#otto hightower angst | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

patheticdarling · 5 months ago

Text

Her Sacrifice

Summary: The assassins had no such luck finding Prince Aemond but what were they to do when they stumbled upon the beloved wife of King Aegon instead? Her belly swollen with his heir.

Warnings: Blood & Cheese/murder/gore & blood/cursing/threats/blades/pregnancy/kidnapping/funeral/incest (reader is helaena's older twin)

Word Count: 2236

"The other lords will be accompanying me for a drink in the Throne Room. Shall you join us, Wife?" Aegon asked, a slightly eager smile on his face, anticipating your agreement.

You sighed as you began to undo the braids in your hair, "The hour is late, Husband. I must rest."

Aegon pouted, "Just a cup! We've attended to our royal duties all day, have we not earned a bit of respite?"

"Respite is what I shall get with a good night's sleep. Not drinking until sunrise with you and your comrades," you teased. You stood from seat at your vanity, walking over and placing Aegon's hand on your growing bump, "Besides, do you not wish for our babe to be born healthy? So that they may grow into formidable dragon riders like their parents."

He smiled softly at your belly before kissing it sweetly, "You make a good point, my dear. Mayhaps I should stay in with you."

You shook your head, smiling down at him, "Do not let me stop your fun. You are right. The King deserves his respite. Besides there may not be many more nights where we get to enjoy ourselves," motioning to your bump.

"You are going to make a wonderful mother," Aegon stood from his seat, "I shall allow you to enjoy your last moments of rest then." He planted a soft kiss on your lips, "I love you, Y/N."

You stroked his hair, "I love you, Aegon."

Aegon kissed you once more before giving your belly a playful squeeze and disappearing from your chambers. You summoned one of your ladies to help you finish getting ready for bed. Thanking her as you got yourself comfortable between the silk sheets of you and Aegon's bed. Finally bidding her good night as she blew out most of the candles, leaving a few on for Aegon's drunken return.

You could not be sure of the hour when you heard your chamber doors creak open followed by the shuffling of feet. You did not even bother opening your eyes, assuming you'd feel the bed indent as Aegon stumbled towards it.

"Back so soon?" you teased, "I was only being half serious about the sunset-"

Suddenly, a large hand clamped over your mouth. Your eyes shot open as two men loomed over you. You screamed and panicked as the larger man used his other arm to keep you pinned to the bed.

"Quiet!" the smaller man pulled a blade out, pressing it to your throat, "Unless you want me to bleed you like a pig."

You nodded, terrified of what these men could do, "W-Who are you? What do you want?"

"Its not our wants you should be concerned with, Your Grace."

"Who sent you? What do y-you want from me?" your voice shook.

"A life is owed. It wasn't supposed to be you. A son for a son we were told," the smaller man shrugged, "But it seems Prince Aemond isn't in the castle tonight."

Of course, you thought. This was about Lucerys. Your younger brother had taken the boy's life and that was a deed that could not go unpunished. You knew how deeply your eldest sister loved all of her children. The loss of one would be devastating. Taking Aemond's life made sense. But taking yours? And the life of your unborn child? That was not in Rhaenyra's nature. This was plotted by someone far more sinister and dark.

"My uncle sent you, didn't he?" you spoke up. They both sent stares to the other, "Daemon Targaryen. He sent you to kill one of us."

The large man scoffed, "Aren't you a smart one?"

"Shame those smarts won't do you any good now, will they?" the smaller one mocked.

"Please," you tried to beg, "Do not do this. No good will-" The large hand came down on your mouth again.

"That's enough," he grunted before turning back to the smaller man, "I'll hold her down and you cut."

Your blood ran cold at his words. Not only were they going to kill you but they were going to tortuously cut out your unborn child. They both yanked you further down the bed until you were flat on your back. You tried to kick, scream, bite, thrash as much as you could but the man proved to have almost inhuman strength. The smaller man raised his blade, that same sadistic grin plastered on his face before he began to dig it into the lower part of your abdomen.

White hot pain seared through your body as he continued to slice into you. Your vision was blurred with tears and you could have sworn your throat was raw from your cries. Though the pain was so intense that you could not process the sounds that might have been leaving you. Warm blood pooled all around you, the once ivory sheets now a deep crimson. One last gasp left you as they pulled your child from your body.

Suddenly you had remembered your mother telling you about the pains of childbirth when you first married Aegon and all anyone could talk about was you producing his heirs. She had a rather negative approach that utterly terrified you. So, you decided to find comfort in Rhaenyra's advice instead.

"I will not withhold the truth from you, it truly is the most excruciating pain a woman must go through."

You groaned, "That is not what I had wished to hear, Sister."

"You did not let me finish. The process is hard, yes. And you will feel the urge to curse the Gods or even your husband and swear to never bear anymore children," you both laughed, "But the moment you hear those sweet cries and your babe is placed upon your chest, the pain is forgotten. And nothing has ever seemed so worth it. Then you will know, right then and there, that you would do it all over again if it meant you could finally find that purest form of love."

And yet, you would never discover that beautiful feeling your sister had painted so clearly. The room was almost eerily silent besides the dripping of blood onto the stone floor.

"What do you know?" the man panted as he held your lifeless infant, "A son. Congratulations, my Queen."

You could not speak as you felt your body numb itself. Tears falling with no cries as they stuffed your son's body into a sack. It was as if you could feel your heart shatter. The men finished their sinister act before fleeing through a secret passageway. You tried little to fight the heaviness in your eyes. Perhaps this was all a horrible dream and if you shut your eyes, you'd open them to find yourself in bed with Aegon's arms wrapped securely around your belly. The last thing you could muster was a small smile at the sentimental image as your vision faded out completely.

"Sister?" Helaena called out into your bed chamber, "I did not wish to wake you but Aegon is being so loud and I cannot sleep with him-" Her voice caught in her throat at the sight of your mangled body lying on the bed. Your figure lifeless and your eyes vacant as you stared at the canopy. She approached your body, a shaky hand reaching out to touch your face to be met with utter stillness. Helaena backed out of the room slowly, tears flowing down her cheeks before sprinting to find some sort of help. As if anyone could undo what had already been done.

"I-I don't know what happened. I came in and she...she was..." Helaena's voice cracked with sobs as various people filed into the royal bed chamber; the Kingsguard, the Dowager Queen, the Hand, and lastly, your husband.

They all stopped at the sight before them, their eyes welling with tears and their stomachs churning. The Dowager Queen let out a heavy sob as all their attention turned to the King. Aegon approached your body cautiously.

He fell to his knees, his hands cradling your bloodied face as he sobbed, "My wife, my dearest-"

Nobody dared say a word as Aegon mourned over you. His sobs heavy with grief as he called out your name over and over again. The Queen Mother clutching Helaena's arm as they cried with him. The Kingsguard hanging their heads low in shame at their failure to protect their Queen. Otto Hightower, known to be quick with his word, said nothing.

The council meeting that followed was one full of dread and grief. Most of the council mourned, the Hand schemed, and the King could do not but curse the Gods and swear revenge.

"Your Grace, perhaps we should speak of the funeral arrangements for the Queen-"

"No," Aegon was quick to stop the Hand, who raised a brow at his grandson's denial, "I will not have my wife's body dragged through the streets like a dog!"

"Not dragged, honored!" Otto corrected him before lowering his tone as he spoke to the King, "Y/N was my granddaughter and I loved her. She deserves the funeral of a Targaryen princess, a Targaryen queen. The small folk wish to mourn their Queen and the heir she carried. And they need to know who is responsible for this."

Aegon's face twisted in disbelief, "How could they not already know?! Who else would do this save the bitch queen of bastards?!"

"We must know for certain, Your Grace," Lord Jasper suggested, "If it was not your sister, this may prove to be an even bigger threat to the crown, to you, my King."

Aegon scoffed, "I do not care what threatens me. My wife is dead. And my child," he stifled a sob, "That cunt did this, I know it. Her and her kingdom of traitorous bastards will burn for it."

Before anyone could speak, the doors of the council chamber opened as Lord Larys entered. He bowed meekly as all eyes turned to him.

"My lords, Your Grace," he greeted the council.

All stood still, "State your purpose, Lord Larys," the Hand spoke.

"We have apprehended one of the assailants. A gold cloak, known for his brutal nature. The guards caught him fleeing the Gate of Gods. He carried the child's body in a sack."

The King hardly wasted any time, stomping over to the doors, "I shall kill him myself."

"We might retrieve further information about who is to blame for this tragedy after questioning," Ser Criston stopped Aegon from leaving as Otto spoke, "I trust in your skill set, Lord Larys."

The Strong Lord bowed before exiting the room. All eyes turned once again to the King and his Hand.

"We will hold the service for both the child and mother-"

"I said no," Aegon grunted, "My wife and child will not be put on display for the Realm."

"Your Grace, we might use this to our advantage in the war you wish to march into. Your people need to know the depravity that Rhaenyra is capable of. The great houses of Westeros will see that she is not fit to rule given her cruel nature. They will flock to your side and with them, their armies and bannermen."

Aegon continued to shake his head. He could not just let them see you or your child like that. They did not deserve it.

"Mother," he turned to the Dowager Queen for support.

Alicent approached Aegon's chair, "The Hand sets on a difficult path, my darling, but it might be the right one."

The King could not muster anymore fight, "Have the Silent Sisters prepare the Queen and child for their journey. Behind them will be Princess Helaena and the Queen Mother."

"No, I do not wish to be a spectacle," Alicent argued but her father would not hear it.

Your husband visited your body as the Silent Sisters began to prepare it. They had cleaned the mess and dressed you in one of your favorite dresses, the emerald color complimenting your skin and hair.

"Your Grace, it is ill-fated to look upon the face of death," Maester Orwyle warned.

"That is not the face of death, Maester. That is my wife," Aegon spoke, "Leave me with her."

Maester Orwyle and the Silent Sisters bowed before leaving the King with your body. He softly stroked the hair from your face as he broke into sobs once again.

"I am so sorry, my love," he cried, "I-I should have been there to protect you. And our son." Maester Orwyle had informed His Grace that the child you carried was a prince, a perfect heir, "You truly would have been the most wonderful mother. You were already a perfect wife and Queen. Motherhood would have come naturally."

Aegon recounted how well you did with Rhaenyra's last two babies, the ones she had with his uncle Daemon. As much as he did not care for his half-sister, he knew you did. Always quick to defend her, even against your own family. So, he was forced to ask himself, how could she do this to you? To your child?

"They will pay for what they have done," your husband muttered to you, "I will win this war. I will win it for our child. I will win it for you. With fire and blood. Your sacrifice will not be for naught, my Queen."

3K notes · View notes

m4tthewmurd0ck · 5 months ago

Text

did some force take you because i didn’t pray?

── aegon x fem!reader (you’re one of helaena’s lady’s in waiting)

the 2 times Aegon had someone there to comfort him

(i’m slightly changing things but just go with it pls)

small a/n before we begin: no use of y/n, i do my best to avoid descriptors BUT do use she / her and mention reader being shorter than aegon. when he hugs / holds you he is able to rest his head on yours. also i know everyone has titles and long names but to save time and also make it easier i just use first names. changing aegon’s rant just so im not word for word with the show.

also disclaimer: i know aegon is not a good person by any means! this is just the alternate reality version of him where things could turn out different if he’s shown genuine love and care

For as long as you’ve known the Targaryen family, it dawns on you one day that you’ve never seen Aegon cry.

In the beginning, that didn’t mean much. You were one of Helaena’s ladies’ in waiting, and only ever saw the then prince on occasion.

Then Aegon was crowned King, and you saw him a bit more as Helaena was required to be present at what felt like too many ceremonies. Because you were almost exactly the same age, although it was against an unspoken rule, she came to see you as a friend.

When the twins were born and Helaena saw how good you were with them, it seemed to anyone who was around that she wanted you near at all times. She practically begged you to begin sleeping in her chambers to help with the fussing and crying at night, and of course you said yes. It occurred to you later that night that she could’ve just demanded it.

It wasn’t long at all before the twins also formed an attachment, as their mothers need to have you close by didn’t lessen even as they got older.

Though they both loved you, Jaehaerys in particular, was very fond of you. Jaehaera was a lot more independent and chose to play with her dolls or little trinkets by herself. But the boy, the other ladies’ in waiting and even Helaena herself, often called him your little shadow.

Whatever task you were given, it wasn’t uncommon for Jaehaerys to be nearby. As he grew a little older, he began to ask questions.

Once, he asked why his mother wore such fancy dresses, but yours and the rest of the ladies’ were only ever plain. It hadn’t occurred to you that because you spent so much time with him and had a big hand in raising him, he saw you as family and genuinely didn’t understand why you dressed differently.

Luckily, you didn’t need to answer. Aegon appeared from around the corner, calling for his son. Once Jaehaerys ran to him, he gave you a nod before grabbing his sons hand and leading him in the opposite direction.

To the King, you were a mystery. He knew his sister preferred you to the other ladies’ in waiting, and he knew she’d rather you over any of them to be looking after the twins when she was busy, but he didn’t know why. Still, his sister was set in her ways, and in the end he simply decided it was best to not ask questions. Even he could see that you cared deeply for his children, and for him that was enough.

On the day Aegon wished for his son to sit in on a council meeting, Jaehaerys was being a bit difficult that morning. For whatever reason, he refused to go unless it was you that escorted him.

After assuring him that you’d only get the boy in the room and then quickly make your exit, Aegon nodded and led the 2 of you into the room.

Just like you knew he would, Jaehaerys immediately went for “the ball” as he called it, in front of Tyland Lannister. You could see irritation immediately all over the man’s face, but to his credit he did his best to hide it.

The third time the ball was grabbed, you were the only one that heard it when Tyland snapped. The meeting hadn’t yet begun but you could see he already wished it to be over.

“That child doesn’t belong in here,” he muttered to himself, unaware that you could hear him.

“I will escort him to his mothers chambers now. Is the heir to the throne bothering you a bit too much?” That last bit slipped out, and you immediately regretted it as the room grew silent and all eyes turned to the 3 of you. After a few tense seconds, most everyone resumed their conversations.

You slowly stood up, Jaehaerys now on your back as that was the only way he agreed to leave the room. “Apologies Ser Lan—”

“Hold on,” the room stilled once again when it was Aegon that spoke this time. He looked at you, then back at Tyland. “She has nothing to apologize for. And I believe she asked you a question. Is the heir to the throne, my son, is he bothering you?”

Even Alicent opted to look down and fiddle with her hands rather than step in. You didn’t think you’d ever been more grateful for Aegon that in that moment.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

ONE.

On the night Jaehaerys was murdered, you were knocked unconscious. You’d later find out it was the man they called Blood that hurt you, but at the time all you knew / remembered was waking to a loud noise. Immediately you got out of bed, but before you could properly realize what was happening, you felt something sharp across your cheek. And before you’d even had time to cry out, something hard hit the side of your head, causing everything to go dark.

When you woke, you ignored the maesters requests to stay in bed. As soon as you stood up, you almost wished you’d listened as you immediately felt dizzy. That was also when you felt the stinging pain of the cut on your cheek. The maester explained that you wouldn’t need to have it stitched up, but he hadn’t yet bandaged you because even in your sleep, you tossed and turn whenever he tried to tend to that injury.

After agreeing to not over exert yourself, you were off to find Helaena. It was then that another one of the ladies’ in waiting broke the news to you.

When you were let in to Alicent’s chambers, and locked eyes with Helaena, she immediately stood up from her spot on the floor and ran to you, Jaehaera still held tightly in her arms.

“Are you alright?” You knew she would be with the maester if she were injured, but you still had to ask. “They said—”

“He’s dead,” was all Helaena could say. That and “they killed him”.

What felt like an eternity later, and you’d gotten Jaehaera to sleep and convinced Helaena to at least lay down with her, you were unsure of what to do. Only a few moments later, you found yourself wandering the halls. Every inch of the place had been searched almost immediately, so you know that the halls were alright once again.

Part of you felt like you didn’t have a right to mourn Jaehaerys, as he wasn’t actually your son. You were just trying to process the fact that you’d never see his little smile again. Never again would you turn a corner and be greeted with that sweet voice asking where the 2 of you were going, because him staying with anyone else was out of the question.

You were one of the first to hold him after he was born, and had seen him every day since. To already be in a world where he no longer existed, it seemed cruel.

When you stopped walking, you realized that you’d come to Aegon’s chambers. The doors were obviously closed, and you had only managed to take a few steps back the way you came, when you heard them open.

“Oh, good,” you turned around, surprised that it was Alicent that had spoken. “Did Helaena send you?”

You stuttered as you tried to form a response, but she seemed to take your silence as a confirmation.

“He’s distraught, obviously. I’m not sure he’ll speak to you but…” she seemed unsure of herself. In the end she sort of motioned towards the doors, before turning and walking away.

Before you even raised your hand to knock, you heard sobbing. It was then that you realized you were wrong. Yes, your heart could break even more.

It didn’t escape your notice that Alicent left the room as her son was sobbing. You knew she wasn’t the comforting type, but you couldn’t imagine simply walking the other way.

After a few knocks, you weren’t surprised when there was no answer. As you slowly opened the door, then shut it behind you, you thought to yourself that you should’ve thought about what to say beforehand. Here was this normally stone-faced man, showing more emotion now than he had in the entire time you’d known him. And after more thought, you realized that perhaps Alicent had tried to comfort him but was asked to leave.

“Who is there?” Aegon finally seemed to notice someone else’s presence, but hadn’t actually looked up. His head remained in his hands, and you could hear him trying to quiet his cries.

“I am sorry, I— I just thought I should check on you.” You noticed how pathetic you sounded only after the words left your mouth.

He let out a humorless chuckle, then slowly stood up and made his way towards you. “Check up on me?”

You nodded. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. Stupid question to ask if you’re okay, I know.”

He studied your face for a moment, and his guard came down ever so slightly. He believed your concern to be genuine. And for Gods sakes, his own mother couldn’t even comfort him. She left quietly and Aegon knew it was in the hopes that he wouldn’t know she’d ever entered the room.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to answer you. Instead he returned to his sitting position, once again leaning forward so that his head was in his hands.

“I should’ve been there,” he spoke so softly that you didn’t quite hear him.

“Pardon?”

He looked up at you, fresh tears in his eyes. “I should’ve been there!” When he saw how you flinched, he regretted being so loud. But a larger part of him didn’t care. You were the first person to allow him to speak freely. He needed to let out his emotions somewhere. “I should have been there. But I thought who’d be stupid enough to try anything here? Look at how wrong I was.”

“There’s nothing you could’ve done,” you shook your head.

“That is bullshit!” He stood up and began pacing back and forth. “My son is DEAD! It was an act of revenge, why else do you think the rest of you were left alive?”

You were about to ask if they already know who is responsible, but it’s as if he read your mind.

“My brother kills her son, so she has taken it upon herself to exact revenge, a son for a son!” He laughs, but again there is no humor in his tone. “My son, the heir to the throne, he is gone. Murdered while he slept and I did nothing!”

As he sat crying, you kneeled in front of him. Trying not to think about it too much, you placed your hands on his and forced him to look at you.

“Everyone around knows how much you love that boy. And he loved you just as much.” You decided it was better to not repeat that he couldn’t have done anything. Right now in front of you, was a father who needed to grieve.

Aegon knew he should be cautious. His sister knew you well, but he did not. He was already ashamed that you’ve seen him cry. Yet you didn’t seem repulsed. You allowed him to rant and didn’t try to shove advice down his throat. His son was gone, but you reminded him of the love that existed, that still exists.

The angry part of him wanted to shout at you to leave, but he couldn’t bring himself to yell again in that moment. So he allowed your hands to remain on his as he cried for his son.

You prayed that no one would walk in, as you stood up and pulled Aegon up with you. Before he could ask what was happening, you gave him a hug.

His first instinct was again, one of anger. He resisted the brief urge to push you away. After a few seconds, he even surprised himself when he almost melted into your touch. He genuinely couldn’t remember the last time he was in someone else’s embrace like this. And you didn’t ask questions. You only held him and listened to his heartbeat.

He found himself crying again as he returned the gesture and wrapped his arms around you. Although he knew he could never speak of this, and he’d have to ask that you not do the same at some point, he allowed himself to do nothing but mourn the loss of his son as you held him in your arms, and you in his.

He was grateful that at least in this moment, you allowed him to grieve.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

TWO.

After that, there was a noticeable change. Aegon gravitated towards you if he entered a room and you were already there. Everyone noticed, but none dared to speak on the matter, not even Alicent or Otto.

You heard about the meeting in which it was ultimately decided that Jaehaerys’ body would be placed on a carriage led through the streets, so that the public might see just what Queen Rhaenyra was capable of. You didn’t think this was her doing. How could a mother who has just lost her son, inflict that pain onto someone else? Surely she wouldn’t. But everyone else was so sure. And you were but a low-born lady in waiting, so you remained silent.

The thought of Jaehaerys being used, paraded through the streets for all to gawk at, it angered you. Yes, he was a prince. And you understood the message that they hoped it would send, but it didn’t make you any less upset. He was just a boy. You thought of the boy who would run into your embrace whenever you walked in to his mothers chambers.

You couldn’t even imagine how Aegon was feeling. He loved that boy deeply, and you had no doubt that he was pressured into agreeing.

