#pro team green fanfic

[pterodactylterrace]

Wrath of the Dragon

Title: Wrath of the Dragon

Summary: Fanfix of House of the Dragon Season 2. Some scenes were transcribed and left for the sake of some continuity between the show and the fic. Each chapter will be a rewritten version of the Green scenes in each episode, more faithful to the book and without butchering characters. It's unapologetically Team Green and pure copium. Enjoy.

Words: Aprox 4k

Episode: A Son for a Son

Warning: Death, child death, CA, allusions to CSA. B&C.

*Song used is from Tom Glynn-Carney's band, Sleep Walking Animals. Title: Ghost of a King

~*~

“Aemond… what has happened?” Alicent asked her son as he entered her chambers, dripping wet, his usually well kept hair curled with rain water and sticking to his face and neck.

“Lucerys is dead.” Aemond replies, his lone eye not meeting his mother, his tone emotionless.

“Aemond… what have you done?” Alicent gasps, covering her mouth in horror as realization begins to set in, her face going pale. “Mother, have mercy on us all.” She whispers in dismay.

Aemond turns his eye up to his grandfather, seeming to look through the hand of the king as he speaks. “I have won us the support of Storms End. Floris Baratheon will be my wife.” He continues on, undeterred.

“You only lost one eye, how could you be so blind?” Otto shouts as his daughter weeps.

“T’was a victory, grandsire.” Aemond insists, his voice soft and shaken. “A dragon rider was eliminated and we won the support of Storms End.”

“You slew Rhaenyra’s bastard!” Otto snapped, beginning to pace as his mind tried to untangle the mess presented before him. “Your nephew! Do you realize what you have done? War is now unavoidable!”

“You have brought the wrath of the Gods upon us!” Alicent weeps, grabbing onto her son’s riding coat, the smell of brimstone clinging to him as she clutches him close.

“Hmm.” Aemond hums, pushing his mother’s hands from him and leaving without another word. He didn’t tell them it was an accident. He couldn’t risk letting his family know he lost control of his dragon. Vhagar was their biggest asset, and carried with her a promise of their safety. No harm would befall them while the largest dragon in the world was protecting the city. They couldn’t know she had disobeyed him. He couldn’t risk them finding out. 

~*~

What a strange sight to behold. Aemond the fierce, still in his riding leathers, standing in the nursery with a baby in his arms, swaying back and forth as the child grabs at his uncharacteristically messy hair, pulling at the pale silver locks. Aemond has his head tucked low, his nose pressed into the white curls decorating the top of the child’s head, slowly breathing him in.

“Something has happened.” Helaena surmises when she happens upon the scene, Aemond not looking up from the baby as he gives a slow nod. 

“I woke him.” Aemond admits, wincing when Maelor grabs at the scarred side of his face.

“You needed the comfort.” Helaena assures him, sweeping past Aemond to wake the twins for the day.

“Good morning. Good morning! The best to you this morning.” Helaena sang softly as she gently shook Jaehaerys’s shoulder, rousing the boy from his peaceful slumber before turning to his sister, curled up on her stomach with her bum hiked up in the air, her mouth wide open as she drooled onto her pillow. “Good morning. Good morning, to you.” Helaena finished singing, kissing her daughter’s cheek to wake her.

“Uncle!” Jaehaerys gasped excitedly, jumping up from his bed. His feet tangle in his blanket in his haste, tripping him as he tries to run to his uncle.

“Uncle?” Jaehaera grunts, still half asleep as she crawls from her bed, barreling towards her uncle with the grace of her father after midnight. Jaehaerys pops up, kicking his feet free from his blanket and joining his sister in her charge, both grabbing onto a leg as they slam into their uncle, though Aemond barely sways on his feet under their loving attack.

“Good morning.” Aemond greets them, absently pushing a loose strand of Jaehaera’s hair back from her face.

“Up, up!” The little girl demands, trying to scale her uncle like he was a tree in the gardens.

“He has Maelor!” Jaehaerys reminds his sister, tugging her free from Aemond before she can accidentally cause any harm to their little brother.

“No! Me up!” Jaehaera insists, angry tears gathering in her eyes when she was denied a morning cuddle. Her face turns red as she pushes her brother’s hands away, the tears spilling down her splotchy cheeks.

“No need for tears, Jaehaera.” Aemond soothes the little girl, kneeling down and shifting Maelor to one arm, catching his niece in his free arm and lifting her as he stands, letting the little girl stroke at his hair as she calms herself down.

“Jaehaerys, the chamber pot.” Helaena reminds the little boy, noticing how he squirms on his feet. 

“I think it’s a bit late for Jaehaera.” Aemond tells Helaena, noting the smell coming from the little girl he held close nonetheless. 

“I’ll get her a bath before we break our fast. Would you like to join us?”

“Yes… I think I would like that.”

“Uncle!” Jaehaera gasps happily, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing him tight before squirming to be let down, rushing off to tell her brother the good news.

“You should bathe as well. Wash the night away.”

“Hmm.”

~*~

Aegon sweeps into the room, heading straight for the blonde toddler quietly playing with their toys by the fireplace, their back turned to him. He peeks over the child’s shoulder and looks up to his sister wife. “Where is Jaehaerys?” He asks, giving his daughter a small pat on the head and scanning the room for his eldest son.

“Attending his lessons.” Helaena replies, not looking up from the golden dragon she was embroidering. 

“And those are where?” Aegon presses after it becomes clear she won’t give the information without being asked.  

“What do you need of him?” Helaena sighs, adding another deft stitch.

“I’m taking him to the small council. He’ll be king one day, he must begin his instruction.” Aegon explains with a beaming smile.

“What if he does not want to be king?” Helaena questions, finally looking away from the fabric in her hands.

“Where is he?” Aegon asks with a smile that seemed more of a grimace at his wife’s words, crouching down to be at eye level with her.

“In the library. You must not interrupt his custom.” She cautions, Aegon seeming to think on her words for only a moment before stepping around her to look for his son.

“I am afraid.” Helaena admits just as he reaches the door.

“Don’t be. They’d be fools to come with Vhagar protecting the city.” Aegon soothes, giving her a reassuring smile.

“Not the dragons. The rats.” Helaena corrects, much to Aegon’s confusion. His lilac eyes quickly scan the room, as the servants also look for the offending pests, no one finding signs of the rodent's presence. 

“The Queen is an enduring mystery, is she not?” Aegon offers to the staff, effectively dismissing her concerns about the pests in her chambers. He takes his leave, making a mental note to hire more ratcatchers, hoping to put Helaena’s mind at ease. 

~*~

“Jaehaerys must learn the ways of the court if he is to rule one day.” Aegon proudly proclaims to the Kingsguard as he leads his son into the small council room. “Up you go!” He playfully growls as he lifts his son up the steps, laughing as he places the small boy down. The silver haired boy rushes to the table, his lavender eyes alight as he takes in his surroundings, excited to get to spend the morning with his father instead of the boring maesters.

 “Good morrow, my Lords! Mother.” Aegon greets as he rounds the table to take his place at the head of it. “What news?” He asks as he takes his seat with pride.

“Our letters to the North and the Vale have gone unanswered.” Otto begins.

“Cunts.” Aegon scoffs.

“The Stormlands should be ours after Aemond’s marriage pact to the Lady Floris Baratheon. I anticipate their sworn declaration.” Otto continues.

“My brother is raising the strength of the West to mass the Golden Tooth. But we-” Tyland begins pausing when the young prince picks up the yellow ball in front of him. “Yeah, thank you, my prince. That’s very helpful.” Tyland tells the prince as he gently takes his attendance marker from Jaehaerys and places it back in its holder.

“My nephew Lord Ormund musters his forces to sally forth from Oldtown. They expect to march quickly, meeting little resistance until they reach the Riverlands.” Otto cuts off whatever Tyland was about to say next. 

“My letters to Rhaenyra, has there been any answer?” Alicent pipes up.

“An apology for her dead son?” Jasper Wylde asks flatly.

“None, your grace. Between that and their blockade of the Gullet, we must presume that the Princess has refused the offered terms and war is now inevitable.” Orwyle responds, ignoring the Master of Law’s snarky reply. 

“Perhaps his Grace might lend his voice to our outreach?” Alicent suggests, though Aegon is too enamored watching his son steal Tyland’s attendance marker and taunting him with it. 

 “Stop! Enough!” Tyland hisses, trying to wrestle the ball away from the child.

“In hopes that new terms might, might be negotiated?” Alicent speaks louder, hoping to get her son’s attention. 

“Release it at once!” Tyland demands, looking around the room for help. “Would someone please?”

“Is the heir to the throne bothering you, Tyland?” Aegon asks, ignoring his mother’s pleas to continue trying for a peaceful resolution.

“No. No, no, not, not in the least, your Grace.” Tyland quickly responds, letting go of the ball like it burned him.

“Because I think he wants a ride.” Aegon continues, smiling at his son.

“Your Grace-” Alicent attempts to interject.

“A ride?” Tyland asks, confused.

“A pony ride.” Aegon clarifies. “Wouldn’t that be fun, Jaehaerys? Should the Master of Coin be your royal steed?” He asks his son who nods enthusiastically. Tyland laughs awkwardly, his eyes darting awkwardly around the room before landing on the King, a stony look on his face. The Master of Coin quickly stands, realizing the King is serious. 

“Your Grace! There are important matters to discuss.” Alicent reminds her son, unamused by the scene unfolding before her. “Despite Sir Tyland’s interruptions.” She adds in, her eyes flashing to her grandson, clearly blaming the boy for the interruption, in spite of her words declaring Tyland to be the problem.

“Very well. No time for amusements, Tyland.” Aegon sighs, nodding for him to take his seat. 

“Your Grace.” Tyland replies, as he takes his seat again.

“Off you go, Jaehaerys. Good boy.” Aegon dismisses his son, the cup bearer taking the child’s hand and leading him from the council room. “Where were we?”

“Rheanyra’s blockade has placed King’s Landing under strain. Those pressures will multiply quickly.” Otto continues on, undeterred by the interruptions. 

“Well, we should’ve just killed her when we had the chance.” Aegon laments. 

“Regrettably the opportunity for surprise has been lost, and with it, the chance to end this conflict quickly.” Otto gives his daughter a pointed look as he speaks. “We must play the board before us.” 

“If we are to break the Sea Snake’s blockade, we will need to bolster both the Lannister and Hightower navies.” Tyland points out. 

“We do have need for a new Master of Ships.” Orwyle muses, “We could offer the title to the young Lord Dalton Greyjoy.” The Grand Maester suggests as Aemond enters the council room. 

“Aemond, what is your business here?” Alicent questions.

“The King summoned me.” Aemond explains coldly. 

 “You have no seat on this council.” The dowager queen protests.

“Aemond is my closest blood and our best sword. I welcome him.” Aegon easily overrules his mother, much to her clear chagrin as Aemond easily strides to the map of Westeros on the wall. 

“The path to King’s Landing is through the Riverlands. We must establish a toehold there, at Harrenhal.” Aemond declares, his long fingers sweeping over the Crownlands and up to the Riverlands as he speaks. 

