered around them, it was time to reveal it.

As they held hands, their fingers entwined, Aemond and Helaena shared a heartfelt confession that would change the course of their lives.

"Helaena and I..." Aemond's voice trembled with sincerity, "we love each other deeply."

Their words hung in the air like a delicate promise, their gazes locked in a passionate embrace. In the eyes of their parents, King Viserys and Queen Alicent, they saw understanding and compassion.

King Viserys spoke softly, his voice filled with paternal warmth, "Love is a powerful force, and we can't deny it. We understand."

Ariah and Jacaerys, who had weathered their own trials and found solace in each other's arms, exchanged a knowing look. Their love had grown from shared experiences, and now it had led them here.

Jacaerys shared his feelings with a warm smile, "Ariah and I have something to share as well. We've fallen in love."

Ariah nodded in agreement, her eyes filled with affection, "We want to be together."

The room was filled with a profound silence, broken only by the realization that love had woven its intricate threads through the destinies of these four young hearts.

Queen Alicent, a mother torn between duty and the happiness of her children, spoke after a thoughtful pause, "Perhaps we need to reconsider the marriage pacts."

King Viserys nodded in agreement, and the family gathered together to discuss a new treaty, one that didn't involve forced marriages but instead honored the love that had blossomed among them.

With a collective decision reached, King Viserys addressed everyone, "We will forge a treaty that binds our houses in peace. Jacaerys and Ariah will be wed, and so will Aemond and Helaena."

Rhaenyra, their elder sister and the future queen, stepped forward with a solemn pledge, "Upon my ascension to the throne, I vow not to harm my siblings."

Aemond, his voice filled with conviction, added his own vow, "And we vow not to seek the throne for ourselves."

With these vows of love, understanding, and unity, a new era began for House Targaryen. The weight of duty was replaced with the warmth of familial love, and they moved forward together, ready to face whatever challenges the future might hold.

With their new treaties in place and their hearts filled with love, the members of House Targaryen found a newfound happiness in their lives. Jacaerys and Ariah, and Aemond and Helaena, celebrated their marriages with grand ceremonies that brought joy to the realm.

As the years passed, the Targaryen family grew in number, with the laughter of children filling the halls of the Red Keep. Their love and unity served as an example to the Seven Kingdoms, and under their rule, the realm enjoyed a period of peace and prosperity.

The tales of their adventures, trials, and ultimate triumphs were passed down through generations, becoming the stuff of legends. House Targaryen's legacy was not one of conflict and war, but of love, unity, and a commitment to a brighter future.

And so, they lived happily ever after, their bonds of love and family stronger than ever, ensuring a prosperous and harmonious future for the Seven Kingdoms.

[samieree]

Silver Princess || House of the Dragon

Daemon Targaryen | Aemond Targaryen | Gwayne Hightower

-> Chapter XI

Chapter XII ''The cold''

Valaerya did not try to convince Rhaenyra to stay in King's Landing. She had only been here a day and she had already heard some people gossiping about her sons. She deserved some rest, she and her family. But now they are far from each other again... It is true that they are no longer separated by a whole sea, but again each of them collides with a different everyday life.

She was sitting in a spacious chamber, moving in her hands a small, rectangular handkerchief on which she had embroidered a dragon with black thread and its circumference with the gold one. She made it with her father in mind, perhaps it will fit his model of Old Valyria somewhere. She can't carve a figurine like Daemon, but she could do at least that much.

Talking about Daemon, he was sitting on cushions on the floor with their daughter and playing dolls with her. She remembered the first time Visenya had asked him to play with her, when she had received some dolls from one of the nobles from Essos, with whom they were staying. He wasn't very happy at first, but he didn't want to upset her, so he agreed. Over time, however, he began to like creating stories about princes and princesses, dragons, and knights... Everything his beloved daughter wanted.

"Plince came on a dlagon and..."

"And the dragon ate the princess." Daemon picked up the dragon figurine and brought it closer to the doll he already had in his other hand, imitating the dragon's sounds.

"No!" the girl laughed, stretching out her hand to the dragon figurine. "You still can't do anything right..." she muttered more than she said, and this time it was Daemon who laughed, but didn't hand over the figurine.

"So let me improve, darling." he wondered for a moment, looking from the figurine to the doll. "I know. The prince came on a dragon and ordered him to burn a certain nasty Lord who had locked the princess in a tower. Then they both flew away on the prince's dragon and lived happily ever after."

Val couldn't help but smile when she heard about 'burning the nasty Lord who locked the princess in a tower', because it was obvious that Daemon was referring to Otto Hightower when he said that.

The girl liked this ending much better and praised her dad, even clapping for him. Then she took the princess doll from him and started playing with it and the prince, already creating another story in her head to play with.

"Do you think they'll be back soon?" Val asked unexpectedly, finally stopping crumpling the scarf in her hands.

"No." he replied briefly and without even looking at her, just smiling at his daughter.

A quick and honest answer, probably closest to the truth. It wasn't what she wanted to hear, but she had to accept it. Apparently, they are destined to be close only from time to time... At least Dragonstone is close, they will be able to visit each other freely.

"She deserves this rest, but..." she stopped. She didn't want to say out loud that from a political point of view it was a stupid decision.

"But she's the heir and because of that she shouldn't leave." he finished for her and finally looked at her. He reached out with his free hand and took her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "We'll take care of the Hightowers, we won't let them roam around our home."

"They're already doing it." she sighed. "The vipers have infested this place for good when my father married Alicent Hightower."

"At least Otto isn't the Hand."

Good point, they've taken a bit of a break since Lyonel Strong became Hand of the King, though she wouldn't hold out much hope with it. Apparently he wanted to resign, but the king wouldn't let him, saying he could escort his son to Harrenhal, but he had to come back later. But since he wanted to give up once, he'll probably try again.

"I wouldn't be too happy about it, I have a feeling he'll come back somehow."

"Don't bone it." she sighed again, but looked at her daughter and a soft smile immediately appeared on her face.

The apple of her eye, her treasure, her only child, her beloved. She carried her under her heart for nine months, guarded her, and had never cared for herself as much as when she was pregnant. Little Visenya, her greatest treasure in this world, her greatest love, she didn't love even her sister as much as she loved her own child. This little girl always managed to put a smile on her face, even without knowing how much she meant to her, how much her mother loved her.

She climbed down from the chair and sat on the ground, running her free hand through the girl's silver hair.

"Can I join?" she asked, obviously referring to playing with dolls.

"Take the knight, mom." Visenya replied happily and handed her mother the appropriate doll.

My little princess...

* * *

The servants told her that she would find her father in the gardens, that that was where he wished to eat dinner. In her pants pocket she had a handkerchief she had made for him. While walking through the gardens, she even saw him from a distance, sitting with his sons and the Queen. It's great that someone told them about the family dinner...

She noticed Halaena, who was the only one not sitting at the table, but somewhere outside the blanket on the grass, looking for something in it. She decided that before she went to her father she would see how her eleven-year-old sister was doing.

"What are you looking for?" she knelt down on the grass next to her. Now she could see more clearly how the girl was spreading the blades of grass and looking for something among them.

"The beetle escaped." she replied. "I knew not to go out to the gardens..."

"Maybe I can help you look for it? What did it look like?" she asked, starting to search the grass for the beetle, although she didn't expect to find it. She couldn't watch Halaena sitting alone and no one taking care of her. Since she became a mother herself, she didn't understand how Alicent could not approach her child when it was sitting alone, it had some problem...

"The cold is terrible. I'm afraid of it."

Valaerya frowned. At first she didn't understand what was going on, only after a few moments she realized that Halaena meant that she didn't like gardens because of the cold. It still wasn't clear why she was saying something like that now, especially when Val asked her a question, but... That was just how she was. Sometimes she said things that didn't seem to make sense, and she even got frustrated when others didn't understand what she meant.

"It's only cold at night, and that's if you don't dress appropriately." she replied, gently placing her hands on hers to make her stop searching and look at her. "You have nothing to be afraid of, little sister." she smiled at her and raised one hand to her cheek to slightly lift the corner of her mouth and make her smile.

She even succeeded a little, because a gentle smile crept onto Halaena's face.

"Cold is death." she said seriously, squeezing the hand that was resting on hers. "You're so warm..." she added in a whisper, looking into her eyes.

They looked into each other's eyes in silence for a moment, but Val didn't understand what her sister was trying to tell her, because unfortunately she didn't know what she knew.

"So... What did your beetle look like?" she cleared her throat and said it, resting her hand on the girl's shoulder and forcing herself to smile and push the strange, disturbing thoughts to the back of her mind.

"Princess Valaerya." she heard a voice behind her that was so familiar to her and that she didn't like. She sighed softly and rose from the ground, turning to Alicent.

"My Queen." she said casually, but smiled sweetly. "Seeing my little sister sitting alone, I thought that someone should take care of her." she explained, already knowing what Alicent was probably meaning.

That I dare to spend time with my sister.

"And what makes you think it should be you?"

"We're all family, aren't we?" she answered with a question, and then took a step closer to Alicent, no longer trying to keep a smile on her face. "And we all care about each other very much, don't we? Just like every family should." she added, much more quietly.

"The house of the dragon remains strong, as it has been for the last hundred years." Alicent said in response, forcing herself to smile softly.

Alicent was hard to figure out. Valaerya didn't know how she should treat her, was she her enemy? On the one hand, she didn't like that she had come and sat with Halaena, and on the other, she was now saying something like she was trying to identify with her family. It was as if she was torn between two families and didn't know who she should stay with: her father on the one side, and her husband and children on the other.

And Rhaenyra... Since her friendship with Alicent ended, sisters became closer to each other. She didn't know what the relationship between the heiress and the Queen was like now, but she could guess that it wasn't rosy.

On the one hand, she felt sorry for Alicent. She must have felt lonely here, especially since her father stopped being Hand. She had children, but it didn't seem like she was close to them. Val even would dare to say that her half-siblings were closer to her or random servants than to their own mother.

She was forced to marry my father... Surely she doesn't love him, but her children? Or maybe she doesn't know how to show it?

But on the other hand... She was only her stepmother, and Otto certainly had some bigger plans, he is the type of man who never gives up and always has some idea of ​​how to take advantage of the situation. He may be far away and without so much power at the moment, but they shouldn't underestimate him. Who knows if he plans to put his own blood on the throne? Some people never have enough...

"And it will stay stron for another hundred." Valaerya replied and reached out to grab Alicent's hand, but she quickly withdrew it. Val didn't expect this and froze with her hand halfway. She wanted to show her some support, not give her any reason to be enemies, to make her more sided with the Targaryens... And she cut it off so quickly. "Your Grace."

She curtsied slightly without taking her eyes off her and walked away, heading towards her father. As long as he is alive they are safe, it will be worse after he dies... She doesn't even want to think about it, she remembered the pain of losing her mother... And besides, will the Lords keep their oaths to Rhaenyra? Will Otto Hightower not want to put his grandson on the throne? What if war breaks out?

"Valaerya, my daughter." she abandoned these thoughts when she heard her father. She immediately smiled and curtsied slightly before taking a seat at the table next to him. "I was hoping we could all eat dinner together."

We would have eaten it together if someone had informed me or Daemon that it would take place in the garden today...

"Visenya wanted to play more, and you know how she is: you can't say no to her. Daemon and I lost track of time, I'm sorry." she excused themselves from it, hiding the fact that no one had told them anything. She had already seen that it hurt her father to see his family divided, so she didn't want to add to his sadness, especially since he was still sick.

"She's pretty as a flower. Like her mother." she smiled at these words, slowly taking the handkerchief out of her pocket, but not showing it to him yet.

"But she has as much energy as a dragon and can be as stubborn as a donkey."

"Just like her mother, too." they both laughed. "When you and Rhaenyra were little, I've heard many times from Aemma how energetic you are and how much you can stand your ground. I only realized this when I was playing with you alone, without her around." she looked down at the memory of her mother. Over time, it didn't hurt so much anymore, but she was always sad that she would never see her again, hug her, or hear her voice. "I still miss her too." he added quietly, placing his hand on her shoulder and squeezing it gently.

He too had to suffer after her death, even if... He was the reason of it. Although after so many years she approached it all, what she saw, a little differently. Choosing between wife and child. The wife will die anyway, since she can't give birth to a child, and at least one of them can be saved... But she should have known about it. She shouldn't have died in fear, not knowing what was happening. It should have been her choice.

"I..." she trailed off. She couldn't say 'I understand', which was probably what he wanted to hear from her ever since it happened. From her and her sister. But she couldn't say it, she couldn't relieve him. "I did something for you. Maybe... Maybe it will fit your model of Old Valyria..." she handed him the folded handkerchief. Viserys removed his hand from her arm and took the gift from her, spreading it out in front of him. "It's Balerion." she added, referring to the embroidered black dragon.

"It's perfect, it will fit." he said, after briefly examining the embroidered dragon. He smiled broadly, clearly surprised and moved by his daughter's gift. "The last dragon who remembered Valyria... He will take a place of honor on the tallest building." "Father..." she began hesitantly, looking for a moment towards Alicent, who was now crouching next to Halaena. "...I have a request for you." She turned her gaze back to Viserys. "It's about the Queen."

~

-> Chapter XIII -> general masterlist -> Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon masterlist

tags: @marihoneywk @watercolorskyy

[talesofesther]

𝔈𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔞 𝔉𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢

↳ 𝐂𝐡 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐀 𝐭𝐨𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬

Aemond Targaryen x Reader/fem!OC

Series Summary: You made a promise to Aemond once, when you were young and naive, and the only friend he'd ever known; yet you abandoned him before you could fulfill it. Between broken bonds, a betrothal, and flames that still burn deep within you; this is the story of how you fell apart and found each other again.

A/N: This chapter is a little event-heavy at parts, I hope it's not boring, but all is essential to the plot. <3

Word count: 4,9k

Masterlist | Previous chapter

There would be a supper.

The whole family united once again at the Red Keep, Viserys had said; had wished.

You, along with Helaena, Baela, and Rhaena decided to get ready together. Helaena had been a good friend to you during your stay at the Keep when you were younger, and she, unlike Aemond, had been overjoyed with your return; welcoming you with a tight hug and wide smile.

Now, you stood before the tall mirror in the princess' private quarters, slowly twirling in your heels as you held the fabric of the black and gold dress she'd given you.

"Oh, you look divine, it suits you brilliantly," Helaena exclaimed, softly clapping her hands together. She came to stand behind you, clasping a golden necklace around your neck. A finishing touch, as she'd said earlier.

"Are you sure?" You asked timidly, glancing between Helaena and your sisters who sat on her bed waiting for you.

Baela nodded, a smirk stretching her lips, "It's beautiful, sister, dare I say that perhaps you should indulge in gowns and dresses more often." Her tone was playful, she knew you better than that already.

You scoffed halfheartedly, looking down at yourself and the rich dress you wore—intricate golden details were sewn into the dark fabric, the skirt wasn't bulky but it was long enough to prompt you to take care of where you'd be stepping. "I can only imagine trying to ride with something like this."

"Maybe if you spent less time on dragonback and more time being a proper lady you wouldn't have to wonder," Baela teased, raising a brow at you and holding back a chuckle.

Your cheeks warmed up, it was true that more often than not you favored the company of your dragon over other people; finding an easeness to being yourself when her fiery gaze held nothing but devotion for you. Yet you narrowed your eyes at your sister, "And you set a fine example, do you, sister?"

Baela simply shrugged, falling into a fit of giggles shortly after. You, Helaena, and Rhaena couldn't help but join in, as the last rays of sunlight seeped through the thin curtains.

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

The arrangements for the supper started being made as soon as the sun vanished on the horizon, a large table set with the finest of feasts, illuminated by several candlelights and torches as the maids brought forth tray after tray of fruits, meat, bread, and wine. A small group of musicians even stood at one corner of the room to provide entertainment.

As the King wished, the whole family was indeed present. You and the girls were the last to walk in before Viserys arrived. Baela and Rhaena kept on towards their seats beside Jace and Luke respectively, while you hung back when Helaena tugged at your hand.

You turned to the Princess then, taking hold of her other hand as well. From the corner of your eyes, past the table and the figure of Aegon, you caught a glance of Aemond; his brother spoke with him but he didn't appear to be listening as his eye met yours. He looked at you rather unabashedly, a barely there smile hinting at the corner of his lips as he gave you a curt nod in greeting.

"Tell me you'll be staying."

Halaena's voice captured your attention again before you could react to Aemond, and your gaze fell back onto her.

She squeezed your hands, "For a while, at least," she smiled, a little shy but genuine, "I could use the company."

"I-" You hesitated, unsure if it was even up to you to decide. You settled for giving her what you hoped was a reassuring smile in turn, "I can certainly try to."

It seemed to be enough to lift her spirits, as she let go of your hands to walk toward her seat at one side of the large table, while you headed for the other, closer to your father.

Viserys finally arrived, his chair being carried by four guards as it would be too much effort for him to walk. Everyone stood up, out of respect for their King, father, grandsire, and uncle. The silence was held in the warmly lit room until he was in place beside Queen Alicent.

One of the nearby guards pulled a chair out for you when everyone sat down again and you thanked him with a nod and a smile. You were sitting at one end of the table, just beside Rhaenyra and your father, and Aemond happened to sit at the opposite end, looking directly in your direction.

You refrained from meeting his stare again, part of you could feel the tension lying heavily in the air and, amidst so many other people, you found it best to ignore and avoid questioning and curious glances. Instead, you noticed Rhaenyra looking at you, one hand resting atop her pregnant belly and the other holding her chalice of wine, a gentle smile on her features. "You look lovely, darling."

Glancing down at your hands in timidness, you mimicked her smile; "Thank you, you do as well."

Much like Laena before her, Rhaenyra had always been kind to you. When Rhaenys had taken Baela to ward on Driftmark, Rhaenyra had subconsciously done the same to you, she'd treated and educated you as her own; While Daemon taught you how to handle a sword, she'd shown you everything she'd learned as a young princess at the royal court, as well as lessons in High Valyrian—which you caught on pretty quickly and had the time of your life rubbing on Jace's face, dropping random lines in the old language only to watch him roll his eyes halfheartedly.

Daemon would usually try to hide a smile whenever he caught you and Rhaenyra together, just as he is now.

"How good it is, to see you all tonight," Viserys spoke slowly, his voice tired and taking much effort off him, drawing everyone's attention, "Together."

Alicent suggested a prayer before eating, and so you drew your hands together atop the table and closed your eyes. While she spoke you felt the familiar weight of Aemond's gaze on you; the waters were still murky between you and him, and despite having already exchanged a few words, you still didn't have a single clue of where you stood with each other. Things still felt… strange and out of place, the invisible wall dividing you stood ever so high.