That same night, you were abruptly woken up. Immediately you looked to Helaena’s bed, filled with relief to see her and Jaehaera fast asleep. But it alarmed you that it was Ser Criston Cole of all people, who’d woken you up.

He put a finger to his lips, then turned and exited the room. You made sure you looked at least half decent before you followed him, wondering what on earth possessed him to wake you at such an hour.

“I—” He looked unsure of where to start.

“Has something happened?”

“It’s the King.” He didn’t wait for you to respond, instead turning and practically running out of the room.

As you chased after him, it did occur to you that it was odd for him to fetch the King’s sisters ladies’ in waiting. You also realized that he never technically responded when you asked if something happened.

When the 2 of you finally reached Aegon’s chambers, Criston didn’t even open the door. He didn’t need to though, you could hear the shouting and loud noises from outside.

“Who else is in there?” You fiddled with your hands, unsure of what you were walking into.

Criston merely shook his head. “No one. He kicked everyone out. But I know you helped him that— that night. Can you…?”

Without giving it a second thought, you nodded. Instead of leaving, Criston sort of stood guard right outside the door. You’d seen Aegon angry before, and were secretly relieved that he was outside should anything go wrong.

This time, you didn’t bother knocking. You did, however, try to open and then close the door as quietly as possible.

“I declare war!” It was the first thing you heard since entering the room, and you didn’t bother asking who he was declaring war on.

“My King —”

It was as if he was in a sort of angry trance. You speaking didn’t even cause him to look in your direction.

“I want them all dead! They’ll all pay for this, every fucking one of them!” As he spoke, he moved about the room destroying King Viserys’ carefully and meticulously constructed display.

You could see he needed to let his anger out. And didn’t exactly want to approach him while he held something that could hurt you. Not that he intentionally would, but seeing as he had no reaction to you calling out to him, you didn’t think it wise to sneak up on him.

As the smashing and destruction went on, you could see Aegon begin to wear himself out. It wasn’t so much that the anger was leaving his body, but rather that he was losing the energy to continue. Now, you thought to yourself, was a good time to gauge where he’s at mentally / emotionally.

“My King—” you tried again. This would be a moment you’d come to regret, seeing as you hadn’t considered the fact that Aegon was so blinded by his rage that he hadn’t noticed it was you in the room. Sure he heard the doors open and close, but he assumed it had been one of his men.

Not registering who it was that just spoke, and only hearing that someone was interrupting his rampage, he turned around with an arm swung out. It ended up being sort of a backhanded slap, and unfortunately he was wearing a ring.

Once he realized it was you that he’d just harmed, Aegon froze. His eyes widened and he immediately dropped to his knees.

“Are you hurt? Did I— did I…” He didn’t seem to know what he wanted to ask.

You put a hand to your cheek and examined your fingers, nothing a small amount of blood. He hit almost exactly where you were cut, and by the feel of it you guessed that his hit reopened the wound.

“It’s fine,” you tried to reassure him. “I am sure I will be healed in no time. There is no need—” Before you could finish speaking, he’d fled from the room, but not before hurriedly asking you to stay put.

Only a short while later he returned with the maester quickly following behind him.

As the man tended to your face, you could practically see the gears turning in his head as he debated on speaking. In the end, he decided to ask the question.

“How did you manage to reopen this wound?”

Luckily for you, you’d studied the room and had your answer prepared.

You pointed to a spot on the floor where a glass of wine lay spilt. “I slipped just there. Tried to steady myself and ended up landing on my face and cutting it with one of the broken pieces.”

Because you spoke immediately and with such confidence, your lie was believed.

“Might not heal as well if it’s opened a third time. Still doesn’t need stitches, just try not to fall again, eh?” He gave you a pat on the shoulder before giving you a small jar of ointment to apply to the cut, instructing you to apply it once a day.

As soon as the man left the room, you studied Aegon. He was pacing the entire time, only stopping once the maester had left.

“Why?” He whispered.

You knew what he was asking. “I did not think it would do any good for him to know the truth. I know you didn’t mean to,” you shrugged.

He was almost in a state of shock. Here he’d just injured you, accidentally, sure, but it was still done in anger. And it wasn’t that long ago that he broke down in front of you. Despite all of that, you were still kind to him. You covered for him.

Aegon fell to his knees once again in front of a large portion of the mess he created. “I’m sorry,” he spoke softly.

“My King you do not need to apologize. As I said, I know it wasn’t on purpose.”

He looked up at you, fresh tears in his eyes, and you lost count on how many times your heart broke for him. You joined him on the floor, and put what you hoped was a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I can’t do anything right,” the first tear fell, but he didn’t bother wiping it away. “I allowed men to break in and murder my son, and this is twice now you’re hurt because of me.”

The fact that he blamed himself for it still, brought tears to your eyes as well.

“No one thinks this was your doing, and I swear to you that I don’t blame you.”

He was silent for a moment, deep in thought. “How am I meant to continue?”

His question caught you off guard. “Pardon?”

“My son is dead. Murdered, and my dear sister that claims to be the rightful heir may not have held the knife but I know she commanded the men that did. How am I supposed to to sit on the throne and continue to rule as if none of this has happened?”

“I do not think anyone expects you to act as if nothing has happened —”

Hearing that caused Aegon to laugh. “Have you met my mother? She is one of the many against me declaring war.”

“This tragedy —”

He cuts you off once again. “Tragedy? Hah! Understatement of the fucking year. And people are already speaking about my sons murder as if it’s a lesson! My grandfather, dear old Otto Hightower, wants to parade my sons body for all to see. Says it will show them the kind of Queen that Rhaenyra really is. You should’ve seen how many nodded their heads in agreement. How do I just hand him over to be stared at, as if he is no more than a piece of meat on display at the market?”

“I hate this,” you finally get a chance to speak. “Jaehaerys was the sweetest little boy I kno—knew. And I wish his death wasn’t being used in this way. A tragedy should not always be a lesson. Sometimes it should be allowed to be just that, a tragedy. I am truly sorry you are having to deal with all of this.”

Something about what you’ve said causes tears to spring to Aegon’s eyes. Perhaps it’s the way you speak so kindly of his son. He knows you genuinely loved the boy, after all. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” His quiet sobs begin as he echoes your use of those 2 words, and when you turned to face him, he practically falls into your embrace. You stop counting how many times he utters I’m sorry. In between the I’m sorry’s, he mostly said his sons name, but you heard your name as well as Helaena and Jaehaera’s.

Night turned into morning and Aegon finds himself in your arms once again. Eventually his sobs had slowed down, and he fell asleep, laying on the hard floor with his head in your lap.

As he slept, you allowed yourself to run your hands through his hair, just for a moment. Aegon let out a content sigh, finding comfort in your movements even in his sleep.

Here was this boy who was feared by many, who didn’t ever want anyone to see him as weak, and yet twice he allowed himself to cry and grieve in front of you.

At some point, you gently wake Aegon and convince him to get into bed.

As you take one last look at him before exiting his chambers, you can’t help but silently hope that the future would be a little kinder to him.

TAGLIST — @blupblupfish | @sapphirest0nes

If you’d like to be tagged in future Aegon pieces, let me know!

667 notes · View notes

just-some-random-blogger · 10 months ago

Text

Accidental Targ

Scene III: i told you to hold my hand! | Masterlist

Daemon Targaryen x Modern!Reader

Summary: After coming to terms with the fact you were in King's Landing some two thousand years before your birth, you get reunited with your friend and try to manifest your way back to the present. For the meantime, Harwin Strong is your bodyguard.

Word Count: 4k+

Warnings: fem!reader, time travel au, descriptions of reader's hair, incestuous gremlin!daemon, very sus and innappropriate boss-employee dynamics, low key sugar daddy!otto hightower vibes, crackfic, typos, etc.

A/N: GUYS I DID IT. I FINISHED IT 😫 Also, its come to my attention that perhaps the way i planned out everything geographically is ??? bad but no its not just roll with it AND!! remember yall voted for him ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i have a feeling you didnt read the prompt fully but whatever HAHAHAA i honestly have no idea where i meant to take this fic, so ???? enjoy?? HAHHAAH

Shoot me if I ever say it again, but for now: gods bless capitalism, specifically for it desecrating a national landmark.

Where once I was one of the people who protested against the building of the High Garden Centre, girl, was I thankful that the old ruins of the fucking Red Keep laid there as a little ol' artsy featurette.

"What's that sound?" Daemon asks as we stand from our spot.

I turn to my side, never before so relieved to hear and see, no more than two blocks away, a rave spilling out of a club, the very one Libby and I were at before we got into this shit show. "That, my prince, is called EDM."

I hurriedly run to Libby's side to pick her up, but Daemon does that himself. He get down and pulls the blue haired woman on his back, and I help him. At the same time, I feel a buzz from my satchel.

My phone!

Daemon watches me as I frantically claw for my device. The amount of texts and call notifications that pop up on my screen is overwhelming. I decide to just let it go off and grab Daemon's arm, "come on."

We walk down from the ruins, shifting through the shrubs and foliage around it. I catch the sight a mall cop and feel agitated when he looks over. He couldn't care less though, the site was open to the public after all, and with a literal club being right there, we were the least of his worries.

We pass the rusty chain fence surrounding it, and draw near Harrenhal (the club). Once we're there, a bunch of men hoot and holler at me. I ignore them as they say something about my 'Targaryen' hair and it dawns on me they were probably calling me princess and lady because I was still in a fucking Targaryen era dress.

Still, I ignore the stupid fucks as they ask to see my pretty skirt, opting to walk faster instead. I was horrified by how loud and violent Daemon's scream was.

He shouted so gutturally that I couldn't understand a lick of The High Valyrian flaming out of his mouth. The vein on his neck popped out and I literally had to hold him back from charging and dropping Libby.

"Daemon, please!" I whimper, heart racing, "Libby's still on you-"

"Grab her and I'll fucking ram steel down- COME OVER HERE AND SAY THAT AGAIN. SAY THAT-"

Steel? I look to his belt. Fucking seven hells, he brought Dark Sister?

I look back at him with wide eyes, feeling nauseous now that I've caught how maddened he looked.

In a panic, I gently pat his face while pulling his arm back, "Daemon, please."

He doesn't look at me.

My voice gets softer and my eyes water, "Daemon, I beg you."

He huffs and clenches his jaw, still not sparing me a glance.

"We don't have time for them," I whisper and keep my hand on his cheek, "I'm just going to connect to the club's wifi from here, then I'll can call us an Ubor."

Daemon does not tear his gaze from the men, who eventually waddle away to whatever sewer they came from, still hollering bullshit as they did.

"Kesan daor nārhēdegon naejot nyetodha aōha irosh," Daemon mutters. I will not forget to slit your throats.

The relief that washed over me was unparalleled when I booked an Ubor set to arrive in 3 minutes. I whimper and rub my eyes, "okay, not long now."

Daemon finally looks at me, still visibly pissed, and adjusts Libby on his back.

I wipe my face, "we're just going to get in the c-" Fuck... I should probably prepare him for the car.

"Okay," I raise my hands, "we're going to get in a metal..." I motion to the space, "... there's going to be a- a- carriage? But with no horse... but and when I get in, you just get in with me, okay?"

Daemon's expression is now one of confusion.

I sigh and place a hand on his shoulder, "it's going to be okay."

His lips curl, "... OK."

I screw my eyes shut and shake my head rapidly, "I mean alright. Alright! ALRIGHT!"

Daemon takes in my visible frustration and nods slowly, "OK."

To be honest, Daemon was a pretty good Ubor passenger, save for the fact his sword nearly cut me, Libby, him and the fucking car seats when he tried to sit without removing his scabbard first. We were lucky the driver seemed to be used to... ren fair people.

He also seemed to be used to driving people to the ER. I was too relieved to think realize how fucked up that kinda is in the moment. Needless to say, I gave him 5 stars and an extra tip.

With Dark Sister in my grip and Libby in Daemon's arms, we finally made it to Lannister Medical Center.

The moment we get there, I run inside the ER and break down at the first nurse I see. I infodump everything, how Libby got attacked, how Harwin lost her, how some maesters tried to help us, how she lost a lot of blood, how I'm afraid she's going to die, how Daemon ended up carrying her, and I just keep going up until I saw Libby's blue hair scattered on a stretcher and the nurse told me to sit down.

I didn't have much fight in me left to argue, so I sit myself down on the bench. But then I see the nurse speaking to Daemon, who, seemed to be explaining what had happened, and I panic all over again.

Before I could stand though, another nurse was there to accommodate me. He did a checkup on me, asked me how I was feeling, and asked if I needed anything to calm down.

I told him I was fine and proceeded to answer his other questions. Daemon eventually came to my side and eyed him.

The nurse gives me a nod and offers a smile, "you seem to be physically well. Just let yourself relax. The doctors have your friend; they'll do their best to help her."

"Thank you."

The nurse nods again. He gives me and Daemon one last look before walking off.

I grab Daemon's hand once it's just the two of us. I look up and shudder, "we did it."

He looks down at me, violet eyes solemn. He brings a hand to my cheek and swipes at my cheek, "ȳdra daor limagon."

"I don't know what that means," I mumble.

"I said don't cry, pretty girl," he kneels in front of me, "worrying will not save your friend."

I stare at him, feeling my heart race and belly roll because of the look he had. He brushes my silver hair back behind my shoulders, only intensifying the flurry in my stomach. Just as I opened my mouth to speak, suddenly, my stomach growls. Oh.

Daemon turns his eyes to my belly as I clutch it.

"You want something to eat... prince?"

Daemon reaches a hand out, "lead the way."

I take his hand, grab Dark Sister, and hand it to him. He fastens his scabbard as we exit the ER and I go through my satchel, fishing for my wallet. Just before I get it, I remember that I blew most of my money on the Ubor.

"Fuck," I curse and turn to Daemon, "I don't have enough money."

Daemon rests his hand on his sword and simply stairs.

"I don't have coin," I clarify. I look around the road and figure our chances of riding a bus at this hour was nonexistent. I give him a look, "do you mind walking home with me?"

Daemon raises a brow, "as opposed to swimming home with you?"

I raise my brows and sigh, "Daemon-"

"Lead the way," he nods and points, "I am not one to tire easily."

I nod and slice through air to drive a point, "okay. No matter what happens," I reach out to him, "you have to hold my hand, okay?"

He looks at my hand then my face, his violet eyes sparkle with amusement. He chuckles but he links his fingers between mine (overkill if you ask me). I'm glad goosebumps don't form.

Daemon smiles softly, "you take me for a child, riña?"

"This child knows how to cross the street," I squeeze his hand harder than necessary and begin to walk off, "I'm not sure you do, kekepa." Grandfather.

Daemon laughs, full-on throwing his head back, "how hard is it to cross? You jus-"

His words go dry when an empty school bus passes us. He was so stunned by the yellow contraption, I had to tug his arm to continue walking.

Just then, a Megatron looking-ass truck drives down the street. I hiss and curse the 14 wheeler for emitting such horrible smoke, eyeing it as it drives away.

Meanwhile, I catch the prince's stunned reaction and almost feel bad for finding it funny. Almost.

We arrive at my apartment about 20 minutes later.

I press the elevator button and turn to Daemon, "don't put your arm between the door, okay?"

Daemon gives me a look.

The elevator opens and we step inside. Daemon gives me a look, "we have lifts you know."

I pull my head back, "you do?"

"At the wall," Daemon retorts as the elevator door closes.

"The wall?" I think for a moment, "ahh. You're right."

A beat.

I knit my brows, "wait, you've been to the wall?"

"Of course I've been to the wall."

The moment we get to my place, relief washes over me. I take my shoes off and scoop my hair in front, "fucking rip this dress off me."

Without a single thought between his brows, Daemon's reaches out to undo the ties at the back of my dress.

Just before he does this, I hear him walk in with his boots and nearly have a heart attack when he passes my threshold.

"OH, ABSOLUTELY NOT!" I turn and shove him back, "take your crusty boots off now!"

Daemon looks at me in bewilderment but walks back and doesn't protest as he removes his shoes. He places his shoes on the rack along with mine.

Not wasting time, he catches my arm and yanks me towards him. He spins me around and immediately undoes the back of my dress. I hastily begin to tug my dress down once I can.

He chuckles, "eager girl."

I rather literally jump out of my dress when I can. Pent-up rage overcomes me. I turn around and start kicking the dress away, releasing all my frustration and anger out on the thing. I curse 8th century Westeros and the Red Keep in particular and assault the object until I'm out of breath.

I proceed to jump onto my sofa and allow exhaustion to finally take over my being.

A second later, I catch Daemon's expression and realize, he probably thought he was going to get lucky when I asked him to basically strip me naked.

"Ahh," I get back on my feet, "sorry about," I point to the dress, "that."

Daemon says nothing as he steps closer. He reaches out for my hip and I swat his hand away. I shake my head, "this is my house."

He chuckles as I evade him on my way to the kitchen, which was not nearly as far as it should have been. The prince eyes the space, "yes. An impressive little room you've got." He follows after me, "I'd love to see the rest of it."

I look at him as I reach my fridge and open the door.

Daemon squints at the light that radiates on me. I cuss at the fact I only had cereal (no milk) and some vegetables that have gone bad. I grab the paper box and hand it to him. He blankly stares at it as I discard the vegetables.

Daemon's brows contort at he box, "it's cold."

I wash my hands, "yeah, refrigerators do that."

"Gra'-nola," he reads.

"Granola," I correct as I dry my hands on my shift.

I'm suddenly struck with the realization his grubby has have never seen antibacterial soap. I snatch the box from him and motion to the sink, "wash your hands."

Daemon turns to the sink and purses his lips.

For a second, I debate if he'd melt if he uses something antiseptic, but then figure I should still take my chances.

I prop the cereal on the counter and exemplify him how to wash his hands. Daemon, with slight reluctance, pumps some hand wash on his palm, opens the sink, and rinses.

I excitedly applaud him once he was done.

"A hand towel," he raises his dripping hands.

I look around even though I didn't have a hand towel. I shrug, "I usually just use my pants."

Daemon shakes his hands by the sink, "your pants?"

"Yeah. They're like clothes that you put on your-"

He grabs my shift and pulls me closer. He wipes his hands on it, "I know what pants are, princess."

I push him off and smirks as he dodges. I make a face, "well, I do so beg your pardon, your majesty."

The prince lets out a low laugh, "don't get too brazen, or I'll have you begging till you weep."

I quickly change the subject, "get that damned sword off your hip." I shoo him and rummage through my kitchen cabinets.

Daemon watches this and chuckles again. He tilts his head as he eyes my legs. He undoes his scabbard, sets it on my dining table, and pulls out a chair. He sits down just as I find a can of Sbam. Huzzah!

I grab a chopping board and open the can. A small smile spreads on the prince's lips as stares. But then, his expression drops when I shake, or try to shake, the processed meat out of the can.

I huff once I've succeeded, and I begin to cut the Sbam chunk, "you know this was in created during the war," I slice a piece, "it saved a lot of people from starvation."

"Which war?"

I freeze when he says this. I open my mouth then close it, unsure if recounting the details of world wars to him was a good idea, "you know what, never mind that."

Once I was done with the Sbam, I got a pan and heat it up. I get a plate and a loaf of bread, then place it on the table.

I click my tongue at the sight of his sword, "off the table!"

Daemon watches as I take Dark Sister and replace it with the plate and bread. I place the sword by the shoes and he takes the plastic wrapped bread. He feels the material and opens it, "what is this?"

"Bread," I retort, going back to my pan.

"No, I know that, but what's it wrapped with?"

I give him a quick look, "oh, plastic," I begin to cook the Sbam, "it's made of carbon... I think- I dunno- don't quote me on that."

Daemon opens the bag and takes a slice of bread. He pulls his had back, "it's sliced."

I beam and jump excitedly, "it is! It's sliced bread! Betty White is older than sliced bread! And so are you!"

Daemon ignores this as he sniffs the piece in his hand. He takes a bite then and makes a face, "why does it taste like that?"

"Like what?"

His brows knit and his eyes narrow, "like a pretender."

I burst into a laugh. I flip over the Sbam with a spatula, "imitation bread?"

"It wants so earnest to be bread," he pushes the loaf away and shakes his head, "but it clearly isn't."

I laugh even harder.

He snorts at my reaction. He smiles as leans back on his chair. A few moments later, he grows serious, "you ought to dismiss your royal baker."

Oh. My lips twitch and I chuckle under my breath, "ah, yes. My royal baker. Yes, I will dismiss my royal baker for making horrible sliced bread. Yes."

The Sbam was now cooked. I present it to him on a plate, "bon app-- ... I hope you like it."

Daemon leans forward to scrutinize the dish.

I press my lips into a line as I sit down next to him. I take a slice of imitation bread and fold in a slice of Sbam. I realize just how hungry I was after taking a bite. Through half-full mouth, I mutter, "it's good."

Daemon watches me and follows suit. He takes some bread and Sbam, then chomps.

I stop chewing. Wait, what if he gets an instant heart attack because his living fossil-self can't handle processed food?

He licks his lips and chews. I begin to grow more agitated as he makes a face.

"It's delicious," Daemon says, going in for another bite.

My agitation turns into shock, "really?!"

"Well, it's no roasted pork, but it'll suffice," he mutter between chews.

I let out a soft laugh and nod, "I'm glad it's enough for the prince."

"I'm honored the princess herself made it for me."

Aw, fuck. Who's gonna tell him?

There is a knock on my door. At the same time, my phone rings.