“The River Lords will either declare for me, or they will meet Vhagar and Sunfyre together.” Aegon decides haughtily. “Ah, and-and we can burn the blockade while we’re at it!” He adds in, clearly proud of his idea.

“Rhaenyra has dragons as well.” Alicent protests, her distaste for her son’s idea clear on her face.

“Mine are bigger.” The young king easily dismisses the threat. 

“If we lose the dragons to war, there’ll be no calling them back. We must proceed cautiously.” Alicent insists.   

“No. Fat, old Lord Tully will either raise my banner, or see his burn.” Aegon asserts. “We should fly to Riverrun”

“You are the King, your Grace. You must not put yourself at risk.” Cole attempts to dissuade the hot blooded king before he can make any rash decisions. 

“And Vhagar is needed here, to deter Rhaenyra from attacking in retribution for the death of her son.” Alicent spits, giving her second born son a spiteful look, which the prince ignores with a stony face. He had grown used to her microaggressions and passive aggressive comments over the last week and a half since he had returned from Storms End that fateful night. 

“Errors were made in the hours following King Visery’s death. We mustn’t compound them. You’ve already demonstrated your might, Your Grace. We must now favor patience, and restraint.” Otto advises. “I send ravens by the hour. Many and more houses will declare for you in time. History and precedent will come to your side.” He continues as Aegon idly spins his marker before him, clearly not interested in passivity. 

~*~

“Mama! Mama watch!” Jaehaerys calls out, waiting for his mother to look up from her embroidery before leaping from his bed to his sister’s, looking proudly to Helaena when he lands safely on the feather mattress. He turns around and leaps back to his bed, falling just short and thumping against the side of the bed rather than landing on top of it. Helaena drops her project, rushing over to her son and gathering him in her arms as he begins to whimper.

“My brave little boy.” Helaena soothes as he gathers him in her arms, sitting down in the rocking chair, hugging him close as he sniffles and whimpers into her shoulder. “That was scary wasn’t it?” She asks as Jaehaera abandons her toys, peering over the arm of the chair to her brother.

“I help!” The little girl declares, moving behind the chair and making it rock as her brother tries to hold back his tears.

“I-I want my-my s-s-ong.” Jaehaerys whimpers through his sniffles, his little fist holding his mother’s dress tight.

“You want me to sing your song?” Helaena asks, resting her cheek against the top of his head as Jaehaera rocks them back and forth.

“Dada.” Jaehaerys sniffs, turning his tear lined lavender eyes up to his mothers. “Dada sings it.”

Helaena looks up to her handmaiden, silently requesting her to send for the king while she continues soothing her son.

“Perhaps you two should lie down for your nap after your song? I can tell you are tired.” Helaena suggests, gently wiping the escaping tears from her son’s face.

“Dada sings first.” Jaehaerys insists, his sister jumping up and down behind the chair and chanting “Dada, Dada, Dada!” In agreement.

“So if your father sings your song, will you rest?” Helaena asks, Jaehaerys giving a solemn nod picking up his mother’s hand and wrapping their little fingers together. 

“I promise.”

“Yes? What is it? The rats again?” Aegon asks as he enters the nursery a few minutes later, finding Helaena still in the rocker, Jaehaerys half asleep on her shoulder while Jaehaera stood behind the chair, continuing to make it rock back and forth, lost to the rhythm of the movements.

“Dada.” Jaehaerys mumbles sleepily, rubbing at his eye with one hand and reaching for Aegon with the other.

“He wants his song.” Helaena explains as Jaehaera pops out from behind the chair. “They both do. They won’t take their nap without it.”

“Alright, but only once.” Aegon agrees, caving instantly at the pleading, sleepy looks on the twin’s faces. Aegon lifts his tired son into his arms as his daughter quickly clings to his leg, almost making him trip as she latches onto him, giggling as he stumbles trying to catch himself.

“I’m a little dragon, strong and stout.” Aegon begins, stooping down to take his daughter in his other arm, his son resting his head against his shoulder. “Here is my tail, here is my snout.” Aegon continues, patting his son’s bottom and kissing his daughter on the nose.”If I get upset, you better watch out.” He sings, spinning with his twins in his arms, both giggling and clinging to his doublet. “I’ll roar and shout and stomp about.” He finishes, bouncing the twins in his arms while stomping his feet, much to their delight. 

“Nooo, the other song!” Jaehaerys insists, refusing to release the collar of his father’s doublet when he tries to set him in his bed.

“What other song?” Aegon asks, craning his neck to look down at his son.

“The ghost king!” Jaehaerys reminds him as though it is the most obvious thing in the world.

“And you promise you’ll sleep if I sing you that one?” Aegon asks, both twins nodding as he sets them on their beds.

“I saw the ghost of a king today. I saw the ghost of a king today.” Aegon begins as his children pull their blankets up to their chins. “Ivory bone and two babes in his arms. The weight of the world having killed his charm. Cuts at the trees and hunts the deer. Reared for slaughter when the bows are near. He said hey I got kids now a house and a wife. This is my new death now this is my life.” Aegon pauses, Jaehaerys giving him an offended look when he tries to cut his song short.

The king can’t help but chuckle as he continues. “ And I, Know you, You, I know you, You. Turns out the lights to escape from the moths. Sits in the dark with a painting awashed. With the life that he wishes would meet him in death. Remembering tales as he takes his last breath. So take all the money and choose a new door. Cause change isn't change when you know whats in store

Oh it might seem you don't know who I am anymore. But you're the only one who knows the person I was before…” Aegon’s voice slowly drifts off when he sees both twins have lost the battle to stay awake, taking a moment to admire the two pure lives he helped to create. “Sleep well.” Aegon adds softly, pressing a kiss to their foreheads as Helaena tucks them in properly, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze before turning to leave. He pauses at the doorway, looking back and peeking in at the sleeping Maelor, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, his long white lashes kissing his chubby cheeks and a mop of silver curls sticking out at odd angles from his head.

“Do not wake him.” Helaena insists, seeing Aegon hovering over the baby. Aegon flashes her a smile over his shoulder, leaning in and kissing the baby’s forehead before leaving to attend court.

~*~

 “You know the Keep. You know of it’s hidden passages.” The voice of a cloaked figure breaks through the quiet of the night.

“Who are you?”

“You are a ratcatcher in the Red Keep, yes? Tell me, does the crown pay you well for your services?” The figure continues on, staying just out of the light of the fire, a larger figure looming behind him.

“They pay well enough.” The ratcatcher finally replies, unsure if this was a trick to land him in trouble with the crown.

“I can pay you better. And you don’t have to kill anything. Just lead the way for my friend here.” 

“Lead him where?”

“The true Queen’s son has been slain by Aemond Targaryen. The scales must be balanced. A son for a son.”

“You want us to kill Aemond Targaryen? What if we can’t find him?”

“Then you go to the Tower of the Hand. To the Dowager Queen’s chambers.” Daemon instructs, a smile curling on his face.

~*~

“Mama, come on.” Jaehaerys sighs, tugging at his mother’s dress. “It’s time to go see grandmother!” The little boy reminds her, taking his sister’s hand as she runs to the door, eager to see her grandmother and get a treat before bed. Helaena collects Maelor from the wetnurse, thanking her and tucking the child close to her chest, following after her twins as they rush off to their grandmother’s chambers.

“Drag!” Jaehaera gasps, pausing before crossing the dry moat and staring up at the twilight sky as a dark shape passes over them.

“Vhagar! Uncle!” Jaehaerys cheers, waving up at the dragon patrolling the skies, looking back to his mother. “Did he see me?”

“I don’t know. We will have to ask him later.” Helaena tells her son, smoothing his hair back from his face.

“UNCLE!” Jaehaera screams out, jumping and waving her arms over her head. “UNCLE!!!” 

“We mustn’t distract him. He is busy keeping us all safe.” Helaena explains, Jaehaerys quickly takes his sister’s hand.

“I’ll keep you safe too!” The little boy declares, proudly marching over the drawbridge, leading the way to his grandmother’s chambers. Jaehaera slips her hand from his, racing her brother up the stairs and bursting through the door.

The air felt wrong as soon as Helaena entered the room. First, she saw her mother’s handmaiden laying on her bed, her eyes wide and unfocused. It took the Queen a moment to realize she was dead. Before she had a chance to grab her children and flee, she heard her own guard give a shout, turning to see a large man pulling a knife from the guard’s throat, blood staining his white cloak as he fell to the ground, never even having the chance to draw his sword. 

Alicent screamed through her gag, jerking at her wrists binding her to her chair as someone else snatched Maelor from Helaena’s arms, holding a knife to his throat while the large man grabs hold of Jaehaera’s arm and drags her to the other side of the room.

“No! Leave my sister alone!” Jaehaerys yells, holding his sister’s arm and smacking uselessly at the man’s wrist, trying to make him let go. 

“Scream and you all die.” Cheese warned the Queen as Blood snatched Jaehaerys by the arm, wrenching his grip from his sister and shoving the little girl to the ground.

“Who are you?” Helaena asked, her voice shaking as she instinctively reached for her children, stopping when Blood yanked Jaehaerys’s head back by his hair and held his knife to the boy’s exposed throat.

“Debt collectors.” Cheese replied. “An eye for an eye, a son for a son. We only want one, t’ square things. Won’t hurt the rest o’ you fine folks, not one lil hair. Which one you want t’ lose, Your Grace?”

Helaena’s blood ran cold as his words sunk in, her mind racing with how she could possibly save her children. “Me! Take me!” Helaena pleads, falling to her knees. “Please. Don’t hurt my children. They’ve done nothing. They are innocent.”

“A wife’s not a son.” The large man holding Jaehaerys replied. “It has to be a boy.”

“You should choose quickly, Your Grace, before my friend grows bored and decides to entertain himself with your little girl.” Cheese goaded the sobbing queen. “Pick, or we kill them all.”

“Maelor.” Helaena forced out, on her knees with tears streaming down her face. He was but a babe, he didn’t understand the danger he was in. It would be over quickly. The babe would never know what was to befall him.

“You hear that, little boy?” Cheese whispered to the child in his arms. “Your mama wants you dead.” Then he looked to Blood and gave a nod. Helaena followed his gaze and screamed as Blood struck off Jaehaerys’s head with a single blow before her very eyes.

Time stood still as the little boy’s body crumbled to the floor, blood staining his clothing and pooling on the floor. Helaena gathered what was left of her son in her arms, sobbing and clinging to the little boy as the guards began to beat at the door, trying to gain entry. The bar finally splintered under the force, the Kingsguard rushing into the room, Otto and Aemond with them, having heard the Queen’s screams.

“Uncle?” Jaehaera asks unsurely, tearing her eyes from her mother and looking up to Aemond, her little body shaking as she holds up her arms to him. Aemond quickly picked up the little girl, tucking her face into his neck, trying to shield her from what she had already witnessed.

“He waved.You see him?” The little girl asked against his neck.

“Yes, Jaehaera. I saw him.” Aemond lied to the little girl as Otto unbound his daughter. The dowager queen pointed with a shaking hand to a painting, jutting from the wall at an odd angle, a trail of blood leading up to it. The Kingsguard pulled at the painting, revealing a hidden tunnel behind it, the trail of blood leading into the darkness. Arryk grabbed a torch, leading the way into the tunnels, a second knight followed, leaving Criston behind to guard the rest of the family.  