Viserys then proceeded to raise a toast to both Jace and Luke, and their betrothed Baela and Rhaena; with a special mention to Luke being the future Lord of the Tides.

You raised your cup along with everyone else, a small smile hanging on your lips as you inclined it towards Luke before taking a sip; stealing a smile from the young boy in return.

With a tap of his cane on the floor, the King stood up from his seat, albeit with slow and unsteady movements as his body barely supported his weight anymore. "It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow, to see these faces around the table," Viserys spoke, taking a steadying breath between each word as he looked around at every member of his family. "The faces most dear to me in all the world, yet grown so distant from each other in the years past."

At the other end of the table, Aemond's heart bled at the last of his father's words. He clenched his jaw, eye remaining downcast, and observed the gentle flickering of the candlelights atop the table. He refused to look up again as he knew he'd get trapped by how the golden light of the fires highlighted the outlines of your face, as you offered that kind smile of yours ever so freely to the very people who'd once hurt him.

The one-eyed prince wanted to be angry at you, to say he didn't care whether you now favored Rhaenyra's bastards over him. But a more stinging feeling decided to take hold of his heart, and he felt bitter and hurt with envy… and longing.

Viserys then removed his golden half-mask, exposing his decaying face. "My own face… is no longer a handsome one," he jested with a bittersweet grin, "If indeed it ever was. But tonight, I wish you to see me as I am." The King gestured at himself, his voice holding as much conviction as he could muster, "Not just a King, but your father. Your brother. Your husband. And your grandsire. Who may not, it seems, walk for much longer among you."

The room held the silence for a moment, everyone feeling the grim reality hang heavy in the air. Aemond chanced a glance up then, only to find your eyes already on him. The prince gulped, closing his hand into a fist as he held your gaze; gentle, welcoming, caring. For someone who had abandoned him, you still insisted on looking at him with unbridled sympathy.

"Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts," The King insisted, "The crown cannot stay strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. My firstborn, Rhaenyra, will assume the throne once I'm gone, and I wish her rule to be as peaceful as mine. With her family stood by her side." Viserys weakly hit the table to accentuate his point, looking around himself as everyone remained quiet yet with attention trained on him.

"So set aside your grievances." Around the table people from both sides of the family looked at each other, the unspoken tension still present, anyone would be able to see it. "If not for the sake of the crown, then for the sake of this old man... Who loves you all, so dearly." Viserys finished at last, falling back onto his chair as the exertion of speaking took its toll.

Rhaenyra was the first to raise her cup, in a toast to Queen Alicent, who in turn, raised her own cup to the Princess. Both seemingly rather committed to acquiescing to the King's wishes for peace and unison.

Their sons, however, had diverging ideas.

Aegon had been having quite the fun teasing Jace about his new betrothal, and you nearly choked on your wine when the Velaryon boy suddenly slammed his fists on the table, standing up. You glared at him as you set down your chalice, even if he wasn't looking at you.

At the other end of the table, Aemond slowly got up from his chair as well, keeping quiet yet with a narrowed, nearly taunting eye. You brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose, entirely fed up with the boys' antics.

With a tight smile and a voice bordering on sarcastic, Jace raised his cup; "To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond, we have not seen each other in years," he glanced in your direction for a moment, yet you couldn't read what his look meant, "But I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we can yet be friends and allies. To you and your families good health, dear uncles." Bringing his cup to his lips, Jace finished his toast with a teasing grin.

You played along, bringing your chalice back to your lips as well to hide a chuckle. Eyes ahead, you held Aemond's gaze while you took a slow sip, watching as he settled back in his chair. Candlelight burned within his pupil, there was a barely there sway to his lips as he took a sip of his drink as well.

"I would like to toast Baela and Rhaena," Helaena started, getting up and holding her cup as she turned to your corner of the table. "They'll be married soon. It isn't so bad, mostly he just ignores you," she spoke, tone soft despite the lamentable words, "Except sometimes when he's drunk."

You shot her a sympathetic smile when she finished, and when she saw you, Helaena quickly added; "And to my good friend," she spoke your name with fondness, "Whom I've missed dearly, and hope to share more days together, before she leaves again."

"I hope so too," you mouthed to her with an even bigger smile, raising your cup high before bringing it to your lips again. The wine burned down your throat in a mix of bitter and sweet, and you turned to Aemond out of instinct, only to find him pointedly avoiding your eyes this time around; his head angled away from you and towards the band at the corner, his blind side now turned to you, eyepatch over the scar that brought telltales of a tightness to your throat and made you gulp down another sip of wine.

A cheerful melody began as the musicians played their instruments. At last, supper proceeded without interruptions; Jace invited Helaena for a dance, many more food trays were brought forth, and your family was happy, laughing and talking and being together as if this had been your normal for the past several years.

Yet for you, there was a gaping wound that was Aemond's absence, a doleful sentiment in your heart at the clear distance that still lingered. He still refused to look in your direction, instead keeping his eye focused on Jace and Helaena as they swirled together. You watched his fingers tap the table rhythmically, posture ever so straight with his hair falling neatly over his shoulders. It felt wrong to be at the Keep and not have him by your side.

You were in the middle of pushing food around your plate with your fork when you heard Luke quietly chuckling beside you; once, twice, and a little louder. The boy had what seemed to be a rather mocking smile on his lips as you glanced at him, with your brows furrowed in mild confusion.

Aemond abruptly slammed his fist on the table, causing you to startle and snap your head forward. The music stopped, and the one-eyed Prince raised to his feet, holding his cup high. "Final tribute," he spoke rather calmly.

Silence lingered in the room, and you could feel tension and apprehension coming back into the air as everyone waited with bathed breath. You glanced around yourself, sitting straighter, but ultimately your attention landed back on Aemond.

He held your gaze for a moment, and he had a smug tilt to his lips but the glint in his eye you couldn't decipher. "To the health of my nephews," Aemond continued steadily, "Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…"

There was a pause. With trouble a wrong word away, you knew. You furrowed your brows, shaking your head to Aemond almost imperceptively. He looked away from you then, focusing instead on Luke, who sat beside you.

The one-eyed Prince hummed, and grinned. "… Strong."

"Fuck," you cursed under your breath, feeling the weight in the air pressing down on your chest.

"Come," Aemond chipped, his smile widening and cup still raised high. "Let us drain our cups to these three… Strong boys."

"I dare you to say that again." Jace challenged in the same heartbeat, having stopped his dance with Helaena, his chin raised high and fists already clenched.

"Why?" Aemond turned to him, standing just as tall, "It was only a compliment." He walked towards the older Velaryon boy, a cocky stance and self-satisfied grin betraying his words. "Do you not think yourself strong?"

Aemond had barely said the rest of his words when Jace's fist collided with his cheek in a firm punch, forcing the Prince's head roughly to one side, his long hair flying with the motion yet none of his wine was spilled.

And so the brewing tension tipped over the edge.

Both you and Luke abruptly raised from your seats, chairs loudly scratching the floors. Luke barely managed to take a single step before Aegon unceremoniously pushed him face down onto the table, plates clattering with the disturbance.

Someone screamed; "That is enough!" Yet you couldn't really figure out who, as you hurriedly rounded the table. Why, you weren't exactly sure, but your heart was pounding.

Aemond easily shoved Jace to the ground, turning away with a chuckle falling past his lips as the guards proceeded to hold Jace from fighting back.

Everyone was standing up from their seats, some faster than others. Your father had a bored look on his features while Alicent and Rhaenyra seemed quite alarmed with the small fight unfolding amidst their family yet again, right after the King had begged for peace.

You stood frozen to the stone floor, breath hitching until there was a distant sting in your lungs. You couldn't help but think if both sides of the family were fated to be forever apart. And if you and Aemond were to share the same destiny.

"I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, mother," Aemond explained without an ounce of shame when Alicent grasped at his arm—as mothers do with misbehaving children, you couldn't help but think.

A low hum fell past Aemond's lips again and he pried his arm free from Alicent's hold, in favor of taking a few steps closer to Jace, bordering on provocative; "Though it seems my nephews aren't quite as proud of theirs."

Jace shook himself free from the guards who had been holding him back. He dashed for Aemond with reckless abandon, a furious expression on his features.

And you… suddenly all you saw was your best friend, blood on his lips and face held together by fresh stitches—doomed with a fate you'd die before allowing to happen again. There was a flame pulsing through your veins, it spurred your feet forward before you even had time to think.

You reached Aemond at the same time Jace did, and you came to a stop between them, one hand flat against Jace's chest, keeping him in place. You stood between them, unafraid, with a fury in your eyes—the same one people kept saying you'd taken after your father.

Seconds of silence trickled by ever so slowly, like drops of the thickest blood. Everyone's eyes were on you yet for the first time you paid no mind to it, narrowing your eyes and glaring through your lashes, you held your ground. Jace clenched his jaw and huffed through his nose, his eyes a mix of confusion and anger.

You could feel Aemond's stare on your back as well, yet you couldn't have a single clue what he was thinking, you only knew it was heavy and insistent. You couldn't know how the one-eyed Prince's heart started thundering inside his ribcage; or how any and all thoughts of striking up trouble had vanished like smoke in the wind when you stepped in front of him, when yours was the hand that stopped the Velaryon boy from attempting to harm him.

"That is enough, Jace," You spoke with a finality that left no room for argument or challenge, leveling Jace down with a step forward, which forced him to take one back and away from Aemond. "We are here to make amends, not make things worse." Lowering your voice, you tried reasoning.

Jace scoffed indignantly at you, he seemed to have other words on his tongue but decided to bite them back. Instead looking at you with a scowl on his face; "You tell him that", he nodded toward Aemond, who stood behind you with a small yet proud smile.

"Go to your quarters. All of you, go. Now," Rhaenyra finally intervened as she and Daemon approached you, shifting a warning glare between Jace and Luke.

The young Princes hesitated, the oldest still holding a staring contest with Aemond. Yet when you refused to move aside he relented to his mother's orders and followed his brother, as well as Baela and Rhaena, to their quarters.

A shaky exhale passed through your lips when, slowly, the adrenaline left your body. Your shoulders slumped and you closed your eyes briefly, hearing nothing but the crackling of the burning torches on the walls and a few distant steps as your family left the room—supper most certainly over now, even if half the meals on the table were barely touched.

Aemond's presence was warm and persistent behind you; you could feel how he had come closer, breath almost fanning over your neck, but you didn't dare turn around. Instead raising your eyes to meet your father's gaze.

Daemon had both hands resting on the hilt of his sword. He regarded you with amusement, if nothing else. One corner of his lips turned upwards. You watched as his gaze drifted up and behind you, his expression hardening the slightest bit in what looked a lot like a warning, before he too slowly turned around and left the room.

You couldn't know if your father's silence meant something good or bad, but right now you couldn't dwell on it. Aemond took a step around you at last, his eye remaining downcast, yet a shiver ran up and down your spine when, as he walked past you, his hand brushed yours.

You kept your eyes trained on him as he slowly walked away, turning right and taking the path to a secluded hallway. After a few seconds of debating, you followed.

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

Aemond's steps were not hurried, moonlight coming through the tall windows of the lone hallway created a silhouette of his shadow as he wandered. Waiting for something, someone. With hands loosely held behind his back and silver hair almost shining under the soft light, he seemed… serene.

Yet the Prince was anything but, his eye was hazy and unfocused whilst his mind drifted. It had taken him off-guard, how you stood between him and Jacaerys, one hand firmly holding the bastard back; and if Aemond didn't know better, he'd dare say there had been a protective aura to your presence then, undeniable and unwavering, as you shielded him—the mere thought of it left Aemond lightheaded as his heart picked up pace, and he decided it'd perhaps be too dangerous to indulge.

But you had taken his side, nonetheless. Against his own volition, Aemond found himself smiling.

"Had you been looking for opportunities to ruin supper?"

The familiar sound of the one voice Aemond had missed so dearly, for so many years, made him halt his steps. He kept his back to you, only turning his head to glance over his shoulder. He hummed, keeping his voice steady and neutral. "I don't know what you speak of, my words were innocent and true."

The low sound of your chuckle graced Aemond's ears, and he held onto his breath as you came closer. His eye tracked your movements, you circled him with your gaze down and the light of the moon shaping your grin, until you reached the stone walls beside him and leaned back in front of the tall windows.

Caught in your orbit, Aemond was drawn to you, taking one and then two steps after you; he stood before the moonlight and before you. He kept his distance yet never strayed far, trapped between two halves of his heart; one naive and bleeding with longing, and the other broken and still abandoned.

"Oh," You breathed, a glimpse of your teeth showing with your grin, the apples of your cheeks highlighted by the silver haze of the moon. "As innocent as a maiden."

"The night had been much too dull for my tastes, my lady. Wouldn't you agree?" Aemond raised a brow at you, fighting a grin of his own.

"Perhaps I would, had you not taken away my chance of toasting you and your remarkable sense of decorum." The smile on your lips gets a little loose having Aemond so close again, "Or lack thereof," you teased; he seemed oblivious to the warmth you felt.

Aemond clicked his tongue, glancing away and then back at you, "Shall I grab us two cups of wine then? Aegon tells me I should drink more anyway." If the light of the moon weren't so silver and bright, you would've seen the pink dusting his cheeks ever so lightly.

Another chuckle escaped you and Aemond almost joined you. And for a small moment in time, it was easy. For a moment, you were both eleven again, young and carefree and laughing together. Always together.

But the cold wind of reality seeped through the open windows.

"Se dārys eptan syt lyks," You spoke, becoming quieter and more careful as your smile dropped a little and your gaze raised in hopes of finding his. ('The King wishes for peace.')

Aemond pursed his lips, blinking once, twice, and you wondered if he felt it too. He took you in with a guarded stare, hesitating, until; "iksis bona skoro syt ao iōrtan rȳ nyke se nādrēsy?" His voice was tight yet devoid of much sentiment. ('Is that why you stepped between me and the bastard?')

You lowered your head with a sigh, avoiding his eye again and focusing instead on the ends of his long hair and how the silver strands contrasted with his Targaryen blacks. "Don't call him that," you mumbled.

"Why?" Aemond inquired in the same heartbeat, a little louder and urgent, "Because you've grown so fond of them over the years you've-" He choked on his own words, unable to speak them out loud as he felt the heartache inside his chest and around his throat eat him alive.

"Aemond." And oh, the sound of his name in your voice could make him crumble. You spoke it all soft and tender, and Aemond didn't know his name could be uttered with such devotion. You spoke as if you cared, as if you had never left. It felt like a cruel kiss over his gaping wounds.

You pushed yourself off the wall you were leaning against, one hand slowly wanting to reach for him. "I could never forgive them for what they did to you, but they are… family now."

But Aemond took a step away, straightening his posture and clearing his throat. The one-eyed Prince strived to keep his face devoid of any emotion, even if it was nearly impossible as a sharp pain started from the depths of his skull and eventually surrounded his scar—he knew a pounding headache would soon follow too, as it always did.

"Why did you do it?" Aemond mumbled, voice stiff.

You regarded him with an unreadable look for several moments, and then; "I don't know." You spoke in an almost unheard breath.

It felt as if a dragon stood in the lone hallway with you, threatening to burn both you and him; the heat of its flames looming in the corners since the first time you saw each other again. With your heart in your mouth, you asked what perhaps both of you had been avoiding until now.

"You stopped sending me letters, why?"

It caught him off guard, you saw it in the way Aemond turned his head from you with a grimace, his jaw tight. "It became pointless... after such a long time. Did it not?" He looked at you again only after he spoke, there was something accusatory in his eye; or that's what he wanted you to see.

You mulled over the words, and something akin to boldness—or desperation—urged you to take a step closer to him. "Aemond, our time apart," your lips hung open and you fidgeted with the fabric of your dress, "I never meant for it. It was never my intention to stay away for so long." You promised, looking Aemond in the eye after seven years of only ever seeing him in your memories and dreams.

Aemond's face did something complicated, like he was sorting through how he should feel about this. His brows scrunched and you could hear his breath catching as he stood unmoving.

"My father… he thought it best that I didn't leave Dragonstone on my own." You ran your tongue over your dry lips, "And I… didn't fight him." The last of your words were spoken with a defeated sigh, loaded with regret.

"I could have gone to you," Aemond uttered, almost whimpered. The corner of his lips raised in a half smile that held nothing but pain as his eye pooled with unshed tears that blurred your silhouette. "Had you only asked."

Both of you hung by a thread under the weight of how much you'd missed each other, how much you wished for nothing more than to fall into a forever embrace; and yet, none of you felt entitled to it. You were finally within arm's length of each other again, yet it felt like you'd never been further apart.

"Perhaps I should have," you whispered to him, and it felt a lot like a loss, of something you'd only just found again.

For a moment you and Aemond held each other's gazes, both filled with tears of sorrow and longing; and even so, both reaching the mutual agreement that something had been lost.

Time.

The time lost couldn't be returned, the distance still lingered, and rebuilding would take time and care.

Aemond still believed you'd stopped caring for him, sometime during those seven years. An evil part of his heart sometimes whispered to him that you never did care, that you were like the others, and he feared that perhaps the only friend he knew wasn't even his to lose.

And you now believed that Aemond held only resentment toward you, that your connection had been forever stained; and you couldn't help but feel guilty for it, for not fighting harder to come back to him.

If only you and he knew the depth of the love you still felt for each other, things would be ever simpler.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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[damneddamsy]

renegade | aemond targaryen x oc (part v)

-> (18+, sexual themes, mdni)

Celebratory feasts with the royalty had always been nasty business. Like all the others before, the temper of the sons intermixed with the impulsivity of the daughters, would be documented in blood and destruction. This particularly small gathering of families was one hosted to commemorate the union of Prince Aemond and Princess Aemma, improvised quite similar to their secret wedding. It wasn't short of inordinate food and drink, the table replenished to make up for the wedding feast that never occurred.

Aemma was a mire of misery, plagued with a terrible headache as a result of insomnia, and barely focused on the brewing consternation between the families. The Hightowers had sharpened their aims on her. Aemond, on the furthest end of the table, had crises of his to take notice.

Halaena did; she squeezed Aemma's thigh to get her attention. "You're too fragile. Retire for the night."

Aemma bared an appreciative smile and laid her hand atop Helaena's. "Thank you, Hel, but it would be impolite. Especially with the grandsire in attendance."

A weakened King Viserys raised his shivering glass in a toast, his words an effortful rasp. The room quietened to heed his word.

"A toast to a true Targaryen wedding in secrecy, my good Hand tells me. My son, Prince Aemond, to my granddaughter... Aemma." Her name was a pained whisper. "As spirited as the woman she was named after. Congratulations."

