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myladysapphire · 5 months ago

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Hello!!! So I was thinking if you could do this +18 dic for Jace

So like reader is from a kingdom or land outside from Westeros (royalty not Dothraki) and to make alliances it’s decided that readers sister is gonna be betrothed to someone in the Targaryen family BUT reader is against making alliances with Westeros because of their culture and how women are inferior and after the feast jace shows her why Westeros and her land should make alliances if yk what I mean👀

It would be awesome if you could make this!!

Thanks bye bye!!

oooh love this idea! Hope you enjoy it <3

why don’t i show you?

when you come to westeros to arrange your sisters marriage in an alliance with westeros you find there customs to be anything but acceptable and start to question the need for an alliance, it takes jace to show you why an alliance is needed.

word count: 2,134

CW: MDI 18+, smut, hate s*x, oral (m receiving), fingering, p in v, semi-public s*x, misogyny.

Jacaerys Veleryon x fem!reader

Masterlist

Once queen Rhaenyra Targaryen took the iron throne she looked to Essos for alliances, particularly the free city of Bravvos. Your family was one of the most powerful of the sea lords, with deep connections and influence in the iron bank, and with Westeros in deep need of money following the war, it made your older sister the perfect candidate for said alliance.

She content with the match, the idea of one day being queen seeming to be very appealing, even if it was of Westros.

You however were anything but happy about it. You knew all about Westros, especially there views on woman, the purity culture, the fact that a husband by law could strike his wife seven times, one for each of their gods.

You had argued against the match, seeing little benefits for your family or Bravvos in the union, but your parents were insistent on it, deeming there to be more rewards than I could understand.

They had sent you alongside your sister to Westros despite this.

And though the climate was so different from what you and your sister were used too, Westros was beautiful. The red keep, though nothing compared to the architecture of Bravvos, was a sight to behold.

If only you could say the same about the company with in it.

The prince Jacaerys had not once left you alone, seeing to prefer you over your sister. Not that you could see why, not once had you expressed joy over the union, and in fact had very publicly declared your distaste of it. But Jacaerys seemed persistent to irritate you with his constant presence.

He had practically ignored your sister, not that she cared much, in fact she spent most her time with the princess Heleana, finding more in common with her than the few conversations Jacaerys had spaired her. She also had taken a full backseat in the betrothal, not caring to attend the meetings to discuss said marriage and the alliance it would hold, leaving it all too you. Meaning more time spent with Jacaerys, in a room full of men, despite their being a queen.

You scoffed as one of the lords mentioned a marriage between you and another lord of Westros, your were sure he was talking about himself, as he started to ramble on about the rock he called a castle, not that you were really listening, to focused on how Jacaerys had yet to take his eyes off you.

“I do not think a marriage between both sisters is beneficial for Bravvos” you interrupted, “in fact this marriage alliance is hardly giving us anything beneficial in the first place” you sneered.

“How so, my lady?” Jacaerys asked, as an amused look filled his face. “Though you are giving us a loan, that I shall admit will benefit us greatly, we are giving your family a daughter who shall one day be queen, and her sons shall be kings.” You had noticed how he never once referred to your sister when he talked about said marriage alliance, always using a general term, being unspecific in who exactly he was talking about. “Not only that but we have offered our dragon riders to support Bravvos in any militarily matters until the foreseeable future”

You shook your head, “so a queen and dragons is what we get, whilst you get one of the largest loans we have offered, with minimal interest. We are saving you and your kingdom from bankruptcy, and yet my sister shall be queen of a kingdom that can’t even respect her!” She shook her head in anger, “the sea lords however seem insistent upon it, so I believe discussions on the matter are at an end, the marriage will take place in a week and I see no reason for me to continue to attend these meeting” you said as you stood to stand, Jacaerys joined you.

“I’ll walk with you”

“I can walk by myself” you whispered to yourself, and heard Jacaerys laugh as he walked with you.

“Why are you so against the marriage?” He asked, as he walked with you to your chambers.

“Because I do not desire for my sister to be thrusted into a country where the customs are so… so anti-woman” you spoke, trying to remain calm.

He hummed “my mother is queen and she is a woman, that does not seem anti-woman to me”

“Was there not a war against her being queen?”

He laughed “there was, but we won, and all is now well”

“Really?” It was your turn to laugh “then explain to me why the order of westros is so heavily favoured towards men?”

“It takes a while to change peoples thinking, my mother has been queen for only a few years, and whilst things are changing, I shall admit it Is happening slowly”

You scoffed, as you reached the threshold of your chambers, “I shall see you at dinner” you dismissed done with the conversation. It was the same one you always seemed to have.

That night at dinner, your sister once again did not sit with her betrothed, favouring sitting with Heleana once more, granting Jacaerys the opportunity to once again sit next to you. An event that seemed to happen every night.

You tried to ignore him, but he seemed insistent upon talking to you, “how is it you like your tea my lady?” Your not quite sure how you got onto the topic of tea, perhaps it was because he noticed tea was your go to drink.

“Oh um, well I mostly take it with honey, but depending on my mood I have been know to mix lavender or peppermint into it.” You said casually, “do you like tea?” You found yourself asking.

“I normally have it in the morning, but I tend not to add anything to it other than sugar” he said, happy to have an actual conversation with you, “what about wine?”

“Wine? I drink it on occasion, such as tonight.” You said as you as flagged down a servant to pour you some, you rarely drank, especially here, with there watered down wine.