“Your Grace?” Cole murmured softly to Helaena, kneeling next to her and gently taking the boy’s body from her arms, letting Alicent lead the queen away from the horrific scene. He pulled off his white cloak, laying it over the boy’s body, staining his cloak with the boy’s blood as he was tucked in for the very last time. 

“Commander, we lost them. The tunnels are a maze.” The Kingsguard relayed as he came back in through the painting. “Ser Arryk is continuing to search, but we cannot find them in the labyrinth.”

“Tell the King.” Criston directs, his dark eyes staring at the blooming blood on his white cloak. “Tell the King his heir is dead.”

[escailyyy]

I need a isekai transmigration fanfic where Cersei Lannister wakes up in the body of Alicent Hightower, because I know this woman would fix the green history real quick.

A weak king husband who is rotting from illness? 4 kids with dragons who desperately want her attention and approval? An entire kingdom who thinks she's some sort of devoted pious paragon of virtue? a sworn shield who worships the ground she walks in AND A devious psychopath ally who only wants to see her feet?. (that's TWO devoted dogs to order around and take advantage of) plus a dad who actually shows her a modicum of affection and a brother who would 100% lay down his life for her without any extra incentive.

I'm sorry Alicent you had Cersei's dream life and you couldn't take out one spoiled princess and her trigger happy uncle? Why? What's stopping you babe!!! You got handed the best tools to use in crushing her completely and you DIDN'T!!. That's definitely going to change.

Cue Cersei harnessing the power of #Queendom and showing Rhaenyra how the game is really played.

[urdeftonesgrrrl]

"A girl must say a name."

Me:

Team Black stans

Criston Cole haters

Daemon Targaryen stans

[cambion-companion]

tell me why i imagine sweet daeron having a little boy's crush on aemond's wife because she's so gentle and kind with him

i saw someone else's ask about how he wants to be just like aemond, not only out of admiration but because he thinks "if someone like aemond can get a wife like (y/n) then so can i if i'm like that!!"

and sweet boy copying his mannerisms, pulling her chair out at dinners before aemond can and even though the chair basically towers over him, she's coddling and gushing at how polite and thoughtful he is and he MILKS that

so it becomes a playful rivalry between aemond and him and she's just "it's like you're actually intimidated by your baby brother"

and aemond who's hiding a giant bouquet of flowers behind his back only to one up the little rose daeron gave you "absolutely not. me? be rivaled by the twerp? never-"

Hi!! Oh my god this is darling, I cannot wait to write for these prompts! Cute little Daeron is 4 years younger than Aemond...so we will say he's 15 during this. Adorable.

Aemond x wife!reader | Daeron learning from his brother | admiration crush | playful brother rivalry

"Thank you Daeron, you're so sweet!" You smiled brightly at the boy as he extended to you a bouquet of wildflowers. "Ouch!" A stinging sensation spread around where a sprig of green had touched your hand.

"Ah, stinging nettle." Your husband mused, eyebrow raised at his younger brother as you dropped the offending bunch of flowers to the ground. "An interesting addition, Daeron."

"Gods I am so sorry Y/N!" Daeron looked from your wincing face to his bouquet now scattered upon the stone ground in alarm. "I have gloves on...and a very mediocre knowledge of local flora it seems."

Aemond took your sore hand in his, placing a gentle kiss to where your skin was reddening and swelling. Daeron noted his brother's movements with a studious gaze.

"Let's get you to the maester, I'm sure they have ointment on hand for such an affliction." Giving Daeron one last severe look, Aemond swept you from the room, leaving the crestfallen prince standing alone chewing his lip.

Later that evening, your finger lightly bandaged and no longer hurting, you found yourself entering the dining hall on Aemond's arm.

Daeron took note of your entrance, waving to you enthusiastically and striding over, a look of concern on his face. "Are you alright? I truly apologize for my earlier blunder." He extended a single red rose to you, giving you a slight bow.

You took the delicate flower, trying hard not to let your amusement show, especially as you felt Aemond shift in annoyance beside you. "Thank you Daeron, that is very thoughtful. I am quite alright."

"No loss of limb yet." Aemond agreed, shaking his head at Daeron's earnest expression. "Though I cannot speak for yourself should you continue giving my wife flowers."

Daeron frowned only slightly before he gestured for you towards the dining table, sweeping your chair out from its place for you to sit. He bowed again as you carefully took your place, sinking into the welcoming cushion. You scooted forward as Daeron pushed you into table. He overdid it in his eagerness to help, and your midriff was pressed uncomfortably hard against the wood. You let out a slight "oof" as some air was expelled from your lungs and pushed back with your hands.

From your peripheral vision you saw Aemond take his brother by the scruff of his collar, forcefully seating the young man into his own seat and giving him a hard pat on the shoulder. "If you want to impress a lady, Daeron, I suggest resisting the urge to bisect her."

You hid your laugh in the goblet of wine you brought to your lips, pretending to take a sip as Aemond took his place beside you, his hand resting briefly atop your knee. "Did my oaf of a brother do any permanent damage?" He was only half-joking, the annoyance still evident in the timber of his voice.

"I may never recover." You jested, leaning into him slightly, turning your face to place a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. "He is simply trying to mirror what he sees you do for me."

"He's failing spectacularly."

"Aemond." You chided, taking a moment to make sure Daeron couldn't overhear. "He looks up to you. Clearly he wants to learn from you."

Aemond huffed, bringing his own goblet to his lips. He didn't answer you, seeming to sink into deep contemplation as he often did when something troubled him.

------

The next day was clear and crisp, the winter air still chill despite the shining sun. You descended a set of marble stairs to the room you usually took your luncheon in. To your surprise you found Daeron and Aemond within, deep in conversation with each other. Daeron was nodding and Aemond had his hands clasped tight behind his back. They ceased speaking as soon as you entered, looking almost guiltily at you.

"I hope you're not up to anything that will raze King's Landing." You teased, your skirts rustling as you moved toward the table.

You stopped, looking at the spread of food laid before you. It was all of your favorite things to eat and drink. A little sample of each treat you so adored. "Aemond?" You asked, not taking your eyes off the delicious array of delicacies.

"I arranged for your favorite foods to be brought up for your enjoyment." Your husband inclined his head as you finally looked at him.

"I brought some books I thought you'd like to read while you took your afternoon meal." Daeron volunteered, looking slightly guilty as Aemond shot him a bemused glare.

"That was so very thoughtful of you Daeron, thank you for thinking of me." You smiled graciously at the young Targaryen.

Daeron beamed.

You moved to Aemond, tilting his head toward you with a finger to his sharp jaw. "Thank you my dearest." You kissed him softly upon his plush lips. You moved your mouth to his ear, whispering so only he could hear. "Though you do not need to compete with your brother."

"Speaking of my brother." Aemond said loudly, turning to face Daeron, an impish smile on his curved lips. "I've arranged for you to meet with several ladies your age from notable noble houses this eve."

Daeron's face blanched. "I...meet...tonight?"

"Indeed." Aemond shook his head, chuckling. "You seem intent on practicing your courtship skills on my wife, it's only fair you get more experience with other women." He patted Daeron on the shoulder. "Though do try not to maim them too badly."

"I'd never!" Daeron spluttered, glancing at you guiltily. "Not on purpose!"

"Remember what I told you regarding..." Aemond started but Daeron waved him off.

"Yes, yes, no need to repeat it in front of Y/N." A faint blush painted the younger Targaryen's cheeks, causing your brow to raise as you looked inquisitively between the brothers.

"You're lucky Aegon hasn't gotten wind of what you've been up to." Aemond continued. "He'd give you unending grief."

"Helaena's given me some useful tips I think." Daeron looked at you. "She told me flowers and chocolates are a sure way to a girl's heart."

"Being interested in her and listening to what she has to say, what she's interested in, is also a solid start." You agreed, smiling knowingly at Aemond as his eye found yours. "Though chocolate does go a long way."

The three of you laughed, Aemond's arm snaking around your waist, pulling you against his side. Daeron watched each movement Aemond made around you with attention, his lilac eyes bright with interest.

"Don't go to Aegon for advice on women." Aemond warned suddenly, his face grave as he looked down at his younger brother. "And if he offers to teach you anything about them, you come to me instead. Understand?"

"Yes." Daeron nodded, looking mildly confused at Aemond's unexpected severity.

You squeezed Aemond's waist lightly, reassuring him with your presence. "All will be well. Daeron, you are a dashing young man who is sure to sweep the right girl off her feet in no time."

"Thank you, Y/N. I can only hope to be as lucky as Aemond."

[its-actually-minicika]

Hi, love your works so much! Can't wait for more updates 🥰🥰 I was wondering maybe you'd like the idea where book!Aemond and Velarion!(Strong?)Reader are in an arranged marriage. But Reader just knows what to say and how to act so that Aemond is wrapped around her finger (kinda thought of Margaery and Joffrey situation, she was such a talented schemer, worthy of winning the Throne 😭). I don't really know about the setting, like if it's before, during or after the Dance... just thought it'd be interesting to see this kind of plot with our beloved Prince 🤴🏼🐉

If you don't like it, just ignore me 🙈

Dragon Sickness (18+)

Pairing: bookcanon!Aemond x Strong!Niece!Reader

Warnings: No usage of (Y/N), Greens win AU, bookcanon Greens, the obvious Targaryen incest, mentions of major character deaths (we're entering spoiler grounds, but not really), blood, gore etc.

Word Count: 3.5K+

Author's Note: I fell in love with this idea the moment I saw it! I ended up altering the plot line for this one-shot a little bit - the reader will definitely grow into the Margaery architype, but today you shall see her as she was when she just learned how to make ends meet with her newfound life at Court.

I don't know if I should turn this into yet another series, but if you guys enjoyed this, let me know

Also, thank you so, so much for your kind words ♡ i'm hugging you to the moon and back!

PART 2 IS OUT NOW ♡♡♡

Who could ever blame you for your indiscreet acts? Alliances change when the world you know suddenly turns upside down.

She remembered how weak she was. How scared she had been.

How her eyes widened into two brown specs of uncertainty, how her mouth fell agape, as she mulled over Alicent’s words.

‘You shall marry Aemond within the next moon turns. For the good of the Realm.’

The Dowager Queen had openly admitted to being against the match – of course, the prospect of her perfect son, married off to a lowly bastard of Rhaenyra's (otherwise said, her last surviving child), didn’t specifically thrill her. Much less her demanding and scornful father.

Still, it couldn’t be helped. And if the Velaryon wanted to keep her head away from a spike, she had no other choice but to comply.

Although… she wasn’t a Velaryon now, was she? Aegon the Usurper made sure of that.

His final gift to her was to strip her of all her titles. She had been openly declared a bastard – before the masses, before the Court.

With a wide smile upon his burnt lips, the “King” had told her she’d be a Targaryen instead. Driftmark wouldn’t matter, her legacy wouldn’t matter. Aemond would inherit the seat with the Usurper’s blessing, as a homage brought to his able fighting and his shown bravery on the bloody battlefield.