The table lifted their glasses with mumbles of half-hearted 'congratulations'. Jace and Luke remained frozen, staring daggers into their plates. It was Daemon who exclaimed a loud 'hear, hear!' for everyone else. Aemma sent him a grateful smile.

Aemond offered up the slightest of nods and sipped from his glass, finally glancing at Aemma. Awareness flickered in his eyes when he saw the way she restlessly cupped her neck. They were seated too far apart for him to reach across and comfort her.

Aemma, upon her turn, dutifully flourished a convincing smile. Her voice came out clearer than she expected. "Your blessing warms our hearts, Your Grace. We are much obliged," she said on behalf of her and Aemond.

"Yes," the king breathed heavily, "let us hope your union will bridge the rift in the House of the Dragon."

Aemond cleared his throat and carelessly raised his glass, heedless of the fact that the king was yet to conclude his toast. Aemma watched him, curious rather than shocked.

"I'd like to raise a toast," he announced then met her gaze. "To my sworn friend, now wife. Aemma, I'd relinquish life itself for your ideals. Perhaps it is only an appropriate time to inform everyone that in nine days, my wife and I are to voyage across the Narrow Sea and start a new life on our own."

Daemon was the first to react. He downed his whole cup. Then it was a rush of brief, confused reactions. Alicent had settled back on her chair, gritting her teeth. Rhaenyra was speechless, watching Aemma's face guardedly. When she was presented with a favourable joy, she returned a little smile. Jace and Luke were intently eyeing their mother's response in disbelief. Aegon, somewhat proud of the iron balls on his little brother, sipped his glass silently. Helaena listlessly played with her spoon.

"Unexpected," the king sighed, almost pained.

"And what of yours and the princess' commitments to the realm?" Otto regarded, the most conscientious on his part.

Aemond was anything but contrite. "Find another second prince to finesse and another princess to breed."

"Aemond," Alicent cautioned. "That sort of talk is unfit for—"

"Our decision is final," he mentioned, loud enough to suppress his mother's voice. "The plans have been laid, pacts have been struck. My wife has but one condition—to seek her mother and His Grace's blessing on our safe travels."

The king gasped out, nodding through a tremor. "Aemma."

Aemma leaned toward him with an accepting bow of her head. "Grandsire."

"I see... no reason to restrict this decision. Does your mother, your future queen, agree to this?"

Aemma expectantly glanced at Rhaenyra whose expression remained unsullied. She had asked for so much from her mother, this seemed like a steep ask. To be apart from her for who knows how long. But her mother had promised her once to allow her to follow her heart and live as she pleased. She only hoped the princess remembered her oath.

"Prince Aemond," Rhaenyra called instead, flitting her prudent eyes to him. "This is all rather sudden. I have to ask: why the hurry?"

Aemond simply stared back. "I dislike idling."

"I can understand the haste in taking my daughter to wife. I will accredit it to the thrills of youth and passion. But this," she tapped her finger lightly on the table and tilted her head, "this seems like subterfuge. A dire one. Do you mean to stymie my heir's ascent to the throne under the veil of expedition?"

Jace made a scoffing noise out of his nose, smirking to himself. His mother had finally struck gold.

Aemond's jaw flexed. "'The basest of accusations."

"Still a conceivable one."

Aemma interfered, pressing down on the bridge of her nose, attempting to restrain an explosive headache. "Might I suggest we confer this in private? This is a festive gathering, certainly no place to—"

"No, Aemma. I must speak this for all to hear. They all question our precocity to accomplish this," Aemond said through his teeth then glanced back at her mother. "I swear this to you upon my devout esteem for your daughter. If she is ever to be installed as heir and the time of her reign arrives, I will ensure she acts in good conscience. I will stand with her, queen or not."

Rhaenyra's unblinking stare outmatched Aemond's, who had to look away to attend to Aemma's exclaim.

"You owe no explanations," Aemma said to Aemond, bewildered. Then she addressed the table, her tolerance slipping. "This is not a court session. There is no justice to be offered. All we ask is support. Support from our families, do you not understand?"

"You ask us to offer support in making yourself scarce from orders of the court?" Alicent finally spoke up, her tone adamant. "As prince and princess of the realm, your regiment is necessary to the throne. Abscond all you wish, your place remains here."

"Then we will abdicate," Aemond declared abruptly.

"Aemond, please," Aemma tried to calm him.

"Are you mad?" Rhaenyra hawked at him, grated to a passive growl. "Surrender my daughter's birthright!"

"Cease this insolence," Otto shouted at all of them.

His Grace bashed his staff to the ground to silence the table. "Again with the dissension! One night of..."

The sounds were tuned out, and Aemma rested an elbow on the table and stroked her forehead. The discomfort was almost unbearable now. Her stomach rolled and the world shifted beneath her.

She felt a cold hand on her cheek followed by Helaena's quiet voice. "Come. Let us leave now."

Aemma didn't even have the strength to nod or thank her. As she wobbled to her feet, with Helaena's hand secure around her forearm, in their periphery, Daemon and Aemond's chair dragged out in unison.

"Send for a maester," Aemond commanded first.

Daemon had halfway crossed the floor to Aemma. "Allow me."

"I'll take her," Helaena cautiously declared to all, her voice final. She repeated it to herself while their audience drew in a breath. "I'll take her."

X

It was Princess Helaena who forbade anyone from entering the princess' chambers that night and the day after, except for the maester with his concoctions and the servants with their timely meals. The timid princess proved to be as inflexible as her brother and Her Grace when need be. Even Princess Rhaenyra stepped aside to her orders.

No one heard or knew what occurred during those hours between the two princesses, but it was said to be the last moments of respite that they would share as the eldest daughters of two distraught bloodlines. There was a time when Princess Helaena's daughter, Jahaera, had joined them inside, hanging in the air as a sweet reminder of their childhood.

Prince Aemond, increasingly aggravated, patrolled his wife's doors to receive his sister the next night, ready to make an entrance inside. He would not have any more of this detachment.

Helaena placed a restrictive hand on his shoulder. "She needs to rest."

He desperately tried to see between the cracks in the heavy doors. "What is the meaning of this, sister? It has been a day. I'm being driven to the edge."

"It seems that it has been days since our Aemma has had a proper night's rest," she divulged, leading him across the door towards the balcony that opened into the sprawling floors of the Holdfast. "Everything has transpired so quickly. Unbeknownst to her, anxiety plagues her mind. I can share her worries a bit."

Aemond swallowed hard. "Of our journey?"

"No. Of that both of us are confident," Helaena murmured, her mind miles away. "It's her brothers. Caught in the crossfire. You know how that feels."

Immediate anger spiked in him. "Mad cunts," he hissed. "You'd think I've degraded their sister, the way they see it."

"Take yourselves and leave in peace," she said, preoccupied with her thoughts. She finally looked at him, her eyes beseeching. "Don't stop, no matter how much it entices you to stay. We have given this malice to more."

"Helaena." It was strange for him to say his sister's name, almost a gentle consolation. He knew of his sister's mind and her vulnerabilities in marriage. "You're the only family I'll be leaving behind."

She flashed him a smile. "Strangely, I believe that. There lies greatness ahead of you, little brother. And my life is here; in beasts and bone." She tilted her head to Aemma's door. "Go and see. Try not to wake her."

Her room reeked of the stables as he silently entered, so different from the tasteful lavender Aemond had come to crave, and surely enough, Seasmoke the direwolf was loyally relaxed at the foot of the bed. His sister must've brought him in secretly to put Aemma's mind at rest with an old companion. Aemond scratched the whining wolf's ears, who skipped off the carpet to rub at his waist for some praise. He had once been clueless about accepting attachment from a beast other than his dragon, but Seasmoke had grown on him.

"Good boy, Seasmoke. Sȳrī gaomagon," Aemond appreciated in a whisper. At least the beast had provided some semblance of comfort in his name. (Well done.)

"Demās, lykirī," he instructed. Seasmoke complied, perching back on his hind legs. (Sit, calm down.)

Seasmoke had become impressive, both in height, speed and strength. During their years in the Keep, Aemma and Aemond raised the wolf to be a loyal friend, their living toy of sorts. After Aemma departed and bestowed him to Aemond, he trained a vicious watchdog out of the animal, under the request of the Kingsguard, a fearsome hound that would stand for battle as a dragon. Now that Aemma had returned, Seasmoke must've regressed to what he had once been, what he truly was, just meant to comfort a lonely soul.

Behind them, Aemma slumbered calmly, hiding her eyes away from him. Merely some years ago he had laid beside her, on an evening like this, neither of them mortally wounded, vowing to write to each other every day, sharing a relentless embrace.

Tempted to her bare bedside, Aemond undid the buckles to his sword and dagger, and shed his overcoat and shoes, but hesitated with his eyepatch. He inhaled a shaky breath. This girl had persevered against her family for him, she had weathered a storm to wed him; a wayward eye wasn't going to send her screaming. He was determined when he skimmed it over his head and tucked the straps into his pocket.

He pushed the curtains aside and sank in next to her, mindful of her slumber. Aemma appeared just the same as when she was awake, implying that she lacked the deceit in her to conceal her emotions from everyone. What you see is what you get. Guileless, untamed, and real.

Unable to withhold himself, he entwined his fingers between hers, until he could feel their wedding scars unite once again, and brought it to his chest safely. He rolled onto his back and let his vision go black. Nothing weighed him down, held him back, or restricted him. It could've been moments or even hours, he had never felt such leisure. This was what awaited the rest of his life.

X

"So that is the infamous sapphire. Like Symeon Star-Eyes?" Aemma's velvety dulcet woke him.

He snapped his head toward a moonlit Aemma, who was fascinated and well-rested. She lay on her belly, silvery hair mussed from sleep, a pillow under her chest and arms while letting her hand rest with him. She looked like a painting, with the waving curtains behind her and the sky's reflection on her warm skin.

He stroked a finger from her cheek to her chin. "How's your head?"

"Intact," she jested.

"I see."

"Can you?"

He pinched her chin. "So much wit in such a little girl."

She giggled. "Not so little anymore, my friend."

He brought the back of her hand to his lips, hiding a softened grin. He'd forgotten he had written to her about the sapphire in his eye. It was absurd to think this bothered him now.

"You remembered my letter," he said, his voice thick from sleep.

"I remember every letter," she corrected. "My favourite stories of the warrior prince and his vicious dragon." She mimicked the soar of Vhagar's wings with a quiet 'whish'. "Soaring into the clouds. I used to read it and imagine myself instead. Quieted so many of my troubled nights."

He reached out to stroke a hand at her scar. "Because of this."

She dropped her head into the pillow to muffle a groan. "It ruins everything. As if bleeding every moon doesn't suffice, I've to experience an arrow through my head all the time."

He grunted his exertion to lean over and kissed her tousled hair. "You poor lamb."

She sourly jerked her hand out of his. He chuckled at this and pushed a few more kisses into her hair.

"Next moon, I'll have an antidote ready for your use."

She lifted her head, curious. "Since when do you dabble in potions?"

"No potions." He stroked her, all the way from her waist to her insteps. "Me."

She snorted. "What might you do? Vex me to distraction?"

"I have my secret ways."

Swayed by the surreal feel of her underneath him, he began to spread his kisses over the arc of her neck, the wing of her shoulder, down the lune of her spine, all while his sneaking fingers gathered up the soft linen of her nightgown to stroke her even softer thigh. Aemma twisted a little to witness him press a kiss at the dimple between her hips. Grinning, he sloped up to catch her in a kiss, taking her by surprise.

When he felt her thighs clench under his touch, he impatiently pulled away and flipped her on her back until she was all splayed out for him.

"It's about time I peeked at my stakes, hmm?" And then Aemma watched him bend between her legs for said stakes. 

"Aemond," she tried to mutter through the nervous lump in her throat.

"Ssh, my love. Trust in me."

His singular eye was deep-set, way too intense for words while the other glimmered dimly under the candle lights. So, unreadably intense. When she brushed a hand through his hair, he sank his teeth into the soft skin of her inner thigh and pulled. A slow moan came rumbling out of her.

His sinful motives started with his fingers climbing upwards on her thighs, lips following close behind. Her blasted nerves couldn't see him without turning every shade of red, but her audacity was gratefully more persuasive. 

She watched him through parted, gasping lips as he propped her knees on his shoulder, long fingers drawing back the hem of her nightdress until it was bunched around her abdomen. Obscene, she thought as he kissed her, right there, right through the material of her underwear, his tongue giving it a taste. A nice, long taste.

They locked eyes while he still tasted her slowly; delectably. Again, her own tongue went dead and her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

"Fuck," she dragged out a hiss. She palmed her mouth, shocked by the expletive.

Aemma could feel his whispering chuckle—right into her sex—and the sense that his forehead met the bed linen to muffle it.

She bit on her pointer finger, sheepish. "Sorry."

"No, please," he laughed deeply, "I enjoyed that."

Every part of her stiffened when she felt him nudge her again, her hands gripping at his hair. His plush hair, the strength of his nape, and then his flexing jaw. She didn't feel her underwear leaving her, but he was right there, within reach, his hands perching her knees in position. 

"Jaes," he murmured, "just beautiful. All this for me." (Gods.)

She raised her head once again to have a look and instantly wished she hadn't.

"I've dreamed of this..." he drew out in a reverie.

Aemond indulged, sucked, licked, and bit at her like a king on a feast. She moved his rumpled hair out of the way to see him there—slow, soft, loving thrusts into me and his single violet eye half-closed in heady bliss. Just tasting, savouring, remembering. And she felt it at her core, skin prickling up at the sensation. 

She clawed her hands up his hair, giving out the most pretentious cry for more. His hands went from wild to desperate; smoothing the inside of her thighs, sliding under her dress to caress her breasts, brushing up her neck. The noises he was making with his mouth on her; it was an explicit, incessant reminder of something tense. Something that would not stop edging.

She was about as close as 'fuck' is to a vulgarism when he pressured that immaculate, mind-blowing, soaked-up spot. So soft, so searing, so good. She inhaled an inhuman breath, toes flexing in the air as his suck-eat pulsations increased—and the slow climb was the best part. She knew she was coming up onto something wonderful.

She hoped he heard how soundly she was making love to his name for him. "Oh, please. Please, gods—"

She didn't get to finish that. His hand glided across her breasts, and her neck, and curled around it. She let her head hang back when he made the most luxurious sound she had ever heard him give out as he pushed two of his long fingers into her mouth. 

Impulsively, she circled his wrist—there was nothing more than she wanted to be filled. She wanted Aemond everywhere she could physically feel, even mentally if possible, and she made love to his fingers as best she could.

"So fucking good, Aemma," she heard his quiet, hot and heavy growl, muffled with a mouthful of her. "So good..."

The broad, rugged muscles on his shoulder put on a show for her under his shirt, crumpling and rippling, adding to his speeding-up tongue. Another hot flush of red charged up her body.

Then his tongue brought over fellow fingers, and they barely had work cut out for them. She was way too compressed and close to care, and she gave out a wordless cry as he pushed those long, thick fingers in at a speed she couldn't place a term on because that would be immoral. Deep, fast strokes and the size of his fingers were, she hoped, comparable to other parts of him. She sucked back a moan that bubbled to her lips. 

And that was the end-all, be-all. Aemond came onto his stakes, and Aemma went bursting apart. In the vigour of her world focalizing on that single spot between her legs, she crushed Aemond deeper into her, her fingers tight fists in his hair and her mouth agape in a choked scream. Behind her eyes, there were specks of little floating suns, a need to hold him even tighter, and the colours started to drain from around her. 

The first thing Aemma saw when radiance returned was the flushed, compelling, beaming, smiling face of the man who owned all of her. The upsurges of pure pleasure did not wane and she wallowed in it. She listened to him come up for air, kissing his way up again, rolling his tongue around her belly button, and momentarily intensifying her climax. 

"I've never seen someone look as enchanting as you did, moments ago," he whispered into her ear, burying his face into her neck.

She blinked, attempting to find the pace of her breathing. "That was..." she drawled with an unchecked hum.

"Not the end," he finished for her, rising on his knees. "Just a taste of what's to come."

Aemond was hypnotic, aglow and leering as he peeled off his shirt, wrists crossing at his abdomen. And it made every wicked something in her head want to come true. Her eyes gradually mapped down from his broad shoulders, her trembling fingers tracing at his rigid muscles, the jagged streaks of combat bruises, hungrily lapping up past his weathered, masculine strength, and the ultimate V muscle that was almost an arrow pointing straight to his...

He chuckled softly, catching her wandering hand. He stroked the base of her fingers, knuckles, and joints, conducting them with tiny lightning strikes.

"Always so curious."

She managed a mischievous smirk. "Then come here and indulge my curiosities."

"Gladly, dearest."

And his hands began to roam everywhere, as if stricken by her command. Strong, pinching, teasing, feeling, tracing, heading from north to south on her body. Resting his arms on either side of her head, grinning like the devil, his fingers slowly traced down her arms, that minute touch resonating in her sex.

"You amaze me," he murmured.

Despite all that teasing, she felt him. Her eyes snapped open to his, dark, wide and studying her. It was a simple bump, poising against her, tough and ready. He rested his forehead against hers.

He moved in; slowly, gently reverently. There was resistance, a whole lot from her, bringing forth a subdued, mellow pain. Since she had never done this before, she placed this as the pain of familiarizing—her body slowly climatizing to the feel. The feel of him, the weight of him, his wickedly strong muscles moulding against her. His energy was intense and unfathomable compared to her weak knees and lead tongue. 

"Aemma," he called to make sure.

Just then, she flexed harder around him. His light eyes blazed like reams of fire.

"Too afraid, are you?" she challenged.

"Never," he laughed under his breath.

It couldn't all be coincidences, with the timing and his body, because they were flawless. He was welcome as he pushed on further, gaining his fill of her. His face strained, forehead wrinkling, eyes briefly flickering shut. She took all the credit for making that happen. She accepted him gladly, adding a small inherent squeeze, and flashing her dark eyes at his. 

What should she be telling him? Could she ask him how he was feeling? If he was okay? Was she okay?

His grin was monumental. "You have taken me so well, my love."

She was utterly derailed. He felt so good. It was an inaccurate term to use—he was paradisiacal. She didn't think anyone could have felt this whole even with this age-old action. He was all hers at that moment. And if she were being honest, damnably honest, he was all up inside her. She could feel him inside, so deep, a space of her that she didn't think needed to be freed before.

His hips rolled into hers at a delicate speed, laboured and painstaking. All the evidence of teasing disappeared, jaw taut with tension.

"Breathe through it, Aemma. I'm here," he guided softly.