Daemon is alerted by the sound and I dash away to finally answer my phone.

"What is that?" the prince asks.

"It's my phone. Remember? You can call people with it."

Daemon narrows his eyes as I rummage my bag for my device. The knocking on the door gets louder.

I turn to the door, "just a minute."

I find my phone and feel my stomach drop at the caller ID. The banging on the door persists.

I answer the phone and head for the door, "hello?"

"Fucking hells!" the voice is worn and apparently worried, "where the fuck have you bee-"

"It's not you outside, is it?" I cut him off as I head for the door.

"What?! No! I'm in the fucking North, dammit! Your friends have been calling me nonstop, since fucking Sunday! -"

I open the door and my face falls. Standing before me is a man in a dark teal suit; his tie was loose, his stubble was thick, and he held what looked like a dozen bags in his hands.

"- You and Libby have been fucking missing for days! Where-"

"Mr. Hightower," I lower my phone as the man on the other end continues to chastise me.

Otto Hightower looks me up and down, then sighs, "out of the way."

Without another thought, I step back to let him in. He expertly slips out of his leather shoes then heads towards my sofa. He places all the bags on the coffee table. I follow after him.

I hear my name being shouted from my phone. I close the door and follow after Otto.

I listen in on the call again and I hiss when the voice pierces my ear drum, "Jon, calm down."

"CALM DOWN!? HOW CAN I BE CALM WHEN YOU WON'T TELL ME ANYTHING!?"

I begin to panic when Daemon walks over.

"Who is that?" Otto asks me. He notices Daemon, then makes a face, "who are you?"

I look at Otto, then Daemon, and dash over to the prince, grabbing his hand. I watch in real time the recognition and disbelief that floods the Targaryen's features as he watches the other slowly remove his tie.

"Libby and I got stuck in the ren-fair!" I reply to my phone.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU FUCKING CALL?!"

"MY PHONE DIED, JON!" I shout back a lie.

Otto's brow raises. He looks at me and mouths, "Jon?"

I ignore that and groan "LOOK! I'm fine! Libby's-- ... Libby's," I whisper softly, "in the ER-"

"THE ER-"

"I'M TAKING CARE OF HER!"

"WHY THE FUCK IS SHE IN THE ER?!"

"Libby's in the ER?" Otto mutters.

I raise a finger to answer my phone, "Jon, please. I'll explain everything tomorrow."

He screams my name and I have to rip my phone away from my ear again. I vaguely hear him rant about how I should explain why his sister is in the fucking ER.

"Jon, Jon, I love you but I have to go," I quip and immediately end the call. I turn on airplane mode and throw my phone on to the couch.

I release a breath and find myself pulling a smile as the man in the suit eyes me. He's about to speak, but Daemon beats him to it.

"What was that?" the prince asks, pulling me by the arm to face him.

I turn to him and make a face. It's Otto that answers for me, "her ex boyfriend."

I turn to Otto as he tilts his head and raises a brow, as if daring me to correct him.

I do, "my best friend's brother."

Daemon eyes Otto; the latter makes a face, "who used to your lover," he crosses his arms, "I'm offended you take his calls but not mine."

"And who are you?" Daemon hisses, stepping towards him.

Without missing a beat, Otto meets his gaze and scoffs, "who are you?"

Daemon's pulls his chin back and chuckles dryly. His expression screamed FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT.

I jump in front of him, my back presses his chest. I give a nervous laugh, "Mr. High- Director- Mr. Director- sir. This is Daemon."

Otto watches as I grip Daemon's hands behind me.

"And Daemon," I barely look at him over my shoulder, "this is... my... employe-"

"Otto Hightower," he cuts me off, bringing his hand into his breast pocket, "Director and CFO of King's Landing Holdings."

I wince, fuck.

"King's Landing?!" Daemon laughs out loud.

Otto produces a business card.

"It's a company!" I turn around and wave my hands, "it's a company! An establishment!"

Daemon does not tear his eyes away from him.

"He's my employer!" I explain.

Otto offers a piece of paper between his fingers.

The prince looks at it and slightly pushes me away, "what's he doing here then?"

"That's hardly any of your business," Otto retorts, tucking his business card back into his pocket.

Daemon laughs and finally turns to me. He mutters something in High Valyrian along the lines of 'let me do something' and 'stabbing'. I frantically shake my hand and push him back.

He thankfully relents and I sit him back down on my dining table.

My relief is fleeting when I realize the only reason Daemon didn't refute was because Otto was trailing right after me. My stomach drops when I feel a hand on my back.

Otto is right behind me. He places a few of the paper bags he brought on the table. He opens them, "I bought you dinner."

I turn to him, intent to tell him he shouldn't have.

"Amongst other things," he adds.

Daemon barks, "we have dinner."

"How did you even know I was home?" I say at the same time.

Otto's eyes flick to him, to the plate of Sbam on the table. His face is blank as looks back to me. He decides to remove his coat jacket, "I suppose you'd-" eyes Daemon, "-also think a candle equal to a campfire."

"Mister Hightower," I helplessly mutter.

He hangs his jacket on the backrest. He turns to me, "and you were missing--"

My expression sours.

"-- what did you expect me to do? I obviously utilized my connections. I'm offended you'd ask me such a thing."

Daemon mutters something in High Valyrian again.

"Of course, I had come see you myself," he looks at me through his lashes as rolls up his sleeves. My eyes dart to his sleeve tattoos and arm veins. When I begin to scrutinize the hairs on his skin, I realize I've stared to long.

In a panicked frenzy, I begin to unpack one of the paper bags. He, himself, brings out a stack of food containers and places them on the table.

The smell alone makes my stomach grumble.

Otto steps away and comes back with plates and cutlery. He places one plate in front of me, and has a prolonged stare at Daemon before placing the other in front of Daemon. He says, "I would hate for prince Daemon to be reduced to eating Sbam for dinner."

My expression drops. Daemon does not move an inch.

Otto turns to me and pulls out the chair. I take a moment before sitting down, because, really, did I have any other choice?

Otto opens the containers one by one and my mouth waters as I see lobster, lamb, and lemon cakes. He serves me meat and veggies, "I would assume you're not hurt like your friend."

I watch as he places food on my plate. I gulp before responding, "I'm just... tired."

"Then, I would also assume you'll not be attending work tomorrow," he takes my hand, putting the utensils in them. He scrapes a chair to my side and sits down next to me, urging me to eat with a motion.

I look at Mr. Hightower, "oh no- I will! I will-"

"You won't," he raises a hand, "see to it you're well rested."

I turn to my plate, feeling a flurry in my stomach over his words.

"Are you not going to serve your prince?" Daemon cuts in, raising his brows.

The lamb I was about to eat drops back to my plate.

The two glare, as if willing the other to spontaneously combust.

Before anything else could happen, I stand and reach out to Daemon's plate. I squeak when both grab me by the wrist.

My throat tightens.

My heart races when Daemon stands, "release her."

Otto raises his brows and tilts his head, "sit back down."

I rip my wrists out of their grips. Thankfully, neither put up a fight.

They stare at each other for what felt like ages. My agitation rockets when I see my boss begin to fidget with his hands the way he did when he was annoyed and ready to do something drastic.

I give Daemon a panicked look and grab his wrist, "kostilus." Please.

Daemon clenches his fist.

I continue to beg him until he sits.

I squeak when he grabs my chair by the seat and pulls me towards him. He mutters, "kesan daor emagon ao va bona run." I will not have you near that thing.

I turn to Director Hightower; I could see his annoyance building.

Fuck.

"Miste-" "Enjoy your meal then," he speaks as he stands. He grabs his coat and points, "I've bought some first aid things. I'm sure your friend can help you put that away."

I move to stand but Daemon stops me. He looks up at Otto in disgust, "do mind the steel contraptions on your way out."

I snap at Daemon, eyeing him hotly. He places a hand over my legs, ensuring I do not evade him. I watch as Mr. Hightower heads for the door, and in a split second decision, I turn to the prince and kiss him on the lips.

He is evidently taken aback, but it only takes him another second to get into it. Once he's put his guard down, I rip away from him and chase after my boss just as he exits my apartment.

"MR. HIGHTOWER!"

Otto turns around. I huff as I meet him just outside my door, "I'm really sorry about him. He's... he's just like that."

"You're not responsible for the actions of others," he retorts, nonchalant.

"I know. But still-"

"You are responsible for the company you keep," he adds.

I brush my silver hair back, "and you're not responsible for my well-being."

He snorts and shakes his head, "I'm your superior."

I press my lips into a thin line, deciding not to get into this conversation right now, "that, you are, Director."

We stare at each other for a moment. I examine his well-ironed suit, noticing how he didn't bother to fix his tie or buttons any more.

"I'll-"

"Is he not-" Daemon kicks the door open.

My eyes widen, "DAEMON-"

"-fucking gone yet?!" he points Dark Sister in an offensive stance. I yelp when he swings his weapon and scratches the door.

Otto's fight or flight instincts kick in and he takes flight down the hall.

"DAEMON-" I scream. I duck down and grab him by the torso, "STOP IT!"

Daemon screams out in High Valyrian. He laughs and lowers his sword, "yeah, you better run."

#daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon angst #daemon fluff #daemon targaryen fluff #daemon x reader #daemon x you #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen angst #daemon targaryen x you #daemon x modern!reader #hotd time travel au #hotd au #daemon crackfic #harwin fanfic #harwin strong fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #otto hightower fanfic #otto fanfic

408 notes · View notes

wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 1 year ago

Text

Little Girl || D. Targaryen x oc (Dear Motherhood Series)

GIF by me :) pls give cred if used DIVIDERS by @straywords

summary: in which Leyla and Daemon are invited to Rhaenyra’s celebration for her fourth year in marriage to Laenor, it gets heated quite quickly.

Dear Motherhood Series Masterlist

“Are you sure you want to come? Leyla you could be in labour any minute now!” Daemon sternly says as he paces infront of her. The young Hightower rolls her eyes at her Husband. “I will be fine Daemon, stop worrying.” A dinner was going to be held in honour of Rhaenyra and Laenor’s fourth year in marriage.

Daemon had insisted that Leyla shouldn’t come because she was heavily pregnant with their fourth child Leyla watches as Daemon groans, running his hands down his face. It was as if he really did not want her to come to dinner with them.

She furrows her eyebrows, “Do you really not want me there?” Her voice quieted down as her gaze drops to her lap, her fingers instantly moving themselves and picking at her fingernails, an old habit picked up from Alicent. She was offended at how adamant Daemon was on his opinion that his Lady wife should not attend.

The Prince’s features immediately soften as he looks at his wife. “Of course I do, sweet girl” He kneels down infront of Leyla, “I just don’t want you to exhaust yourself too much” He kisses her hands. He knew of her bad habit, so he would delicately kiss her hands.

“Then it’s settled, I’m attending” Leyla tightly smiles. She attempts to get up but struggles due to the size of her stomach. Daemon automatically offers her his arm to which she gratefully takes and gets up with his help.

“Gods I wish this child will come out soon, I don’t know how much longer I can take this,” She huffs, one hand on her back as she groans at her back pain. She was a petite girl after all. Her frame small, making her stomach seem in proportion.

“Let’s hope the little one decides to not come out tonight shall we?” Daemon chuckles, his arm still held by Leyla as the two walk out of her solar. “Wouldn’t that be a turn of events” A chuckle leaves her lips along with a small shake of her head.

“Prince Daemon Targaryn, and his Lady Wife, Lady Leyla” The couple walk in, Leyla’s hand on Daemon��s arm for support as they carefully walk down the stairs. “Uncle, Leyla!” Rhaenyra stands up from her seat with a smile as she walks over to the two and embracing Leyla in a hug, quite awkward seeing as her swollen belly was in the way.

At the table, her father and sister were present. Both of them giving a nod to the younger. “Leyla dear, come sit. I have a spot saved just for you,” Rhaenyra pulls her away from Daemon and links her arms with hers.

She looked back at Daemon who chuckles before turning back around to face the front. Rhaenyra had her sit at the head of the table, 2 free seats on her left. The Targaryen Princess pulled out the chair and Leyla sat down with an awkward smile, everyone else was still standing as they watched.

“Daemon-“ She was interrupted by Rhaenyra’s voice, “Kepus, this is your spot,” The Princess gestures to the seat beside her. Leyla’s jaw slackened. She only looked to Rhaenyra, then her Husband then back to her front. Daemon was seated in between Rhaenyra and Alicent.

How odd of the Princess to not seat her husband beside her at a celebration for their marriage. And how odd Leyla found that her Husband was not seated by her side. Pushing the odd feelings aside. She smiles at her father who was directly across from her, a smile that was given back from Otto.

“Oh how good this feels, It’s been some time since we’ve all dined together.” Rhaenyra smiles as the servants pour all their cups with wine, apart from Leyla’s as she covers the cup with her hand, water only, she told them. “And as much as we are celebrating my fourth year in marriage with my dear Laenor, we are also celebrating the child that my Daemon and his wife will soo welcome!” She raises her cup and everyone follows suit.

Leyla cringed. His wife. His wife has a name. The young Hightower makes eye contact with her sister whose eyes slightly widen at the Princess’s words. She looks to her left where Daemon sat, he hadn’t batted an eye to her ever since he was sat down beside Rhaenyra.

The dinner celebration dragged on. Not much was said between Daemon and Leyla because well, they were seated away from each other. So instead, she made conversation with Laenor who was to her right. “Leyla, how ever did you manage to become a mother to three, well soon to be four, children at your age!” Rhaenyra brings everyone’s attention to her, everyone’s little conversations coming to a halt.

Leyla slowly takes a sip of water before answering. “I am just a dutiful wife I guess,” She shrugs, wetting her lips and smiling. “Forgive me, my memory is terrible, how old are you?” She wears a grin on her face, almost as if mocking her. “ten-and-eight.” Leyla answers, this time, with blank expression. Daemon side eyes the two women to his left.

Rhaenyra’s eyes enlargen the tiniest bit, her lips still curved upward. “My, let the poor girl rest, uncle.” She laughs, nudging Daemon who only chuckles. “She’s a wonderful mother to our children. She’s a natural.” He replies, finally looking at Leyla for the first time that evening.

The young Hightower briefly smiles before facing her front again. “You must be aching everyday. Such a small and fragile body like yours must surely be exhausting carrying all those children,” She chuckles, before taking another sip of her wine. The princess was, without a doubt getting tipsy.

“I’m quite used to it, Princess” Leyla shakes her head with a small scoff. “When I saw you heavily pregnant, Gods you still looked like you were…” Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Leyla said over and over in her head as Rhaenyra paused, thinking really hard to find the words.

Everyone else in the room felt the uncomfortable atmosphere. “Darling, maybe you should stop with the wine-“ Laenor interfered but it was no use, Rhaenyra had said it. “Like a little child-“ “Okay!” Laenor butts in, awkwardly laughing as everyone sits quiet. Leyla seemed composed on the outside, calm and unaffected by Rhaenyra’s comment.

But inside, she was fuming. How dare she say that to the only person to be able to give heirs for the Targaryens. Daemon stared at Leyla the entire time. He knew that comment was affecting his Lady Wife. Alicent coughs, Otto gives a displeased look at Rhaenyra.

“I just don’t know how you do it Leyla, I just cannot imagine what you go through during your pregnancies and birth-“ “I think there’s better topics to talk about than my pregnancies, don’t you?” She interrupts her with a fake smile. “We could talk about your children or your pregnancies but there is none to talk about,” Leyla comments before taking a sip of water.

She could see Rhaenyra was visibly affected by what she said. Leyla could see both her sister and father trying not to laugh. She knew of the whispers around the realm, the castle. That Laenor found pleasure with the opposite sex. And of course, both have denied it and yet it seems to be confirmed because during the four years of marriage, Rhaenyra has yet to be with child, producing no heirs.

“I-I’m sorry? I was simply asking-“ Rhaenyra furrowed her eyebrows making Leyla subtly roll her eyes. “Nyra.” Daemon sternly spoke, glaring at her niece. Silence filled the room once again. Daemon was right. Leyla shouldn’t have come to the dinner.

“I think it’s best I go,” Leyla breaks the silence, attempting to stand up but was quickly helped by Daemon. Rhaenyra stays sitting, her gaze hard on the table infront of her. Leyla’s words running through her mind. Alicent walks over, kissing her younger sister’s cheek. “Are you okay?” She whispers, to which Leyla nods with a small smile. “I’m fine.”

She wasn’t. And Daemon knew that. The young girl would always rant to him about her insecurities. Insecurities that he himself find beautiful. He knew that Rhaenyra’s comments stung the young girl. “Leyla…” Daemon attempts to comfort his wife but was pushed away as she walks away from him as soon as they step into their bedchambers.

“She had no right to comment about my stature. And-and what she called me. A little girl Daemon!” She shouts as she turns back around to face him who stands there. “She’s just like them all,” She chuckles bitterly to herself as she struggles to undo the laces to her dress.

Daemon moves to her, unraveling the laces to her dress. “I mean, who does she think she is. She knows what she was doing,” Leyla huffs as she slips out of her dress and slips into her nightgown. “And why did she sit you beside her and not me? Your wife, for gods sake-“ “Stop worrying about it, my love” Daemon hushed her. Resting his head on her shoulder and peppering her bare shoulder with kisses.

“But I can’t,” She moans. Daemon carefully turns the girl to face him, “She doesn’t know what she is talking about. Rhaenyra has not had the experience of carrying a child. And you, are producing Targaryen heirs, not her.” He says calmly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she looks up at him.

“Do you think I took it too far when I said-“ “No,” He chuckles. “You were only speaking the truth” Leyla grins as Daemon kisses her forehead. “Come, what a night it has been” He ushers her to their bed.

789 notes · View notes

ashblooddragons · 26 days ago

Text

This Mysterious Love

Summary: What if Rhaenyra finds out about Alicents forced trips to her father, the King? What if Viserys never remarries and never calls Rhaenyra his heir? What if Otto gets desperate and asks Daemon to marry his daughter if he makes sure Daemon wears the crown and sit the throne? What if against the odds and what all believe will happen, Alicent and Daemon fall in love with each other? Read This Mysterious Love to find out the what-ifs.

This idea comes from @dreamlandcreations! I hope I give this idea justice for you!

Prologue Chapter 1

Alicent and Daemon moonboard

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I'd be lost without you Girly!

Taglist: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @mmogurl @classicsimpforaaronwarner @sachaa-ff @baybaybear1 @dreamlandcreations @nommingonfood @fictionlurker @yn-jackson @marvel-is-my-obsession @seaevans @edenfanfictionsuggestions @ninihrtss @zara-zara11

142 notes · View notes

icarusignite · 4 months ago

Text

An Eye for an Eye Ch.3

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC

"Sorry about the blood in your mouth, I wish it was mine."

Summary: Daenys receives a letter from her mother, a relic of brighter times that evokes memories of a familial love that once enveloped her, now tainted by betrayal and sorrow. As she reads, Aemond observes, realizing with a pang of despair that the ties that bind his wife to her family are unlike anything he has ever known. The realization that he can never reclaim such warmth after the deeds he has committed leaves him hollow, bereft of hope, and haunted by the chasm that separates him from the love he so desperately craves.

Word Count: 3.6k

My dearest darling girl,

I hope you are faring well. We all miss your presence here, Lucerys and the boys in particular. They all have things to tell you and sometimes the distance feels like too much, although I realize it has only been a few days.

I hope that your husband is treating you well, but I would expect nothing less from my brother. From what I have seen for myself, he cares for you deeply, so perhaps you shall be content in your marriage. Such is the hope of every mother for their child, is it not? I will admit, however, that your mother is a selfish creature, who wishes you could have remained with her forever.

You were my child first, before you were anyone else's. Was it so wrong to hope that you could have remained mine longer?

Oh, look at me, blathering on so. The babe must be making me sentimental. Only a moon left and yet I already cannot wait to see her. Yes, her. I have not told anyone just yet, but it is a girl this time, I am certain. I will name her Visenya. You shall have a sister, and I will have four darling girls. Perhaps the gods are sending her to me as a consolation for not having you anymore.

Give my greetings to your grandsire. I fear he is not long for this world and I wish to be with him during his final hours. Perhaps you might lend him strength until I arrive. I find myself not up to riding these days, but as soon as this sickness passes, I will make my journey to King's landing at once.

The boys are doing well. Jacaerys is shouldering his responsibilities as heir well enough, and the younger ones are growing up to be fine boys indeed. Aegon and Viserys miss your nightly tales, but Joffrey has already laid claim to your chambers. He says you have a better view of Dragonmont and the bay. Worry not, I am certain we will be able to evict him should you like to visit us.

I worry for Lucerys though. He is a quiet boy, not as sure of himself as the rest. He is afraid to inherit Driftmark, to bear the responsibility I have placed upon him. Perhaps it is indeed too much for his gentle soul, the gods know that such positions are quite a burden. In another life, I think he would have enjoyed learning at the citadel.

Our Lucerys as a maester, can you imagine? I think he would have been suited for it. He was always so taken with Maester Gerardys and his work.

I had an interesting conversation with him this morning. The sweet boy thinks he cannot be as great a ruler as Lord Corlys. What's more, he thinks that I am perfect. How comical, when these days I feel anything but.

Perhaps you might ease his mind about his worries when you write to him. Tell him that he is capable of the responsibilities I have placed upon him. Tell him that his mother will prepare him as best she can and that his family will always be there to support him. I have told him as much, but he has always listened to you better in most things. I think he took your departure the hardest, so write to him as often as you can, my love. I have seen how your letters light up his entire countenance.