Never mind that he’d never partaken in a fight; save for the one that killed her stepfather, Daemon, and sent her poor mother in a downward spiral. Aemond had chosen his adversaries wisely, and managed to go through the whole war without as much of a scratch upon his silver armour.

‘I shan’t marry your son. Not now, not ever.’ Her own voice rang out.

‘You will do exactly as demanded.’

‘I would rather die than bear the treacherous children of that monstrous beast.’

A monstrous beast. That is what Aemond was.

And that is what he shall remain. No matter how many gifts he brought to her. No matter how many hours of their days and days in their weeks and weeks in their months they spent promenading those ghastly gardens.

‘You will if you know your best interests. Your own head may hold no value to you, but a single swing of my son’s sword would be enough to bring forth the ruin of House Blackwood.’

At first, she’d been restless in her attempts to escape the Keep. Her every waking hour was spent shamelessly inside the Sept, where she prayed not for the safety of her brothers’ souls, but for revenge against the mutted Greens.

The slight breeze of the cathedral mended her flesh from the heat of summer. And no one dared to approach or talk to her. The quietness was a welcomed deed.

During the first night of their betrothal, her glossy eyes scanned Aemond’s face. His hands wantonly gripped at his thighs and a slight twitch of his mouth, accompanied by an elongated hum escaped his lips.

There was no other discernable expression. And when he led her to the chambers of her early girlhood, he merely bowed and kissed her hand.

She spent the first night of their betrothal scraping her knuckles so harshly, that they broke and cracked under the stimulation of the cold water.

Her thirst for vengeance ceased after the first two months. Her wedding date was approaching swiftly, and she found herself faced with the abhorrent truth. She had no allies. No more friends at Court. The girl had shut herself in her tiny room, losing her mind with the pain and grief that flooded her at night: the faces of her mother, her brothers, her father. The sound of their screams and their endless pleas for help.

Every night, without a fail, she woke up tormented by nightmares – her throat burning with absolving shrieks of fear, exacerbated breaths of air and flimsy nightdresses, damp throughout by breaks of sweat.

The first night she lashed out onto her bedding was the night she found out Aemond had moved his Quarters next to hers. He yanked the door open and stepped into the light of her candle – looking ravished, completely out of breath and startled. Started not for his own accord and safety, but for the state that his future wife had been in.

‘Shit, it’s alright, I’m here–’

The echo of his mellow voice deterred her to let out a blood-curdling scream, that would have rivalled even the one of the late Queen Rhaenyra, after Aegon the Usurper ceased her at Dragonstone, and reeled his dragon to eat her whole.

‘Get the fuck away from me! Get the fuck out of my room!’

Her sobs pierced into the man’s heart, but his hurt expression was masked quickly with one most bitter and taciturn. He clenched his fists ruefully by his side, and spat out an apology in a low and dangerous tone.

‘As you wish.’

And how dearly he loved those words:

‘As you wish.’

'As you desire.’

Even though nothing had been, or ever will be, as she achingly wished them to.

“You could at least attempt to look happy.” His chastising tone rained upon her, as his Lady remained hammered in her seat. Maids flocked to her like lost chickens to their cock, arranging her hair and picking out dresses fit for their engagement parade.

Her face contorted into the mirror, and a faint sigh beleft her lips. Carefully she turned around, reflecting his stance with a subtle arch to her shapely brow.

“It’s bad luck to see your bride before the wedding ceremony.”

“An old wives' tale. And one that applies only on the day itself.”

“Perhaps we should encourage tradition more. Make it so we don’t cross paths at all til then.”

Just as fast as it came, the feral look dissolved over his tired face. Aemond heaved out a heavy exhale and merely settled to growl at her maids.

“Leave us. Now.”

A discontented look painted over her fair features. His niece opened her mouth in protest, to try and stop the fleeing girls from truly making their escape.

“I must remind my Prince that the engagement assembly will be held in less than an hour. I believe I should like them to stay.”

The gathered women exchanged lost and protruding glances, until the former King Regent spoke again.

“They will leave us at once.”

“They’ll do no such a thing. They must make haste to get me ready. We wouldn’t want to upset your mother.”

“I’m more than capable of lacing up a loose bodice.”

The tight expression on her face deserted her features with the leave of his smug retort. She swallowed thickly in enraged abandon, and silently beseeched her ladies not to leave her all alone.

Still ravishing her with his bold stare, Aemond stepped another foot into the cosy confinements of her tidy prison. “If I’m to turn around now and find any of you standing before me, I’ll arrange that you’re all flogged and defiled beyond the utter of salvation.”

Brisk footsteps swallowed the room, echoing wildly through the narrow dark hallways. The former Velaryon shook her head in disarray, and graced her soon-to-be-husband with a tight smile and a nod.

“Congratulations.” She uttered humorously, “I should enjoy looking like a fool tonight much more than being proper by your side.”

As if drowned below a trace, Aemond took another step in the direction of the frowning Princess. His face remained impenetrable, but as he opened his mouth to speak, his voice ran meek, unsure and hoarse.

“Turn around.” He commanded her gently, whilst grabbing a deep green garment from the cluttery made on her bed. Despite her lack of desire to abide by his request, the woman turned her back to him and muttered slowly, though much softer than intended.

“I don’t like that one. It’ll make the skirts look out of place.”

“Which one do you want, then?” His whisper had made her draw in a sharp gasp; the warmth of his breath fell soothingly over the nape of her neck, caressing her delicate skin in a way she hadn’t known was possible.

“The red one with black lacings.”

His hand came to spin her back around, and their noses nearly touched together. A smile tugged at the ends of his upturned lips, but the look inside his eye remained frigid and unforgiving.

“Your petticoat won’t be those colours.”

A conceited scowl graced her face. She reached her hand behind him and skillfully snatched one of a different design. “Fine. I want to wear this one, then.”

The obnoxious blue and silver danced across her paling skin. And if Aemond weren’t so dazed by their proximity and lack of air, he might have laughed at her feeble attempts of vexing him.

“Those are Velaryon hues.”

“Perfect. I shall honour my house well.”

“You are not a Velaryon to grace them with such a feat.”

“No, you are absolutely right. Your brother did name me a Targaryen.”

Their faces were so close to each other, that their moving lips were almost touching.

“Yet I can’t wear black and red either.” A prompted look disarmed the Prince, “It is all very confusing.”

His lone orb descended to her puffing bosom, but Aemond soon directed himself upon a more elusive image. His fingers twitched with the need to grab a hold of her – to pull away those last pieces of cloth that shielded her away from view.

“You know full well why I can’t allow that.” He hummed in unmoving disapproval, “As much as I enjoy your voice and the raptures of your closeness, I must say this conversation bores me.”

“I should be able to wear what I want.” Came her prompt and swift reply, “But of course, Your Grace, forgive me. ‘Tis not for men to pounder on laces and brims.” Her palms took to rest upon his bulging chest, and the girl nearly removed them at once, as the thrumming of his heart enterlaced with her slim fingers. Still, she furrowed her brows in a most perplexed of mockeries, and insatiably drove on, “Indeed resilient men such as yourself occupy their time much better.”

The callouses of his hands fell heavily upon her cheeks.

“Fucking their ways through brothels, getting their pricks wet, and fantasising about wars.”

The harshness of his next tug nearly broke her brave facade – her eyes widened in mistrust, and a slight recoil braced over her straightened back. Her small fingers clasped over his shaking wrist, which held onto her face with a gentleness untoward; one completely mismatching with the predatory glimmer in his eye.

The man he was, and the man he was trying to be would surely never mend to one.

A Kinslayer. A monster. A divergent freak.

Nothing more, and nothing less.

His thumb played absent-mindedly at her lower lip, and the young Princess tried her damnest not to bite him. “Did I strike a nerve with that one?”

“You are as imprudent as you are beautiful. A family trait, I assume.”

“You have my gratitude for the flattering commentary. I’m very proud of my heritage.”

His lilac orb bore into her, and the man let out a reserved laugh, “Your bastard brothers were ample proud. Look where that brought them.” The rough end of his hand gripped her own painfully, before she could make for a swing at his handsome face. “Lost in the seas, rotting at the bottom of an ocean, nestling inside Sunfyre’s belly.”

While her hands were clasped together, her mouth wasn’t sown shut. With a single and effective move, she spat harshly in his face, eliciting a groan from her broader perpetrator.

Though his nostrils flared up in disdain, the man graced her with a calculated smirk. “Did I strike a nerve with that one?” He mocked her with feigned interest.

“Fuck you,” She hissed out slowly, “Don’t you dare talk of my family – my brothers were ten times the man you are.”

“Oh, but I have every right to talk about your family. Given that I will be yours quite soon.” Once more he forced her to turn around, and kneeled over to her spasming form, to begin dressing her up; in nought else, of course, but the mundane silks of his choosing.

"Doesn't the prospect thrill you? To become my lady-wife, to finally bear a true Targaryen inside your royal womb?"

So hopeless and defeated she felt, that the youth jerked herself relentlessly, while repeating him the same plethora of words. “You cannot force me to be your whore. You cannot force me to wear this. I will not bear your Hightower green.”

Aemond could feel his patience running thin – and when her foot came into contact with his setting knee, the man let out a ferocious growl, and promptly trapped the girl in his arms, with the aid of a nearby wall.

“So you want to be difficult? You don’t want to wear this? Hmm? Well, who am I not to abide my Lady’s burning wishes?”

The sharpness of his dagger came into quick contact with the milky skin of her thighs. And she might have almost screamed, if Aemond didn’t immediately pull himself away. His hard chest grazed hers for but a moment, as the Prince cast his attention to her moving shadow.

“If you wish not to attend our engagement parade wearing the clothes I’ve chosen for you,” He muttered against her face, a scorned look adorning his own, “Then you won’t be wearing anything at all.”

She huffed out a dispensing pant and pursed her lips into a tight line.

She remained rigid and poised, until a spark of amusement swirled into her eyes.

The first crack was that of a lax smile. The next, a tremor to her lips. The calm before the storm approached, until all rattled down with a mirthed laugh cascading from her reddened lips.

“Do you mean to frighten me with this promise?” She asked through the arch of an uncertain brow, “As if every man in this cursed Keep won’t get to watch me whore myself out to you anyway, when our wedding night will come?”

His face suddenly hardened at the notion of their reality – as if he didn’t give much thought to the bedding ceremony. To his Lady being watched by a thousand other eyes but his.

Aemond suddenly darkened, and his fist came into contact with a near spot on the wall, so awfully close to her frightened, paling face.

She watched with wide eyes how his stare contorted from one of realisation to one of fury. He stiffly peeled his body away from hers, and strained himself to leave her be. The jealous and possessive knots that churned painfully inside his stomach burned his skin upon the surface, and constricted the air he brashly took in.

He nodded to her in a spry and calloused manner, and brought his hand out to touch her cheek. His knuckles had begun to bleed, busted by the force of impact that his fist had faced for him. Behind his eye danced a look of seldom shame – he gnawed harshly at his bottom lip, and pondered, for a while, on apologising to his niece; for his lack of princely conduct, for his show of impropriety – for his inability to keep himself at bay.