She gulped, unable to answer. Truly, she didn't have enough air to make one. To be fair, she was stretched to capacity. She couldn't take the weight of him. Flickers of white light appeared in her vision and it wasn't until his face started to blear that she realized she wasn't breathing. She breathed noticeably louder, splitting the beautiful, magical stillness between them, trying to exhale while enduring the stings around her ribs.

"Aemma?" he asked, slightly panicked now.

So when his unease swivelled to hazy apprehension, she choked out and gripped his arms closer—"Wait, stay with me. I can do it."

He stroked a thumb at the edge of her eyes, kissing the slant of her nose. "Ssh, I'm here. Whenever you are ready. We've got the rest of our lives."

She whispered an eager plea, "I want you. I want it all."

Their eyes held for a glorious moment and engraved an intrigue between the lines as their breaths fused in the intensifying silence. Neither of them backed down, never repressing and taking it all. He was still very much inside, growing harder with every passing moment. 

She was buzzing alive, practically convulsing, as his pressures gradually climbed in speed, still so soft and careful.

Which drew a languid, roguish smile alive on his handsome, sweat-matted face. He lifted a quizzical eyebrow, moving his hips in, in, in. Circle, push, circle, push—a giddying pattern that had her reeling off the wire. 

His vast hands were around her throat, establishing dominance, guiding himself entirely into her, tongue plunging forward for a breathy kiss. Her fingers and nails ploughed into his back, nearly drawing blood, when he did. He didn't even flinch or care, bearing it all.

He pulled away from that hungry kiss, hips rolling into a more punishing, daunting rhythm—and oh. She couldn't think. He was pushing her higher and higher until she felt little sparks start to explode from the tips of her fingers, elbows and toes. But, the feeling was only getting louder. His groans were so low, so dark in her ear. 

"There's my sweet girl," he whispered silkily, hitching her knee around his hip. "You want me?"

She nodded desperately. "Yes."

"You have me. You always have," he promised.

Her gasps were timed to his moves, thrusts gaining sweet, beautiful friction. Her fingers twisted into his hair, seeking an outlet for his beautiful, unbearable pleasure. It was building, getting close to that sensation again, oh so close...

She relaxed her stiff spine, sinking into the mattress and feeling him ram right into that spot. She bit her lip to contain a ridiculously high-pitched noise, willing her eyes open into his, burning like onyx flares in the violet night.

He glanced up, eager. Ready. Prepared. His arms curled as if attempting physical exercise, resting beside her head. When a soft wheeze left her, his lips were at her ear, reassuring her, relaxing her tense muscles. His head ducked again, almost inspecting them. 

"C'mere. I have you now," he breathed out. "Eyes on me, alright? Only me."

Awestruck, excited, a bundle of nerves, she watched him. 

Powerful thighs bearing hers, Aemond pressed her hips back until she was gently propped up on the pillows, hungrily attending to his all-consuming flow and determined muscles covered in sweat. She was completely restricted now, not needing to slake her appetite, because, as he had said, he had her. He sank and sank, again and again, abdomen crunching with his power, unearthing, slamming, her sweet spot tingling, and just like that, she came apart.

All white shots of lights, ringing noises, toes curled and pointing, and his name a clement prayer on her lips. Until her black-and-white world fled back into colour, he began to move again.

He kissed a tear away from her temple before his watchful gaze began to hunt hers—for hope? Promise? Something worth it? She simply stared back, mouth twisting in sweet agony as he continued his now quickened pressures. Her name was all he could breathe or think. With every muscled laboured, thrusts more unyielding, face rigid, power intense, eyes hazed over—Aemond came. Firm and heavy, falling limp over her. 

They fell back together, utterly spent, wrung out, exhausted and essentially immortalized. Whatever the true definition for that held. Between the film of fierce pleasure and indulgence, she decided that had a hold upon heaven. Tremendous, dark heaven.

Two big, lavish, beautiful, majestic climaxes and they basked in the afterglow together. She turned her head to clutch him at his neck, grab him forward to kiss his lips sweetly. Delicately, quietly, more and more, until her breathing steadied.

Aemond stroked her nose against hers, all sated by sex. "Pleasure becomes you, my love."

Aemma sighed dreamily, tracing the hollow of his cheek. "You've made your astounding mark on me. Can we go again?"

He pulled back to stare, dumbstruck. He didn't see a trace of humour in her eyes.

"You could take the bed this time," she offered.

He scoffed in disbelief. "Amazing. I applaud your energy, dearest wife. Have you ever swung a sword before? I could do with a new sparring partner with that sort of verve."

She laughed. "You could never best me if I were your partner. I'd have you on your back in an instant."

"You have me on my back right now, darling. Rode you half to death, did I not?"

He grunted a chuckle when she playfully smacked his chest.

Aemond continued to mumble. "In all honesty, I truly did not think I would survive this with you. I expected my heart to give out because of... hmm." He rubbed at her waist, his voice still thick with desire. "These legs, these eyes, these lips, those lips—Seven hells, this is my fantasy fulfilled."

She put a hand over her face to hide a blush. "You can simply get away with saying things like that?"

When he flashed her a smirk, she shook her head dubiously and tried to close his evading mouth with her hand.

"Just as you can simply get away—with requesting to use my cock—as your—let me speak!—your toy?"

"Aemond!" she hissed.

He laughed. "Ssh. Lay closer."

He pulled her into the curve of his arm, curbing her chagrin. Aemma sank her chin into his shoulder to watch him shut his lone eye and become at ease.

He felt her fingertips glide near the blemishes in his eye socket. Her cold fingers upon the hot skin, it was paradise. He tried hard to stay still when she got too close to inflammation that continued to cause agony on certain days. She must've sensed something amiss because abruptly her touch disappeared.

"Would it make you feel less lonesome if I took my eye out for you?" she asked, tongue in cheek.

A side of his lips lifted. "Perhaps. Make it my wedding favour."

She gasped, laughing. "You brute. You like that?"

"I wouldn't dare," he calmed her, drawing her closer to him. "Then again I can make even with your brother's."

He expected her to sense the sincerity in his voice, but such was Aemma's perspective of him. The conciliant, faithful friend who respected her. He worked hard to seal up that vengeance in front of her. What doesn't concern her will not break her. Not while he lives and breathes.

True to herself, Aemma let it slide harmlessly, treating it as good fun. He heard her laugh. "Can you imagine—little Luke, running about with an eyepatch?"

He barely broke a smile. "You'll never know."

X

read part vi here!

seasmoke the direwolf, watching this go down like: mom? dad? wtf are you guys up to 👁️👄👁️

I hope you all felt their love as much as I did <3

[blitzosblog]

Marigold Sky - Part One

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC Aliya Martell

Summary: Aemond is to be wed, alliances and loyalties hang in the balance and soon an unforeseen union rears it's head.

Warning: Targaryens and Hightowers and mention of alcohol

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

Aemond stands in the centre of his chambers, dressed in his signature black leather tunic and trousers, his face adorned with a new black leather eye patch, looking at himself in the mirror when a young serving boy enters.

"My prince?" he speaks in a quiet unsure voice. Aemond turns, looks at the boy, and says, "Yes?".

The serving boy replies, "The Queen has requested you come to the throne room at once".

Aemond stands tall and follows the boy out of his chambers and to the throne room, he sees his father atop the throne as his mother and siblings stand off to the side, Alicent turns to face him with a smile.

"You look perfect..." She says in a quiet voice as she straightens his clothing out and looks up at him, she takes a deep breath, "These young ladies and their families have travelled a long way to come see you, so please, be on your best behaviour and be polite" she says.

"Of course, Mother" Aemond says quickly and stands beside Halaena, soon the hall is filled with many high born families, from The Baratheons to The Freys, each house has come for a chance to have their daughters selected by Prince Aemond himself.

Aemond looks over the crowd as he is forced into conversation after conversation with lords, ladies and their daughters alike, having shaken the hand of almost every man in the room and bowed his head so much he feels as though his neck may snap at any moment. He tries his best to hide away in corners and drink his wine but is always found by some 'suitable' lady seeking his hand, he finally takes place by his mother who is in deep conversation with her own father, suddenly a small group across the hall catches Aemond's eye, they have deep tan skin and raven hair, they all seem to stick to one another instead of talking to everyone else; aemond turns to his mother.

"Mother?" he calls out in a whisper, and she turns to him.

"Yes?" She asks, Aemond points at the group across the room.

"Who are they?" He asks, Alicent's face hardens a little as she finally sees the group Aemond is pointing at.

"That group is House Martell of Dorne," She says.

"Dorne? Did you invite them?" Aemond asks in a curious voice.

"I don't believe so, Taragryens and the Dornish do not have the best history, I do not know why they are here..." She replies before taking a deep breath "Let us go introduce ourselves" she says quickly before grabbing Aemond's hand and walking over to the group.

"Hello, I am Queen Alicent, this is my son Aemond Targaryen" Alicent introduces herself and Aemond, a tall male member of the group turns and smiles but does not bow, none of the Martells do.

"Hello. I am Prince Moran Martell, and this is my wife Princess Cassia Martell" Moran introduces himself and his wife, who steps forward, she smiles at both Alicent and Aemond before speaking, "This is our daughter, Aliya" she says as they both part to reveal a younger looking girl, hair down to her waist, black as night, skin the colour of caramel, she is wearing a beautiful golden dress, not so much a gown as it flows and has a light look to it, with small red jewels and sleeves the went round the backs of her arms, Aliya steps forward offering a small smile to the two hosts, as Aemond looks upon Aliya he can't help but stare at her beauty, the confidence in which she carries herself.

"Hello, I am Princess Aliya Martell, it is a pleasure to meet you" She speaks; he voice strong and steady, no traces of nervousness or worry in her tone, Aemond smiles and reaches his hand out awaiting hers, but she does not accept it, Aemond quickly puts his hand down, straightening his posture.

"Hello Aliya-" he begins to speak.

"Princess" Aliya interrupts Aemond, he stops in his words and looks at her in confusion.

"I am a Princess, not a Lady" She says, head held high. Aemond smirks.

"My apologies...Princess Aliya, it's a pleasure to meet you" He says looking into Aliya's eyes, they look at one another for a moment, before Aemond speaks again.

"May we have a moment?" He asks gesturing to an empty set of chairs, Aliya glances over before wordlessly going over to the chairs, Aemond is quick to follow, thanking Aliya's parents and then sitting with Aliya.

"So, tell me about yourself" Aemond says sipping his wine.

"What do you wish to know?" She asks.

"Your interests, dislikes, something to get to know you better" He answers relaxing into the chair.

"I enjoy archery, reading, art, I dislike events such as these actually" She says as she straightens the skirt of her dress.

"Oh, is that so? Why are you here then?" He asks glancing at her over the rim of his chalis, she smiles and looks back up at him.

"Politics" She says.

"Politics? What does that mean?" he asks.

"As you know Dorne and the Targaryen have a sorted history, our two families, our two lands are at odds, my ancestors did not wish for peace between us, but my father is like yours...peaceful, he wants peace between our worlds..." She explains the details of her appearance, Aemond listens intently to her words, then nods.

"Understood, so you do not want the wealth, the power and you certainly do not need, let alone want the title of Princess..." He says in a slow and unsure voice.

"No, Dorne had a mighty wealth, we have enough power and no like I said I am already a Princess" Aliya replies and then stands up, Aemond quickly stands with her.

"You seem interesting enough, talk with my father...if you wish for this to go forward..Goodbye Prince Aemond" Aliya speaks quickly and then walks off before Aemond can reply, Aemond watches her leave.

As Aemond processes the encounter suddenly Moran Martell himself appears in front of Aemond himself.

"Prince Moran" Aemond says quickly, Moran stops Aemond.

"My daughter told me of your conversation, she has explained the reasoning behind our appearance so you understand what we want" He says.

"I do." Aemond replied sternly.

"Good, now you may choose...one of these..Ladies or My daughter, and yes if she is your...wife, she will live here in Kings landing, however she will come back to Dorne whenever she wants, she will carry on her archery and art passions here, she will never be disrespected and if you ever hurt her in any way, I will come for your head" Prince Moran speaks in a clam yet eerie tone, making his intention clear to Aemond. Aemond stands tall and nods.

"Of course, I will be making my decision soon"

"Good we will hear from you soon then" Moran says and the pair bid one another goodbye before parting ways. Aemond watches as the Martell's leave together, the large wooden doors closing behind them as they leave, Alicent walks over to Aemond.

"What happened?" Alicent asks looking up at her son. Aemond keeps his gaze on the door, a look of curiosity and excitement in his eyes.

"I believe a proposal has been made" He says finally looking back down at his mother.

"A proposal from whom?" She asks excitedly.

"Aliya Martell"

"Martell? Well you will also receive many other offers so you can-" She begins talking only to be cut off by Aemond.

"I will accept, I will marry Aliya Martell" He says in an overly confident tone. Alicent looks at him for a moment, before nodding in understanding.

"we shall make the announcement tomorrow" She says leaving Aemond where he stands.

[materialki-ff]

Wurdest du eigentlich schon zurück gefragt? :D

✨ WishWednesday ✨oder ist es einfach nur ein anderer wip wednesday, in a way? :D egal! Gibt es faceclaims die du sehr gerne einmal nutzen würdest (aber noch nicht dazu gekommen bist?

Auch dir danke und da wir Havanna Rose Liu auf unserer Liste gemein haben, die girlies angeführt von ihr. :D

Havanna Rose Liu

tbh Bottoms habe ich noch nicht gesehen. Um genauer zu sein, habe ich sie noch in keinem Film oder einer Serie gesehen. Durch Pinterest bin ich eines Tages über sie gestolpert und ihr Look sowie ihre Vibes gefallen mir sehr. c:

Louisa Harland

Orla McCool ist einfach so cool? 😔Hauptsächlich kenne ich sie aus Derry Girls und irendwie wirkt sie so normal, basic und gleichzeitig einfach nicht? Bisschen unkonvetionell but not really? Ergibt davon irgendetwas Sinn? Vielleicht denke ich mir das auch nur, weil sich Orla einfach so in mein Hirn eingeprägt hat. :D

Charithra Chandran

Danke Edwina Sharma und wer auch immer für's Casting verantwortlich war. I love Edwina, I love Charithra — what more can I say? 😔 Würde ich Dune Prophecy nur für sie schauen, ganz gleich wie groß oder klein ihre Rolle ist? Hätte ich bloß HBO lol. Na ja :') auf Amazon Prime gibt's übrigens Date mich Billy Walsh! Sehr süß und with my girl Charithra in der Hauptrolle. Freue ich mich auf One Piece S2? Yes, yes I do. Ich hoffe irgendwann ergibt sich die Gelegenheit.

Phia Saban

Kann ich House of the Dragon legal schauen, ohne auf eine Freundin angewiesen zu sein? Nein. Kommt man irgendwie an HotD content vorbei? Nein. :') Das was ich von Halaena sehe sieht immer so unheimlich interessant und gut aus. Anyway, Phia. Ich liebe besonders diesen Look von der letzten Promo. Lil bit whimsy.

Zugegeben habe ich für diese 4 sogar schon Pinterest boards erstellt. Dort ist nichts, nur ein kleiner Ordner mit ein paar Bildern, damit ich sie in Zukunft nicht vergesse. Mein Problem ist nämlich, dass ich mir immer FCs speichere, sie dann aber nie wirklich nutze, weil ich dann für einen neuen OC Pinterest durchforste bis ich jemanden mit dem richtigen "vibe" finde. 😭

Ella Purnell würde ich auch sehr gerne verwenden, genauso wie Asha Banks und Bae Suzy. Nur haben die (noch) keine eigenen Pinterest Boards.

[prpfz]

👾 Hello! 25+ person here, looking for 18+ partners for my hero academia/boku no hero academia, hazbin hotel, AND house of the dragon!

For these, I would prefer canon x canon ships. OCs are great, don't get me wrong, but this is just what I'm craving at the moment.

I am good with AUs and canon settings.

I will put a an asterisk next to any role I prefer to play. If there is none, I don't have a preference.

Side Note: I play EVERY canon character as a switch. I prefer to play against other switches, though you're welcome to like even if you play an exclusive bottom or top (because I'm a pushover).

I will write ship names if I know the ship has a name.

Of course, good with dead dove themes, as likely gathered from the list of fandoms I'm searching for. I am also good with omegaverse and writing multiple ships or threads if you wish.

Literacy Wise? I match partners. I can write past the discord character limit, but I can also write just a few paragraphs. I'm good either way.

My Hero Academia:

Dabi x Hawks (dabihawks)

Endeavor x Hawks (endhawks)

Monoma x Shinso* (monoshin)

Bakugo x Todoroki (bakutodo/todobaku)

Bakugo x Shinso (bakushin)

Toga x Ochaco

Hazbin Hotel:

Lucifer x Alastor (radioapple)

Alastor* x Charlie (radiobelle)

Alastor* x Husk (radiohusk)

Alastor* x Vox (radiostatic)

House of the Dragon:

Rhaenyra x Alicent

Rhaenyra x Aegon

Aegon x Helaena

Aemond x Helaena

Jacerys x Halaena

Daemon x Aemond

Alicent x Daemon

Alicent x Aemond

Alicent x Aegon

Jacerys x Baela

I would love it if you could contact me through passenger pigeon, but instead....like this post! I'd prefer to write on discord, so we'll likely talk and then exchange discords after some initial planning.

give a like and anon will get back to you

[aphrodisiac-siren]

Innocence- Aemond X OC

Summary: War is an ugly thing; Something that is common knowledge to all and yet something people resort to anyway when conflicts arise. It was not something Eirlys Velaryon wanted though, nor what Aemond Targaryen wanted as well. It was a war they were dragged into, and suffering they had to endure for crimes they were innocent of.

Warning: non-con sex, under-aged intimacy.

Masterlist

Part 2

It had been a few days since the incident at the training field and the tension among the boys hadn't died down completely yet.

Even as their families had all gathered together to mourn the death of Daemon's wife, lady Leana, the young princes couldn't find it within themselves to set aside their dislike for each other, doing everything they could to avoid any conversation.

"If Eirlys turns out like our sister, I will lose all hope in this world" Aegon commented to Aemond who watched the two girls talking a few feet away from them.

Helaena was admiring a spider, occasionally stating a few informative things about the arachnida while Eirlys leaned away from the eight legged creature, slightly terrified and not wanting to be in close contact with it.

"What's the point of having a pretty face if you're constantly mumbling things that don't make sense" Aegon continued with a smirk "what good is a mouth that talks about nonsense instead of being put to other good use"

"What are you saying?" Aemond asked, clueless as to what his brother was trying to say.

"Gods you're so stupid" Aegon muttered under his breath before taking another sip of his wine "do you not have certain thoughts about her, Eirlys?"