He said he had something of great importance to tell you, but he won't say what it is, so I shall leave it for you to discover. He is adamant about visiting you on your name day, so he will probably tell you then, if his raven doesn't find you first.

I do not wish to force your hand but you are so dearly missed here. Perhaps you and Aemond might like to spend a few moons with us here in Dragonstone. It will be an opportunity for your husband to see your childhood home.

I have rambled on long enough now, but do let me know and I shall make the arrangements.

With all my love,

Your mother.

Aemond crumpled the letter in his hands, frowning as he did so. Irritation picked at his nerves. It was quite hypocritical of his half-sister to refer to him so fondly when she had never made any efforts to endear herself to him over the years. It was obvious that his mother had already gone over the contents of Rhaenyra's letter, the broken seal a testament to it, so he could not imagine why she asked him to deliver it to Daenys. It would only further alienate her from their cause if she was reminded of her loyalties to her mother.

Still, he supposed it made sense. He had always known his mother to be a kind-hearted person, even if she wasn't able to put her compassion into words. For all he knew, this was her attempt at mollifying his grieving wife, by giving her a piece of home. It must have been penned quite a while ago, before the death of King Viserys, before the death of Lucerys.

He felt the resentment begin to climb up his throat along with the bitter bile of regret. Reading that letter had been too much of an intimate look at Daenys's relationships with her family. He knew his half-sister's family functioned differently from his own, but he couldn't help but feel deprived, as if something had been taken from him, something he never even had to begin with.

A father. A family that was not so disjointed.

"I am just going to leave this here then," he placed the crumpled scrap of parchment beside Daenys and turned to leave.

"I will never know what he had to say to me," she hissed, interrupting his departure. "I will never...I never got to write to him. I never got to tell him that he would have made a brave Lord of the Tides. I will never get to tell him how much I- I will never get to tell him anything and it is all your fault."

"You must know how sorry I am, truly."

She sat up straighter then, scrubbing her face with her sleeve, leaving it reddened and blotched. A little of her fire had returned to her eyes, and Aemond wasn't quite whether to rejoice that for a moment his Daenys had returned, or lament that she had only done so out of loathing for him.

"Your apologies mean nothing to me so cease them at once! You cannot bring him back, can you? No, you cannot, so I do not want any more empty words. He died scared and alone and I just know that his last thoughts would have been of mother. Of how he had failed her, of how he'd failed Lord Corlys. And I will never get to tell him that he could never fail us, not ever."

The one-eyed prince turned to leave again, no longer being able to stomach the derision she threw his way. Maybe that made him a coward but he did not care. He could not bear to see the sharp hatred in her eyes anymore, not when she had only ever looked at him with warmth before.

Daenys's hand shot out and grabbed his arm before he could depart, her nails digging into his arm.

"Wait..."

It took her a while to gather her words. She pawed at her face again and swallowed her hiccups as she took deep shuddering breaths to collect herself, equal parts sorrow and rage.

"I need to know. I need to know what you said to him last. What his last words were. Is there...is there anything of him left?" she choked on the last word.

Aemond hung his head, refusing to meet her searching eyes. What was there to say? Whatever last words his nephew may have said meant nothing now, swallowed up by the wind and the waves. Why the bastard boy was flying in the direction of King's Landing instead of returning home to Dragonstone, Aemond did not understand back then, and now he certainly would never know.

Lucerys Velaryon's last actions would remain forever a mystery.

"Tell me what happened," Daenys repeated.

"Aegon told you most of the story. There is not much more to it I'm afraid."

"Tell me anyway. I want to hear it from you. Every single detail."

"It will only hurt you. I do not wish to cause you more pain."

She smiled bitterly, her fingers digging harder into his arm. Her nails would leave marks, perhaps even draw blood, but he could not make himself pull away. He relished in the pain because at least this way she was touching him. She was speaking to him.

"You have hurt me enough already. What's a little more? This time I am asking for it. You owe me this much."

"I cannot speak of it again."

"Do not act as if you are the victim! As if you are the one in pain! Not when this is all your fault!" she was seething now, as if she was mere moments away from flinging something at his head.

"I do not wish to speak of it because of what it'll do to you."

"How much worse could it be? I just...I just want to hear it from you, instead of your idiot brother."

Aemond met her gaze and sighed in defeat as he began to recount the tale again, and every time he'd try to gloss over certain parts, her grip would tighten and she'd ask him to reiterate.

"What. Did. You. Say. To. Him," she asked for the umpteenth time, speaking as if each word pained her, her hold on his arm becoming almost deadly.

He was nearing the end of his tale, and he wanted to stop speaking. He wanted to stop but he had the mouth of a waterfall and his wife's attention was far too compelling.

"I tossed him my knife. Told him I would not blind him but that he would have to give up one of his eyes."

"And what did my brother say to that?"

"He said he would not fight me because he was there as a messenger only..." Aemond paused.

"Continue!"

"No."

"Aemond..."

She said his name. It had been so long, but she had still said his name, except now it sounded different, the syllables harsh and unforgiving.

"Do not make me say it, please."

"You are in no position to plead with me," Daenys sneered.

"I cannot do it."

"You owe it to me."

"I told him I would...that I would take his eye out myself," Aemond took a deep steadying breath, his gaze dropping to the floor, "and I called him a...a..."

"A bastard," his wife finished softly, her breathing almost ragged. "You called him a fucking bastard, didn't you? It is your favourite insult to leverage."

"I am sorry."

"You know that means nothing to me. Do go on. What happened next?"

"I...your brother...he departed on his dragon, and then... well, you know the rest."

He considered telling her the rest of it, about how Maris Baratheon's words needled into his skin and burrowed into the recesses of his mind, filling him with fury and resentment. It felt too much like an excuse though, and he knew exactly what she'd say in response. She'd call him a coward again, trying to blame his misdeeds on someone else. She'd scorn him for dragging the Baratheon girl into a fight that wasn't hers to begin with.

No, he wouldn't mention Maris at all. It would be utterly pointless.

The one-eyed prince watched helplessly as his wife dropped his arm as if she'd been scalded, as if the mere touch of him burned her.

"Why?"

It was only one word, but he found himself unable to answer. What could he say anyway? What could he possibly say that would mollify her, that would ease her pain, and make her more forgiving? He could bring up his eye again, but the truth of it was that it was never truly about his eye.

Aemond Targaryen hated Lucerys for the privilege he held, for getting away with maiming him, for being absolved of his crime while his own wounds were left to fester. His hatred had spread through him like a sickness, like rot, bone-deep in its misery. The gods were cruel, and everything his nephews were freely handed, he had to scavenge for. Everything they received in abundance, he had to make himself content with crumbs of.

For him, King Viserys's trueborn son, to be set aside in favour of a mere bastard was inexcusable and it was this that he could not let go. It was this unpunished crime that led him to take justice into his own hands, and follow his nephew out into the storm.

It was always going to happen. Lucerys Velaryon had been dead from the moment he stepped into Lord Borros's castle, from the moment he set eyes on Aemond. The Stranger had already staked its claim on him, just as his one-eyed uncle had, and no amount of remorse would change the fact.

An eye for an eye made the world go blind.

Aemond Targaryen would soon come to learn the true meaning of that, and it would be his wife, who would make him see it.

Right now though, she was chewing on her lips again, mulling over his words in contemplation, formulating her response. Her fury distracted her from her grief, but it was not a welcome respite.

"You called my brother a bastard...after swearing to me that you would never do so again. Does your word truly mean so little?" she finally spoke, her voice sombre. "And how hypocritical of you. If he is considered a bastard, then so am I, or have you forgotten, lord husband? Have you forgotten that you married a bastard, something you consider to be less than a person? Or have you perhaps always scorned me for my supposed inferior birth?"

Lord husband.

Her words dripped with venom, and he marvelled at how she could make what once were his favourite words sound like poison.

"You are not inferior."

He meant what he said, although perhaps not in the way he intended to. It was easy for him to forget that she was a bastard too, with her fair hair and violet eyes — dragonless child that she had been—he had more in common with her than with anyone else, and so he could pretend that she was just like him. He could pretend she was everything like him and nothing like them.

It made her easier to love.

She was him and he was her.

It made her easier to stomach without the rot of resentment clouding the air they shared.

"You are not inferior," Aemond repeated. "You are not less of a person."

"But I am still a bastad?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you did not deny it," a crazed laugh bubbled out of Daenys's throat — a prelude to a sob. "You killed my brother for the crime of existing. You might as well do the same to me."

"That was not the reason."

"Wasn't it?"

Aemond sighed, stepping away to run his hand through his hair in exasperation, "It was an accident, I swear it. There was a storm and the visibility was low. Then your brother's dragon came at Vhagar breathing fire. If Lucerys had just listened, if he had just...,"

"If he had what? Given you his fucking eye? Do not pin this on him or Arrax, you pathetic fool. They are dead and you are alive to sit here in front of me and present your pitiful excuses. You are the one who thought it was a good idea to chase them with a beast of war. A war-hardened dragon! They didn't stand a chance!" Daenys's voice rose an octave.

"Vhagar lost control," Aemond's voice dropped even lower.

"No, you lost control! And my poor brother paid for it! Tell me, is there even a body? Does my grieving mother get to see her dead son one last time before she burns him? Do I?"

She squeezed her eyes shut before he even answered, stealing herself against his response, almost as if she knew.

Aemond was quiet for a moment.

"There isn't," Daenys answered her own question. "Whatever was left of him is in the sea now? Shipbreaker Bay, Aegon said."

Silence stretched between them, the only sound the distant clatter of the castle servants going about their day. How strange it was that everyone was able to go on as if nothing had happened, and yet here she was, with her entire world come to a standstill. She remained motionless, her fingers reaching to clutch the fabric of her gown. Better to twist the threads around her fingers, than her fingers around her husband's throat.

Aemond's apology hung on the precipice of his lips, waiting to be spoken, but he found himself unable to utter the words.

She shook her head at him, as if anticipating it, the movement almost imperceptible, and a single tear trailed down her cheek. The one-eyed prince resisted the urge to wipe it away, resisted the urge to touch her as she pressed her lips together, a delicate tremor betraying the strength she summoned to hold back her emotions.

Then the room shrank around them as her grief erupted, her anguished wail shattering the stillness, her breath catching in her throat as she confronted him with a gaze ablaze with accusation.

"Oh, why couldn't you have left him alone? Why couldn't you have let your stupid grudges go? I would have given you both my eyes had you asked, I promise. I would have given them to you with a kiss and my blessing if you had just asked. I would have blinded myself for it, if you only...How could you be so cruel!"

The weight of her words pierced through him.

An indictment and a prophecy.

"Why would I take yours? He was the one who took my eye, not you! Left me with this hideous disfigurement for the rest of my life, without even having to answer for it! Everyone in King's Landing looked at me with either pity or disgust. None of the ladies at court would have married me!" Aemond roared.

Oh.

He had said the wrong thing and he regretted it even before his wife's lips curled in disgust.

"No one would have married you?" Daenys scoffed. "I would have married you. I did marry you!"

"I did not want your pity. I feared that even you would be repulsed by me. That one day you would see past whatever sympathetic affection you held for me and be sickened and ashamed of the scarred creature you claimed to love."

He did not know why he said the words, the most shameful thoughts spilling out of him, unabridged. Perhaps Maris Baratheon's observations had hit him harder than he expected, and now it was all he could think about.

Then Daenys opened her mouth and proved all his fears to be true.

"You were right," she nodded, almost to herself. "I do find you hideous... unsightly even. I do see now, past whatever affection I held for you, and I am sickened and ashamed that you are my husband."

"Daenys..." Aemond's voice trembled. His world was shifting, tilting on its axis. He felt like he had been slapped. In fact, he wished she had slapped him, it would have hurt less.

"You. Repulse. Me."

"Stop."

"Leave. I have nothing more to say to you and I wish to be left alone."

And when the door swung shut behind him, but the click of the lock never came, Daenys felt the walls closing in on her, suffocating her once again.

In a sudden surge of frustration, her hands lifted a crystal trinket from Aemond's desk. It was a fragile, ornate thing, one of the many she had gifted him, a momento of happier times. Before she had marvelled at them, basking in the joy that he kept them all neatly arranged where he could see them every day as he worked, but now they only brought her rage.

With a primal scream, she hurled the trinket at the door, where it exploded upon impact. Then, one by one, she hurled them all at the door, each one accompanied by a cacophony of shattering glass.

She fell to her knees amidst the wreckage, her breaths ragged, the echoes of her screams still reverberating through the room. Tears streamed down her face as she clutched at her chest, the intensity of her emotions leaving her gasping for air. She resisted the urge to swallow the jagged shards, stuffing them each into her mouth, one by one until her tongue was heavy with the taste of blood and not her husband's name. She'd force them down too, swallowing until that gaping hole in her stomach was filled too, filled with glass that felt less fragile than the memory of her dead brother.

It was her cursed mouth that brought this on, so it was only fair, that it paid the price.

When she lifted the largest of the pieces, only seeing the stream of scarlet when she knew she ought to have felt the bite, she knew old habits died hard, and she had never been one to cope well.

A/N: likes/reblogs/comments are highly appreciated, would love to hear your thoughts <3 Comment to be added to the taglist

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #jacaerys velaryon #helaena targaryen #hotd #otto hightower #daemon targeryan #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x oc #aemond x fem!reader #hotd season 2 #aemond targaryen x oc #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #angst

56 notes · View notes

sayafics · 11 months ago

Text

Dance of Shadows - Chapter IV

Sorry this took so long to update, I spent a lot of time figuring out the timeline and how the story would work with the scenes I wanted to add.

I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! This is a really long chapter which hopefully makes up for the long wait!

Expect a lot more Saenyra&Daemon moments in the next chapter! This chapter was a mix between adding more depth to their relationship, as well as building one between Saenyra and other characters <3

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

Saenyra's heart ached endlessly when the news of Daemon's exile had reached her - she had expected it, of course. But the weight of her mother's death and now the absence of her uncle had become too much to bear.

Her mind fell back to her incidental meetings with the Lord Hand, and of how his words had turned kind despite his cold eyes, since her mother had passed. She understood why the man would be sympathetic to such a thing, having lost his wife to the same burdens of labour as she had lost her mother.

There was a quiet kinship there, a moment of solidarity and understanding.

Perhaps that was why he had come to her chambers today, knocking upon her door and entering with a sullen expression as she beckoned him forth.

Behind his slender form stood the broad figure of Ser Harwin Strong - she had only thought it fair to seek a Shield of her own if Rhaenyra were able to have one. Especially one as pretty as Ser Cole.

Ser Harwin nodded his head in greeting, waiting for her instructions as he stood at attention by her door. She waved the man away, rolling her eyes at his constant worrying.

Saenyra focused on Otto - the Lord Hand looked pale and stricken, eyes unfocused as he tried to string together his words.

The truth was, Otto felt nothing like the image he portrayed to the young girl, but he hoped such a performance would make her grow to trust him.

Those who were unable to see the infatuation the Targaryen girls held for their uncle were truly blind. And Otto would be a fool not to use such a bond to his advantage.

Daemon Targaryen was a dangerous man.

With all the roles within the Keep he had taken, none had sung to him more than the tireless echoes of a title so buoyant and inflamed - the Rogue Prince.

And if Otto wanted Saenyra on his side, then the only way to assure such an alliance was to remove the only person who could change her perspective.

Perhaps this method of madness was mean and trifling, but it would work. It had to.

Otto remembers the look of anguish on Rhaenyra's face when she had heard the news, when she demanded dragons be sent to threaten the man and return what was rightfully their's. He only wished Saenyra would show a reaction so similar.

"Lord Hightower, is everything alright?" Saenyra frowned softly at the man, eyes watching him with concern.

He sighed deeply, "my Princess, I am afraid I come bearing bad news."

Though her stomach sank with dread, her heart beating frantically at all the possibilities and all the horrors that could have occurred, Saenyra steeled her spine and spoke encouragingly, "you can speak freely here."

Again, Otto found his heart tremble with softness at the young girl's kindness. Here, he could not see a shadow of a dragon in sight, simply a girl who had been placed in the nest of animals and beasts.

"It is your uncle, dear child."

Saenyra frowned in earnest now, the mere mention of her uncle bringing back the flashes of the beautiful woman who pressed herself against him as though she were laying her claim. She blinked furiously, scolding herself for such envious feelings - even if that woman had not been there, it did not change the truth that Daemon was still a married man.

Daemon had not cheated her - he had cheated his wife and himself.

"What about my uncle?"

Otto lowered his head in a show of misery, "it seems he has dared to steal the egg of Baelon."

"Why would he do such a thing?" Saenyra's lips had parted in surprise, caught off guard by her uncle's audaciousness with such an act of defiance.

"We are unsure of his motives for the time being," the lie slipped off his tongue with ease. Otto was willing to do all he could to make the girl hate Daemon, but he could not risk her acting out of turn. "But we intend to claim the egg and return it to the Keep - the ships are setting sail soon, and an army rests upon it. Ready to reclaim the egg and Dragonstone by force, if needed."

"I want to come."

Otto sighed softly, not willing to disappoint the girl but knowing he will have to. He could see the anger bubbling in her eyes, but he could also see the confusion etched in her expression.

"Your sister asked us of the very same. I fear you cannot join a feat such as this - it is far too dangerous."

"Perhaps he would listen to me."

"We can only hope, Princess," Otto smiled faintly at her determination, "but it is a risk we cannot take."

Saenyra's hope faltered, hands twisting into the soft material of her gown as she bit her lip to hold back spiteful words.

Otto took a step back, gaining her attention.

"The ships leave soon, so I must take my leave. I simply believed it was important to inform you of our plans, despite the King's disagreement on the matter."

Otto watched as the girl's eyes narrowed in disappointment - had it not been for Otto's visit to her chambers, she would have been kept in the dark on the actions of her uncle.

Her father and her sister would hide such tragic news from her without a guilty conscious.

She glanced at Otto once more as he took his leave, and he smirked at the glimmer in her eyes that shone like something akin to trust.

***

It had not only been trust that gleamed in her lavender hues, but determination.

Her father and sister thought of her as weak, of being spineless and thoughtless. But she would show them. She would show them her determination, her influence, her fire.

Dragonstone was not simply a base Daemon had chosen for its view, no - its caves and tunnels homed the largest dragons - wild and crazed.

Upon the small isle was an opportunity for something more.

***

Saenyra had changed into a set of leathers she had stuffed deep in her wardrobe - they had been a gift from a Lord in a far away land who thought her to be a dragon-rider like her sister. A stark contrast from her usual soft colours, but one she hoped she could grow used to.

Her lip quirked at the idea of riding her dragon in her billowing gowns, and she whispered a promise to herself she would try.

Her heart had always weeped with disappointment at the sight of the leathers, but she never had the heart to get rid of it. It seemed all her waiting had paid off - today, she would get a dragon.

When she had changed into her leathers, she spared a moment to glance upon the jewel resting on her hand. A hesitant smile twisted upon her lips as a speck of dread bloomed.

What would Daemon think of her when he learned she had travelled to the isle to claim a dragon? Would he think differently of her? Would he be proud? Disappointed?

She tiptoed to her chamber doors as quietly as she could, ignoring her nattering thoughts. She latched it shut, hoping Harwin would leave her to her peace and not attempt entry.

Shs slipped back to the portrait above her bed, prying it open with silent breaths before slipping into the tunnels behind. She sprinted her way down tunnels she memorised a thousand times over, finding her way to an exit.

The day was bright and early, and the Keep was buzzing. But no one would expect to see Saenyra of all people in riding gear, as she had no dragon to command.

She slipped through the sea of people with ease, making her way to the ships as she dodged the sight of curious soldiers.

Saenyra knew Otto and the Kingsguard would board the ship at the forefront, so she slinked her way onto one of the smaller ships instead.

She let out a sigh of relief to see it unoccupied for the time being, rushing below the deck to hide in the shadows behind barrels and netting.

She would stay here until they reached Dragonstone.

***

The sail to Dragonstone had been bumpy, her stomach rolling with nausea as she steadied her breaths and pretended she was at home rather than upon the sea.

She swallowed harshly, thirst clawing at her throat as she wondered how much longer it would be.

It seemed only seconds, as her head raised in surprise at the shouts that carried over the ship. They drew closer to Dragonstone now, and she could hear the men prepare to anchor the ships before they continued on foot.

Just a few moments longer.

***

Saenyra had waited until the ships had emptied and the air had struck silent. Her stomach protested as she pushed herself to her feet and her knees ached. Her throat still burned with thirst and she could feel the clawing stabs of hunger pleading with her.

Still, she knew coming by boat was better than the alternative.

She was sure Rhaenyra would find her way here, but Saenyra would be damned if she asked the girl to allow her to ride upon Syrax alongside her.

Saenyra did not want the first dragon she rode to be one that was not her own - she did not want such an experience to be tainted by the hatred and jealousy that soured her relationship to her sister.

As she hiked her way towards where she hoped she would find the entrance to the caves and tunnels, her mind fell back to the dragon she hoped to claim.

Saenyra did not want a dragon that had previously been claimed. She wanted a dragon wild and free. Just as she was.

She wanted a dragon to whom she could love and dote on, to teach not with violence but patience. She wanted a dragon that was a reflection of herself, one that would burn worlds if she asked.