Still his thoughts failed to merge to words, and so the man ran his eye one final time over her defensive pose, and merely left her standing there.

As if turned into a statue, the girl barely registered the lethargic closing of the door, the hurried and heavy footsteps that travelled further and further away from her quaint and cluttered space, and the animated curse that slipped past her uncle's throat.

Did he just dare to leave her there, with her petticoat half up her legs, in nought else but a flimsy nightdress?

At first she thought that his avoidance was a blessing in disguise.

For after clashing wits with Aemond, and after his swift hurried departure, the man had barely graced her with another word.

His hand held onto hers for the whole duration of the procession. He wordlessly forced her to dance two dances, and led her to her Quarters as soon as she mentioned that she was tired.

But his palms didn’t linger on the shape of her narrow waist – his lips barely grazed her knuckles, and Aemond turned with lest a word to add after their fake sympathies were exchanged.

Had he gotten bored of her? Realised what a terrible match they made, and begged his mother on his hands and knees to break off their ill engagement?

For the first time in a while, a new notion of fear engulfed her.

The Greens couldn’t kill her. Of that, she was almost certain. It wouldn't be a wise move, and it would anger the North beyond the power of salvation. The war had had its say on every army that fought into it, yet the Crownlands were especially weak.

But if Aemond were to sever their solidary alliance, then her future would be most uncertain.

Otto Hightower would make her join with an old and withered Lord, no doubt – one with more than enough sons to further on his pesky line. One who couldn’t even get it up to her, who’d never procreate and mend their blood, who’d make sure Rhaenyra’s line would end with her.

Or perhaps she’d be sent to join the Faith – become a Septa or a Silent Sister, among the infamous Maris Baratheons of the Realm. Yet another girl who wouldn’t keep her tongue when asked.

And history might remember them as ‘the women who couldn’t be tamed’, but their lives would be thrown to ruin. Their existence would remain a sham.

No, she had whispered to herself, as she writhed into the soft bedding. If she still thirsted for revenge, she would have to marry Aemond. Keep him interested and relaxed – yearning for her voice and company.

… And if she had to whore herself to him to do it, she would obediently assume her role.

“I beg your pardon?” Aegon asked through another gulp of bitter wine, “Gods be good – I believe that now I’ve heard it all.”

Aemond paced about his brother’s room, with his hands clasped behind his back, and his face set into a deep grimace. He hummed in admission to his brother’s words, and glanced his way with the instance of a hooded eye.

“There is to be no bedding ceremony.” He repeated himself with ease, “I frightened her enough already. The girl will be plenty uncomfortable without the aid of chafing eyes.”

His brother smiled and raised his brows in nothing else but blinding wonder. A small shake of his head indicated his perplexion, and a sharp inhale his drawn decision.

“Mother insisted upon it. You know that well.” The man steadied himself in his chair as he spoke, whilst letting out a small grunt at the contact that the wood made upon his burnt remnants of skin. “I don’t see any reason to annul it. Especially now, an eve before.”

Another sip of the stinging liquor interrupted his smooth and ready trail of thought. The Targaryen brushed off Aemond’s concerns, and gleefully bided his teasing.

“It’ll do the two of you good – you’ll get to see she’s as pure as a bastard girl can be; and she’ll have no deniability that any of her future heirs are yours.” He pointed his weary digit in the direction of his stiffened form and swallowed down a hefty laugh. “Not to mention that Lord Redwyne and Tarly already placed bets on the state of her maidenhead. Would be a shame to disappoint them both, don't you think?"

“What mother thinks is of no consequence. And the amusement of the Realm matters not to me. There will be no bedding ceremony.”

“Nonsense, Aemond. It is our duty to upkeep the Realm – and to entertain its inhabitants if need be.”

When his reckless teasing was met with glacial silence, Aegon sighed as he briskly leaned forward. He watched his sibling with an indiscernible expression across his scorched veneer, and yawned greatly at his indisposed behaviour.

“Of course, we’re here to talk it out. But after so much time spent in your company, I fail to see the necessity for such a thing.” A sly smirk danced across his puffy lips, “Are you concerned that she won’t bleed? Or that you’ll be too cunt-struck by her to last enough to make a statement?”

Aemond’s fists descended upon the polished wood of Aegon’d desk. He thrashed his brother with a defiant glare, and hissed through his gritted teeth, and tight-set jaw.

“There will be no bedding ceremony for my niece and I. Tell that to every Lord that wishes to glance upon my wife – if they do so much as to cast their eyes on her, they’ll be fucking their own wives with a wooden cock.”

Amusement laced with grave concern – the finality of Aemond's words ought to have vexed him, irk the King in his sibling's weighty insolence. Instead Aegon nodded, pushing back the feeling of dread that settled deep within his bones. His head jerked towards his closed oak door, signalling to his brother that his visit had been overstated. “What sort of brother would I be, to not grant you with this simple whim?”

The younger Targaryen mirrored his stance, and turned abruptly on his heel after a low grunt of gratitude.

His hand reached for the golden handle, but Aegon's words deterred him to a halt.

“But be careful with that one, Aemond. She’s brash and wholly unpredictable. Make sure the blood that stains your sheets come morning isn’t somehow your very own.”

Perma Tag List: @welcometothelioncage @kravitzwhore ♡

[bronzefuryfic]

Are you experiencing post-finale blues? Are you a fan of the greens?

Daemon's daughter by Rhea Royce tries and fails to claim a dragon HERE

OC meets Aemond, Aegon and Helaena for the first time HERE

Alicent tells OC about life playing to Viserys' wants HERE

OC, Aemond, Aegon, Helaena, Jace and Luke attend High Valyrian lessons HERE

OC joins Aemond and Helaena for tea and stories HERE

Aegon sneaks OC out of the castle to meet Sunfyre HERE

A day in the life of OC, Aemond, Helaena and Aegon in the Red Keep HERE

OC confronts Aegon over his bullying of Aemond HERE

OC, Alicent and Helaena grapple with the inevitably of their fates HERE

Aegon tearfully resists duty as Aemond embraces his role as protector of the family HERE

Expanded Driftmark episode HERE, HERE and HERE

The aftermath of Aemond's injury and his path to recovery HERE

With more to come! Experience the series through the eyes of Rhae Targaryen as she dedicates her life to defeating her father and protecting her new found family.

[greenknightofmalachite]

Oh Alicole nation we are hurting right now.

Take heart. I knew in my bones at the end of last season that bias and ineptitude would ruin this for us, so as soon as S1 ended I started writing and didn’t stop. You want Alicole slow burn? Pining and Step-Dadding and relying on each other in these awful circumstances? Well earned romantic smut with a ton of emotional buildup? Alicent with political agency, green kids with their dragons and a proper coronation for Aegon and Helaena? Daeron the Daring and 'Brokenbones' and 'Maegor with Teats' and everything else they took from us?

I have a legit romance novel on my hands. It started as one-shots but I began filling in the blanks and couldn't stop and now it's 140k words and counting, 30 chapters, the doc is 400+ pages! I write and illustrate for a living, so like, it ain't bad. And it's all for you guys. The crew of our sad little ship!

It's nowhere near finished but I wanted to share a little hope in our dark times after last night. Was 'I did not give you leave to speak my name' seriously the last thing she says to him!? wtf! Not on my watch.

[ashblooddragons]

The Red Queen (Chapter 4/?)

110 ac

Your pov

I sit on the floor of my room clutching my stuffed Caraxes, tears rolling down my face as I listen to my Papa and Kepus fight. They do this every time Nyra and I have a spat, or in truth when Nyra yells at me for one reason or another. This time it was because I was dancing in the halls with Laena and I tripped and bumped into her which made her almost trip and fall into a puddle. The only difference this time is Nyra grabbed my arm hard as she yelled at me, the Maester said I’ll heal perfectly fine but it still stings. What concerned him the most was the cuts on my arms from her nails stating “to grab the princess this tightly–it makes one wonder how cruel Princess Rhaenyra can be.”    

“Why Viserys? Why can’t you just be a fucking father for once in your life and take care of this? Why has it had to come to her being bruised so badly a maester is called for you to finally realize there is a problem?” Kepus yells furiously. 

“Do not tell me how to raise my girls, Daemon!” Papa yells back. “Up until this Rhaenyra hasn’t been violent, we need to find out if there is more to the story. This truly couldn’t have happened over something so miniscule.” Papa says trying to calm him and Kepus down but from what Kepus says next it doesn’t seem like it did. 

“Are you jesting right now? Viserys, tell me this is a jest! Have you not seen what me and Aemma, Seven hells the whole court has seen?” Kepus’s yelling isn’t scaring me as much as what he says next, for his voice sounds calm and yet it still sends chills down my spine. “If you won’t do something about this Viserys, I will. And let it be known you won’t like what happens.”  I hear Papa stuttering as Kepus opens my door and slams it behind him as he walks over to me.

“Don’t be mad at Nyra, she said she was sorry.” 

He chuckles but there is no joy behind it, he pinches the bridge of his nose, a habit I’ve noticed he does when frustrated. “Only because your mother made her, Sweetling. She didn’t want to, she was forced to. She must be punished for this, something like this can’t go unanswered.” He says as he picks me up and holds me close.

“Laena bit her so she’d let me go, is Laena going to be in trouble? I don’t want her to be in trouble, Kepus.” I say as I think about how she tried to save me.

Tears roll down my eyes as I feel her nails dig into my arm, it stings, it burns, it hurts. I look around for any help but find none as it’s only me, Laena, and Nyra in this hall. 

“Could you be any more stupid! You almost ruined my dress you brat!” 

 I try to get free of her grip but Nyra is stronger than me, her grip feels like a vice on my arm. I cry out when she twists my arm harshly, that’s when I hear Laena make what sounds like a battle cry as she runs over trying to free me from my sister’s grasp. 

“Let her go! Let her go this instant! I’ll hit you! I’ll do it you Bitch!” Laena screams 

“Oh shut up, you couldn’t hurt me even if you tried! I could have your head on a spike if I wished!” Nyra says as she goes to push Laena. Thankfully  Laena saw it coming, she grabbed Nyra’s hand and bit down hard making Nyra cry out. 

“What is the meaning of this!” I hear Kepus yell. Nyra goes wide eyed and lets me go staring at our uncle terrified. She backs away as he storms over to us. “You best get going, I find you’ll want your father's punishment more than mine.” he says as he grips the dagger that lays at his hip

I watch as he smiles proudly. “No, I’ll make sure of it. You have made a wonderful friend in Lady Laena, hold onto that friendship with everything you have. Can you do that for me, Sweetling?” At this request I nod which makes him smile fondly down at me. 

“You protect me too. You kill the scary spiders, and scare the monsters away from under my bed.” I say which seems to have amused him as he throws his head back laughing. 

“Those are very important things to protect you from, my girl.” he says smiling his first real smile since Nyra hurt me. 