"Well she is my betrothed" Aemond obliviously answered, not knowing the lewd context with which his older brother was questioning him "of course I think about her, she's my closest friend"

"With a slow brain like that it's no surprise she's your only friend" the older boy rolled his eyes at his brother's obtuse response "now excuse me, I need more wine"

Aemond looked back at his older sister and his friend, slightly unsure of what they found so fascinating about that spider.

Slowly, each one of the family members headed inside as the servants busied themselves to light the candles to illuminate the castle after dark.

"Princess Eirlys" he called out, using his formalities to address her while in company of other nobles "a word?"

"My prince" Eirlys followed his lead to the stone ledge of the little balcony that overlooked the waves meeting the sand on the beach.

"Do you want to accompany me on a stroll?" Aemond asked, his gaze fixated on the sandy dunes in the distance "just a along the shoreline and a little further away from the beach"

"Right now?"

"Yes, just the both of us"

"We aren't allowed to leave the castle during the day unchaperoned" The younger girl reminded, keeping her voice down "let alone going out by ourselves after dark"

"Fine" Aemond sighed, slightly disappointed "I'll see you inside after supper"

"Don't be away too long" the princess gave him a gentle smile.

"I won't"

Aemond never met Eirlys after supper, he'd not even returned as soon as he'd promised.

The princess had waited up for him in their old nursery, which was now used as Aemond's youngest brother's; Daeron.

She read a few books to pass the time and tried to work on her valerian until it was time for bed.

The princess had barely gotten a few hours of sleep before she was woken up by Halaena, informing her of the queen's wish for them to be present in the King's old study, which was now nothing more than a gathering hall.

The girl sleepily got out of bed and put on her dress robe as she followed the older girl out her chambers.

Even at this late hour, Eirlys noticed the castle was awake. She was half expecting for someone to inform her of an attack, because of which perhaps they'd woken her up to seek refuge in the one of the bunkers beneath the red keep.

Upon the girls' arrival, one of the King's guards opened the doors for them, allowing them to enter before shutting the doors once again.

Eirlys took note of her Queen Alicent sitting next to a maester who was probably tending to someone. His back faced the princess, shielding whoever was sitting in front of him. The girl also noticed her brothers standing near the far end of the room alongside Baela and Rhaena, who all looked like they'd gotten into a scuffle.

The princess left Halaena's side to go and ask her siblings what had happened but a much gruesome sight had captured her attention . Her fast paced steps halted to a stop when she laid eyes on Aemond, who's face was covered in blood, his left eye now stitched shut and the skin around it blistered and swollen.

The boy quickly tried to turn away, not wanting her to see his face with the way it looked now but the maester held the boy's jaw in place while he continued to sew shut the wound.

"What happened" she gently held the boy's hand, loosely sliding her fingers under his palm that rested on the armrest of the chair he was sat in, afraid that she might inflict more pain on his already bruised knuckles.

Aemond simply winced in pain as his hand squeezed hers unconsciously, not quite able to respond to her just yet.

"Were they attacked?" The girl sweetly asked the queen, the genuine concern she felt evident in her tone. She bent on her knees, resting her chin on the armrest so she could get a better look at the maester stitching the wound.

"Yes, he was" the woman responded, emphasising that it was solely her son who was entitled to the sympathy Eirlys was showing "it will heal will it not maester?"

"The wound will heal" the old man assured as he tended to the injury "but I'm afraid the eye is lost your grace"

Aegon made his entrance, half asleep or perhaps half drunk, it was hard to tell.

He yawned as he stumbled a few of his steps before standing by his mother's side.

Alicent's emphatic expression quickly transformed into that of rage when her gaze shifted from Aemond to Aegon. She slapped the boy hard across the face, catching the young princess Eirlys by surprise who flinched at such a harsh gesture.

"Your brother has been brutally attacked while you were away drowning in you cups" the queen snapped at a very surprised and slightly clueless Aegon "when will you learn to be responsible over a good for nothing drunk"

"Jace, Luke?" Rhaenyra ran in with Daemon who stayed at the doorway. She ran straight to her sons to examine the injuries.

Eirlys' grandparents also joined the rest of them, concerned about Baela and Rhaena.

King Viserys was the last to arrive along with the commander of the king's guard.

Rhaenyra looked toward her daughter, to inspect of any injuries. Her gaze stayed fixated on her as if she were making sure her daughter was truly fine, to which Eirlys responded to by walking toward her mother so she she could assure her she was unharmed.

Aemond slowly let go of her hand as the princess walked away from him, hoping that she would stay by his side instead of going to stand with her brothers.

The king was not pleased about their entire mess of brother against brother, blood against blood.

"What exactly happened here" the king demanded.

"They attacked me!" Aemond yelled from across the room, turning to look at his nephew. He momentarily glanced at Eirlys to let her know it was them who had started all of this.

"He attacked Baela" Luke argued.

"...broke Luke's nose"

"You punched me"

"That is a lie"

"He stole Vhagar!"

"You think my son's telling the tale?"

Everyone began to yell, eager to be heard over the other, creating quiet the commotion.

"It was an accident" Rhaenyra tried to defend her son.

"An accident? Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush to kill my son" Alicent raised her voice, not at all willing to hear anything from the princess.

"It was my children who were attacked and forced to defend themselves" Rhaenyra stepped in front of the three kids "vile insults were levied against them"

"What insults" The king questioned.

"The legitimacy of my son's birth was put to question"

"He called us bastards" Jace softly said from behind his mother to which Aemond looked away quickly to hide the smirk creeping to his lips.

"My sons are in line to inherit the iron throne your grace" Rhaenyra stepped closer to her father "this is the highest of treason. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned over where he heard such slander"

"Over an insult?" Alicent sighed with annoyance "my son has lost an eye"

The king ignored her before turning to Aemond.

"Aemond" he spoke sternly "where did you hear such lies?"

The boy's gaze shifted from the king to his mother. But the prince knew better than to blame her in front of everyone and add to the mess that was already at hand.

"It was Aegon"

"Me?"

Viserys was on the brink of losing his temper and it had become evident. He wanted answers and was getting no where.

"You, boy, where did you hear these lies?" He asked only to be met with silence. By this point the king was furious "Aegon! Answer me!"

"We know father" The boy meekly replied "Just look at them"

Aegon didn't really care much about them being possibly bastards, he'd grown rather fond of their company. Yet in that moment he couldn't deny the obvious truth.

"Let me make this quiet clear, anyone who dares question the birth of Rhaenyra's children, should have his tongue removed" The king looked around, making it quiet evident that he was being serious "this terminable infighting must cease at once, your king demands is! Now, you will all make your peace and put this behind us"

"That is insufficient" Alicent walked away from her son "Aemond has been permanently damaged, goodwill cannot make him whole"

"I know" the king sighed "but I cannot restore his eye"

"No because it's been taken"

"What would you have me do?"

"There is a debt to be paid" she coldly responded "I shall have one of her son's eyes in return"

Eirlys looked up at the queen in shock, not expecting her to resort to such a drastic judgment.

"My dear wife.." Viserys tried to reason with her.

"He's your son Viserys" Alicent's voice cracked "your blood"

"Do not let your temper to guide your judgment" The king warned, not siding with his wife on the solution she'd suggested.

"If the king won't seek justice then the queen will" Alicent's voice grew harsh "Ser Criston, bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon"

Eirlys pushed Lucerys behind her and while Rhaenyra held her hand.

"you will do no such thing"

"You can choose which eye to keep" she turned to address the younger boy "a privilege he did not grant my son"

"Alicent" The king called out, his patience running thin "This matter is finished"

The queen did not seem too pleased about his disinterest in his son being maimed and for being told off in front of everyone. She swiftly reached for the Valyrian steel dagger strapped to the king's side, quickly unsheathed it before marching upto Rheanyra.

"Mother!" Luke called out, alarmed as the princess turned around to hold the arm the queen had the dagger in, away from her.

It was chaos unleashed again. The guards rushed to separate the two while Criston was making his way toward Alicent only for Daemon to stop him.

"You've gone too far" Rhaenyra struggled to hold Alicent's arm away from her.

"I? What have I done but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law while you flout it all to do as you please" Alicent's voice faltered "Where is duty? where is sacrifice? its trampled under your pretty foot again" she went on "And now you take my son's eye and even to that you feel entitled"

"Exhausting wasn't it?" Rhaenyra spoke calm and coldly while she did her best to maintain a certain distance between her and the queen "Hiding under your cloak of righteousness? Well now everyone sees you as you truly are"

Alicent had finally snapped after years of growing hatred and frustration. She brought down the dagger and sliced the princess' arm from elbow to wrist before the two were finally pulled away from each other. She let the dagger fall as she looked around to take in people's expressions, most of who had started to think she was going mad.

"Do not mourn me mother" Aemond's voice broke her out of her daze "it was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye but I gained a dragon"

"This preceding is at an end" the king stated before walking away, completely tired and annoyed.

~

The morning after was just as glum and tense.

The servants in the castle had all heard of the event that took place and each tried to sneak a glance at the wounded prince, treating him like some sort of spectacle up for display.

Aemond hated it, both the stares and how he looked now.

"It'll heal" Eirlys tried to sound enthusiastic as she reached for his hand to offer some solace "it may take a while but-"

The girl had decided to visit him, despite her brothers asking her to just leave him be. And as much as she loved her brothers, she loved her friend Aemond as well and wanted to see how he was doing after being badly injured the night before.

"I won't Eirlys" Aemond sighed "I've been maimed for life"

"Aemond-"

"I'm sure you don't wish to marry me now" he looked down at their hands, observing how cautiously she was holding on to his "I look hideous"

"No of course not" the princess responded, the thoughts never crossing her mind. She was filled more with concern over anything else when she first saw him. And even now, all she was worried about was how painful it must be for him to endure all of it.

"I wish you hadn't called them bastards" she softly muttered as she gently traced his knuckles with the tip of her finger "you promised you wouldn't say it"

"I promised I wouldn't say it around you" the boy clarified "they accused me of stealing a dragon. How do you even steal a dragon? You claim one, and if I wasn't meant to ride Vhagar, I'd be burned until I was dead"

"You didn't have to chose a dragon that belong to the girls' late mother" Eirlys tried to explain "and then proceed to be rude about it"

"Your brothers really have a knack for turning the story around in a way that makes me the villain" the boy scoffed in disappointment "and you just take their word for it"

"But-"

"I've just claimed myself a dragon" he went on "the largest one alive. Couldn't you be a bit happy for me?"

"But they're not the only ones at fault here" she spoke "if you'd been nicer-"

"If I'd just done this or just done that. it's always my fault isn't it?" he snapped, his voice starting to falter with each word as a wave of emotions washed over him "I've just lost an eye and been blinded permanently and yet you still find reason to vouch for them. When will you start to look at things from my perspective? How I'm the one they tormented for never having a dragon, something clearly out of my control. How I'm the one they bully for it, how I'm the one who has lost an eye"

Aemond looked away and covered his face with his hands as tears began to stream down his face, his shoulders shaking as a result of his crying.

"W-why won't you ever stand by me l-like that" he managed to ask in between his sobbing "you're supposed to be my f-friend, you know that I w-would defend you"

Eirlys felt her heart clench.

She'd never seen Aemond lose his composure and cry before. She nervously wrapped her arms around him, afraid that she might hurt him if she hugged him too hard.

"I'll always stick by you" she sadly told him as he leaned against her, melting into the hug while he continued to cry, unable to bottle his emotions any longer "you know that"

"Then for once, believe me. I was the one who was attacked first" he told her, his head leaning on her shoulder "I only acted on it after it, I swear this to you"

"Alright, I believe you" she gently squeezed his shoulder as a way of assurance.

She held him in a close embrace until he stopped crying, wiping away at his tear stained face before he cleared his throat.

"Do you want to know about how I claimed Vhagar?"  He sheepishly asked as he sat up straight, but still refusing to fully look at her to avoid the princess seeing his face.

"Tell me everything" she eagerly responded, leaning forward slightly in anticipation for Aemond to tell her about how he'd finally got himself a dragon.

The princess patiently listened, quiet invested in his story of how she was hostile at first but then let him climb into the saddle, following his command to take flight.

He gushed in excitement about how the rush of adrenaline filled him as he soared amidst the closed while the cool night's breeze blew against him. How he'd almost fallen out the saddle and how despite it being his first time flying a dragon, he managed to somewhat learn how to manoeuver the large beast by himself.

"Perhaps one day we could fly together" he suggested "when I'm fully trained with how to control her"

"Me? Fly Vhagar with you? I don't think Ember would like it very much" Eirlys informed, referring to her dragon "and I doubt Vhagar would either"

"Oh nonsense, if I like you, so shall she" he tried to assure her "besides, it'll be just one flight. What could go wrong?"

"A lot of things apparently"

"You'll be fine" Aemond waved her off "just trust me"

"Oh I trust you" the princess gave him a look with equal measure of uncertainty and mischief "I don't trust Vhagar"

"She'll warm up to you" he simply stated with a confident puff of his chest "I know she will"

Aemond and Eirlys continued on their little debate about Vhagar. Eirlys smiled subconsciously as she looked at Aemond enthusiastically rant on and on about the dragon. She was happy that at long last, Aemond had no reason to feel exiled.

The news of Laenor's death came as a shock to the young Eirlys.

The girl was informed of her father's passing a few moments after she woke up and the rumours had already begun to spread, saying that the princess Rhaenyra played a part in ordering the death of her husband.

Eirlys was not one to pay much heed to servants' gossip but when her mother informed her of her decision to leave for Dragonstone and wed Daemon, the young girl began to have her doubts.

Since Eirlys was betrothed to the young prince Aemond, she was to stay at the Red Keep, as queen Alicent's ward.

Eirlys did want to be with her family to grieve the loss of her late father, but duty came before all else and the princess wasn't left with much of a choice with regards to where she would take residence.

Aemond did try to offer some consolation but there was nothing he could possibly say that would provide much comfort to a person who'd just lost their father.

In the days that followed, he tried to provide some distraction to keep her mind preoccupied from the grief. He'd help her with her valerian, ask her to watch him train with Vhagar and on some occasions, had her take lessons in archery along with him.

Aegon did try to be of some help as well but his only solution was to drink wine and Alicent did not approve of his ideas.

Halaena sometimes sat with the girl during the late hours of noon to teach her embroidery, something the younger girl was not as good at; as they watched Dareon play with his toys.

It had been a few years since Eirlys had said goodbye to her family. She was fourteen now and had gotten some what accustomed to living without her mother and brothers by her side.

She was presently sitting in Aemond's chambers, the both of them reading a book.

"Z-zirila iemny maz-verdatan leda zihon riña" Eirlys struggled to read the text, pronouncing a handful of the words incorrectly.

"Zirȳla iemny mazverdatan lēda zȳhon riña" Aemond repeated, emphasising on the words she'd mispronounced "it means her belly swelled with his child"

"Oh" she simply stated before she paused for a few moments, her mind lost to her thoughts.

"How does one come to be with child?" She asked, completely clueless "I've heard they have to kiss-"

"No," Aemond looked at her like she was daft "I overheard someone say they have to sleep together"

"How does that even work?" Eirlys tilted her head in confusion.

"I don't know" Aemond shrugged, now slightly intrigued by the discussion "I suppose they have to sleep in the same bed and then on the morrow the woman will be with child"

"But that's-" the girl huffed in annoyance "what if you're in the woods or someplace else and it's cold, and you have to hold the person next to you for warmth to fall asleep? I don't want to be with child just because I was cold"

"But if you're in the woods you won't be asleep on a bed silly" the prince quickly responded.

"Why does a bed play an importance?"

"Like I said, I don't know. I just heard one of the servants say something like "he took her to bed and they slept together a few nights after as well" when they were talking about that wet nurse who got pregnant"

"Your mother must know" Eirlys asked hopefully "I mean she's got to, she's had four children already"

"I am not asking my mother this" Aemond rolled his eyes "you ask her and then tell me"

"She's your mother" Eirlys argued "you do it"

"Well I won't, let's find someone else who'd know"

"Aegon might" the princess stated, as she closed shut the book, no longer interested in learning the language momentarily.

"Aegon?" Aemond's expression switched from interested to disappointed while he picked up the book and stood to go and put it back on the shelf "he's an idiot, all he does is drink wine and sneak out the castle after dark"

"And he's older" Eirlys tried to persuade the boy as she walked toward him "he must know. Just ask him about it, doesn't hurt just to inquire"

"Alright" Aemond sighed in defeat, not really knowing who else to ask.

"Aemond?" Eirlys called out, another question coming to mind "if a kiss doesn't leave you with child, why do people do it?"

"I think people who are close enough who want to deepen their bond do it" he tried to think of a reason "probably just a show of affection"

"Well, we're close" she looked down at her hands on her lap "and we've never..."

"Hmm, I suppose we haven't" Aemond recalled, as he nervously glanced at her "d-do you want to, perhaps try?"

"I don't mind" Eirlys innocently shrugged as she turned to look at him.

The two of them nervously leaned in, eyes fluttered shut.

"Wait" Aemond softly called out as he quickly opened his eye, Eirlys doing the same "where do I put my hands?"

"I- i don't know" Eirlys answered as she too suddenly felt it awkward having her arms just dropped at her sides "should we just hold hands?"

The boy held both her hands in his, her palms facing down and his facing up, similar to how one would hold their partner's hands while they recited their vows at their wedding.

The two once again closed their eyes and leaned in, Aemond gently pecked Eirlys' lips before they both pulled back.

"Is that it?" She asked, not sure what to expect in truth.

"I uh" Aemond nervously rubbed the back of his neck "I thought it was alright, don't see the fuss about a kiss like the way they mention in books"

"I know" Eirlys agreed "it's just... so simple"

The two of them didn't really think much of it later, not really expecting it to be so bland. They quickly began talking about something else, the topic of kissing slowly losing their interest.

"I was thinking about getting a jewel in place of the eye I lost" Aemond told the princess as he pointed to the eye patch he had begun wearing.

"Really? That'd look amazing"

"I know" he smiled, proud at the little idea he had "I was thinking of which one though, perhaps an emerald?"

"No, too much green" the girl disapproved as she remembered the green vests he so often wore "how about a sapphire instead?"

~

Aemond and Eirlys had decided to spend the day by taking a stroll through the gardens.

It had been a couple of days since their first kiss, that neither of them even considered as their first since it was just an innocent peck that didn't really bring much of a change in their relationship.

Aemond had got the jewel Eirlys had suggested fitted into the empty socket just that morning and had decided to retire the eye patch for the day, eager to show off the vibrant blue sapphire.