When she had finally reached the mouth of the cave she was panting lightly, her eyes wide with wonder as a breathless laugh escaped her. She sprinted inside, struggling to keep her footfalls quiet so as not to fall prey to any other beast that lurked within.

She spun through the tunnels, twisting and turning but failing to find the dragon she had so desperately tried to seek.

Grey Ghost was a shy dragon, calm and quiet, preferring to spin through the skies and feast in the seas. Hidden away in plain sight much like she was.

Grey Ghost is a dragon Saenyra believed she would bond well with, love strongly and protect fiercely as he would do with her. But Grey Ghost was nowhere to be found.

Her hope of claiming a dragon began to crumble as the tunnels were silent. It seemed the only life within them was her own, and she could feel defeat sink into her bones.

Saenyra sat down in a huff, eyes closed as she rested her head against the rough and craggly surface behind her.

She didn't pay mind to how long she sat like that, thinking - dreaming, hoping.

She only hoped that Harwin had not noticed her absence. Prayed that if he had, he did not report it to the King.

She doubted Viserys would care for such a thing - perhaps he would be relieved he had one less heir to worry about. Rhaenyra and Daemon were already such a handful.

However, for all she knew, the moment her deception was brought to light, a whole new shadow of chaos would be wrought upon them - one, perhaps, even Daemon could not escape.

She was still a Princess. Even if Viserys did not hold any personal regards for the girl, he would have to act in show, lest people see him as weak.

Still, she stayed. She sat upon the solid ground and listened to the sounds of her own breaths, counting every inhale and exhale and wishing she did not have to return to the Keep - knowing when she did, she could never escape the walls that confined her.

Slowly, she began drifting off. She leaned into the comforting smell of a home she would never find - a dragon she could never have.

That was when she felt it.

So lost in the tumultuous thoughts roving through her mind, she hadn't heard the gruff breaths, hadn't felt the quaking thuds. But a rough and scaly surface brushed against her cheek, slowly as though it was almost curious.

It was then she smelt it, the stench of dragon strong and high - the cloying scent of smoke coated her tongue as the brushes became firmer. She allowed herself to hope that perhaps it was Grey Ghost. That although she couldn't find him, he found her and it was a sign.

A sign that she was meant to be a dragon-rider. That the fire of a dragon burned hot through her veins - a raging blaze instead of a waning fire.

But her hesitant eyes found the predatory gaze of a dragon so monsterous it ate its own kind. So close to her, a hair's breadth away, was the slow and steady gaze of a cantankerous beast - Cannibal.

He was an inky shade of black, scales so dark that he could meld into the night sky and would cast envy from the moon, escaping its sight.

The beast reared back, but still stayed so close. Too close.

Saenyra wanted to close her eyes, to resign herself to her fate.

She was no dragon-rider, especially not to a beast so ferocious and violent. She didn't have the strength to make him submit- didn't have the gall.

But there was a subtle glint in Cannibal's eye that made her think wreaking havoc and killing her was not on his agenda.

He inched closer, almost like he was asking a silent question.

Saenyra raised a hand, fingers trembling as she took a steadying breath - the fire of a dragon ran through her veins, the ice of a thousand winters cursed her soul.

She held her breath as the tips of her fingers brushed against Cannibal's face, so close to the edge of his mouth he could break off her arm with a single twitch.

Instead he shuddered, preening as she shuffled closer and began to sit.

Surprise bound through her body, elation colouring her features - had she tamed a dragon?

Had she claimed a bond?

There was no need to violence, no yell for obedience, no fighting and no blood. There was no sacrifice because what was meant for her had come to find her.

Saenyra's eyes welled with tears, a shaky laugh escaping her as it grew louder and steady.

Saenyra had come looking in the depths of darkness for a dragon that lived in the light, hidden amongst clouds and thriving across the seas.

But that was not the fate the Seven had assigned to her. That was not the dragon she needed.

Her dragon, her fate had come to her. Undeterred and knowing.

Her dragon had come to seek her because finally, the time was right.

Her dragon - so fierce and raging and monsterous. The fire she had been missing all her life.

***

Daemon watched Rhaenyra in amusement, barely able to hold back the smirk upon his face at the pathetic attempt to pull him into line.

Had she truly thought she could command him? Call to him?

Had she truly thought he would be soft with her? Kind and adhering?

"I'm right here, Uncle. The object of your ire - the reason you were disinherited. If you wish to be restored as heir, you'll need to kill me. So do it."

Daemon could commend the girl's bravery, perhaps even her stupidity. It was a tempting thought, truly - to end all this fuss and take her head in one quick swipe.

But he was fond of the girl, despite her growing infatuations. She was his niece - his brother's child. And to hurt her would be to hurt Viserys.

"Do not bother with such words, Rhaenyra. It will gain you no favours. You would sooner leave Dragonstone empty-handed than with my undying fidelity."

Daemon couldn't help the smirk that broke across his face as her expression fell - she had been so sure presenting herself to him, a prize upon a platter, would have made him succumb and relinquish the egg.

She was sure he would give up to her. For her.

"Uncle, you do not know what you are saying. This isn't what you want. She isn't who you want."

The words she spoke were true. But not in the way she had hoped.

"Perhaps if little Saena were here, I would be happy to continue this farce for a few moments longer," he grinned at the envious expression that crossed Rhaenyra's face, "it is a pity she is not. I believe she would have enjoyed Dragonstone."

"The Princess is safe at the Keep," Otto began, his words stern as he met Daemon's glare with one just as fierce, "where you shall be unable to find her."

Daemon gritted his teeth at the show of audaciousness, but before he could speak, a set of stumbling footfalls and a shouting voice drew their attention.

"The Princess! She is in Dragonstone!"

A handful of soldiers assigned to watch over their ships had raced up to the base, panting as they waved frantically for Otto's attention.

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, "yes. Well, if you could not tell, I came by dragon-back. Such fan-fare is quite uneeded."

She turned back to Daemon, ready to push and prod, but the voice continued in panicked insistence.

"No! The Princess is upon the isle. She entered the tunnels before my men could stop her. We followed her in, but we fear she is lost within them."

Daemon's expression of amusement fell, his heart sinking as his stomach twisted. Tumultuous waves of rage washed over him at the realisation of who they spoke of.

Saenyra.

Saenyra was in Dragonstone. And she was lost in the tunnels, surrounded by wild dragons.

He seethed and frothed at the mouth, trembling in anger as he pulled out his sword and raised it against Otto's throat - "you told me she was at the Keep. You told me she was safe!"

Otto's own eyes had widened in surprise, shock flooding his system at the realisation the Princess must have snuck onto a ship to reach Dragonstone.

But why had she gone into the tunnels instead of following them to Daemon?

Otto stumbled over his words, almost speechless at the turn of events. It was Rhaenyra who spoke in his stead, "lower your sword, Uncle. What my sister does out of her own stupidity is no one's fault but her own."

Daemon ground his teeth in frustration, lowering his sword from Otto's throat only to throw a dangerous glare at Rhaenyra instead - "your sister is lost within the tunnels where dragons feed upon everything with a heartbeat, and you stand here and mock her? You are heartless."

Rhaenyra's face fell, her own heart now stammering with fear as she realised there was a truth to Daemon's words. She had lost her mother such a short time ago, could she truly lose her sister now, too?

"If she is hurt- if she is scared, I will kill you all. I will slaughter you all, and I will show Viserys the truth of my brutality. If there is so much as a scratch up-"

His words came to an abrupt end, halting mid-sentence at the sound of a victorious cry.

Daemon watched in fascination as a black mass emerged from the lip of a cave, climbing high into the sky as it unleashed a violent burst of green flames into the sunlit sky.

He could hear gleeful shrieks and melodic laughter from where he stood, and he could feel the ground shake as a monsterous beast rumbled from its place confined deep within the tunnels.

The violent beast flew overhead, murmurs spreading across as they all watched in fascination as the dragonless princess rode upon the most horrid beast of all and laughed.

There was a softness there, still present despite the beast she rode. One that sounded in her voice and in her laughter. One that sang in her eyes as they crinkled with joy.

Saenyra had conquered a dragon, but she had not lost herself in doing so.

Cannibal circled over Daemon and his army, and Daemon watched in amusement as Otto and his men backed up as far as they could.

Cannibal landed with a quiet thud, his rider grinning with excitement and pride exuding off of her in pretty waves. She slid from his back, scratching his neck as she murmured praises to the beast.

Daemon watched the scene unfold with soft eyes, his heart swelling with pride as he watched Saenyra fret over a vicious beast who submitted to her freely and with ease.

He took a step forward, uncaring of the watchful eyes and bated breaths of those around him.

Saenyra caught his gaze, a gasping laugh sounding from her lips as she moved to meet him halfway. But a glance over his shoulder had her stumbling to a stop.

Daemon knew who she had seen and couldn't stop the guilt that stung his throat and left a bitter taste.

"Rijes aōt, zaldrītsos (congratulations, little dragon)."

Daemon's words were gentle but hesitant. Saenyra could not find it within herself to meet his gaze.

She took a steadying breath, eyes passing over him with great difficulty as she sought the calming gaze of the Lord Hand instead.

Otto nodded to the girl as she eyed him in quiet despair - "Prince Daemon," he began, so quietly Daemon prayed Saenyra could not hear him, "has stolen the dragon egg as a gift to his heir."

Saenyra's eyes flitted back to Daemon as they welled with a betrayal she had no right to feel. And yet, from Daemon's worried gaze and guilty heart, she could not help but feel that perhaps it was not all in her mind, after all.

"His whore, Mysaria is with child. And Daemon is to take her as a second wife."

As Otto concluded his words, he could see how the girl's shoulders tensed and her spine stiffened - he hadn't expected to unveil the truth to her, but as she stared at her uncle with poorly hidden anger he found that it was probably the smartest move he had made.

Saenyra couldn't help but glance at her sister and see how her shoulders had deflated with defeat and how Rhaenyra could not meet her gaze.

Despite everything she had heard, despite the tears that pooled in her eyes and despite the hopes she had hidden deep within her heart that had caved and crumbled, she stepped forward. She closed the gap between Daemon and herself with a stifling sense of formality.

Saenyra stood before him in the image of a poised princess, a stiff smile upon her face as she searched his eyes for something.

They glinted and gleamed and grew dark under her stare, as though he was trying to force every word he could not say aloud into her mind.

"Tepagon se zaldrīzes drōmon, kepus. Let us be done with this. (Give the dragon egg, uncle)."

"Daor (no)."

His voice was quiet - his eyes pleading.

Her breath caught in her throat for a moment, her mind knowing what it was he wanted - what he needed. But her heart was too fragile to concede.

"Ivestragon nyke skoros nyke jorrāelagon naejot rȳbagon (tell me what I need to hear)."

Daemon did not care if Rhaenyra heard him, did not care if the others understood.

He would be exiled, unable to see Saenyra anymore. He knew although he could succeed in this battle, the game of politics that would follow would not work in his favour.

Too many men had sworn their allegiance to Viserys, and now his newest heir - Rhaenyra.

She gave him a strained smile in return, "I cannot upset your wife."

"Ōdrikagon zirȳla mirre ao hae, issa daorun naejot nyke (hurt her all you like, she is nothing to me)."

"And what about me?"

"Brōzagon naejot nyke (call to me)."

Such words were a promise in themselves, a claim if one wished it to be. And from the glimmering darkness in Daemon's eyes, singing with desperation and anger and a plea for understanding, Saenyra let herself reluctantly hope it was.

"Kepus, give me Baelon's egg."

"Kostilus (please)."

"Daemon."

The name came out in a quiet rush, a hushed confession.

His breath caught in his throat, a raging heat battling through his body as his heart trembled and his body singed with relief.

"Daemon," she whispered again, looking into his eyes so pleadingly, "give it to me, Daemon. Prove it to me."

Daemon was ready to kneel for her should she ask it of him. He handed the egg over readily, the fight leaving his body with the same rolling ease his name dripped off her tongue in such erotic rivulets.

As she reached out to take the egg from his grasp, he allowed his fingers to trail over her trembling hands. He rubbed his thumb over the ring she still wore, despite his misgivings, despite his harshness and despite his exile.

She wore this piece of him with pride and adoration. Such a sight made his heart sting with grief, knowing he would have to leave her behind. Knowing he had done nothing but made everything worse.

It had been amusing, yes. It had been a show of power, a show of all the cards he held. But now he knew it was almost over - the Gold Cloaks would retreat and return to King's Landing, and he would be exiled. Never to return, if Otto had it his way.

Saenyra stepped away from him, pulling her hands back as his own fell to his sides.

He sighed as though he was amused and steps closer, hand reaching for her chin as he tilted her head up to meet his warring gaze. He smiles, so gentle and so soft and so kind.

Daemon closes his eyes, placing a soft kiss upon her head and breathing in the scent of her - he would be exiled in truth now, unable to return for years if it was what his brother wished. He would only have this memory of his lips against her skin, his nose buried in the scent of her hair, his hands digging into her soft flesh.

He murmured a promise against her, his voice hushed so no one else could hear - "Nyke kessa māzigon arlī. Kesan māzigon arlī naejot ao. Se pār, kesi kipagon īlva zaldrīzoti naejot ūndegon qilōni's iksis se sȳrje. (I shall come back. I will come back to you. And then, we will ride our dragons to see who's is the best)."

Her eyes fluttered closed at his claim, "kivio? (Promise?)"

"Kivio."

She stepped back from the man, her eyes meeting his in silent mourning. She held the egg close to her chest as she made her way back to her dragon and mounted him, lips pursed as she tried to hold back her tears at the realisation she would likely never see Daemon again.

***

Saenyra returned to the Keep upon dragon-back, soaring the sky with a mourning sense of enjoyment. Perhaps she would not see Daemon again, but her ventures had gained her a dragon.

And such a gift was not one she would be ungrateful for.

Still, she was inexperienced upon dragon-back. Though her beast was adept and gifted with a masterful skill at flight, she had never soared the skies upon a dragon, let alone one so large.

It did not take long for Rhaenyra to catch up to her savage dragon, and it took even less time for her to soar past them and glare down at her with contempt flooding her gaze.

Saenyra grew worried as she drew closer to the Keep - the sky had darkened as a clouded mist settled low on to the soil. She grew anxious as she landed Cannibal on the grounds, eyes flitting across the planes in search of the Lords and Ladies, maids and knights that haunted the Keep, only to see it bare of life.

Cannibal flew off at her beckoning, never one to be tied down to a place so small but ready to find her if she were to call.

She entered the walls of the Keep, the corridors silent as she tiptoed to her room. She slipped into the closest tunnel she could find, her footsteps rushed as she made her way to her chambers.

She knew the secret of her travels would be revealed with Otto's return. Until then, she would take advantage of what she hoped to be Harwin's discretion and the King's ignorance and take a well-deserved rest.

***

It was not long until a flurry of frantic knocks sounded against her chamber doors - she sat up in a hurry, the sheets slipping off of her as all she remained in was the sheer material of her nightdress.

Saenyra stumbled out of her bed, reaching for the latch only to be faced by Alicent.

The girl looked worried, her eyes full of sadness as she frowned at Saenyra softly.

"The King is asking for your attendance at the Counsel, this evening."

Her brows furrowed in confusion, "Father has never asked for my presence at his meetings. Did something happen?"

Had Daemon acted out of turn once again? Had he returned to the Keep despite his exile? Has her father truly grown so angry by her travels outside the Keep?

She was unsure, and unwilling to seek answers to such questions.

"You must come at once, Princess. I fear I am not at liberty to answer your queries."

Saenyra nodded in ascent, understanding Alicent coming to retrieve her may have been a leniency on behalf of her father as well as a well-devised ploy.

She turned back to grab a dressing robe, wrapping it tightly over her bodice as she nodded for Alicent to lead the way. Alicent conceded with one last hesitant glance at the girl.

When they had reached the hall where her father held his Counsel meetings, the doors parted to reveal a truly formidable sight.

Upon his seat, though weakened by his ailings, Viserys was seething - frothing at the mouth as a well-groomed Lord stood beside him with a predatory grin.

It had taken Saenyra only a glance at Rhaenyra's proud face and Otto's sorrowful expression to learn what truth came to light.

Her lips parted, an apology sitting upon the tip of her tongue before her father's brash voice cut off her musings - "here we have her," a dragon's rage pooled in his veins, "my youngest daughter."

"Father..."

She was unsure of what she could have said - the placative words she could have spoken. But Viserys paid her no mind.

"Princess Saenyra is to be your wife, Lord Byrch." Viserys' eyes met his daughters, sharp and unforgiving as he recalled the conversations Rhaenyra whispered in his ears that took place between his youngest daughter and his devious brother - "you are to wed and take my daughter to your lands where she will swell with your children and make me a happy grandsire."

Her eyes burned as his words echoed in her mind, heart sinking in betrayal as she glanced towards Rhaenyra who spoke with a smug tone, "congratulations, dear sister."

Saenyra could hear no more talk of the betrayal that had just taken place, could no longer restrain her cries or hold back her tears.

As the Lord Byrch stepped closer to his awaiting bride, the girl stumbled back as she fled from the room in a flood of emotions.

Viserys' boisterous laughs could be heard echoing through the Keep, "she is but a shy girl, Byrch. Take no offence, you shall get your bride. That I promise."

***

Saenyra did not leave her chamber for several days - taking to dining within the walls of her room where she was safe and away from her traitorous sister and looming husband-to-be.

In those days, it was only Otto whom she allowed to seek her audience; even Harwin, now her Shield and Commander of the Gold Cloaks, barely caught a glimpse of the girl when he would assign his men to keep watch over her.

The man would whisper his disapprovals of the King's decision, acting wary of listening ears and speaking in hushed anger. He would weave tales of her bethrothed's violent nature and greedy hands, of his narrow mind and stubborn heart.

He had laughed as he suggested that the death of her betrothed may be her only saving grace - as though such a proposition was preposterous and only made in jest.

Otto had ingrained upon her an expectation for a horrid future - unloved and hurt and bred like an animal.

That was the life Viserys had chosen for her, and such a realisation wrought her soul with anger and agony. She had known Rhaenyra was the favourite, but to cast Saenyra aside in such a manner made her feel truly unworthy in his eyes.

Perhaps this was why - angered by her father's aversion and terrified by Otto's quiet truths - she had found herself in such a position.

Otto had encouraged the girl to escape the confines of her room, to walk along the corridors of the Keep and, at the very least, find enjoyment in the activities she used to before.

She had agreed, reluctantly. And that very night, she left her rooms through the tunnel, unwilling to be trailed by soldiers that belonged to both Harwin and Daemon.

She found herself in the library, fingers skimming across the spine of large tomes and story books. Her touch was light and airy, her mind quiet in the comfort of the night sky.

But the sound of footfalls drawing closer had her grow keenly wary of her surroundings.

She turned in anticipation, hand falling to her side as she came face-to-face with the man she had been avoiding all this time.

Oh, how the needy and desperate whispers of her mind grew louder wishing it was Daemon she saw.

Instead, in front of her stood the slim and staggering figure of Lord Byrch. There was a grim smirk upon his lips, his voice hushed as he whispered, "my little bride. Oh, how I have been searching for you in all the crevices in the Keep."

She smiled stiffly, "my Lord."

She stepped back, nodding to be polite as she searched for a way around the man and to the door.

There was no escape.

He stepped closer, hands clamping around her waist as he pulled her towards him - so close she could smell the scent of strong ale permeating from his lips.

The man was shameless and crude, stuffing his face into the hollow of her throat as he took deep breaths and groaned roughly at her sweet scent.

Her hands came to push against his shoulders, but the man did not relent. He stumbled forward so he could press her against a table and lave at the delicate skin of her neck.

He hummed at the taste of her, groaning in her ear in a fervent breath - "I cannot wait to make you my bride and fuck you. I cannot wait to fill you with my children and make sure you never leave my bed without my cum dripping from that sweet cunt of your's."

She cried out in disgust, her hands reaching back to brace herself against the table as he grew hurried and frantic. He began to pull up the fabric of her dress, her heart sinking in dread as her eyes stung with tears.

Her hands reached for something, grasping at anything she could use to scare this monster away.

Her fingers wrapped around a thin and delicate item, and it only took a glance back to see the silver sheen of a letter opener held tight in her grasp.

It was at the sight of such a lacklustre weapon hope began to bubble in the pit of her stomach as her breath was stolen from her in preparation of such a feat - an opportunity.

Her heart sung with rage as a guttural cry escaped her, and the weapon in her hand found its place in his shoulder. The foul beast of a man reared back, and as he cried out in agony, she could hear a fierce cry shatter through the quiet of the night as though it shared in her pain and agony - Cannibal.

At the sound of his angered roars, she felt the dragon within her come to life, a disastrous blaze flooding through her as rage took over fear.

Saenyra was angry.

So angry.

Angry at Daemon. At her sister. At her father. And this pathetic excuse of a man who thought himself worthy of marrying her. Of touching her.

With a battle cry, she ripped the blade from his flesh, throwing herself at him and knocking him to the ground as her body moved with a mind of its own. She wailed upon the man as her screams gave way to mourning cries and the aches of a thousand days washed upon her and all the agony she felt, all the grief, was poured into a deserving beast.

Hands wrapped around her body, her dress tainted red as blood seeped deep into her clothes and burned her skin with feral delight. She fought against the touch, reaching forward after her prey as her mind went mad with hunger.