That’s when we hear a knock at my door. “Are you in there?” I smile big and wiggle in his arms to get free, once he sets me down I rush to open the door. When I do I see Laena standing there smiling mischievously. “Guess what! My Mama told the King I got in trouble, but really she gave me a candy.” she says smiling as I hug her.  “Do you want to play? I’m so bored without you.” She asks. I nod vigorously as she takes my hand as we run off towards the gardens.

As we play in the royal gardens, Laena and I talk about our dragons. “The dragon keepers said Moonfyre is probably one of Sliverings babies. That’s why she’s so big.” Laena says proudly. And she’s not wrong, Moonfyre is as big as Dreamfyre which is considered a very large dragon, at least thats what Kepus told me. 

“Stromchaser is almost as big as Meleys, which means she’s a little bit smaller than Caraxes. I even heard that she may have babies in her tummy. Kepus told me, he said that they’re hers and Caraxes. Well at least that’s what the dragon keepers told him.”

“Wait, do you know where babies come from? Everytime I ask my Mama or Papa they change the subject or tell me, I'll know when I’m older.” 

I stop and think about it and shake my head. “I thought Mama's bellies get big because of the baby and then they show up.”

“But how do the babies get in the belly?” Laena whispers like we’re talking about something that will get us in trouble

“I never thought about that.” I whisper back. 

“We’ll ask at supper, they can’t lie if we both ask.” Laena says confidently.

Daemons pov

I’m talking to Viserys and Lord Corlys when you and your friend’s nursemaids walk you two into the dining hall for supper. You two seem to be bickering about something, which is odd as I can’t recall a moment you two were at odds with one another. 

When you two finally sit, you turn and stare at each other; it's as if you're having a conversation through eye contact alone. Finally you sigh and nod. “In a moment.” you whisper to which the little Velaryon nods.

I take your plate and fill it with all your favorites watching as you fidget nervously. When I set it down you start eating quickly, almost too quickly. Same goes for your friend, which strikes me as odd as you two are usually very dignified when you eat. Well as dignified as a four and five year old can be.

We all laugh about memories or talk about politics if you are my brother and Lord Corlys. It's no shock that Lord Corlys is trying to sweet talk my brother into agreeing to a trading deal with him and the crown. 

“And that, Your Grace, is why I think we can both benefit from this tra-” He continues to drone on until you interrupt him blurting out. 

“How are babies made?”

I choke on my wine, Viserys spits his out. Aemma blushes so profusely I think she’ll permanently be a shade of red. Corlys sits there with his gaping like a fish. The only one who seems composed after that question is my ravened haired cousin who only sighs and shakes her head seemingly trying not to laugh.

“Um wh-why do you ask, Darling?” Viserys asks as he clears his throat and squirms in his seat, obviously uncomfortable with where this evening's conversion has turned too. 

It’s not you that answers though, it’s the little Velaryon. “Well we were talking about our dragons, and then she told me Stormchaser is gonna have a clutch and that Caraxes is the Papa. Which made me wonder about how babies are made, which made her wonder, which led to this question.” She says matter of factly and waits for all of thirty seconds before huffing and asking. “Well, how do they get in the belly?” 

Everyone looks at each other trying to figure out who will answer and with what. That is until you pull on the sleeve of my doublet. “Do you know, Kepus?” you ask with a look that pulls at my heartstrings. 

Always so trusting of me, always believing the best in me, always making me feel loved. You're the only one in this gods forsaken keep that makes me feel appreciated, makes me wanted, the only one that misses me. So how can I not at least give you a half truth, for I most definitely won’t tell the full of it to you. 

I clear my throat before answering . “Of course I know, my girl. The way babes are made is…a lot of kissing.” I answer. 

You and the Velaryon girl gasp and look at each other, you two start whispering excitedly to each other. That is until you stop and look up at me confused. “But Nyra has kissed boys before, why doesn’t she have a baby?” You ask curiously

Viserys' eyes go wide when he hears this. “Who? Who has your sister kissed?” He asks trying to keep his anger at bay

You look at him and shrug. “One time I saw her kiss a knight with a flower on his chest, and Lanea said she saw her kiss a stable boy.” 

“A cute stable boy.” Laena corrects.

I watch as Aemma bites her lips and looks at my brother, a clear sign she’s furious but holding back for the children. “It seems our eldest needs a longer punishment, my love.” she says.

You flinch and reach for me when your father slams his fist on the table. “I swear that girl will be the death of me. Why must she always put herself in a position that can ruin her? Have we not warned her enough?” Viserys says furiously. 

Laena leans closer to the table and looks at Viserys. “Does it not help that the stable boy was cute?” She asks innocently, which seems to break the tension as we all chuckle and you girls join even though you have no idea why it’s funny. 

“I’m afraid not, Lady Laena. But thank you for pointing that out nonetheless.” Aemma responds, smiling softly.

After that eventful dinner I carry you to your room, you play a bit more as I can tell you're not even remotely tired yet. I had asked your nursemaid to get you changed into a nightgown and leave us. Once she has left you turn to look at me curiously. 

“Why don’t I have a baby?” You ask as you brush out your dolls hair, the one I gave you for your fourth nameday. It is supposed to take after your likeness, and I must say the craftsmanship is quite remarkable for it looks almost exactly like you.

“What do you mean, Sweetling?” I asked confused.

“You kiss me, but I don’t have a baby.” You say as if it’s obvious. I can’t help but burst out laughing, only stopping when you hang your head pouting. 

“Sweetling, where do I kiss you?” I ask, trying not to laugh. You point to your forehead and then touch your cheeks, I nod and pull you close. “Yes, but to have a babe you need someone to kiss your lips. Do you understand?” 

You think about it for a bit before nodding. “So when I want a babe I’ll need to kiss a boy's lips?” you confirm.

I nod, smiling trying to push down that beast that rears its head up at the thought of you needing anyone but me for anything you’d desire in this world. I never understood why this violent creature had shown once you were born, I remember holding you for the first time. It was like a religious experience. It felt like for the first time in my gods forsaken life I had my purpose for being here. As if you were sent to me by the gods of old Valyria, as if they knew you would be the one thing to keep me sane. 

Finally when I’ve calmed down I say. “Yes, but there is more to it, but you will learn of those things when you're older.” I can’t help but chuckle when you groan and turn around, turning your back to me. Annoyed that you must wait to learn what you believe should be taught to you now. I can not blame you, for even though everyone says you have time, you wish to know now and yet no one will teach you. Ah, to be a child with infinite wonder and curiosity, and yet told to not be and to be patient with the information of the world. Must be a frustrating thing indeed.

Viserys pov

I lean over the railing looking down at you and Daemon as you play and he chases you, I can’t help but smile when you run away giggling, trying to out run him so he can’t catch you, or should I say run away from the scary monster so he doesn’t eat you. My brother is a violent man, but yet with you he’s only ever gentle, kind, and loving ever devoted to you and your happiness. Though there is a dark side to this devotion, my mind can’t help but go to what he said the other day, If you won’t do something about this Viserys, I will. And let it be known, you won’t like what happens.

I’m taken out of my thoughts when the Lord Hand walks over to me, he looks down at you two as well. I can see him frown when you squeal happily when my brother picks you up and pretends to eat your fingers. Your fits of giggles could be heard by all in Kingslanding, I am sure of it. 

“Does this not worry you, Your Grace?” Otto asks, gesturing to you and Daemon.

“What do you mean?” I ask confused as I look down at the scene before me. There is nothing of note happening, besides an uncle playing with his niece.

“I mean no offense when I say this Your Grace, but does the prince’s attachment to the young princess not worry you? Many at court whisper of it, it’s quite concerning as the girl is only the age of four” He says critically.

He does this often, speaks of yours and Daemon’s closeness. It has begun to get tiresome for I know of the whispers and gossip, as I’ve told Otto many times. But does he listen? No. There are days I wonder what my brother had done to anger the Lord Hand again to make him bring this subject up yet again.

“Otto, we have been over this, there is nothing to concern ourselves with. My brother is only being a good and kind uncle to my daughter.” I answer sternly, making it clear there is no room for discussion. 

“Of course Your Grace.” He says, but I know this will not be the last time he brings up this subject.

“Have you made sure the dragon keepers know to not let Rhaenyra see her dragon for the moon?” I ask, smiling as you laugh joyously as Daemon carries you on his shoulders. 

You grip his hair pulling it every which way as if he were a horse. I can’t help chuckling every time he grimaces when you pull the strands roughly, yet each time he smiles when he hears a new fit of laughter come forth from you. 

“Yes, they have had to turn her away four times now, she is not pleased.” He answers 

“The punishment is not to please her, surely you understand what a punishment is supposed to do?” I say with a scoff

“Of course, Your Grace, I just know how you hate your daughters being at odds with you.” he says. 

I nod and turn back watching you and Daemon. You cling to him as if he is your lifeline, and there are some days I catch him doing the same to you. There is nothing to worry about with your relationship, at least not for now there isn’t.

Sorry for the late update! I got a head cold which wiped me out for some reason, I hope you enjoyed!

@baybaybear1 @ilikefelines @sugutoad

Special thanks to @sugutoad for making the header!

[ophelieverse]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

The first sound you hear when your heart starts beating:the beat of another heart,much bigger and more powerful than yours.Warm,rhythmic,strong.You still haven't figured out who that beat belongs to or what that sound will mean to you in the future,but you hear it.

You cradle it inside.It's an instinct,even if one day you'll forget about it.

The first voice you hear,is the one of your mother.Warm,sweet,sometimes broken by cries,others by laughter.You still don't understand what “voice” or “mother” means,but you hear it.

It's around you,always.In the future you will continue to look for it,even if unconsciously.You cradle it in,it comforts you,it makes you feel safe.It's an instinct,even if one day you'll forget it.

Finally,the light.

The first face you see,the first really important one,is your mother's.Warm,red in the face,suffering.She doesn’t look much older than you.She is crying as much as you,but she smiles. You carry it inside that smile,even if you still don't know what it means and it will continue to mean in your life.

It cradles you.t's an instinct,but one day you'll forget it.

After that first meeting,your mother left you.She left.You haven’t seen her ever since.You are her child but she’s someday child too.She’s still a child just like you.You are growing up together.

You still don't know what her absence means to you.Cold,empty,painful.It kills you,almost.

It's an instinct,and you'll never forget it.

I had to write something after seeing Alicent ignoring Aegon while he was crying.

[kingsanddragonsandgods]

⁂Early life:

Princess Visenya Targaryen of Runestone was born on the last day of the year 90AC, at her mother's ancestral home.

The newborn child was named after the Conqueror Queen, Visenya, by her father and anointed by holy oils seven days after her birth at the Sept-by-the-Sea in Runesport.

Queen Alysanne, who held the child during the ceremony is noted for having remarking that ‘the girl has all of Viserra’s beauty, but Alyssa’s temper’ to which the King is said to have answered ‘Gods be good’.

As Princess Visenya grew, her parents continued to battle, using the young girl as a pawn in their conflict, with both parents appealing to the King and Queen to take their side on occasion.

During her early years she grew especially close to her natural born brother, Orys Stone, the illegitimate son of Prince Daemon by Lady Rowena Royce, Lady Rhea’s older third cousin. The young boy was brought into Lady Rhea’s household in the year 90AC, following the passing of his mother.