"It feels a little weird" he told her as they walked on the pathway next to the bushes, referring to the sapphire "but I like the way it looks"

"I told you the sapphire would suit you well" she smiled, taking credit for it "did you have that conversation with Aegon?"

"No" the boys huffed as he recalled their curiosity regarding how a woman came to be with child "I haven't been able to ask him about it yet"

"You're stalling" the girl threw him a nasty look "I tried asking one of my handmaidens but they refused to tell me"

"What about Helaena?"

"I asked her last night after supper" Eirlys told him "but she responded with a rather complicated statement that I could not decipher"

"Ah yes, my sister has a tendency to speak in riddles sometimes" he heaved a sigh "wonder why she does it"

"She's been helping me lately with my embroidery though" the girl pulled out a handkerchief that was tucked away in her dress sleeve "look"

Aemond gingerly took it from her grasp as he examined the embroidery on it that Eirlys was so eager to show him.

"Well that's a nice um" Aemond struggled to figure out what it was exactly that she'd tried to design with the colourful choice of threads "do you wish for me to be honest or should I instead reward you with false flattery?"

"You're such an arse" the princess snatched the handkerchief back from his grasp as Aemond chuckled at her gesture "those were supposed to be tiny butterflies"

"Emphasise slightly more on the word 'supposed' my lady" the boy grinned down at her "so here's another thing you can add to the list of things you're not good at apart from high valerian"

"I hate you" Eirlys grumbled as she quicken her pace and walked away from him.

"Hey-" the boys laughed as he jogged up to her "you know you love me"

"Qogralbar hen" (fuck off) Eirlys snapped at him.

"Impressive" Aemond grinned, annoying her even further with that shit eating grin of his "is that how you speak to your future husband, princess?"

"Perhaps you shouldn't be such a nuisance to your future wife, my prince" Eirlys side eyed him.

"This is going to be one of those marriages, isn't it?" the prince chuckled at the thought "where we're constantly bickering playfully amongst each other that others might mistake for enmity"

"Oh please, this isn't playful. I quiet genuinely hate you" Eirlys jested as she tucked away the handkerchief "one day I'm going to feed you to Ember"

"No, I'm going to feed you to Vhagar" he corrected.

Aemond found it amusing watching Eirlys get annoyed at the things he said just to poke fun at her. He found it even more hilarious when she, in that annoyance, came up with more insults to hurl at him.

Once they were bored of the view the gardens provided and the repetitive sarcastic mocking, the two of them decided to head back to their chambers for the evening before it was time for their supper.

Aemond walked Eirlys to her chamber, trying his best to not poke fun at her.

"I'll see you after supper?" He asked as he held the door open for her "Dareon's nursery"

"Weren't you supposed to talk to Aegon" the girl reminded.

"Fuck" the prince grunted in annoyance, not really wanting to be the one to ask "he's just going to call me an idiot for not knowing. Can't you ask him?"

"No, I cannot" Eirlys sweetly smiled just to tick him off "ask him tonight and then tell me on the morrow after we break our fast"

"The things I do for you" Aemond rolled his eye.

"I agreed to marry you" Eirlys jabbed a finger at his chest "I think at the very least you could ask your older brother a simple question"

"Then don't marry me" the boys shrugged.

"Alright" Eirlys responded nonchalantly "but first go and talk to Aegon. There's no way out of this for you"

"I hate you" Aemond looked away.

"You know you love me" Eirlys quoted him as she leaned forward, placing a hand on his chest before she gently kissed his cheek "I'll see you on the morrow"

Aemond sighed as a small smile graced his lips. He turned around to walk back to his own chambers once Eirlys had shut the doors to her own.

The two of them had been the closest of friends ever since they could remember. And even though she'd never kissed his cheek before, the innocent gesture wasn't much of a surprise. They had grown so close over the years that by now it was almost natural with their increase in age.

The young prince found himself smiling as he walked all the way back to his quarters, suddenly unsure why that tiny little gesture of her kissing his cheek made something momentarily flutter in his chest.

~

As expected, Aemond was met with the usual teasing and insults when he asked Aegon about the question both him and Eirlys were curious about.

"You are so stupid it physically hurts" the older boy exaggerated "honestly, am I supposed to believe you are my brother?"

"Are you done making a fuss about it?" Aemond sounded annoyed "or are you just going to keep at it instead of actually telling me"

"Hang on" Aegon held up a finger to silence his brother as he chugged down an entire goblet of wine "I'm going to take you someplace-"

"No that's not-" Aemond sighed as he looked at his brother "I don't want to go on a little trip with you, just answer what I-"

"You'll see for yourself" Aegon smirked as he rummaged for something under his bed before standing up again and tossing some old clothes to his brother "wear this"

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see"

Aegon snuck out the castle, this time taking his little brother along with him. He carefully managed to sneak past the guards, having done this many a times before.

The prince walked through the now-very-familiar city streets, knowing every turn and alleyway by heart.

He walked up a few stairs and through some narrow lanes until he reached a street lined with half naked women, eyeing everyone passing by and calling after them in an attempt to seductively lure them.

"Where are we?" Aemond nervously asked as he inched closer to his brother.

"A whore house" Aegon casually responded "this one is of my favourite establishments"

"I don't think.." Aemond trailed off as he clutched his older brother's cloak "we should go back"

"You're six and ten brother" the older prince slapped his brother playfully on the back "it's about time for you to be as educated as I am"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Aegon didn't respond.

He simply walked toward the door of the house, swinging in open and pulling his brother along with him.

Aemond could practically hear his heart pounding against his chest as he followed his brother through the dark hallway preoccupied by people who were pressed up against each other, moaning profanities that echoed throughout the narrow space.

"Prince Aegon" a woman smiled at the boy "I see you've brought company"

"Ah yes, this is my little brother" the prince pulled Aemond forward "it's his first time so send him someone who's patient enough to show him the reigns"

"Mhm" the older woman eyed the young boy up and down as she looked behind and yelled out someone's name, probably the whore who'd serve as his entertainment for the night.

"You wanted me to answer your question didn't you?" Aegon smirked as he handed the lady a handful of gold coins "time to get it wet"

Aegon ran off to find a girl to pleasure himself with while Aemond was guided to a room.

To say the young boy was nervous as he was shoved into a room with a naked woman awaiting him would be an understatement.

The boy stood frozen as she took her time undressing him, muttering things like "it's alright" and "calm down" as she guided him to the bed to teach him the things a man was supposed to do for a women in bed, which in turn answered the question he'd been curious about regarding pregnancy.

About halfway through, Aemond shoved her off him, making haste to grab his clothes and to dress himself, quiet eager to leave and uncomfortable with the places of himself her hands and mouth had explored.

"Where are you going my prince?" The lady asked, surprised that one of her customers wasn't satisfied with her service, ignoring the fact that Aemond was still only a boy.

The prince did not bother to answer her question.

He ran out the establishment and made his way back to the castle, using the same route Aegon had used earlier and one that Aemond was surprised he remembered so well.

Upon his arrival, Aemond rid himself of the rags Aegon had given him and wore his usual attire.

The young boy's mind was muddled up from the events that took place. The things he saw, the things he experienced, the things the whore told him.

He felt so sick, disgusted even.

He never wanted any of this, and in that moment he regretted even going to Aegon for answers. His mind was replaying everything all over again as his heart continued to pound against his chest.

He aggressively shoved open the doors and ran to the only person he felt safe with.

Not caring that the hour was late, he knocked loudly against Eirlys' door.

The princess took a few minutes to get out of bed and answer whoever was on the other side of the door.

"Aemond?" She called out sleepily as she rubbed her eyes "what's wrong?"

The boy opened his mouth to talk but wasn't sure what to say. There was no way in seven hells he was going to tell her whatever just happened.

Unable to communicate what he was feeling, he just hugged her, still trembling; something that Eirlys noticed.

"What happened" she asked again with an undertone of concern as she wrapped her arms around him.

"I can't be alone right now" the boy's voice faltered "can I sleep here?"

"Of course"

Eirlys grabbed a pillow and a blanket and placed it on the little mattress by the window.

"You can have the bed" she sweetly told him "I like the night sky anyway"

"No it's alright, we can just share" Aemond took the pillow from her hand as he crawled into bed.

"But" Eirlys recalled what Aemond had told her a few days ago "if we sleep in the same bed then I'll get-"

"You won't" the prince quickly responded, knowing exactly what she was referring to "I uh, I was wrong about that"

"Oh" Eirlys slowly walked to her bed and sat on the edge "did you ask Aegon?"

Aemond was reminded yet again of the place he was taken to by his brother and quickly cleared his throat to break the long silence.

"I did"

"And?"

"I really don't wish to talk about it" he told her, his voice almost pleading "please"

The girl sensed a certain discomfort and didn't pry any further. She silently got under the covers and adjusted her pillow.

She leaned in to kiss the boy's cheek as she said good night but Aemond responded by quickly flinching away, taking her by surprise.

"What are you doing?" He asked, sounding almost terrified.

"I-I was only kissing you goodnight" Eirlys tenderly told him, feeling suddenly shattered by his response.

"Oh" he muttered "I see"

She didn't lean in a second time to kiss him and instead just rested her head on her pillow.

Aemond rolled to his side so that his back was facing her as he shut his eyes, desperate to fall asleep so that he could be free from his thoughts.

The boy finally drifted off into a dreamless slumber, while he tightly clutched his tear stained pillow.

[dulcewrites]

ok hear me out ,, I don’t know whether you liked CRA or not, but recently rewatching it gave me an idea ! modern AU aemond (or whoever ur feeling) x reader inspired by CRA. you’ve got the family drama, the family slag (aegon) , the only tolerable family member (halaena or maybe even laena) and there’s so many members of this family i feel like it could work rlly well. alicent being the mother aemond takes reader to meet (this is a first since maybe aemond hasn’t had many serious relationships) . the whole hightower targaryen velaryon family is LOADED and reader is just this final year college student (or maybe she has a job) and she’s totally at a loss lol

idk who would be getting married (maybe rhaenyra or an oc!) but i just think the whole thing sets up really well

Ok I like it, Picasso!

I have other stuff to finish, but modern Aemond is interesting to me. Probably bc Aemond in general is lmao. I would want to have something to differentiate it from osftsb. Though I do imagine that reader maybe having money (not to the targs degree obvi…maybe her parents are doctors or tenured teachers idk bc dance is expensive). But yeah I’d want something there to set it apart

But I think it would be fun to write Alicent being a bit cold. Like that’s MOTHER, and I think she has so much empathy, even when she shouldn’t. so it might be fun to have her be a bit calculated when it comes to her kids… especially Aemond, who’s her baby.

Random but I think them meeting through the an unlikely source would be cute. Maybe a grease sort of situation where Aemond goes on vaca with the targ kids (their parents: viserys Alicent laena and daemon nyra and harwin) make them bond. And they meet there but think it’s gonna be a fling. She ends up going to one of laena’s art gallery openings (laena is an artist in my head) and sees Baela/rhaena hmmm. Just a thought

Or fashion student rhaena asks reader to model clothes for her.

[crowofjudgements-blog]

Soror mea, connexa per dolores

Halaena 🤝 Karlach:

Having awesome mom’s who tried everything in their power and life to protect their little girls only to be slain and forced to watch her suffer from the afterlife 🥰

While Karlach isn’t her love interest THIS TIME I literally yearn for the sweet embrace of the forbidden kiln over here 😔

Also introducing my main BG3 oc Halaena Daimos 💀

A Seldarine Underdark exile forced from her home after her contact with the Weave caused a significant explosion of arcane energy and killed a bunch of people. Now she’s a Wizard female drow in a world that despises her very essence, constantly torn between following her mother’s path to Eilistraee and personal choice or yielding to the will of Mystra (both goddesses directly play a huge role in Halaena’s life)

In other words, she’s just a girl and she did nothing wrong, your honour 😔

P.S. Daimos ain’t her last name, you’ll have to find Qilué to figure that out 😉

[daemontargaryenwhore]

Another character who spoiled the whole show, just like joffrey

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

A Dragon's Wedding

pairing: Fanon!Halaena Targaryen x Male OC

summary: The wedding of Helaena and Rhaegal is finally here. And so is the wedding night.

Word count: 5,5K

Warnings: Fluff, incest, mention of alcohol, mention of blood, smut, P in V, Fingering, Cunnilingus, Slight breeding kink

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

The air in Rhaegal's chamber was charged with anticipation. The grand stone walls of Dragonstone cast a cool, muted light on the scene within. Rhaegal Targaryen, the soldier prince, stood before a polished mirror, his mismatched eyes capturing a flicker of excitement he would never admit to anyone.

One eye was a striking amethyst, inherited from the Targaryen line; the other, a piercing shade of blue, a unique feature shared with his mother. His tall, lean figure bore the marks of a warrior, a testament to his years of rigorous training. Silverlight, his sword, hung proudly on his belt, a symbol of his skill and valor.

As he stood in front of the mirror, Rhaegal's platinum-blonde hair cascaded down to just below his shoulders, its shimmering strands the color of dragonfire. He had chosen to leave it loose, refusing the intricate braids and embellishments favoured by others on this momentous occasion.

In the corner of the room, his chosen servant, a trusted figure who had been by his side through countless battles, worked diligently to fasten the intricate clasps of his royal wedding attire. Rhaegal's preference for privacy was clear; he had allowed only this one male servant to assist him in this most intimate of moments.

Rhaegal maintained his stoic demeanour, his face an unreadable mask. He was a soldier prince, after all, and emotions were best kept hidden, especially on a day as significant as this.

As the servant carefully adjusted the royal cloak bearing the Targaryen sigil on his shoulders, Rhaegal couldn't help but steal a glance at the ornate wedding attire laid out on the bed. It was resplendent in shades of crimson and black, meant for a princess of House Targaryen. Today, Helaena would become his wife, his partner in the intricate dance of politics and power.

While excitement bubbled beneath his stoicism, he held onto the discipline that had guided him through countless battles. Rhaegal Targaryen was ready, but he allowed no one, not even his future bride, to see the depth of emotion that lay beneath the surface.

And so, as he prepared to embark on this new chapter of his life, the soldier prince stood tall, a symbol of strength and composure, ready to face whatever challenges and triumphs lay ahead in his union with Princess Helaena Targaryen.

The room was filled with a quiet sense of purpose as Rhaegal's servant finished fastening the last clasp on his royal attire. The cloak, bearing the Targaryen sigil, lay perfectly across his broad shoulders.

Rhaegal, with his platinum-blonde hair framing his strong, chiseled features, surveyed his reflection in the mirror one last time. He nodded, satisfied with his appearance, though his mismatched eyes held a hint of apprehension.

"Thank you," he said to the servant, his voice measured and controlled. The servant bowed respectfully and exited the room, leaving Rhaegal alone with his thoughts.

With practiced precision, Rhaegal slid Silverlight into its ornate scabbard, feeling the familiar weight of his sword. It was a companion he had trusted on countless battlefields, and today, it symbolized his readiness for the intricate political battles of the Targaryen court.

As he turned away from the mirror, his gaze landed on the wedding attire laid out for Helaena, a resplendent vision of crimson and black. The sight reminded him of the significant role they were to play in the intricate dance of the Targaryen dynasty.

Rhaegal's stoic facade remained firmly in place, but deep within, he couldn't deny a surge of anticipation. He knew that today marked the beginning of a new chapter in his life—one that held both challenges and triumphs. His marriage to Princess Helaena was a political alliance, but he couldn't help but wonder what the future held for them as husband and wife.

With one last glance at the mirror, he took a deep breath, his resolve unwavering. Today, he would stand before gods and men, pledging himself to Helaena, a princess of House Targaryen. As the soldier prince, he understood the importance of the union, and he was determined to fulfill his duty with honor and dedication.

Rhaegal exited the chamber, his steps steady and measured. The ceremony awaited, and he would face it with the same composure that had guided him through battles and challenges in the past. The soldier prince was ready for the next chapter of his life, even if the depth of his emotions remained hidden beneath his stoic exterior.

As Rhaegal stood ready, the weight of tradition and duty pressed upon his shoulders. His mismatched eyes, one amethyst and the other blue, held a depth of determination as he prepared to marry Princess Helaena Targaryen, a union that would bind two Valyrian souls together.

But Rhaegal was adamant that their marriage would honor their Valyrian heritage. They were dragons, descendants of the old Valyria, and their union deserved to be celebrated in the ancient Valyrian way.

In the chambers where Helaena awaited, a sense of quiet reverence filled the air. The ceremony would be performed before the crowd in the Throne room, a sacred place that had witnessed countless Targaryen unions.

Rhaegal, in his resplendent attire, made his way to the Throne room, where the room buzzed with excitement from the guests who were probably witnessing a Valyrian wedding for the first time. The quiet murmurs of guests could be heard as they gathered, eager to witness the Valyrian wedding.

As the ceremony began, the Valyrian words of binding echoed through the air, resonating with centuries of tradition. Rhaegal and Helaena exchanged vows in the ancient tongue, their words carrying the weight of their house and their legacy.

The hushed gathering of Targaryen family and trusted allies watched in awe as the Valyrian wedding ceremony unfolded. The air was filled with the weight of tradition, and the Valyrian words of binding echoed through the Throne room.

The Valyrian ceremony continued with the offering of ancient Valyrian symbols—a silver chalice filled with the purest Dragonstone wine and a dragon's egg, symbolising the fire and blood that flowed through their veins. As the sun's rays filtered through the leaves, casting a warm glow over the couple, they each took a sip of the wine and touched the dragon's egg, a powerful symbol of their bond and destiny.

Rhaegal and Princess Helaena Targaryen, their amethyst and sapphire eyes reflecting the ancient lineage of Valyria, exchanged vows in the venerable tongue of their forefathers. Their words carried the resonance of centuries of Targaryen history, binding them together in a union that was as enduring as the Valyrian steel their house prized.

With half of Westeros as their witnesses, they sealed their vows with a kiss, a symbol of their commitment and love. The Targaryen sigil, a crimson dragon on a black field, was emblazoned on their garments, a testament to their shared heritage

With the blessing of the measter, the Valyrian ceremony was complete, and Rhaegal couldn't help but feel a profound connection to Helaena as they stood together before gods and men.

But they were mindful of the complexities of their world, where the Green Queen held sway. To honor both their Valyrian heritage and the political realities of their time, Rhaegal and Helaena decided to host a second ceremony, a Seven wedding, for the benefit of the Green Queen and her court.

After the Valyrian ceremony, the couple, still resplendent in their regal attire, where the Seven wedding was to take place was the same as the Valyrian Wedding.

Rhaegal's eyes, held a subtle blend of tradition and compromise. He understood the necessity of diplomacy in their world, and so he would entertain the Green Queen with grace and dignity.