The arms only held her tighter, wrenching the blade from her grasp and casting it aside as they turned her towards a solid chest and hushed quietly in her ears.

Her breaths came back to her in quiet huffs, her racing heart settled as it was finally quiet once again.

"Princess," Saenyra stiffened at the voice, eyes glancing up to meet the determined gaze of the Shield she had escaped for far too long.

Harwin met her gaze, determination giving way to a kind softness as he frowned softly at the blood splattered against the girl's face. His hands reached up to her face, rubbing against the wet liquid and smearing it across her cheeks, making her seem like a blushing bride who awaited eagerly for her husband's embrace.

But Lord Byrch was dead.

His body mutilated, his face unrecognisable.

Harwin felt his own heart race in anger at the thought that the Princess would have been hurt whilst under his charge, his protection.

He gritted his teeth as he strained his mind for a plan - "I accompanied you to the library," he began, his voice lowered and his words fast as his eyes darted towards the door, hoping it would be his Gold Cloaks who arrived first and not the Kingsguards.

"Then Lord Byrch came and asked for a listening ear - which you granted him. He spoke of treasonous plans after your wedding, and when you refused, he grew mad. So I killed him."

She eyed the soldier in fascination, wondering why he would lie on her behalf about a deed so grave.

"I killed him. Did you hear me, Princess?"

She held her breath as she nodded, confusion still clouding her eyes.

"Repeat it back to me."

She began in a whisper, hands tightening around his arms as she continued, "you killed him. You killed him because he planned to act against my father. He was going to hurt me, so you killed him."

"Good. Good, you're doing so well. Leave this to me, I shall handle this."

"Harwin," her voice shook as she protested such a thing, tears tracking down her face as her hands trembled at the realisation of what she had done.

Saenyra had killed a Lord. She had murdered her intended husband.

But he had deserved it.

Still, she had taken a life.

"I am your sworn Shield. When I took such a position, I vowed to protect you with every inch of life I have within me. Allow me to do my duty, Princess. Allow me to protect you."

Saenyra threw her arms around his neck, heaving sobs against him as he held her tight and turned her away from the gruesome scene she had created.

Otto had found them in such a position only moments later, eyes growing dark with understanding as he realised what must have occured.

It was safe to say Harwin escaped with such a deed unpunished, and Saenyra grew to trust her Shield just as she grew to trust Otto.

Her heart grew discontent to sit with her sister and listen to her father's demands, but even her disheartened feelings towards them would not stop the fact her father sought another husband for the girl to wed.

Saenyra could only hope he failed in such a mission of his.

Saenyra could only hope Daemon would return before Viserys succeeded in his ventures, and Rhaenyra celebrated her departure.

Thank you to everyone who enaged with this series, I cannot wait to write more chapters!!

Taglist: @marihoneywk @ahristata @gracielikegrapes @luanasrta @pet1t3 @serving-targaryen-realness @tojigirl @do-it-for-kicks @aprosiacperson @moongirl27 @xcharlottemikaelsonx @bogbutteronmycroissant

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targeryan #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x targaryen!reader #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen angst #daemon targaryen fanfic #hotd x reader #hotd fandom #hotd fanfic #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd x oc #harwin strong #otto hightower #dance of shadows

165 notes · View notes

dirtytransmasc · 1 year ago

Text

[mild tw for marital rape/forced 'consent' its only referenced a little, but it feels necessary to mention it]

imagine Alicent only standing up for herself when Aegon is in the picture. Imagine her talking her son to her chambers cause he's fussy and won't go down for bed and was asking for his mum, and she has him tucked close, blissfully asleep, and Viserys calls for her.

she knows she can't refuse, but she tells the servant he had sent to make him aware of Aegon's state. he still demands that she be brought to his chambers and that the babe go back to his nursemaid. she looks down at her baby, who's now woken due to the disturbance, who is staring up at her with soft tired eyes, a little yawn escaping him.

she doesn't want to go, she doesn't want to be forced to take her husband, to pleasure him at her own discomfort. she doesn't want to leave her son, to have him sent back to bed where he will remain restless and in the care of someone who is not his mother. she had never want to refuse more than she did in that moment.

she hesitates, her facade falters. Aegon is still looking up at her as tears well up in her eyes. he quirks his head at her, fingers reaching for her cheeks as if to comfort her. with a sudden conviction, she takes him in her arms, rising from the bed, requesting a robe and a blanket. when her servant looks at her in question, she clarifies that she will be taking Aegon with her and does not wish to rouse him in attempts to dress him. they look at her with shock, but don't voice the concern written on their faces.

they bring her Viserys's favorite robe. Alicent recognizes it from her time with Rhaenyra and Aemma. she's worn it before, Viserys has made sure the servants bring it to her every time he requests her. she hates the way it feels against her skin, knowing why he makes her wear it. she wraps aegon in his blanket, soft and royal blue, his hands beginning to play with its golden tassles as she tucks him inside her robe, pressed to her chest with care.

even as fear bites at her heels, anxiety churning her stomach, she walks to Viserys's chamber with her held high. she knows she is only asking for her husband's wrath; she knows she should just obey him, but she just can't. her son will not suffer a sleepless night and horrid following day all because her husband feels the need to use her body once more. he will not suffer at his father's hands tonight, even if she has to endure Viserys's anger for it.

she enters her husband's chambers, finding him in bed, in a white night gown, clearly ready to use her; he was never subtle when he asked for her, not even the first time.

she pauses in the doorway, pulling back the robe slightly, making him aware of Aegon's presence. she watches his face fall, barely muted anger. she holds onto Aegon tighter. part of her fears he may hurt her for this disturbance, but more of her fears he will hurt Aegon on her behalf.

"I told the damned servants to take him," his voice is warped and cruel, just an angry scowl of sorts.

"Aegon is not well, dear husband... I could not leave him," she admits before he can say anything else. she puts her foot forward as a mother, hoping to claim mercy from the man who made her one.

he mutters something in response, not quite loud enough for her to hear. she has a feeling she is grateful for that.

"what was it you needed, my dear?" she tries to sound sweet and kind, in attempts to abate his anger, "I'm sure I could still attend to it."

"you know what I wanted," he yelled. it had been the first time he'd truly raised his voice to her. she couldn't help but gasp, stepping back one step, than two, stopping when Aegon began to fuss, curling around him instead.

"Please Viserys, the baby." she ducks her head down to press her against his whispy white hair. her son his huffing, as if about to cry, and she's sure if she could see his face, his little cheeks would be red and his eyes would be crinkled and wet, his lip puckered. she begins to rock him slightly, still afraid to move.

"your'e dismissed," he grunts, but his tone gives it away. she knows he doesn't mean it, the if she leaves she will be in more trouble. she questions staying, calling a servant to take Aegon and giving him what he wants, but decides against it. he would not come before her son, not now, not ever.

"I'm sorry, my dear, another night, when I do not have Aegon to tend to," she forces some cheer into her tone, "he is still so young, so helpless. he needs his mother. I'm sure you understand?"

"he is not the only one in need of you." he had not lost his anger yet. not even for the sake of his son.

"yes, of course. forgive me. only he is not as understanding as you, my love." that wasn't the truth, Aegon was more kind and understanding at a year old, than viserys was in all of his years. "I will leave now. I am sorry for the disturbance."

she pauses for a moment, waiting for her husbands reaction. when he doesn't lash out at her, she breathes a quiet sigh of relief, feeling as though she has evaded a great beast. her heart calms in her chest, slowing from its fluttering and her stomachs stops its dizzing ache. she questions turning and running, fleeing from his presence before he can change his mind, but knows better.

she hurries to his side, eyeing him all the while, each step calculated, avoiding cracking any eggshells, until she is close enough to kiss his cheek. he allows it, and gives Aegon grace when he reaches out for him, letting him play with his finger a moment, before pulling it away, not even turning away fully before sneering. she takes that as her cue to leave, this one being much more genuine than the last.

"goodnight dear husband." he says nothing. she takes Aegon's little hand, waving it slightly, "say goodnight Aegon."

her son tries to imitate her, though unintelligible, as a toddler would. she continues to smile and coo at him even when his father ignores him, not letting him feel his father's scorn, quickly turning towards the door and back to her own chambers.

the second the door is close she feels herself sag, she would have fallen to the floor right then and there had there not been kingsgaurd watching. instead she holds her head high once more, walking calm and steady, like a queen should.

Aegon settles his forehead against her collar, giving a great yawn against her skin. she smiles at him fondly, kissing his brow, earning a tired little giggle from him. it hits her that he is unaware of the trouble he just saved her from. she feels equal parts relief as she does terror; she hopes he never knows, never understands, but is so so thankful for it none the less.

the second she steps into her chambers she pulls of the robe, setting it aside carefully despite the pain it brings her, respecting the memories it carried. she pulls back the covers before smothering her and her son amongst them. he's quick to curl against her, quite tuckered out after their harrowing adventure, even if he was unaware of its true weight. she herself still wanted to cry, but was similarly too tired to keep her eyes open for another moment. tomorrow, she tells herself, tomorrow will be difficult, but tonight you have your son, tonight you have a chance to rest.

so she does, she holds him close, tracing fingers over the gold threaded patterned of his blanket, feeling the shifting of his chest as he breathes and the tickle of his hair against her neck. all is well in that moment. she drifts to sleep at the thought.

#omage to Aemma's robe that we see alicent wearing in episode 3 (I believe. it was when she was helping bathe viserys)#cause I know he made her wear it cause he's a monster #this is set prior to Helaena's conception. aegon is tiny. and alicent is still naive to the true extents of viserys's abuse.#especially to the fact that despite all of the love she holds for her children and how badly she wishes to always pick them first #his abuse and the stockholm syndrom that follow it will turn her against her children. aegon in particular.#maybe not against. but acrid and foul. her pain overtaking her love. she still tries so hard to protect them though. if you get what I mean #its otto's fault too and they should both die #anyway #I'm just in my feels with these two #we didn't get enough scenes of them together especially when they were both young and I wanted to give alicent a moment were she fought bac #she refused to give him what he wanted. she chose her child over him. she stood up for herself and what she wanted.#she earned that moment #I know she was choking through those “my dears” and “my loves” but she had to for formalities sake #angst in the front fluff in the back #even if the fluff is laced with angst #letting alicent be soft and love her son #I needed it #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #alicent hightower #anti viserys i targaryen #pro team green #hotd #house of the dragon #I love them your honor

269 notes · View notes

lovelykhaleesiii · 2 years ago

Note

So I have an idea...I recommended it to another blog but I'm pretty sure Tumblr just ate my ask up.

Aegon falls in, Imma say infatuation, with a dancer from Dorne while she is performing at a feast or festival. Because of that they start having an affair, a bit of an open secret mainly between him and his siblings, and you can decide if they have children or not it doesn't matter. Otto and Alicent continuesly threaten their relationship and Aegon does what he can to protect their life together. He even goes to her to try and convince her to leave with him and she's there when he gets crowned.

But, by the time the Dance is happening, she tells him that he shouldn't be fighting with his sister, you can end it however you like. Kinda want it a bit angsty.

oooo this sounds like a roller coaster relationship, but fuck Aegon with a Dornish girl !!! apologies if this feels rushed, tried to include every detail in the one, sorry if it dragged <3

Infatuation

PAIRING: Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Dornish!Reader

WORDS: 2,920.

WARNINGS: smut, NSFW, swearing, mentions of pregnancy.

A/N - just a side note, let's pretend that the little surprise with Rhaenys and Meleys doesn't happen for the sake of the story LMAO. I may have gotten carried away... BUT THAT IS NOT A CRIME.

The gratifying attention that greeted you as a lucrative performer all across the Seven Kingdoms, you had become familiar with now. The lustful eyes of many men and women, that fell upon you as swayed to the slow, sensual music that chanted the halls and arenas you'd performed in, was something you sort of became almost blissfully ignorant to.

Occasionally, some men brave or drunk enough, would attempt to lure or even try to bargain a decent price for a single night of solace with you. Many a times you'd denied them the chance, although during the times you found yourself lonesome and downcast, and depending on your clear judgement and primal intuition of the man, you'd politely agree to their company for the night. Leaving them unaccompanied and asleep in the morning before they could awake to your haste departure.

Although, no man ever came close to who would lust for you next...

This was a big, if not the grandest event yet. Practices and rehearsals strenuous, preparations arranged long before your crew had arrived, and tonight the night. Much to your relief, you did not feel anxious nor excited, although thankful the time had come for you up till now you'd grown quite exhausted. The pay was decent, and the profit you'd make at hand on tips, would mean you may have enough by the end to return home to Dorne for a few weeks of much needed rest.

The crowd was large at hand, none like you'd ever seen before. Men, women and children showcasing their wealth wearing the finest cloths and silks you'd ever seen, their fingers and necks done with glistening jewels of gems and stones you couldn't pronounce the names of and the feast at hand, all this food that could feed the homeless by the thousands. The women in their elegant, detailed dresses looked stunning. Being present in such places, you felt as though you were disobeying the law, that you were out of place and were doomed for punishment if caught. Your role as a performer was your mask however, you felt behind the curtain and costume, although revealing, you knew you were just a background figure. You often felt the fleeting stares of those passing by, many too occupied in their own conversations, as they wondered through the great hall of the castle. This had been your first sight of the castle, and behold the Iron Throne, it was a marvel if ever seen, you did not think it real and actually pinched yourself upon seeing it. Nonetheless, it would be the last you'd ever come to see it, or so you thought...

They had placed you performers in the centre of the hall, on a platform high enough for everyone to see from their tables and seats, the royal family also seated on a platform as they oversaw their guests, their subjects. You had only ever heard of the members of the royal Targaryen family, not being granted the chance or priveliege of seeing them. Before the night and performances had commenced, each was introduced before the arrival of King Viserys himself, who looked as though his days of living were waining thin. His eldest son, and supposed heir according to rumours whispered across King's Landing, you'd come to notice his eyes did not leave yours. He ate and drank as he did, all the while remaining unengaged in no conversation, many a young women attempting to capture the attention of the young prince, all failing.

You tried to pay no mind, for your performance at hand kept you moving, although the chances that you'd got, although fleeting, you did confirm that his eyes still strayed in your direction. However, you felt absurd and somewhat sheepish to think he was solely looking at you, for you were not the only performer present. And so you allowed the night to go on, paying no mind.

****

"The Prince commands for your presence," The young knight gestured, for you to obey.

"Which young Prince is it?" One of your fellow colleagues enquired, curious as to who may be seeking you out at this time of the night.

The performances complete, the feast to an end, you maintained composure and did not dare to venture another glimpse towards Aegon. Although, just as you had all finished repacking bound to make your way towards the city's local inns, a knight of the Kingsguard summoned for you, on behalf of Aegon you boldly presumed.

"Prince Aegon."

The others looked around at each other dubiously, your eyes remained of the knight, as you felt your body freeze. You knew better than to cave in and go, however a yearning in the pit of your stomach began to spark, a part of you wanted to. Not to ignore, he did 'command' for you.

"Uh-Perhaps the Prince wishes for someone a bit more acquired to his tastes, someone with much more experienced for his liking," One of the older woman performers had interjected, brushing past your side, as she confidently walked towards the knight.

Although she was met with a definite no.

"The Prince requests for you-" He reinstates firmly, as he redirects his gaze from the woman to you.

No words uttered in response, only a mere nod and you'd slowly felt the power in your legs to move. Following the guard behind, as his strides were fast and long, he came to complete stop by a large, wooden door, knocking before moving aside as the door barred open slightly enough for you to enter.

You looked to the knight for one last sign to persuade you not to go, although nothing. He remained like a statue by the wall, armed and alert though paying no mind to you.

As you entered, you noticed Aegon standing by the fire with a goblet firmly in his grasp.

The door shut behind you, causing you to jump, although you composed yourself quickly.

Taking a swing of the drink inside, wine you'd assumed so boldly again, as the room stenches of its sweet, sour fragrance, before placing the cup on the stone shelf of the fireplace. His gaze framed onto you, you felt uneasy as his eyes lingered with hunger. He closed the distance, now only a few inches from you, his lilac eyes examining your every detail, wandering up and down before meeting yours again.

"What is your name, sweet girl?" He deeply uttered.

You stuttered before blurting your name, you were not stupid as you knew what exactly he had wanted from you, although troubled for you wanted no consequence of this night to follow.

"A beautiful name, for a beautiful woman. Tell me, have you ever laid with a man?"

"Y-Yes," You stutter again, you never felt so bashful like this before, you felt your cheeks fluster as he encircled you, like a predator trolling its prey.

"Hmm, but not with the King to be?"

Your eyes hovered over his wet lips as he exchanged those words, chills gushing past your spine. His hand began to reach through, snaking his arm around your waist, his palm gently squeezing your ass cheek, as he pulled you in deeper. Your breasts pushing up against his chest, before you could take a final breath in, his lips crashing into yours, feeling his tongue push his way through into your warm mouth.

You hadn't even realised that he'd managed to guide you towards the bed, before your legs collapsed, seating yourself down on its cushioned edge.

"Undress yourself." He commanded, no fault in his voice, as he unbuttoned his own clothes.

You did as told, revealing yourself completely naked, the cool night air breezing through the open window along your body, your nipples hardened from the chill.

Aegon was quick to notice, and crawled his way ontop of you, his lips meeting yours again, as one hand kept him propped up, whilst the other massaged your breast. His lips left yours, trailing down your neck before nibbling down on the tender fat of your tit, slowly moving his way over as he sucked on your nipple.

Instinctively you felt yourself straddle him, seating yourself down comfortably on his naked thighs, the feeling of his hard cock, grazing your entrance as you slowly began to sway yourself back and forth. A wetness beginning to trickle down, your inner thighs, as it craved for him to be deep inside you. One hand gripping his shoulder for support, your nails digging deep, whilst your other entangled in his short, messy hair, tugging on its platinum strands.

"A-Aegon," You whimper, your head lunging back as he remained suckling on the other tit, red marks left behind where had previously occupied.

"Mhmm, call for me, sweet girl. You have no idea how badly I imagined you moving like that on top of me tonight-"

The tip of his cock began to peek through your folds, you tried to plunge yourself deeper into his lap.

"Not yet-" He ordered, that same, deep growl he evoked when he first told you to undress had reappeared.

Much to your dismay, he laid you back down, as he moved himself lower down towards the end of the bed, nestling his upper body between your thighs, his arms pulling your thighs apart, as his mouth came face to face with your wet cunt.

"I need to taste you for myself."

His tongue began to lick the wetness that pooled down the entrance of your folds, his lips just grazing your skin softly, before delving in deeper and deeper. You could've sworn you heard him moan, before his tongue lapped deeper between your folds, licking you up. You felt your entire body go number, the only sensation you could feel was his tongue encircling your cunt.

Aegon was sloppy although, you had to give credit, for he knew his way around your body. After he had devoured your 'sweet' taste as he described himself, he found himself finally thrusting his cock deep into you. Your back arching the deeper he thrusted, his groans becoming louder, as your legs knelt up.

"Your cunt was made for me, look at you taking me all in," His cock was thick and pulsing, you felt your walls stretch with each thrust, losing yourself as you edged closer and closer.

As you screamed Aegon's name, you felt a warm, shooting force fill your inside. Aegon slowly pulling his throbbing cock out, before collapsing by your side, panting as he catches his breath.

"W-What did you do?"

Still slightly breathless, Aegon turns his attention onto you, as you seat yourself up trying to clean the mess between your legs.

He simply smiles, his hand stroking your back.

"Simply make you mine."

****

Since that night forth, you hadn't left Aegon's side nor did he relinquish you of his. You did not intend to, and despite being almost certain you would swell with a child in no time, it seemed it was not in the Gods favour. Although, Aegon made certain you remained with him. He provided for you like no other man nor companion ever did, he established a home for you in a closeby, friendly inn close to the castle, if he felt it be too risky for you to stay the night with him.

The only people who had come to know of this affair was that of his younger siblings, his brother Aemond, and sister-wife Helaena. Helaena did not mind, for she did not wish to fulfil Aegon's needs, nor have the passion to be his dutiful wife. Aemond was simply grateful that he need not chase his brother in some dodgy whorehouse from the Streets of Silk, since your arrival and newly found companionship, Aegon was satisfied with you.

However, it wasn't long before his mother, Queen Alicent and his grandsire, the Hand, Otto Hightower, would come to hear of the rumour spreading of infidelity.

"Aegon! You must quit this folly at once, rid this poor girl of your lust and bid her farewell that she does not pursue you herself!"

Aegon simply ignored his mother's protests, and his grandfather's vile threats and insults, relentlessly branding as the "Dornish whore." He had taught himself well of how to remain ignorant to such demands, although found himself defeated as they did not approve of his newly found happiness.

"I have finally come to love one, one sweet girl who's company and words I cherish, and yet you are not content. You will never be content!"

He argued relentlessly for you for months, and although you were not there to defend yourself, Aegon would defend you regardless. You had left the company of your work, your dreams of returning to Dorne expired, since you'd met Aegon, and now only greater news had further cemented this union.

"A child, Aegon, our very own little babe!" You gleefully cried, tears of joy gushing past your cheeks, as you cupped Aegon's relieved face. Although, his smile slowly began to fade, as his worries began to consume him.

"What is it, Aegon, what's wrong my dear? Are you not happy?" You jerk, as you slowly pull away from him.