From the age of five, her parents’ estrangement was permanent, with Prince Daemon returning to the Crownlands and Lady Rhea and their daughter remaining at the Vale. After royal intervention it was agreed that the Princess time was to be split between living in Runestone with her mother, and between the Red Keep and Dragonstone with her father, alternating during the seasons, summer and winter was spent on the Vale, while spring and autumn in the Crownlands, special celebrations were shared.

Her education appears to have been strict and somewhat old-fashioned, thus, in addition to her studies, Grand Maester Runciter notes in his journals, she was taught spinning and weaving and had an innate talent for weaving intricate tapestry. From the year 92 forward, Visenya, who had been betrothed to her newborn cousin, Prince Aerion, was expected to become Queen Consort, and her education reflected it. Her betrothed passed away in his cradle two years later, and Visenya was then betrothed to his newborn brother, Prince Aelor.

Her tutors at the time, Maester Adelin, Archmaester Vaegon and Master Petrarca of Volantis, regarded Princess Visenya as an extroverted, lively, highly intelligent, and strong-willed girl. Prince Daemon was reported to be proud of her horsemanship and marksmanship.

Because of her outstanding intellect, and his blunt favoritism, King Jaehaerys named Princess Visenya as his cupbearer in the Year 96AC, at the age of six.

The young princess often was allowed to discuss the classics, philosophy, and the affairs of state with ambassadors and envoys visiting the court of Jaehaerys. Moreover, she was personally acquainted with the painters, musicians, writers, and scholars who lived in and around the royal court.

Princess Visenya if often considered one of, if not, the best educated women of her generation.

The year 96AC marked another milestone for Princess Visenya: on the eight moon of the year, the young princess bonded and became the first rider of a she-dragon she named Huraxes. The same dragon that as a hatchling had been brought to Princess Daenerys Targayen. Huraxes had pearly scales and iridescent wing membranes, with pale and pinkish flames. The princess was allowed to bond with the she-dragons by royal decree after falling ill with a bolt of Spring Fever that nearly took her life.

Matches for Princess Visenya started being discussed by the Small Council, brought up by the Lord Hand. Thought Visenya was heiress to the largest fortress in the Vale and to the Ladyship of Runestone, it was argued that as she was a Princess of the Realm, the matter of her marriage was a prerogative of the King, which infuriated Prince Daemon, who at the time occupied the seat of Master of Law, the Grand Master agreed that such line of thought might anger the Vale, as the Princess was highly regarded by her people and her second cousin, the Lady Jeyne Arryn. Lord Corlys suggested his own son as a match for the princess, four years her junior, most likely to tie another dragonrider to his house. His Grace put down all talks of marriage for his niece, agreeing that such was the right of his brother and good sister to choose her match.

For the celebration of his niece's fifteenth nameday, the king ordered seven days of celebrations, with a tournament and grand feasts. The Queen's absence was noticed, excused as Her Grace was in the early stages of her final pregnancy, and Visenya was allowed to sit in the seat usually reserved for the consort; she was crowned Queen of Love and Beauty by the Dornish Ser Eldric Dayne, the Star in the Morning.

Since the Princess's return to court early in the spring of 104 AC, Visenya had caught the king’s eye, and it is reported that Viserys and his niece have become very close, spending hours each day in each other's company, promenading in the gardens, hunting in the Kingswood, and dancing together during feasts and balls.

The king is said to have spoiled his niece with lavish gifts, including presenting her with a manse in King’s Landing, a country estate crossing the Blackwater Rush and later a sea palace in the Reach.

⁂Marriage and Queenship:

After the death of Queen Aemma Arryn in the Year 105 AC, Princess Visenya, aged 15, became the 2nd wife and Queen Consort of her uncle, King Viserys I Targaryen. Their betrothal was announced a month following the queen’s passing, and a private ceremony was held three months later in Dragonstone.

It was a scandal at the time, as not only the King’s new marriage was announced a moon after the late queen’s passing in childbed, but it had also been rumored for some time that Viserys and Visenya had been lovers.

More salacious tales propagated by the fool Mushroom during the Dance of the Dragons tells of the princess sitting on her uncle's lap during feasts, kissing him shamelessly, and nibbling his fingers sensually as he fed her like a beloved pet; of the king fondling her breasts in public, and announcing to his courtiers that he and his niece would retire to make love. These have no contemporary support, with Septon Eustace calling such tales absurd and slanderous.

Over the matter of his marriage to his niece Viserys claimed that the marriage was in the public interest and ordered a grand celebration for the occasion of his new queen's coronation, to happen after the end of mourning period for Prince Baelon. Visenya was the first Queen Consort crowned in a separate ceremony from the reigning King. During the occasion the apparent advanced state of the queen's pregnancy caused a new wave of rumors that Visenya had been the King's mistress while the queen was still alive and that their child was conceived out of wedlock.

In their more than two decades of marriage, Visenya and Viserys had fourteen children, all survived into adulthood, something that the maesters attribute to the queen’s management of the nursery. Visenya’s role as a mother was glorified throughout the realm, their young new queen’s obvious fertility was seen, by the smallfolk and nobles alike, as both a bless from the Mother and a sign from the gods. With the birth of her twin girls, Princess Viserra and Princess Rhaelys, coins were issued, portraying her as the Mother, an allegory that would repeat itself many times for the remaining of her husband’s and son’s reign. If in her maidenhood, as a young princess, Visenya posed as a model for sculptures of the Maiden, in motherhood and queenship, she was now the Mother.

Although it was not the norm of the age, and in fact, apart from the late Queen Alysanne, no other queen receive such a honor, King Viserys granted Visenya a seat on his Small Council, leaning on her for advice on varied subjects due to his respect for her opinion and good judgment. She became a formidable figure with far-reaching influence during this time. According to some sources, her influence was such that Queen Visenya effectively ran the government alongside the Hand of the King.

In the year 115AC, around the time of her stepdaughter’s wedding to Ser Leanor Velaryon and in the years that followed, the Queen Consort started to work and put her own trusted people in ever higher positions to strengthen herself and her sons through them.

Visenya acted as her first husband’s regent after his health decline, sat in her eldest son’s war table following Viserys’s death.

⁂Personality:

Some historians have contended that to some extent she deserved her negative reputation propagated by her stepdaughter following the death of King Viserys I, despite the inaccuracies of the claims that she was sexually disreputable or regarding the legitimacy of her children, other criticisms of her were valid: she was ambitious, proud, obstinate, and masked her cunning behind a sweet-toned voice and flawless manners.

Princess Rhaenyra described her as a woman of reckless extravagance and wantonness, who seduced a grieving man, and whom the King nonetheless loved passionately and faithfully. It is widely known that those part of the Black Court of the Princess of Dragonstone took to call the queen ‘the King’s Great Whore’ and ‘Lady Concubine’, however always away from both the queen and the king’s ears as well as her supporters, further spreading the rumors of an extramarital affair while the late Queen Aemma still lived and questioning the validity of the legitimacy of their children. Despite rumors spread on her sons legitimacy supported by the queen's supposed lasciviousness, all of Visenya’s children resembled those of her lineage.

In her youth, Visenya was celebrated as ‘the most beautiful creature in the world’ and that there was ‘nothing lacking in her that the most beautiful girl should have’. Ser Alyn of Hull would reflect later in her lifetime that regarding her appearance ‘there were few women who could compete with the Queen in her prime’.

Visenya was fiercely independent, a trait she shared with her mother. Mellos described her as having ambitions to match her pedigree. However, Archmaester Gyldayn notes that Visenya was fully aware that a woman in Westeros could not hold power in her own right. Instead, Visenya orchestrated the rise of her sons.

Capable of acts of extreme ruthlessness, she, in contrast, was also able to demonstrate uttermost kindness and charity.

⁂Issue:

At four and thirty of age by the time of their weeding, Viserys was already considered in his middle age. The union however proved itself to be a happy one, and together they had 14 children, nine sons and five daughters.

Visenya had been taught the importance of receiving an education and came to play an extensive role in her children' education, resulting in the creation of a "superior breed of princes."

Queen Visenya was know to call her children her 'precious jewels', and took great pride in all of them, she was particularly close to the princesses Alyssa and Elaena, however it is said, that from all her children, her favorite was Prince Aegon.

edited on 11/04/2024

[witheredoffherwitch]

It's always so funny to see this endless criticism of Alicent's character in Hotd.. as if they could do a better job at portraying the realistic constraints of a noblewoman in a feudal society. Sure, the writing could use some improvements but that is not what most of them are discussing, is it? It never gets old reading comments like "If I wrote Alicent, she would be the ultimate cunt and do..." followed by an elaborately misogynistic soap opera for an evil stepmother caricature.

This is evident in the way many of these folks write their fanfics, engage in discussions, and criticise her character. It seems that most of them are unable to comprehend a woman's perspective from a world that may be too foreign to theirs. In their minds, Alicent is the ultimate villain and must be held accountable for all the wrongdoings during the Dance. How convenient to twist Alicent "reluctance to murder is not a weakness" Hightower into someone who is set on murdering OCs in their precious AUs. Or perhaps they prefer to publicly shame her with pathetic insults or place the entire blame for House Targaryen's incompetence squarely on her shoulders.

[drakaripykiros130ac]

Not TG stans acting like Aegon the Usurper was a “merciful king” who let Rhaenyra’s son live.

What is this fanfiction these people have in their heads? I’ve been hearing and reading this bullshit too many times.

The book made it perfectly clear that Alicent and her son wanted Aegon the Younger executed or made to be a eunuch in order to end Rhaenyra’s line. It was Corlys and the rest of the Council who stopped them.

[alishaaxo]

POSTED A NEW CHAPTER OF THE VENGEFUL KING- my aegon ii timetravel fic!!

from helaena’s POV this chapter!!

[awkwardgamer1999]

Honesty time 😳 the bar is in hell for season 2 I knew not to have any expectations but I just I’m not fucking with it and it’s only eight episodes. I was hoping rhaenicent would die but unfortunately you weirdos are getting fed 🥴 and I hope this “love” that Alicent apparently has for rhaenyra I hope it’s one sided after everything that’s happened to still believe there is love or friendship between them is a fucking joke. Speaking from rhaenyras pov “you have one son sitting on my throne and your other son just murdered my child but sure let’s be besties” bffr you guys. And to have rhaenyra question daemons loyalty. DAEMON out of all people. When one of his redeeming qualities is the love and support he has for his family. I need some new writers in that room asap. They have made it pretty clear they want to villainize daemon in anyway they can I knew there was going to be angst between him and rhaenyra but to ask the person that literally crowned you is crazy. It’s basically been confirmed this show is a whole new story and it’s really weird to me that GRRM is allowing for all these changes and letting these characters be butchered I thought him stepping in for the writing in season 2 he would go back to the actual story that HE wrote but oh well. That promo with Olivia Cooke and Emma D’arcy makes you forget this is a war between rhaenyra and Aegon which is really annoying. You can’t expect people to understand this is a tragic story about the fall of a house due to misogyny when you have two women fighting against each other but hey that’s just my opinion. I feel Emma will act their ass off and just make me completely emotionally unstable. Can we talk about how much of a pretty boi Jace looks I see why people keep calling him !book Jon snow

[cambion-companion]

I mean…if you’re willing I would die to see your take on an angst (with fluffy ending) childhood friends to lovers fic. Lots of mutual pining, misunderstandings, Aemond being passionate and needy.