The Seven wedding unfolded with the grandeur and opulence that was expected in the Targaryen court, pleasing the Green Queen and her supporters.

Through the day, Rhaegal and Helaena navigated the delicate balance between honoring their Valyrian roots and appeasing the political forces at play. It was a testament to their adaptability and strength as a couple, bound not only by love but also by the intricate web of Targaryen politics.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, orange glow over Dragonstone, Rhaegal and Helaena, united in both Valyrian and Green ceremonies, faced the future as husband and wife. Their love, their traditions, and their compromises were the foundation upon which their journey would unfold, a testament to the complexities of their world and their enduring commitment to each other.

The Throne Room of the Red Keep was transformed into a grand banquet hall, its towering iron throne overshadowed by the opulence of the occasion. The long, feasting tables were adorned with rich crimson and black banners, the colors of House Targaryen, and dragon motifs adorned the walls.

Rhaegal Targaryen, resplendent in his crimson and black attire, did not leave the side of his new wife, Princess Helaena Targaryen. She was a vision of Valyrian beauty, her flowing gown as ethereal as dragonfire, her eyes shimmering with joy.

The guests, an assembly of Targaryen kin, noble lords, and ladies from various houses, gathered to celebrate the union of the soldier prince and the princess. The atmosphere was filled with excitement and anticipation as they enjoyed the lavish feast.

As the evening progressed, Rhaegal led Helaena to the center of the Throne Room, where a space had been cleared for dancing. The couple stood together, their eyes locked, lost in the moment as they prepared for their first dance as husband and wife.

The soft strains of a Valyrian melody filled the air, and they began to move gracefully across the polished floor, their movements synchronised as if they had been dancing together their entire lives. The Throne Room seemed to fade away, leaving only Rhaegal and Helaena in their world of shared happiness.

As they danced, their connection deepened, and Helaena couldn't help but blush whenever their eyes met. Rhaegal, always composed and stoic, found himself enchanted by her beauty and grace. He whispered words of affection and love, meant for her ears alone, as they swayed to the music.

Slowly, other couples joined them on the dance floor, celebrating their union and the joyous occasion. The Throne Room came alive with the revelry of lords and ladies, their laughter and merriment echoing off the stone walls.

Rhaegal and Helaena continued to dance, their love and unity on display for all to see. In that moment, surrounded by the grandeur of the Red Keep and the warmth of their guests, they knew that their union was a cause for celebration, a testament to the enduring strength of House Targaryen.

As the night wore on and the feast continued, Rhaegal and Helaena remained inseparable, their bond deepening with each passing moment. Their Valyrian wedding had marked the beginning of their journey as husband and wife, and the celebration in the Throne Room was a testament to their love and the joy it brought to those around them.

In the Throne Room of the Red Keep, Rhaegal Targaryen and Princess Helaena Targaryen took to the center of the polished floor, bathed in the soft, flickering glow of dragon-themed candles. Their eyes locked, and they began to dance to the enchanting strains of a Valyrian melody.

Amid the grandeur of the Throne Room, Rhaegal leaned in, his voice a tender whisper that only she could hear over the music.

"You look radiant tonight, my love," he murmured. "Every star in the sky must be jealous of your beauty."

Helaena blushed, her smile brightening. Their movements were graceful, their bodies swaying in perfect harmony as they danced.

"And you, Rhaegal, are the most dashing soldier prince to ever grace the Red Keep," she replied with a fondness in her voice.

As they twirled, Rhaegal continued to whisper, his words filled with humour and love.

"Do you remember the time we met in the courtyard, and you tripped over your own gown?" he reminisced. "I thought you were trying to impress me with a dance move."

Helaena giggled, her laughter like a melodic tune. "You caught me before I could fall flat on my face."

Their laughter mingled with the music as they danced, their worries and the weight of their roles momentarily forgotten.

"Of course, I couldn't let you face that humiliation alone," Rhaegal chuckled. "It's a soldier prince's duty to save princesses from tripping mishaps."

Helaena's eyes sparkled as she remembered that day. "And you did so gallantly."

Their banter continued, Rhaegal ensuring that their minds were focused on the joy of the moment, not the expectations of their wedding night.

"And speaking of duties, my love," he said softly, "let's not think about the wedding night just yet. Tonight, we celebrate our union with joy and merriment."

Helaena nodded in agreement, her gaze locked onto his. "Agreed, Rhaegal. Let's savour this moment and the love we share."

As they danced, their whispered jokes and words of love created a bubble of happiness around them. The Throne Room seemed to fade away, leaving only the soldier prince and the princess in their world of shared laughter, love, and celebration.

Amid the splendour of the Throne Room, Rhaegal and Helaena's dance continued, their steps perfectly synchronised to the Valyrian melody that filled the air. Their eyes remained locked, and the world seemed to fade away as they danced together.

Rhaegal's voice, soft and filled with devotion, found its way into the quiet moments between the notes of the music.

"I promise you, Helaena," he whispered, his gaze unwavering, "I will protect you until the end of my days."

Helaena's heart swelled with emotion at his words. She knew what he meant, though the name went unspoken. It was a vow of love and commitment that extended beyond the dance, beyond the festivities of this night.

In that moment, she felt safe in his arms, secure in the knowledge that Rhaegal would always stand by her side. She smiled, her eyes shining with unspoken gratitude.

Their dance continued, and Helaena chose not to mention the looming uncertainties that hung in the air. She knew that with her father's passing, the realm teetered on the brink of war, a reality that could not be ignored. But tonight was for celebration, for love, and for the promise they held in their hearts.

As they moved gracefully across the floor, their unspoken understanding and the bond they shared deepened. It was a testament to the strength of their love and their willingness to face an uncertain future together.

In the midst of the joy and laughter that surrounded them, Rhaegal and Helaena's dance carried with it the weight of their unspoken vows and the unbreakable bond that would carry them through whatever challenges lay ahead.

As the hours of celebration unfolded in the Throne Room of the Red Keep, revelry and merriment filled the air. The festivities seemed endless, but the joyful atmosphere took an unexpected turn when Aegon, fueled by the excesses of wine, made a brash announcement.

"It's time for the bedding ceremony!" Aegon declared, his voice slurred with drunkenness.

The revellers, caught off guard, erupted into cheers and laughter, as was the tradition in many Westerosi weddings. However, the atmosphere quickly shifted when some of the more enthusiastic guests began to approach Rhaegal and Helaena, intent on taking part in the customary undressing of the bride.

Rhaegal, ever protective of his new wife, swiftly pulled Helaena away from the advancing guests. With determination in his mismatched eyes, he guided her through the maze of well-wishers and out of the Throne Room.

They arrived at the chamber they were to share from that night on, a haven of privacy away from the revelry. Rhaegal's stance was unwavering, and his voice held a firm edge.

"No one will enter this room," he declared to anyone who dared to approach. "I'll cut off the balls of anyone who attempts to step across this threshold without our consent."

His words were a stark reminder of his authority and his determination to protect Helaena's dignity and their shared moment. The threats hung in the air, a clear warning to those who might seek to invade their privacy.

Inside the room, Rhaegal closed the door behind them, creating a barrier against the world outside. He turned to Helaena, his expression softening.

"No one will intrude on our union," he assured her, his voice gentle. "We decide when and how our wedding night unfolds."

Their love and respect for each other were evident in that moment, as they stood united against the expectations and pressures of tradition. Together, they were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead as husband and wife, on their terms, in their own time.

In the dimly lit chamber, Rhaegal and Helaena stood facing each other, the weight of the evening's events still hanging in the air. Helaena, poised to undress as per tradition, hesitated at the threshold of their new life together.

But Rhaegal, ever considerate and attuned to her emotions, gently placed a hand on her arm, stopping her.

"We don't need to do anything tonight," he murmured, his mismatched eyes filled with understanding and love.

Helaena, overcome with emotions, felt a surge of gratitude and affection for her husband. In that tender moment, she leaned forward and kissed him straight on the lips. Their kiss was a sweet, heartfelt embrace, a testament to the depth of their connection and the love that had blossomed between them.

As they pulled away from the kiss, their eyes locked once more, and Rhaegal's hand gently cupped her cheek. In that moment, they understood that their love would guide them through the complexities of their world, and their wedding night, as significant as it was, could wait for a time when their hearts were ready.

In each other's arms, they found solace and comfort, a sanctuary of love and understanding. As they prepared to embark on the journey of marriage, they knew that their bond would be the foundation upon which they built their life together, a testament to the enduring strength of their love.

Much to Rhaegal's surprise Helaena deepened the kiss, her hand reaching up to touch his cheek, fingers moving through the very little stubble he let grow. Her lips were so soft and tasted of strawberries from the tarts he watched her eat happily during the feast.

"Hel, we don't have to" Rhaegal tried assuring her again. She smiled pulling away a little. Rhaegal thought she would stop then but what surprised him when she began undoing the bodice of her dress.

"But I want to" She muttered, blushing furiously. Seeing the tremble in her hands, Rhaegal reached over taking both of her hands into his and pulled them up to kiss them both.

"Alright, but do tell me to stop when you feel uncomfortable or in pain or just simply want to stop" Rhaegal did not proceed from there until she gave him a nod.

Rhaegal leaned down claiming her lips gently, not wanting to overwhelm her anymore. He let go of her hands to wrap them around her waist instead and pulled her closer to his body. Helaena's hand moved to hold his muscular biceps as she tried to imitate the way his lips moved and kiss him back.

Rhaegal with careful movement began removing Helaena's heavy wedding dress, one piece at a time until she was left only in her linen. He groaned at the sight of her perky nipples peaking through the white fabric. A small spot was also present at the front of her linen showing her arousal.

"You look delicious, dōna vaokses" Sweet spider. Rhaegal murmured with his gruff voice. Helaena clenched her thighs at the sound of his voice, at the nickname he had given her, sweet spider? Her favorite insect? It was too much.

"Kepus" Uncle. Helaena whispered her plea. Rhaegal smiled sweetly down at her. He crouched down slightly to place his hands behind her thighs before standing up again straight. Helaena squealed a little as he pulled her up with him, her legs moved to wrap around his waist for support and her arms wrapped around his shoulders. She blushed when she heard laughter behind the door, people were listening in on them.

"Ignore them, dōna vaokses" Rhaegal whispered. Helaena nodded slightly and looked down at him instead of the door. She leaned down and captured his lips with her own missing the feeling of his lips.

Rhaegal moved towards the bed and gently moved to kneel on it before laying her on her back on it. He remained on top of her. His hands moved down to feel her thighs pulling them off his waist, his hands grabbing at them, kneading the flesh wanting to feel more of her soft skin.

His lips trailed down to her neck, placing gentle kisses, she deserved nothing but kindness, she was a gentle soul. She deserved nothing but the best.

Helaena's breathing picked up as Rhaegal trailed down to kiss down to the neckline of her linen. A gasp tore through her lips when his fingers ripped the edges and ripped it right down the middle. Rhaegal chuckled at her reaction and looked up watching her face. Her eyes looked dazed almost. Her fingers ran through his loose hair, playing with the strands before grabbing a fist of it gently and pushed his head closer to her flesh.

Rhaegal obeyed and resumed kissing down to her breasts. They were perfect, she was perfect, that was all Rhaegal could think of. His lips trailed around her right breast before taking her nipple into his mouth. She moaned arching her back wanting to shove more of the flesh into his mouth. His hand moved up her bare stomach to grab the other breast and give it some attention.

"Kepus" Helaena whimpered. Her hand trailed down to his shoulder pulling him closer, frowning when she realised he was fully clothes still.

"Too much clothes" She whispered. Rhaegal let go of her tit with a pop. He sat up on his knees and began unbuttoning his shirt. Helaena watched with hooded eyes as Rhaegal shed one piece of clothing after the other.

"Gevie" Beautiful. She stated, sitting up to run her fingers from his shoulder to his belly, where it was littered with scars he gained through the years.

"You think so, dōna vaokses?" Rhaegal asked with a teasing smile. Helaena noticed that she had spoke out loud, blushed furiously. Rhaegal claimed her lips in a second pushing her back to lay fully on her back again.

"You are much much more Gevie, sweet Helaena" Rhaegal muttered against her lips. He slowly slid down littering kisses in his wake. Helaena's head fell back when he reached her breasts again.

He gave them the loved they deserved, kissing, kneading and littered them with bruises for people to see tomorrow, he will make sure she will wear one of his many gifts, a dress with a low neckline to show his marks off. So men would back away and never even think about coming near his wife ever.

His lips continued down to her belly, he pushed his tongue in her belly button teasing her. Helaena moaned, her fingers grabbing at his hair when he wet a sensitive spot she did not know was sensitive in the first place. Rhaegal smirked in victory and moved on.

He kneeled down on the floor, face to face with her crying cunny. He pushed her knees apart to show more of her beauty. Helaena's breath hitched in her throat, raising her head to watch his reaction.

Rhaegal winked at her before diving in. His tongue licked a long strip up her slit. Helaena's head fell back again on the mattress, she has never touched that area before, having been warned many times by her mother before.

Rhaegal found her swollen pearl with ease, it was just very swollen and ready to be devoured. He sucked at it earning a loud moan from Helaena. He moved down prodding at her hole with the wet muscle of his tongue.

"Kepus" Helaena begged. She sounded so sweet, she sounded so desperate. Rhaegal did not make her wait and pushed his tongue inside of her. Moaning at the taste of her cunt, the vibrations sent shockwaves through Helaena's body.

"You taste so sweet" Rhaegal complimented. He moved one of his fingers to touch her whole. Her whole body tensed at the feeling.

Rhaegal shushed her before slowly moving his finger inside of her. Tongue toying with her pearl to ease the discomfort. Helaena's grip on his head tightened but she did not protest. Rhaegal waited for her to stop him but after a couple of minutes it was obvious she was not going to.

"Good Vaokses" Spider. Rhaegal praised, he wiggled his finger inside of her in search of the rough spot all women had but not all men found.

The second he touched it Helaena's whole body jerked in shock. She has never felt such pleasure before in her life. Rhaegal slowly pushed a second finger inside testing the waters. Helaena's legs tried to close around him but his free hand pushed her leg open and she forced the second one open.

His tongue resumed it's torture on her pearl, he wanted this experience to be as pleasant as possible for her as it will be for him. His cock was throbbing but he did not touch it, no he wanted it to last and he will try as hard as possible to make it last.

"Helaena" He muttered against her pearl. Helaena's body jerked with the vibrations of his voice. Her breathing grew even more shallow.

"So full" She whimpered. A buzzing like feeling started taking over senses. Rhaegal smirked victorious as she orgasmed on his tongue and fingers not even knowing what was happening.

"So good" She cried, her back arched off the bed. Rhaegal's ear buzzed with anticipation he could barely hear the cheering outside of the room.

"Good Vaokses" Rhaegal pulled away from her cunt and climbed on top of her. Helaena looked at him with eyes full of love. He couldn't help but kiss her, she was just so beautiful. She moaned when she tasted herself on his lips.

"Ready?" He asked her. Her eyes trailed down to his throbbing length, eyes widened at the sight. She gulped but nodded her head either way.

"Tell me to stop if you want me to" He reminded her. Helaena took a deep breath and nodded.

Rhaegal groaned as he grabbed the base of his cock, he was sensitive even to his own touch after refusing himself pleasure for so long. He placed the tip on her pearl rubbing it slightly, moaning slightly at the feeling of her flesh on him. Helaena placed her hands on his shoulders preparing herself mentally.

After gathering enough of her wetness to cover his entire length he began pushing in the tip. Helaena groaned at the feeling, his fingers were nowhere near as big as his cock, even just the tip. He pushed himself inside of her inch by inch. Groaning when she latched her teeth to the flesh of his shoulder, but he did not dare complain because she was in much more pain than him.

"Uncomfortable" She whimpered. "So full" Rhaegal stopped all movement once he was full sheathed inside of her tight virgin cunt. He wanted to cry out with pleasure at the feeling but held himself back.

"Fuck" Came the word out of his mouth involuntary. Helaena nodded slowly giving him permission to continue. Rhaegal let out a loud moan by accident when he pulled out and pushed back. Helaena tensed when she heard the cheering yet again but soon forgot all about it with the rocking of Rhaegal's hips.

"More" She begged, eyes growing teary with pleasure. Rhaegal obeyed her, he was like a puppet now, he was fully cunt drunk, he was her slave and she knew nothing of how to control him. If she asked him to kill the whole world, he would mount Vyraxes and burn the world for her.

"Fuck, tightest cunt I've ever fucked" He groaned in her ear. Helaena's moans grew in volume, her arms pulling him closer, in search of his lips to silence herself.

Rhaegal lost full control at the taste of her lips, his hips went from rocking to fully slamming against hers. His hips snapped with no rhythm except lust desire.

Rhaegal swished his spit inside of his mouth before pushing it inside of her mouth. Helaena moaned not expecting to find spit swapping attractive but her body spasmed with the pleasure of it.

"Close" She whimpered against his lips. Rhaegal watched her face contract with pleasure. Her legs began shaking by his sides, her hands holding fists of his hair or flesh, eyes rolling back.

"Come on dōna vaokses, come on my cock" Rhaegal encouraged. Helaena cried loudly, body shaking, head falling back. Her cries turned to screams of pleasure, she wanted to stay in this moment forever.

"I'm gonna fill you up to the brim, you will be dripping my cum for weeks" Rhaegal growled. Helaena wanted nothing else, she found nothing else more desirable.

"Fill me up, kepus, give me a child, kepus" She cried. Rhaegal had half a mind to cover her mouth so no one would hear, those words were for his ears alone but then he wanted the entire world to hear, he wanted them to know who she belonged to.

"You want my child?" Rhaegal teased. One of his hands trailed down between their bodied finding her pearl. He tweaked it with care and love. Helaena let out a surprised scream, a scream Rhaegal was more than happy to go deaf listening to.

"Yes let me make you a kepa, kepus" Father, uncle. Helaena cried. Her beautiful curly platinum hair was around her head like a halo and Rhaegal wished for their children to have her hair shade instead of his. Hers was more beautiful, despite the little difference.

"Kepus" She begged, body spasming with a third orgasm. The tightness of her walls threw Rhaegal over the edge. He let out a deep growl as he spilled himself inside of her, painting her walls white. He hoped his cum would take and make them a beautiful child.

"Kepus" Helaena whispered. The cheering outside grew in volume when they could no longer hear their moans or the bed banging against the wall.

"Shhh, dōna vaokses" Rhaegal shushed her. He kissed her forehead as he pulled out of her red and swollen cunt. Helaena sniffled a little at the movement. Rhaegal moved to help her out of the shredded linen she wore still. There on the bottom was her innocence blood.