His gaze off you for a split second, had returned, taking a step towards you as he held your arms, planting a quick kiss to your forehead.

"Of course I'm happy, Y/N, you and the news of this babe-" He looks down to your stomach as though you'd already began to show.

"This news is sweeter than the finest honey in Westeros," You laugh, before he resumes his seriousness.

"I-I just cannot help but think of the awful things that may arise, if word reaches my parents, or worse, my grandsire."

"A-Aegon, it'll be okay. I-I can disappear for a while, until the babe is born if needs be-"

"No!" He interjected loudly, his grip on you tightening as though fearful you might leave this very moment.

"I won't have you alone in such a vulnerable state, I want to be by your side when our babe is born, do you understand." You simply nod in response, a part of you relieved Aegon did not consider such a drastic option.

"We shall figure it out in the morrow, my sweet girl. For now you need rest."

****

It seemed the very next morrow had brought in a miracle. Although morbid, King Viserys had passed, his rapid illness had taken its course, and word had spread like wildfire throughout the castle. You had remained with Aegon overnight, for he did not wish nor wanted to risk you departing. He needed your comfort, as much as you needed his last night. And although it was unfortunate that Viserys had passed, Aegon felt no sorrow, for you'd come to know of his dislike for the man.

"He was no father-" Aegon revealed woefully, one intimate night in bed.

"He did not love me nor any of his own kin after Rhaenyra."

In reality, you could say he'd grown without a father figure. And yet now, everything would change.

You'd both been awoken to a loud banging on Aegon's door. Thankfully Aegon, managed to hide you in a closet before his Mother would enter abruptly, only sparing him a few moments to don pants.

She explained it all to him, that Viserys' last wishes were for his firstborn son, Aegon, she repeated his name as Viserys presumably did, to become heir to the Iron Throne.

The news was overwhelming to say the least, not only for Aegon but for you. Aegon has a lifetime hearing whispers of plans that he was to be rightfully upheld as heir. Rhaenyra was no where near King's Landing and someone needed to rule.

To some degree, Aegon was slightly prepared, although he did not wish for this. And yet, the look on his face as his mother elaborated plans of his coronation, it all began to click. He did not hesitate, did not refuse to be crowned, instead he did as his Mother instructed, and after she had left, he sought for his guard Ser Arryk, who would prepare and escort you to the Dragonpit.

"Ensure she is there and safe, and that she is ready for what is to come."

As you'd gifted Aegon with a final, passionate kiss before leaving, your hand clutched your stomach as you rushed with Ser Arryk, who had grown accustom to you overtime. He managed to find one of Helaena's servants that helped to dress you for the occasion, in a fine, green dress, and immediately snuck you into the Dragonpit, on a platform above the stadium out of eye view, although you both able to watch the coronation unfold.

You watched carefully as Aegon entered, stoic in his expression. The Conqueror's Crown laid on his head, before the roaring applauses of the mass. The smile that grew on his face, reflected on yours, for you knew that this meant, he was now in control. In your mind, you could see it all play out so vividly, the way he would deathly silence his kin's threats against you, how he would be haste to find a master to annul his marriage to Helaena, for he knew that many would not protest for most of his subjects saw the old Targaryen tradition as an 'abomination' and finally, for you to be reinstated and united as his rightful Queen and wife.

Aegon was King now, all your problems would be dealt with as necessary.

#aegon ii targaryen #tom glynn carney #aegon ii targaryen imagines #aegon ii targaryen imagine #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii targaryen angst #aegon ii targaryen fluff #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen requests #aegon ii targaryen fanfic requests #aegon ii targaryen imagine requests #helaena targaryen #alicent hightower #otto hightower #rhaenyra targaryen

171 notes · View notes

kat1473 · 11 months ago

Text

"Come back! Even as a shadow,

even as a dream."

- Euripides, Herakles

One shot based on this quote + angsty alicent remembers her old friend comforting her on the anniversary of her(Alicent) mother’s death.

In the rare days such as these, were her children are behaved and as dutiful as she’s pushed them, her husband quietly rotting on his throne and her father alone lost in his grief does she remember rhaenyra in a good way.

On this day every year she allows herself the weakness of remembering her old friend. She remembers when this date had first become an important one. The day her mother died was a nightmare. Even now years later she cannot fully recount the memories of her death nor her funeral.

She remembered flashes and sometimes smells or sights would trigger feelings that would arise which she quickly learned to smother into nothingness. But not today. On this day she will allow her mind to replay the memories of how her friend held her close. Comforting her in her arms as she grieved the loss of her mother.

How she fell asleep in her arms and how for the first time since that loss she had been able to sleep with peace of mind. How she awoke and instead of embarrassment she felt relief at the fact that she had stayed.

She remembered the morning conversation still in each others arms not wanting to let go of each other just yet. She remembered how rhaenyra held her close and helped her dress for her mothers funeral. She remembered the heat raiding from her hands and she helped alicent put on her black dress moving closer to hold her from behind fingers brushing her skin comforting her before stepping back and slowly buttoning up her dress.

Alicent could remember even now how hot the princess breath felt on her face when she turned around to face her. Now as she stood with her eyes closed years later. She tried her best to remember how it felt to be burned by the fire staring down at her, making her face flush, heart flutter and breath catch in her throat. She tried her hardest to remember what it felt like to be brought to life by eyes who didn’t hold the glare brought by harsh memories.

She held her breath because for a brief moment she could feel as her heart beat again. She could feel her chest pounding she could feel the heat coming from her body a warmth spreading fast through her veins she felt as though her lungs would collapse. Her throat felt like a prison where all her unsaid feeling resigned. Her heart pulsing with the reminder of what she’d lost. Yearning for someone so close yet so far.

50 notes · View notes

diamantar-masterlist · 2 months ago

Text

✦ AEMOND TARGARYEN

→ Marks of Fire

#masterlist #house of the dragon #la casa del dragón #aemond targaryen #daemon targaryen #daeron targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #laenor velaryon #otto hightower #viserys targaryen #alicent hightower #harwin strong #smut #fluff #angst #arranged marriage

8 notes · View notes

deny-the-issue · 11 months ago

Text

Rainbow Drabble Challenge

Blue

64.media.tumblr.com

GIF by gameofthronesdaily

Red, Orange, Yellow, Green <- Previous Chapter, Next Chapter -> Indigo, Violet

Overall Summary: This is a short love story about Otto Hightower being a sexy bastard. There WILL be a happy ending. The reader is mid to late twenties in age.

Chapter Summary: You visit Ser Otto once again and your true intentions come to light.

AO3 link

Rainbow drabble challenge

link to divider

[spinster!reader] [Otto Hightower x f!reader] [angst] [hurt feelings] [873 words]

Butterflies evolve into a tempest of nervous wasps as the fated night approaches. Would he welcome you? Or send you away like a common whore?

Shame waxing and waning like the moon, the insecurity of your predicament makes you sick. Not of the body, but of the mind. You cannot stop thinking about him at every moment of the day. Even walking in the gardens brings you no relief, as you wish he were there beside you, hand in hand.

The day of, you sit in your room from morning till dusk. Not eating, barely drinking. Only able to watch as time slowly whittles away, until the blue sky changes into the telltale sunset hues.

You make your way to his official chambers just after sunset wearing a dress that would be more difficult to discard than the last. A heavy book encumbers your steps, but it comforts you to have an excuse for the guard lurking outside Ser Otto’s chambers. It shows good faith, or at least you hope. However, you cannot help the sinking feeling that he will see right through you, and not wish to go further.

One does not play with a man like Otto Hightower and get away with it, even if it is for pleasure’s sake alone.

When the letter arrives on Otto Hightower’s ornate desk, he struggles with the prospect of breaching your trust. The blue wax seal of your house taunts him for a week before he opens it. The contents were upsetting to him on many fronts, and he stewed in his boiling pot of emotions for another week, unable to bring himself to deliver the letter to you.

Ser Otto’s attention snaps to the door from the first muffled sound of your voice in the hallway. Anger swells in his belly as you walk into the room, just as he hoped and feared. He does not rise, only glares as you approach. The physical separation should make this easier for him.

Once safely alone with the door shut, he makes the first cut.

“Was it your plan to entrap me for personal gains?” he growls, his unmoving stare pinning you some feet from his desk.

Eyes resembling that of cornered prey, you stand there, speechless, mouth opening and closing as if you thought better of whatever excuse you were going to spout. Enraged at your lack of response, he slams his palms down on his desk as he stands, chair scraping violently against the stone floor.

You flinch at the display and lower your gaze, not daring to meet his ire face-to-face. He rips the letter from the top drawer of his desk and tosses it at your feet.

“Read it,” he commands through gritted teeth.

Gently, you place the book on a nearby end table and gracefully retrieve the offending paper. Shaking hands open it, but you remain steadfast as your eyes move across the letters. With the signs of sadness written clearly on your face, you calmly fold the letter and drop it in his wastebasket.

“I should have known you were a liar,” his words seek to wound, “have you come to tell me of the bastard growing in your belly?”

“No!” You finally find your voice and your spine. “Your books are not the only ones I have read, Ser Otto. I have learned a great deal from the Maester’s texts, like how to track my fertility cycle. I left nothing to chance–there was very little chance of my womb quickening the night we…”

You cannot utter the words. ‘Fucked’ is too obscene, and does not fit your idea of what you shared that night.

“You cannot know such things,” he sneers, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I only wished to taste happiness before it forsakes me forever!” Your voice breaks, and you pause to take a steadying, deep breath. “My family asked my permission to betrothe me to save them from financial ruin. I gave it willingly and I would not do anything to jeopardize the plans they have made!”

“How many times have you done this? How many men have had their way with you?” He slowly walks around his desk, eyes trained on you like a predator, cold and full of anger.

“Do you think I would risk so much for any other?” You snap, fisted hands shaking at your side as you stand your ground. “When I said ‘only for you’, I meant it with all of my heart! But if you truly think so low of me, my words matter not.”

“I would do anything to save my family. Please, if nothing else, believe in that. I bid you farewell for the last time, Ser Otto.” Your voice trembles ever so slightly as tears begin to well in your eyes, betraying the war raging inside you.

Ser Otto holds his head high as you turn away from him. He almost stopped you from opening the door to leave, but begging is not in his nature. He is a man of clever action, and that is precisely the method he is going to use here.

Settling at his desk with a heavy sigh, he reaches for his crow feather quill and begins a new letter.

#otto hightower #otto hightower x reader #otto hightower fanfiction #fanfiction #hotd #house of the dragon #hotdfanfic #hotd fanfiction #angst #rainbowdrabblechallenge

33 notes · View notes

idontevenknowhowtolife · 2 years ago

Text

So Daeron is fostered in Oldtown and he does not like his cousins. They do not like him either and they hate him for being a Targ, they hate Tessarion for being 'unnatural' and Daeron is constantly being forced to the Sept to 'be cleansed of his unaturalness and to strengthen his noble Andal Blood".

Rhaenyra is a little more politically adept in this and she has a network of spies that she sets up with the Velaryons, specifically keeping an eye on the Faith and the Citadel

So when she gets word of suspicious movements and infighting between the more tolerant parts of the Sept and the conservative parts she decides that she needs to it for herself and decides to go there on the basis of visiting Daeron and Maegelle (who has been feeding her info and has also expressed concerns about Daeron)

She very much leaves the telling them she's coming part to the literal last minute and as such when she arrives and demands to see her brother Daeron is undergoing a 'cleansing ritual'

The Hightowers cant stop her from rushing off to find him (there may be some Targ mystic bad feelings pushing this) and when she comes across Daeron being ceremonially whipped to 'cleanse his wicked blood' while he prays to the Seven for forgiveness she may or may not threaten to burn them all down while Syrax backs her up by landing on the roof of the Sept.

There's not a whole lot that they can do against the threat of Syrax so they have to bow to her demands to release him and, after prompting from Daeron, to take her to Tessarion. Syrax is still circling above them, getting dangerously close to the buildings and being very menacing. She happens to be the one who laid the egg Tessarion hatched from and is very protective of her hatchlings. As such when they see the small cage shes kept in and the marks from chains and old injuries it is only Rhaenyras desire to bring Daeron and Tessarion back to Kingslanding and into the care and protection fo the Dragonkeepers and their family that keeps her from burning Oldtown down.

Daerons pretty much shut down by this point, hes just hanging onto Tessarion and trying not to panic as the sister he has been told will kill him for the throne puts him on her much larger adult dragon and just flies off with him, while also hoping that this means that he doesn't have to go back.

When they get to Kingslanding the Keepers immediately sweep Tessarion away to look after her - though they are followed by a very protective Syrax. Meanwhile their riders head to the keep where they are met with Alicent whose confusion at Daeron being here being swapped with horror and concern at the state hes in. They rush off to the maesters and Rhaenyra explains whats happened to a horrified Alicent who had no idea what was happening.

They get the rest of the family involved and start planning on how to deal with Oldtown. This goes along with very tearful screaming matches that end in Alicent and Rhaenyra reconciling, awkward convos where Rhaenyra assures her siblings she has no plans to kill them, Daemon being forced to behave by his wife, cousin and niece, Viserys getting ignored when he says something stupid and Daeron alternating between being held by someone or holding Tessarion.

Every lives happily ever after except for the Hightowers and the Faith.

#house targaryen #hotd #rhaenyra targaryen #daeron targaryen #daemon targaryen #viserys targaryen #syrax #fuck otto hightower #alicent hightower #tessarion #big sister rhaenyra #hotd au list #come on fanfic authors i believe in you #au #oldtown #the faith of the seven #angst

53 notes · View notes

wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 1 year ago

Text

Eyes Never Lie || D. Targaryen x oc (Dear Motherhood Series)

GIF by me :) pls give cred if used DIVIDERS by @straywords

summary: Leyla confronts Daemon about Rhaenyra minutes before Aegon is baptised.

a/n: inspired by the episode from the crown where Elizabeth and Philip (Matt) argue about his loyalty. also i dont think that they baptised the children it this period of time but lets just imagine they did for the sake of the story.

Dear Motherhood Series Masterlist

“Why do you look at her like that?” Her voice was strained as she sniffled. The couple had been arguing for about 20 minutes now, the topic? Rhaenyra and Daemon. “Like what?” Daemon spat, fed up about the argument that was going to happen one way or another.

Ever since the young Hightower gave birth to their 3rd child, and Rhaenyra coincidentally came back to court the same day, things felt different. Different between Leyla and Daemon, different between Daemon and Rhaenyra.

“Like-like you’re in love with her!” She furrowed her eyebrows as her lips quivered, she didn’t mean to blurt that out but she was anticipating for her husband’s answer. Daemon physically paused hearing what his wife had to say. “Say something. Please, Daemon” Her voice cracked.

She gave him everything. All of her. And most importantly, she loved him. After everything they went through, facing parenthood together, the ups and down of their marriage. She refused to believe that he had let her go so quickly.

Daemon sighed, massaging his forehead with his freehand. “Leyla, I don’t want to talk about this right now, please my love.” She felt her heart break into a million pieces. Daemon pushing her away stung her. “B-but why? I want to talk about this right now!”

“Please-“ He was cut off by a knock at the door, “Sister, hurry up! it’s all most starting” Alicent called out from the other side of the door. “We’re coming!” Leyla calls back as Daemon looks at his wife with saddened eyes. “I can’t even with you-“ Leyla quickly turned around leaving him there.

Whether or not he chose to attend his son’s baptism and be a supportive and loving husband was completely up to him. The brunette quickly walked to the nursery where the children were. She scooped Aegon from the handmaiden and let out a breath. “You alright, my lady?” Alysanne places a hand on Leyla’s shoulder. She didn’t answer, only looked at her and walked off.

The ceremony had begun and there was no sight of Daemon. Leyla felt like a fool infront of everyone. She could feel all their judgemental looks because her husband wasn’t there standing by her side. She looked to Rhaenyra, the Targaryen Princess not even looking her in the eye.

Just before Aegon was about to be blessed, Daemon had slipped into place beside Leyla and their children. She felt a huge sense of relief, atleast the looks would stop, but it didn’t make her forget about the argument they had just mere minutes ago.

Leyla handed Aegon to the maester and looked back at Daemon who was already staring back at her, his expression unreadable. After Aegon was blessed, she was given back to the young Hightower. She looked up at Rhaenyra before kissing her son’s forehead and giving him to Daemon, urging him to cradle Aegon.

Leyla’s eyes connected with her father’s. Otto just staring at Daemon in a gaze she couldn’t quite explain. She always noticed how Rhaenyra’s expression would change whenever Daemon was holding his child, and Leyla wanted to get the satisfaction of watching her watch him holding their son. As expected, Rhaenyra stared at her uncle before quickly looking away.

After the christening, there a celebration was held for Leyla and Daemon’s third child. After bidding her children off to their wet nurse, she approached her father with a tired sigh. “Daughter, how do you like the celebration?” He nodded his head at Leyla.

“Delightful,” She sarcastically answers, taking a cup from one of the servants and downing the liquid. Otto looked at her in disapproval as Leyla’s eyes wander around the room. Her eyes focused on her husband. He was talking to someone, but she couldn’t see who it was as he was blocking the person.

“How is your Husband, I heard you haven’t been waking up to him?” Leyla cleared her throat. She had no idea how he knew that. But it was true, she had not woken up to her husband in their bed for quite some time after she came back.

“Daemon is fine. And He’s just…. busy with things, that’s all.” She smiled fakely at her father, not wanting to alarm him that their marriage was not going smoothly. “Hmm. Busy with things, or busy with someone?” Otto Hightower was no fool.

The two stared at each other for abit, Leyla didn’t know how to reply to that. She only gulped and looked back to where Daemon was. He was busying himself with their children.

“Excuse me father,” She smoothed down her dress before approaching Daemon. “Can we talk, Husband?” She softly says as Daemon looks up form Baelon. “I’m occupied Leyla, can we talk later-“ “No.” She quickly cut him off making herself and Daemon surprised at how quickly she interjected. “Children, go back to Alyssane please” Daemon drops his hand from Baelon with a sigh as the children kiss their father and mother goodbye.

Without uttering another word, Leyla turned on her heels and Daemon followed. They both walked to Daemon’s study. He softly closed the door behind him as he watches Leyla, her back to him. “The only person I have every loved is you.” She spoke, breaking the silence as she finally turns to look at him, eyes glassy.

“And can you honestly look me in the eyes and say the same?” A tear rolled down Leyla’s pink cheek. Daemon stood there, fists clenched. “What is this about Leyla?” He softly spoke, eyes trained on his feet. “You know exactly what this is about Daemon” She stormed up to him so that they were at close proximity.

“I’m talking about her.” Daemon softly chuckled. “You are paranoid. Nothing is happening between her and me.” She rolled her eyes, “Paranoid? Yes, I may be paranoid but I have good damn reason to be! Before we wed. You loved Rhaenyra, you loved your niece. And now she’s back in court.”

“What’s to say you go back to your old ways? I know you Targaryen’s have queer customs.” Leyla folded her arms as tears continued to cascade down her cheeks. “Leyla, please. We have our children, I chose to forget about her a long time ago I found out I was going to be a father.” He raised his voice. “I don’t believe you,” She whispered before pushing past him and opening the door to leave.

Her eyes widen in horror as she stumbles back. Rhaenyra was stood there outside his study. “Leyla-“ “What are you doing here?” She interrupted her as Rhaenyra’s face drops, Daemon came up behind her, his hand resting on her waist—making her slightly flinch to which Daemon ignored—to see what the commotion was about.

“Nyra.” He said, surprised. “Sorry, It’s been quite some time since I returned, the Red Keep is quite big, easy to get lost in” She chuckled as Leyla didn’t believe one word. She had grown up in this castle. There was no way she simply got lost and ended up infront of Daemon’s study.

“Well, I don’t know what business you wish to do here, infront of my Husband’s study.” She raised an eyebrow at the Targaryen Princess. Although their significant height difference, Leyla did not falter. Rhaenyra awkwardly smiles. “Yes, my apologies.” She looks at Daemon briefly before walking off, the two watching her figure leave.

“She’s lived her whole life here and was only gone for what? 3 years? I don’t believe her” She scoffs before walking away from Daemon and returning back to the throne room. It was safe to say that Leyla gave Daemon a well deserved silent treatment for awhile.

762 notes · View notes

blueberrypancakesworld · 2 years ago

Text

~ Blood ~

warning : childbirth, blood, very emotional, hurt, angst, no comfort

next chapter, masterlist

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

Pregnant. She was actually pregnant. And she wanted to scream. Scream with frustration and anger because of what she had to endure. Crying because she was afraid, afraid of the birth process. Knowing that it could kill her. That she could infect her child with the curse.

The child could die before that, she wanted nothing but to scream. And for a brief moment she wished she was back in King's Landing with Rhaenrya in her arms. Together in the garden under the werewood tree, cuddling, laughing, talking. She wanted to see her dragoness again.

But she also wanted to see Daemon and Caraxes again, to feel the wind high above the clouds. But the feeling that the chains of her duties were tightening around her was only getting worse.

She knew that this would not be possible. She didn't have to look up from the floor to Otto to realize that he was going to lock her in an even smaller golden cage. She could still feel his hand on hers. He had gotten what he wanted if the birth worked, and she did not die in the process, he would get the north indirectly.