I just need to have a story of Aemond being devoted to his girl through most of their lives and losing her drives him mad until he cracks and it’s just a passionate outpouring of love. Do you get what I’m saying?

Thanks in advance lol

Part 2 of our Little Women fic! "Not when I've spent my entire life loving you!"

Aemond x reader | angst | fluff | childhood friends to lovers | slow burn to happy ending

Aemond did not attend the dinner that evening.

You picked dismally at your food, ignoring the furtive glances Tomas was sending you across the table.

“It’s the prince, isn’t it.”  Tomas did not speak accusingly, there was no condemnation in his voice, yet you still felt guilt heavy in your chest.

“We’ve been friends since we were children.”  You sighed, pushing the bowl of cold soup away. “He was-is in love with my sister…it’s complicated.”  You set your elbow on the oak table, rubbing your aching temple.

“It seems so.”  Tomas rose, looking briefly down at your distressed posture, a frown tugging his lips down.  “If you ever wish to open up and let me know that part of you, I’ll be here.”

“Tomas, no.  I-” You looked wearily around only to see the back of him retreating from the firelit dining room.  With a groan you sank your head into your hands, pressing your palms to your tired eyes.

Not when I’ve spent my entire life loving you.

You had said those words to his face, admitting aloud what you’d felt for Aemond since the day you met him so long ago.  Breathing new life into a hidden dream you’d abandoned, knowing how he always loved your sister the way you’d wished he would love you.

You remembered when he and you had been alone together, many years ago, when you two were still children, innocent to the machinations of the world…

You were headed back to your hometown on the morrow; a deadly disease was spreading around the city and neighboring towns.  Your parents had sent for you to return home immediately, until the spreading sickness had passed.  Thus, you and Aemond found yourselves cherishing the last of each other’s company for the time being.

The two of you sat together beneath the sweeping branches of a willow, smiling and laughing as you exchanged your usual witty banter.  You fell silent a moment, looking over at the prince with earnest eyes. “I’m afraid to go back home, the people there frighten me.”

Aemond had nodded in understanding, his lilac eyes twinkling in the dappled sunlight. “If they are unkind to you, I’ll come and take you away.”

“Where would we go?”

“Essos?”

The two of you had shared a laugh at the fantastical notion of escaping King’s Landing together.  Your fingers tugged at the long grass upon which you sat. “If I get sick and die, give my sister the green box with doves on it…and you must have my turquoise ring.”

“I’ll see to that.”  Aemond’s face had grown serious as he nodded, he almost looked sorrowful as he watched you.

“I don’t want to die.”  You leaned over, resting your head on his shoulder. “I’ve never even been kissed. I’ve waited my whole life to be kissed, and what if I miss it?”

“Tell you what.”  Aemond said, catching your eye as you rose to look at his face. “I promise to kiss you before you die.”

You smiled gratefully at him, the two of you quickly erupting into a fit of giggles…

You chuckled to yourself, caught in the bright memory of that sunny day, and the promise Aemond had made you in the innocence of childhood.

Reality settled back in, the smile dropping from your face to be replaced by a sad frown.  You sighed, finally rising from your seat and smoothing your skirts before heading upstairs to retire for the evening.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The next day you prepared to practice your craft.  Already you had a nude painting session scheduled in the drawing room of the little house you occupied during the apprenticeship.  You expected your model would be already situated upon the sofa you had carefully arranged before the fireplace; you hurried to braid and pin up your hair before hurrying downstairs.

“Sorry I’m a bit late!”  You bustled into the room you had artfully arranged for the session, your arms laden with supplies.  “I expect you found everything alri-” You gasped loudly, the brushes and papers spilling from your grasp to the carpeted floor.  “You!”

“Me.”  Aemond quirked an eyebrow at you from where he sprawled across the couch, his long hair undone about his face and shoulders.

“I…I did not-! How did you-?  Where?”  You spluttered, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks as you tried valiantly to keep your gaze averted from his very naked body.

“You won’t be struck dead if you look at me, Y/N.”  Aemond drawled, carding his fingers through his hair. “I’ve made use of this tactful silk scarf you left here.”

“Thank the gods for that.”  You breathed, looking through your fingers at Aemond and seeing he had indeed fashioned a loincloth out of the shimmering violet fabric.

“I’m not a degenerate.”  Aemond sniffed, frowning at you.  You noticed he wore no eyepatch, the familiar sapphire gemstone sparkling in the socket of his left eye.

“So you say…”  You remarked, crouching to gather the paint supplies you’d dropped. “Yet somehow I don’t believe you were the one I’m supposed to paint today.”

“Astute as ever, Y/N.”  Aemond shifted lazily, propping himself on an elbow. “No, I caught wind of a weedy looking gentleman elaborating on how he was to be your…nude model and, well, I decided to relieve him of his duties.”

“You didn’t kill him, did you?”  It was a question spoken half in jest, but Aemond still laughed heartily at the seriousness in your voice.

“He’s been taken care of.”  He rolled his eye at your aghast expression. “Of course I didn’t kill him, Y/N.  Now are you going to paint me, or will I grow old and die here upon this sofa?”

“I have half a mind to tip this paint all over your head.”  You seethed, your mood not improving as the prince laughed again.

You busied yourself preparing the canvas, diligently focusing on your task and not looking at him.  Still, you felt his gaze burning into you as you worked.  Finally ready, you met his eye, your heart lurching at the intent expression on his angular face.  “Just hold still.”  You instructed, trying to pretend at an air of professionalism.

“I won’t move a muscle.”  Aemond reclined his arm across the back of the seat.

“You just did.”

You shook your head as you began painting him.  Your practiced eyes studying each feature you translated onto the canvas.  This was certainly not helping your current state of mind and by the sly smirk on Aemond’s face, he knew exactly what he was doing.  You subconsciously bit your bottom lip as you began detailing the features of his body.  His sculpted abdominal muscles, the way they shifted beneath his pale skin giving you pause for a few moments too long.  The length of his legs, his defined collarbones, the planes of his chest.

You yearned to touch him, to reach out and trace the contours of his muscles, the angles of his jaw and cheeks.

“I need a moment.”  You hid your face behind the canvas.  Closing your eyes and breathing deeply, trying to regain your slipping composure.

“Take your time.”  Came Aemond’s soft reply.

“I’m almost done.”  You forced a nonchalant smile onto your face, resuming to paint the finishing touches.

Many long minutes trickled by in heavy silence, Aemond’s eye never leaving your face.  

“There.”  You sat back, sweat beading on your brow, the room had become stifling as the sun rose high in the sky.  “All done.”  Paint covered your hands and inched up the skin of your arms.  Strands of hair fell across your face as you gave Aemond a rather forced smile. “I will leave you to get dressed.”

You didn’t wait for his reply, making a hasty exit to the cooler air of the hallway.  The door swung shut behind you and you braced yourself against the wall, feeling like you’d just ran several miles nonstop.

You collected yourself in time for the door to open once more, a fully clothed Aemond stepping to join you in the hall.  “Care to show me your work?”

You grabbed the canvas carefully from where you’d propped it against the wall, reentering the drawing room to place it back on the pedestal.  Aemond hovered over your shoulder, you heard his breath catch in his throat.

“Is it that bad?”  You looked over your shoulder at him.

His eye was wide, mouth slightly ajar but he was quick to neutralize his expression. “I…it is beautiful.”

You continued watching him look at your depiction of himself.  Aemond’s gaze flicked down to meet yours. “I’m not accustomed to seeing myself as…like this.”  He gestured to the canvas. “You’ve been generous by making my flaws less obvious.”

“Flaws?”  You brow furrowed in genuine confusion. “You don’t have flaws Aemond.”

“Oh, but I do.”

“Not to me.”

He didn’t have a retort to that.  His mouth pressed together in a thin line.

“Why did you come here, Aemond?”  You asked softly.

Still he did not speak, his attention still on the painting you had made of him.

“Aemond.”  You touched his arm lightly.

“It was a moment of reckless hope.”  He murmured.  “I thought…but it doesn’t matter.”

“You know, you could’ve come to dinner last night instead of showing up naked in my drawing room.”  You chortled, your nose scrunching as Aemond tousled your already mussed hair.

“And ruin all the fun?  I think not.”  He laughed with you, his demeanor finally relaxing.

“Will you join us tonight?”  You asked brightly, your smile faded at his morose expression.

“I leave this evening, back to King’s Landing.”

“Oh.”

You felt small, the feeling in your chest twisting painfully as Aemond watched you.

“Well then.”  You said softly.

“This is goodbye.”  He confirmed your fears.

Aemond hesitated a moment before grabbing your hand to place a kiss to your knuckles.  “Be well, my friend.”  He made for the door, only turning back halfway once he reached it. “My best to your betrothed and may you have a…satisfactory union.”

That seemed to be the limit for his well-wishes, spoken through gritted teeth as they were.  You stood looking at him retreat down the hallway, remaining motionless as you heard the front door slam shut.  You stood frozen in the humid sitting room for many minutes after he left, only come back to your senses when you heard Tomas arrive, calling out your name from the entryway.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Rain pelted against your face as you hurried toward the docks, your clothing saturated and heavy with water.  You had made you decision and gods be damned if you let your future slip once more out of reach.

You wiped the rain from your eyes, scanning the area for that familiar figure, the grey skies and the fact everyone wore hooded cloaks making discernment difficult.  

There.

Only one man you knew wore an eyepatch over his left eye and, more importantly, walked with that much of a swagger.  

“Aemond!”  You called, jogging to catch his elbow before he could board the ship.  “Aemond.”  You said his name again as he looked down at your face in confusion and wonder.  

He took you into his arms as you hugged him tightly, your tears mixing with the rain that streaked down your cheeks.  He held you for as long as you needed to regain composure.  You pulled away at last to look up at him.  

“I’m not marrying Tomas.”  You said, your throat still constricted.

“I heard about that.”  Aemond’s voice was soft, understanding.

“And you are under no obligation to do anything or say anything.”  You shook your head, looking at the puddled ground. “I just didn’t love him as I should.”

You breathed out sharply through your mouth.  “So we don’t need to talk about it.  We don’t need to say anything.”  

You next words were cut off as Aemond’s hand cupped your face, guiding you to him as he kissed you tenderly.  The feeling of his plush lips moving against your own sent butterflies fluttering in your chest.

He broke the kiss, measuring your expression with a hooded eye. “I promised I would kiss you before you die, did I not?”

You gasped a half-laugh, half-sob, pulling him into you, your hands at his waist, kissing him again with all the fervor and devotion you could muster.  Aemond held you close, his chest flush with yours, the rain still pattering against your entwined bodies as he kissed you again and again.  As many times and for as long as you would let him.

[its-actually-minicika]

Love how Ser Criston Cole searched for duty and sacrifice beneath Alicent's petticoat of moral righteousness.

Hoping for even more amazing plot points from HOTD season 2!