Rhaegal caring not for modesty walked over to the door and opened it a smidge to keep Helaena's naked form hidden, behind the door stood a group of men from other houses including Aegon, the queen and a smirking Daemon and maester.

"Leave" Rhaegal ordered throwing the linen in the face of the maester who pulled it away with disgust. The crowd cheered at the sight of the blood, not like Rhaegal's sweaty face and wet hair was enough proof of what was happening behind the door or the noises and moans.

"I said leave!" Rhaegal yelled when no one moved. The crowd still cheering did not grow disheartened but moved to leave the couple. The queen stayed a little longer trying to look into the room but Rhaegal slammed the door in her face after saying quickly "She is alright".

As Rhaegal retreated to their shared bed, the soft glow of candlelight casting a warm ambience in their chamber, they settled in, their hearts still racing from the emotions of the day. Helaena, exhausted and on the verge of sleep, welcomed Rhaegal's comforting presence.

Rhaegal curled up beside her, his arms wrapping around her as they lay in each other's embrace. He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, his lips barely grazing her skin.

"Rest now, my love," he whispered, his voice a soothing lullaby in the quiet of the night. "Close your eyes, and let the dreams carry you away."

Helaena's eyes fluttered closed, her body relaxing against his. She listened to the cadence of his voice, feeling safe and cherished in his arms.

Rhaegal continued to whisper, his words filled with promises of a bright future, a future where their children would be silver-haired like them, beautiful like her, smart and intelligent like her, and strong like him. His hands moved gently across her stomach, his touch a silent prayer for the children they hoped to bring into the world.

"You and I," he murmured, "we will build a life filled with love, laughter, and the pitter-patter of little feet. Our family will be a testament to the love we share, a legacy of House Targaryen."

As he spoke, the weight of the day's events seemed to lift, replaced by the anticipation of the life they would create together. In the quiet of the night, their hearts beat in unison, and the promise of a future filled with love and family guided them into the realm of dreams.

Wrapped in each other's arms, they embarked on this new chapter of their lives, their hearts full of hope and love, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Mother for a Son

Summary: As Aemond leaves for a campaign at Storms End, he leaves his very pregnant wife struggle to bring their child into the world, suffering the consequences | Mini-Series Masterlist

Warnings: Childbirth, Death, Major Angst, tbh this is pure angst and nothing else to it I just like making myself sad, sorry

You hissed in pain as you tried to stand up straight, one hand instinctively resting on your lower back. A deep inhale didn't help matters either, but you felt maybe it was better than trying to soldier through the tightness. One hand was clamped around the handle of the chair, feet shuffling to go to sit in front of the fire and as you slumped into the chair, finally feeling the relief and pressure off your feet, your hand rested on the large bump on your belly. The infant inside as if feeling the touch of its mother kicked back, hurting slightly but it still bought a smile to your face.

"I wish you would not take your time, little one" you muttered, eyes wandering to the crackling fire, its heat almost soothing you through your thin nightdress. These days you had no use for heavy evening dresses, the past few weeks you had been confined to your nightdress exclusively as the pregnancy progressed to the end.

Your eyes fluttered open as your felt his hand on your swollen belly, your own lifting up to hold his arm lovingly, eyes meeting his lilac one. He looked down at you with such admiration and your heart swelled with love feeling his hands rub the bump.

He was dressed in his leathers to ride, braced for the cold that the storm outside would no doubt bring. Despite this, he knelt at your side, taking your hand to bring tenderly to his lips, peppering small kisses to your fingers, your palm and eventually on your unborn child. Your first child.

Your fingers delicately rubbed across his cheek, the only sound was the fire crackling and he wanted nothing more than to just stay with you, take care of you, for he knew how much pain you were in so late into the pregnancy.

"Must you go" you ask your husband. His eye opens to meet you again, a soft, sad look on his features.

"I must" he answered sadly, seeing your response, "I wish I did not have to, especially seeing the pain you are in, gevie ābrazȳrys"

You chuff at his words, "I do not feel beautiful. I feel like I am going to burst and every time they kick it hurts tremendously" you answer. Aemond smiled and looked back at the bump,

"Iksan qrīdrughagon, gaomagon daor ōdrikagon aōha muña, zaldrītsos" he says, making you smile.

The baby seemed to respond, a small kick appearing in his direction, earning a quiet laugh from you, "They heard you. Blood of the dragon indeed"

He seemed to linger by your side for a moment, taking your hands in his, a worried expression was clear on his features.

"I worry about you, my love. This is our first child, and you seem to be in such pain"

"Aemond…" you respond, touched by his concern. A concern that most husbands would not have for their wives. You reached out to his face, thumb grazing over the bottom of his scar. His lids seemed to flutter at your touch before meeting you again, as if in such bliss. "…my love, do not worry. Your mother has an army of midwives and she herself has had four children, I am in good hands"

There was a pause as you sat up in the chair, "Our child gives me strength, if they are anything like their father" you smile and so does he. Aemond seems to find this answer satisfactory as he leans up and gives you a tender kiss to your lips, feeling the warmth from your face on his. His hand rests on your jaw, pulling you further towards him as if wanting more, making your smile against his kiss. He pulled away and rested his forehead against yours, eyes focussed down on you,

"Please be careful" you say and he nods. He turned to leave, his hand lingering on yours for a moment before doing so, almost not wanting to leave, whether it be a small voice in his head telling him or not. He looked back once at the door, relishing the view he had before him. His pregnant wife, sat in front of the fire, smiling back lovingly at him. He nodded to you, muttering 'my lady wife' before leaving.

You felt a heaviness in your chest as he left, more in the hope that he would not be reckless once out on Vhagar. He could so often get carried away, you thought to yourself. Outside, the wind howled loudly and you could see the dark grey clouds in the sky run across the sky quickly, the rain creating rivers, you had not seen a storm this bad in King's Landing for a while. One could not tell if it was morning or evening, it was so dark with clouds.

A day had passed in King's Landing, but nobody would have known it. The storm raged on and on, the sun had yet to make an appearance and you had not heard a word from your husband. You stood at the window, hands tied together with anxiety, looking out at all the trees barren of their leaves, the wind having stripped them of their greenery. You took a deep breath, a kick from the baby landing straight on your bladder and you quickly took a seat at the window.

"Heed your father's warning, little one" you say, one hand rubbing over the large bump, remembering the way Aemond had spoken to the unborn child.

A knock at the door broke you out of this trance, Ser Criston Cole stepped in, "Yes?" you inquire.

"Queen Alicent, Princess"

You nodded and he stepped aside to allow the Queen to enter your chambers, a worried look on her features. She had her hair down as if to go to sleep but was dressed with a silk green robe over her, hands clasped together she offered a small smile which you reciprocated.

"You look tired, my dear" she said, coming to sit beside you once the door had closed. Your hand was still supporting the bump as if the weight was pulling down on you, you nodded.

"It is so, your Grace. I do not sleep at all with the weight of the baby" you answer, letting out a small groan of pain.

"I am sure the worry for my son is not helping your condition" she said, this is when your eyes met. You nodded sadly, looking out the window now.

"I worry about him, your Grace. Although you must also, I imagine. He is your son" you offer her a smile.

"Yes…" she trails off, "…I remember the day he was born. He was an easy labour, an easy child, seldom crying"

This made you smile, of course he would have been a good child. As if the gods had formed him themselves, you could only wish the same for your child.

Alicent had always been good to you and she was ecstatic to find you with child many moons ago. Of course, she already had grandchildren from Halaena and Aegon, but this time it was different, she was more attentive, almost overly so. Aemond had been the same when you informed him, excited but restrained somewhat. He often ran you baths to soothe your aching body, dressing you in moments of weakness, you could not have wished for a better and more attentive husband. His kindness astounded you. 

You went to say something, when a pain hit you in a new place, sending a shock of pain through your hips. You moaned out in pain, louder this time, clutching your thighs and leaving marks where your fingers had been.

"What is wrong, my dear?" you heard Alicent say, but her voice was muffled through the wall of blurred pain you were still experiencing. That had been different, you thought, and your mind raced with the possibilities. The pregnancy was nearing its end and this was the thought that worried you the most, your hands began to shake in fear.

"Something is wrong…" you said quietly, so hushed thar Alicent had not heard you as you starting to slowly kneel to the ground, one hand in front to stabilise yourself.

Alicent herself got on the floor in front of you so as to hear you better, one hand placed at your arm in comfort. Your hand brushed your thigh and you pulled it from beneath your nightdress to find that your entire palm was bright red with blood, Alicent was now silent, taking one wide look at your hand and then into your eyes.

Your eyes had welled up with tears, some for the pain and some for the fear, but you met Alicent's eyes.

"Something is wrong" you said more clearly now.

The wave of pain began just then and like a military operation, midwives surrounded you, setting down dark towels on the bed to place you on top. As you were laid on the bed, the pain worsened and you kept screaming out with every contraction, the midwives and Alicent attempting to calm you down without any help whatsoever.

Now, the room had filled up with a dozen people, two of which were the Hightowers huddled in the corner. Alicent's face was red with worry and he kept rubbing her hands together, speaking in low voices with her father,

"This is not usual" Alicent said to her father, he shook his head, eyes every now and then landing on you reeling in pain on the bed, "even with four children, father, I know that this should not happen"

"Has word been sent to Aemond?" he asked, Alicent nodded her head quickly, "What has been said"

"That the Princess has begun her labours"

"Good, it would be best to leave the in-depth details"

You shook your head, wanting the pain to just cease, muttering under your breath Make it stop, make it stop. You pulled yourself to your knees weakly, grasping the bed frame, being upright making the pain slightly less unbearable. You could feel the pressure of the baby trying to make its way out, this feeling remained through the next contraction.

"Where is my husband!" you scream out, Alicent is at your side immediately, holding your hand,

"He is on his way back, my dear, you are doing brilliantly" she said, you held her hand tightly. Through your blurry vision you saw Halaena had entered the room, perhaps to offer some support, but the thought left your head as quickly as it had entered as another quick contraction ripped through you like a dagger.

"I need him, I need him now. Something is wrong, Alicent…" all pleasantries of titles were thrown out of the window as the pain seared through you, like a hot poker had been pressed harder and harder into you.

"You are doing well, my dear, I know it is painful but you just have to push" she said. You swear you could hear the wood splinter as you grabbed the bedframe again, fingernails dug deep in it to alleviate the pain inside your body. The midwife sat behind you pulled your shift to your waist to examine.

The midwife slowly approached Otto in the corner, "She is not progressing quick enough, we must consider the possibilities"

Otto looked sadly at Alicent, who as if knowing exactly what they had been talking about, turned back to you, placing a cloth to your forehead, face and chest now shining with sweat.

"Listen to me, my dear. You have to push for us, okay?" she instructed, motherly instincts now kicking in.

"An eye for an eye…" Halaena said quietly from the corner, nobody having heard her, "…a mother for a son…"

"I can't…" you reply, breathless, "…it hurts…please…where is my husband…" you ask in between breaths, contractions ramping up again. You looked over to Alicent, tears streaming down your face, her look was fierce now. She knew the pain of a child, she knew how the will wavered during labour and this knowledge seemed to spur her on to support you.

"You can" she simply said and you took a deep breath, pinning your eyes shut and pushing with all your might. Various hands reached at you, some in joy at finally seeing the head of the child you had so long laboured for finally appear. You gripped Alicent's hand tightly, taking in another deep breath to push once more.

"Just a little more, Princess!"

With one final scream and push, you felt the baby vacate you and an empty feeling dawned upon you. You found you were still gripping the bedframe hard, face still shining with sweat, body still shaking.

"Congratulations, Princess. You have a very healthy boy" once of the midwives said as they cleaned your baby. You heard his cries but they never registered, you still felt completely dissociated, dizzy…

Your back met the back of the bed, finally being able to lay down after so much toil, Alicent had a sad look on her face, still dabbing your forehead, "Well done" she said quietly.

Your heavy eyes landed on the midwife next to you, who was handing you the small bundle which your weak arms gratefully took. You looked down at the tiny human in your arms, with little wisps of hair on top. The child was barely bothered about the trouble it had caused and had its thumb in its mouth, breathing quietly. You could not help but smile down at the child, your finger running over his cheek slowly, they were flushed with the loveliest colour.

Aemond would be thrilled, you thought.

You looked up to Alicent, she was craned over, doting on the child already, "He is wonderful, my dear. Well done"

You smiled weakly, eyes fluttering closed, "I feel…tired…" you say weakly. Alicent furrowed her brows, seeing your face go pale slightly and arms go weak. Her eyes found the sheets and pulled them back, only to find the entire bed soaked in blood.

"Get the maesters, now!" Alicent said, but your senses were too blurred to notice what she had said, or how you were feeling. You could not explain how you felt exactly, there was pain to be sure, but it was disappearing second by second and a warm feeling was replaced. Feeling weaker by the second, Alicent quickly took the child from your arms, your hand instinctively went to reach out.

"Where is…Aemond…" you ask, his name ghosting on your lips over and over as midwives rushed out and maesters rushed in. But you barely noticed as your vision faded, smiling as you imagine Aemond with his child.

The next few hours were a blur for the Red Keep. Alicent had confined herself to her own chambers, sitting disassociated in her armchair, the child now with the maids for care. Opposite her sat her father, Otto, who was also absent-mindedly staring into the fire. The storm had finally passed, leaving just the dark night sky behind, scattered with stars and the big bright moon.

Alicent bit her lip to stop herself from crying, fingers grasping the arms of her chair tightly.

At the door, Ser Criston, "The Prince is back, my Queen" he simply said. With lightning speed, Alicent raced up, Criston Cole not far behind, briskly walking through the Red Keep's corridors to meet her son before anyone else.

At the end of the hallway, Aemond had rounded the corner, looking wet through and heavy. He met his mother's eyes, but he seemed vacant and Alicent felt her heart panic, did he already know? She thought to herself.

She ran to her son, taking his cold hands in hers. His mouth hung slightly open as if to say something, "Aemond, what happened? You are freezing" she said hurriedly. It took a few moments for Aemond himself to have the courage to face his mother, to find the right words for what he had done…

"Mother…" he finally replied. Alicent was surprised when she found his eyes, he looked as if he was going to cry, his face was wind struck, hair still damp and his voice was barely a whisper, "…I fear I must tell you…the terrible thing I have done…" he said.

Alicent gripped her son's hands tighter, behind her Halaena had stopped to stand next to Criston Cole, this made Aemond's mind rush slightly, why were so many people anticipating his return…unless they knew.

"Do not worry about that now, let us get you warm-"

"I lost control" he simply interrupted, Alicent fell silent, furrowing her brows.

"What do you mean?"

"I was just trying to frighten him…I…." he trailed off, his eyes found the floor, a spot of rain fell down his face.

"Aemond, what happened" Alicent asked, just wanting a straight answer.

Aemond could no longer process it and fell to his knees, Alicent held his head against her as if in protection of her large son, "Luke…"

A wave of realisation hit Alicent at what he meant and she looked behind her at Criston and her daughter, Halaena was already looking down muttering to herself, a mother for a son, a mother for a son. It was only here that Alicent had realised what Halaena actually meant and her face went white as a sheet, her hand still being grasped by her son, kneeling on the floor.

After gathering some part of himself, Aemond stood finally, allowing the servants to take his soaked coat away from him.

"Where is my wife?" he asked quietly, taking a breath. There is was, the fated question. Alicent was silent again and almost stood stock still in her place before realising Aemond was walking down the corridor to his chambers, where he knew his wife would be.

"Aemond!" Alicent shouted after him, "Aemond, stop!"

Ser Criston joined in the chase, going to push Aemond back out the room as soon as he had entered, attempting to shield him from this hurt. But it had been too late.

His eyes scanned the room for a moment, there were many maesters and maids in the room before him. The maids all paused to give the Prince a curtsey before resuming their duties, before continuing to wash the blood stained sheets in the pink water before them. The sheer sight of this horrified Aemond, making his heart sink into his stomach.

Criston's hand had been on his chest the entire time, "My Prince, it is best you leave" he said, making eye contact with Alicent who was standing by the door, a sad expression on her face.

Aemond did not violently break free, but simply stepped forward into the room. His face was still, mouth slightly agape as he saw a bloodied figure laying in the bed, but still not confirming who it may have been.

The maester who was hovering over the figure turned to the Prince, "My Prince, please, we are preparing the body-"

Aemond had ignored everyone and continued over to the bed. His breath died in his throat when he saw you, his wife, the entire bottom half of the bed caked in dark blood. You lay there on the bed, eyes slightly opened and your bloodied hand reaching out for nothing, Aemond had realised now he had fallen to his knees on the floor before the bed.

"No…" is all he said, his hands shakily reached out to take your outstretched one, surprised by the still and coldness of it. He felt the hot tears begin to spill down his face as he looked upon yours, "….my love, please…"

He could not help the feeling of guilt that spread in his chest, consuming his heart. Whether he liked it or not, he had become a murderer, a kinslayer, in a mere night. He had taken away someone's son, so his son took away his wife.

He felt the desire to avenge your death, but the tears flowed quicker with the knowledge that nobody was responsible for your death, except for him. He knew women often succumbed to blood loss and infections from childbirth, but thought that because of your pure soul and the unwavering love you had for him, surely you would be exempt from such a cruel fate.

 Aemond did not leave you the entire evening until forced to by the maesters and the sisters.

How the gods could be cruel, he thought, when confined to his own room. He had not even dared look at his newborn son, fearing he may inflict some kind of doom on him also. Or maybe he feared he might push guilt onto the baby for your death. He had what any noble gentleman wanted, a son. But he did not feel any richer from this and was instead consumed by loss for weeks.

When he eventually spurred up the courage to see his son for the first time, he could not shift the ghost of your face that was visible in the child's features. He only felt empty. Like a part of his soul had been ripped from him. Perhaps this part of him would be lost forever.

Alicent never saw her son again as she knew him before.

[genz420]

Masterlist

House of the Dragon 🐉

Aemond Targaryen 🗡️

The Fire That Burns Within Us - Finished

The Blood Of The Dragon, The First Men, And The River 

Beauty of Scars & Flowers

Daeron Targaryen  ⛺️ 

Daeron x x Betrothed!Reader

Percy Jackson ⚡

General Headcannons 🧡 

First Date Headcannons

Their Favourite reality TV show

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Small way they tell you “I love you”

How they Confuse their feelings

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Percy Jackson 🥞 

Rainy days with Percy

Alabaster C. Torrington 🃏 

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Alabaster x daughter of Hestia!reader - date drabble

Alabaster x daughter!of the Fates Headcannons?

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