If she died and before that her uncle continued as heir, there would be a conflict. No...she knew that Otto would rather renounce Bear Island than not get what he wanted. But for that one small moment when their eyes met. For a fraction, she swore she could see happiness and joy in his eyes.

A father always looks forward to a child, she thought, and painfully her insides contracted as she realized that her parents would never get to see their grandchild. ,,Congratulations my dear" she heard him say before he pulled her close.

For a moment he embraced her and seemed to want to protect her. She felt his rapid heartbeat in his chest. He was excited. But whether it was because he was going to be a father again or because his plan was going ahead, she didn't know. ,,Thank you Otto" she said powerlessly and sadder than it should come across.

Before he broke away from her as quickly as he had embraced her. ,,Ser, if I may suggest that you notify Lord Hightower and we give your wife some rest. Not that she might fall over" he said and pointed to her slightly out of it state. ,,Of course...I'll be back soon" he said and stroked her hand one last time before he went out.

As soon as the door closed she felt the tears gathering in her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. ,,Not so child" the master said and gave her a cloth. The crying took away the pain for a short moment. As if hope had not died. As if she still had a chance for her two dragons. A chance to survive. Not only her, her child as well and her whole house. House Mormont would continue to survive. She saw the older man sit down with a sigh and stroke his white beard.

There was thought and yet knowledge in his gaze as he watched her. ,,My dear, it's a child, I can't say anything about the child's sex...but tell me in your look I see deep fear and despair. If it is a birth, I have given birth to many children, including the queen," he began and she laughed sadly. ,,The queen...she-she once told me that the birth of her son was easy," she said and fell silent.

She started several times and fell silent. Her fingers ran over the silver rings. But she could not get the matter out of her mind. My curse, she thought feverishly, her hand tangled in the cloth. ,,Whatever it is, if it concerns the birth, please tell me. Not that there will be complications later" he said gently, but his sternness was audible for a moment.

What she could not blame him for. ,,Are you familiar with my house?" she asked and saw his short nod. ,,Did you know my mother?" she asked next. ,,Well, not personally, I saw her decades ago with your father, but we didn't talk, you weren't born yet," he said, and that would have to be enough. The longer everything would take, the more complicated everything would become.

And kill them after all. ,,In our bloodline of my house there is a curse...it can be obtained only by women it could influence the birth considerably if I can't suppress it" she said and saw him thinking.

His hands stroked his bard again. In his head he seemed to be searching for answers. Answers for a cure, answers for a simple birth, answers that would help her. ,,I had always thought it was a legend, a myth, something told in old stories," he said, but his interest and caution were clear to hear. She did not blame him, on the other hand she knew that there was no cure. Only death.

But that was something she could not afford in this conflict. Not dying for her family, not dying for her place-her duty, not dying for Rhaenyra and Daemond. Not dying for her place in the world. ,,Do you want to see it?" she asked immediately afterwards and rose. Her hand was already on her sword belt. ,,It would at least broaden my understanding and recognize the signs," he said, taking the blank book before dipping the quill in the ink and nodding to her.

Taking off her sword belt with longclaw and putting it on one of the tables, she breathed one last time. One last breath before the pain moved through her body, into every groove, into every muscle, into every bone. Everything seemed to be broken, twisted, and torn out. Her fingers became claws and her teeth sharp enough to bite a head effortlessly. The fur grew over her body, warm and protective.

Her body broke and after a short moment stood as a bear in front of the man. She stood there still, careful not to frighten him or make any noise that might alert the guards. The master eagerly wrote everything down before slowly rising and holding out his hand to her. ,,May I?" he asked and she took a step towards him. He would not hurt her. There were still friends among enemies even in the most hopeless situations.

He ran his hand over her fur and continued to write. For a moment she even found it amusing...but the pleasure faded. She had no constancy here. Only when he sat down again and nodded to her did she change back. No less painful, but all the worse for being back.

Straightening her clothes and taking a moment, she took her sword again. ,,You are a remarkable woman, Lady Mormont," he said, reading through his writings again. ,,Do you think so?" she asked, slightly unsure. Not knowing how to interpret this. ,,My lady, looking at your life, you should have been dead...but this power or curse as you call it is the old magic from the past...which unfortunately does not make it less dangerous for birth" he said sadly but she realized what he was getting at.

She knew it since her brother wanted to publicly denounce her mother and his sister in the hall. She knew that her mother had only one child because the curse would not have allowed more. She knew about the horrible birth on her side. She knew how her mother had suffered because of the documents of the advisor.

She had almost turned several times, destroyed the bed, seriously injured a person and Y/N had almost died. She knew how bloody it would get. Not having siblings was the blessing by the curse of the Mormonts. ,,However, because of your husband and Lord Hightower, this remains between us...but the birth I am trying to find a solution until then you must suppress it" he said shaking his head in concern and she nodded understanding. It wouldn't come any other way she reminded herself and in that quiet moment they both heard footsteps in the hallway.

Buckling her belt again she forced a small smile on her lips. She could not lose face in front of the lord. Not until she was back on Bear Island. The door opened quickly and Otto stood there with his brother and his wife. ,,Lady Y/n! I'm so glad my prayer to the seven has been answered," Lady Hightower said happily and gave her a quick hug.

Before Lord Hightower also embraced her for a shorter moment. ,,You are a good woman and make my brother and our house very happy," said the elder of the two brothers.

She saw how Otto had returned to his old self, no smile on his lips, but in his eyes there was again that perhaps as if he had already thought out the moves. ,,Yes, I am proud of her and for the time she will be here," Otto said and stood next to her again. ,,Now then, my brother will show you your private room for your rest and the child. You will need to rest and recuperate for the next few months, our master will accompany you," Lord Hightower said before the small group set off for the room.

Once there, she was pleased to find that it was larger, more space in case of transformation, space for her attacks, space to direct her rage against the mobeliare and the stone. ,,Thank you, my Lord, I hope it will be a quick and quiet birth," she said softly and put a hand on her belly. Before she took Otto's hand and squeezed it lightly. I must survive, please, old gods, she prayed as she looked towards the bed.

And for a moment the bed seemed stained with blood, but this was the chicanery of her broken mind. ,,Well then, welcome to Old Town Lady Mormont, make yourselves comfortable in your home," Lord Hightower said before walking out with his wife.

Momentarily, she turned and looked at him, angry and stunned. ,,Home? Lock me up here, I want to give birth on Bear Island like my mother," she demanded, keeping her voice low. But the cold and anger were clearly audible. ,,And let you die like your mother and lose the child?" he asked, his venom burning into her skin. ,,How dare you!" she cursed at him and she lashed out with her hand before punching him.

A red mark formed after a few seconds as she looked at him, breathing heavily with anger. ,,Don't you ever talk about my family in such a disrespectful way again. I am your wife and it depends on me without me you have nothing!" she hissed coldly at him and saw his fingers forming a fist again and again. His dark eyes were full of hate, disappointment and venom. And for a moment she was sure he was going to kill her.

He would stab her with a poisonous dagger and watch her die of her own blood. ,,Without me, you have no north or crown under your finger. Without me, you are just a second born son of a noble family" she told him her truth. Before she saw how he rolled out with a speed she would not have thought him capable of, and a sharp pain spread across her face. She felt something warm on her face. Blood.

A disapproving laugh came over her lips as she wiped away the blood from her slightly split lip and examined it. ,,If I find out that you are trying to harm the child, I will have everyone on Bear Island killed. Everything and everyone. I'll burn down the north, sell you to the men of Flea Bottom and then you know what I'll have?" he asked so coldly that she knew he was speaking the truth.

She heard that his threat was possible. She knew that it had only a certain value. ,,I still have the crown, I still have the power as a hand while you die raped and violated in the filth of the scum and your house goes down" he said and came a step closer to her before his fingers lay on her belly. ,,If you change during birth or anything here your commander dies, for every mistake you suffer...your threat becomes worthless my dear wife" he whispered to her before letting go of her and walking out. As the closing of the door passed into space it was the anger and helplessness that took her.

Her grip on her sword increased. ,, Wretched bastard!" she cursed loudly and with one swift stroke she plunged the sword into the nearest piece of furniture she could see within a few seconds. From the closet, to the dresser, to the bed and the desk. Deep furrows and cracks appeared on the walls. And her screams echoed around the room.

Before she put Longclaw back, exhausted and breathing heavily. Her gaze remained fixed on the mirror, broken, she looked like a monster again. But it was the smile that made her seem all the more threatening. She would have liked to cry, but it would have been useless. She was involved in her own conflict again.

She could not afford it. She had to do her duty. ,,One day I'm going to kill you," she said before leaving the room to find her commander. I have to make up for this disadvantage as soon as possible, she thought, biting her lip before walking down the hall to get back to the yard. She knew the Hightowers had an extra annex for low-ranking guests.

She bet her men were there...or not already dead. Opening the doors to the courtyard she called to Alyssa who came running to her from the stable in a few moments. At least you're okay she thought a little reassured and stroked the fur briefly before they continued walking. But after a few moments she realized that the terrain was too big to run through on foot.

Sitting on Alyssa, she rode across the large grounds. ,,Commander to me!" she shouted, but it seemed as if they were too far away. Too far away to be heard by her lady. Too far to protect her. Only in the last meters she saw a small extra annex. ,,There they must be," she murmured to Alyssa and dismounted before ordering the bear to guard the door.

Her one hand was on Longclaw, afraid of what she would find. When she opened the door it was quiet in the building. She saw the beds and the simple but sufficient material. Before she heard a noise from above. Drawing her sword, she went up the stairs, her heart beating faster with each creak of the steps.

She raised her sword to strike as she heard footsteps coming in her direction. ,,Don't Y/n!" the person shouted and the sword dug into the wood next to him. ,,Commander! Damn it, why didn't you say anything?" she yelled at him, answering the question herself when she saw that the men were bathing. ,,Sorry, my lady, it won't happen again," he said, bowing slightly. ,,Get ready, I need all of you" she instructed and waited a few minutes until at least her commander was dressed again.

Before she went with him to his own small room. Slamming the door and not sitting down, she searched the room for paper. ,,Your lip was it?" he asked, upset because he didn't want to embarrass her in front of her men. ,,So what if I hit him first, but not that hard," she said, turning him away. ,,My lady, what's going on?" asked the older one, now getting nervous as well. ,,We are losing. In this whole game for the throne, our side is losing. The child is the last thing that seems to stand in the way of conflict...everything is threatening to fall apart, I'm almost at the end," she said hurriedly, her hands pulling her hair. ,,You are pregnant?" he asked and stood up to go to her.

She nodded silently, seeing his relief, but his understanding returned. He also seemed to realize what it would mean. ,,If I die, he will take Bear Island and the north in a war. There will be no war with the child, but my uncle and his wife and the child will not survive," she said, letting go of her hair.

Her commander wanted to embrace her, but she refused. ,,Enough suffering and crying. I want you to write a letter to Lord Stark telling him about my pregnancy, my problem that I can't get away from here, and Otto's threat to please send him men to Bear Island and kill any of the green ones who should be there" she ordered and saw him already starting to write. ,,I want you near me in case I need you. Keep your eyes and ears open if anything happens, or if anyone tries to harm you, report it," she ordered, seeing his nod. ,,Of course Lady Mormont" he said before she went to the door.

There she paused for a moment. She looked at her long-time reliable subordinate and foster father. ,,I'll write the letters to the crown...and if anyone tries anything that strikes you as odd, kill them, we can't afford any mistakes" she said coldly before closing the door and walking out.

She passed the rest of her men who saluted and went out to ride back on Alyssa. Leaving Alyssa at the stable, she went back into the castle, noticing that the broken furniture had already been moved out. Nothing is safe in the room at the moment she knew and decided to go to the master's room just for a moment. ,,Lady Mormont, how can I help you?" he asked, looking up from his writings. ,,Your lip," he stated calmly and seemed to be already looking for some tinctures. ,,Some new furniture for my golden birthing cage would be good, and paper and pencil, I have to write two more letters" she said, watching as he weighed on a stack of papers. Settling down she began to write.

My dearest Rhaenyra

I come with good and bad news. I am pregnant. It seems to be a miracle or the providence of the old gods. I am in Old Town with the green ones. Rhaenyra I write this as a warning to you and Daemon. Otto is keeping me here for the next nine months max he wants to keep me here. I have taken a heavy blow, but House Stark keeps my island and lands safe, I hope. Be careful what you do. I will come to your wedding if I ever get away. Rhaenyra my dragon please answer quickly I feel without you the ice will surround me and destroy everything without your flame.

Yours Y/n Mormont

Finishing the letter she rolled it up small and handed it to the master who attached it to one of his ravens and went to the window to let it out. ,,He will find his way," said the elder and continued to mix the tinctures. Before she took the next paper and wrote the letter for Daemon.

My dearest Daemon

You were right about everything, the greens are a disease that must be destroyed. They hold me captive through my pregnancy. I will not get off the island. Pregnant so it is unfortunately or not I can not say yet. I have already written a letter to our little flame. I warn you to take care of yourself and Rhaenyra. I protect my territory through the Starks, but I fear that I will see your fire and Caraxes only at Rhaenyra's wedding. I need you more than ever.

Your warrior

She finished writing and examined the writing for a moment. Please write quickly, both of you, she hoped, handing the second letter to the master before she heard the raven fly out.

She saw the master approach her and give her a cream before applying the herb-scented cream to the wound. ,,Do it for a few days so there is no swelling and it heals quickly" he assured her and she thanked him. ,,Thank you for your help" she said softly and turned the cream a little in her hands.

She knew that besides her own men, only he seemed to be an ally. ,,It's only natural to help you," he waved her off, but the small smile made it clear that he was there for her. She knew that for the moment she could do nothing but wait. To wait for answers, to wait for the months to pass.

To wait not to die. That's what she did. She waited so that days became weeks. Weeks of training in the Hightower courtyard with Longclaw and Alyssa for as long as she could.

Trained with her men, the commander. She also won a duel against Alicent's older brother Otto's son. Not effortlessly, but she won and won. She slowly regained her strength and saw Otto's spiteful look when she took the blade from his son and walked past her husband without a word. Trained until she could barely feel her arms and fingers, trained with Alyssa.

Trained not to get bogged down and lose her mind from waiting. Only when the months passed and her belly gradually became round from the child did she know that she would soon no longer be allowed to train with the sword. Not only on instruction from Otto who stayed away from her during the months. And seemed to get colder and colder. Knowing that they would never get close.

Because this little spark between them had been extinguished for a long time. Extinguished in the illusion that there could be peace. The master also ordered her to put down the sword. It would be too dangerous for the child. So the months passed with writing and receiving letters. The answer of the Starks who agreed.

Her uncle who confirmed the arrival. The worried words of Rhaenyra in which, however, lay something like naivety. Only from Daemon she had not received a letter. Her second dragon stayed away. And the ice increased. The months continued to pass and it was now seven months since she had learned that she was pregnant.

Her belly was round, stretched under tension and she felt her child kicking and moving. The only thing she did besides writing letters was to throw herself into her books. In old writings and to hope that it was soon over. The turning of the last page could be heard in the room. Before she closed the book and rose, sighing slightly, before she glanced at Longclaw.

She sharpened it every day and had hung it on a fixture on the wall. After the birth she would pick it up again. She would take it again and use it. She would take revenge. Walking down the corridor she went into the hall to have dinner with the others. ,,Ah Lady Mormont you are here too" said Lord Hightower but the coldness in the room remained. For months the mood in the tower seemed to have changed.

Lord Hightower seemed to notice that something was bothering his brother. And Lady Hightower only talked to her now and then. I scared them off, she thought, and was about to sit down next to Otto when she saw a letter lying on the table. ,,A letter from whom?" she asked as she sat down and dipped her spoon into the warm soup. ,,From your uncle," came Otto, who continued to eat, barely noticing her.

Her heart beat faster and she let her gaze drift. But there was so much indifference in the Hightowers' eyes that she couldn't tell if they knew anything. Uncertainly, she took the letter and opened it.

Niece

My wife has been found seriously injured in her room. Mercenaries were hired to kill her, but their bear would at least prevent the worst. They wore a beetle as a sign but they had cut out the tongue before. They are still with and in captivity and are being interrogated.

The master of our Lord Stark has been sent to us and also more men but it is unclear if she and the child will survive. The silver spoon slipped from her hand and landed clinking on the plate with the soup, which sloshed slightly.

The beetle went through her head and for a moment she felt unspeakably bad. Like my mother she thought in shock and the paper shook through her trembling hands.

She lifted her gaze from the letter directly to Otto who was looking at her with an innocent look. Larys and he. ,,You did th-" she started and was about to accuse him when she felt an unspeakable pain in her abdomen.

Wincing and breathing heavily, she lifted her dress slightly and her heart seemed to stop for a beat as she realized what was on her fingers in the light of the candles and torches. ,,Blood," she murmured before she was grabbed by Otto's arm and pulled away from Lord and Lady Hightower towards her room. It hurt, every step seemed to hurt more and more. And once he just pulled her up again as she almost collapsed. She felt the blood seep out from between her thighs and wet the floor.

Her breath was heavy, her heart too fast, and the rush of blood in her ears seemed too loud for her to listen. Pushing the door open, they went inside before she sat down on the bed and he wordlessly went to fetch the master. Alone.

Alone in pain in the dark room, she began to slowly undress, mewling, to be in her undergarment. She cried out as she lifted her hips slightly to get the dress off underneath. ,,,Calm down" she said and put a hand on her belly.

She knew it was too early to give birth. Too early for everything to become normal. Only a moment later the door to her room opened and the Master came in with a couple of cops before Otto closed the door. Their eyes met again before she screamed again and collapsed in bed.

She saw Otto almost calmly lighting the candles and the fireplace, and with each light his shadow grew larger and more menacing. ,,You must start pushing Lady Mormont or it will be too late. Such an early birth is not good" she heard him say before one of the maids put a cold cloth on her forehead. She screamed again but felt the master push up her dress.

Body fluids and blood wetted the white bed linen after a few minutes and initial still simple pressing. Screams echoed off the walls and seemed audible throughout the castle. She was cold and hot at the same time as if the flames were burning. But at the same time freeze through the wet cloth.

She screamed at him and reared up, only to be pushed back down by the maids. Tears streamed down her hot cheeks and her head ached. Screaming and crying she tried to push further. But the maids pushing her down seemed to make her mad. ,,Press" she suddenly heard Otto's voice so clearly that she opened her eyes.

He was standing next to the fireplace, the flames reaching out to him, but his gaze was cold. Cold and poisonous. Following this, she grabbed the girl's hand tighter and squeezed again, screaming, but not before a crack could be heard as the girl cried out and held her crumpled hand up to the light.

Broken the strength came back into her body through the transformation. It was only the beginning. ,,Get out...now!" she screamed at them both, powerless and breathing heavily. ,,Calm down, child," she heard the Master's calm words as he tried to give her a bowl of Milk of the Poppy, which she knocked out of his hand and squeezed again, followed by clawing at her arms and bed. ,,No milk....I-I" she interrupted herself again as she threw her head back into the pillow and cried out with a moan. ,,I can't control it," she said, choppily, but the Master nodded. She felt the pain spreading over her body.

And her fingernails slowly formed into sharp claws. She screamed as she pressed again and a tearing of the bed was heard as she buried her claws in it. ,,Stop it," she heard the warning tone of Otto again.

Instead, her claws dug into her arm and tore the flesh open so that the blood continued to stain the bed. ,,I can see the head already!" she heard the master shout and screamed again as she tried to push, to block out the pain inside her and not to turn.

The fire seemed to have taken over the whole room by now and Otto's shadow seemed to cover her. To devour and kill her. ,,Finish it!" Otto shouted coldly and approached the bed for the first time.

But it seemed as if the cold behind the walls moved with him and a tremor seized her as she pressed the last time. ,,Rhaenyra Daemon!" she cried out before she pulled the claws out of her arm and sank back into the pillow. It was over. The blood continued to flow out between her thighs. Blood from her arm was splattered on the floor and on the wall.

The bed was partly torn and bloody. Sweat ran down her forehead and she could hardly keep her eyes open. ,,Congratulations it's a boy" the master announced as he wrapped the boy in a cloth. ,,Well done," Otto praised, but it sounded to her like self-praise. Praise that he had mistreated her. Praise that he had the power again. Praise that he had humiliated her.

Praise for having a son. Otto had him in his hands before he came over to her. ,,The future heir of the Mormon bloodline," he said softly, leaving the Master to continue his work without a word.

With half-open eyes and shallow breaths, she looked at the little baby. ,,All...this...for you," she said, looking at the dark brown little hair and the green eyes of his father. That's a Hightower not a Mormont she thought and her heart contracted painfully.

Despite this, she raised her arm in a hiss and carefully touched his small hand that closed around her finger. Helpless and powerless she thought and took her finger away. ,,Take it away" she said and turned away from the child. It was not love she felt. Maybe it would come. She did not want it and yet she would raise him in the Mormon way. She would not allow Otto to have him.

Now it was not yet a child, it was something political. An object in the politics of the Greens. ,,What should his name be?" he asked, and silence enveloped them both. ,,Morghul" the name came over her lips as if the gods had put it on her tongue.

Otto just nodded before taking the child and handing it to an old woman before going out to inform his brother. ,,My lady the afterbirth you must endure once more" she heard the master say. It was said that from that day on, there were screams coming from Lady Mormont's room until the dead of night.

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

37 notes · View notes