“Interesting, I too rarely drink” he said, nodding his head “and what about-“

“If your going to ask me another question about what drink I like I will slam your head against the table” you snickered, as he laughed at your tone.

“I apologise” he continued to laugh “perhaps you could tell me about your interest’s mayhaps?”

You shook your head “and why should I do that?”

“Because I wish to know you, other than how you take your tea and that you are incredibly headstrong-”

You scoffed “headstrong? I simple wish for woman to at least be treated the same way men are, and yet the whole of westros is so against it that I am the one causing an issue!” You whispered angrily to him, trying not to start a scene.

“And you are wrong, woman may not be treated the same as in Bravvos but we are making attempts to change it, trust me I am as against it as you are!” He whispered back.

You scoffed “oh please.” You said as stood to stand, declaring you wished to retire early.

Your practically stormed out of the room, nearly running down the hallway. You stopped in an alcove to catch your breath, and recover and wonder why so little words had made you so angry.

Then you heard footsteps, his footsteps.

“My lady, I am sorry to offend you.” He started “I know there are a great many differences between our to lands and I am sorry, I am striving to do everything I can to change this, but our lands need this alliance”

“And why is that?”

“Because I-“ stopped himself before looking at you, and suddenly, he kissed you, it was soft and passionate, full of the emotions you had long craved to believe where hate, but as you kissed him back, though some hate was there, it clicked, you liked him, and were jealous of your sister. You pushed away from him, your hands on his shoulders, your back pushed against the wall, breath heavy.

“I need you” he finally finished, his head leaning against yours.

“Your betrothed to my sister” you argued.

“The alliance does not state her name, I could marry either of you” he said, his mouth coming down to yours again “and your sister seems more occupied with others than me, I doubt she’ll mind”

It was true, and so you kissed him back, not caring to think much about what he was implying.

His hands descended to your waist pulling you closer to him.

Your kisses grew more heated, your bodies slowly grinding against eachother the as you kissed. His mouth descended to your neck, leaving soft marks as he descended lower, before finally coming down to were your bodice starts, his hands had moved up your back, toying with the strings of your corset.

“Please.” You begged.

His hands started to undo the ties of your corset, your bodice slowly loosened, allowing him to pull it down and take your breast into his mouth.

He licked and sucked at your breasts as you let out low moans, careful as to not alert passers by of your presence.

His hand moved lower, coming up under your dress, caressing your wet cunt. You shuddered as his finger descended to your hole, your mouth moving to his once again as you urged him on.

Pumping his fingers in and out of you, you continued to kiss him to cover up your moans, as you felt your cunt start to tighten around his fingers, your peak edging closer and closer, but just as you where about to cum, he withdrew his fingers causing a moan of protest to leave you.

He laughed, “if I am going to truly show you why we need this alliance, then the only way your going to be cumming, is around my cock.”

You moaned as he said that, kissing him once again as your hands went to untie his breeches.

Freeing his cock, you slowly started to stop kissing him, before sending him a smirk and going down on to your knees, and taking him into your mouth.

He moaned as you did, his hands coming to hold your head, as you started to pump in his cock in and out of your mouth, his hips shattering as you tongue wrapped around his tip.

“Gods!” He moaned, a little too loudly, as he started to thrust his cock in and out of your mouth, before swiftly withdrawing himself from, you stood up, laughing softly at the flushed look on his face.

He kissed your mouth softly, before picking you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, your dress bunching around your own, and his cock swiftly entered you.

You both moaned, as your walls wrapped around his length tightly. He moved after a moment, starting to pump his hips slowly into you.

“Faster.” You demanded, and he happily complied.

Pounding into you, you both moaning as his pace picked up.

He kissed your neck softly, hiding his moans in your shoulder, as you bit your hand trying to cover up your own.

You peak getting closer and closer.

You could feel his coming too, your cunt wrapping around his throbbing cock, as you both let out a moan.

“Where?” He asked, his peak getting closer and closer.

“Inside” you groaned, egar to cum.

As he continued to pump into you, he felt your walls tighten even more, and a high pitched moan leave your mouth as you finally came, and he was quick to follow.

“Jacaerys” you said, as he pulled out of you, his head resting on your shoulder.

“Jace. Please call me Jace”

“Jace” you corrected “what-“ you were cut off at the sight of Queen Rhaenyra and her husband Daemon, appearing in the entryway of the alcove.

Daemon laughed as he saw the two of you, what you had done seemingly obvious.

Rhaenyra shook her head, going to speak, before being cut off by your sister appearing.

She laughed herself, mainly at the shocked look on both your and Jace’s face. “Well, good thing I didn’t want to marry him anyway” she said, unconcerned with what she walked in on.

A week later you married Jace instead of your sister. And Rhaenyra had made you her key advisor on the matters you so strongly spoke about, as was agreed upon in the new terms of your alliance.

And though you hated most customs in westros you found instead of hating the company as you once did, you now rather enjoyed it, even falling in love with one of them in particular.

Taglist

@aleemendoza2425-blog @apollonshootafar @zillahvathek @flrboyd @theanxietyqueen17 @leavesmealobe @dark-night-sky-99 @winter-soldier-101 @bunbunblogsblog @ka1afbr @tesha-i-guess @aemondwhoresworld

to be added to taglist

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litchifaerie · 5 months ago

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hii! i hope you’re doing well!!

can i get a jace fic where she’s his younger sister and she’s just really dependent on him, and like follows his around and tried to stay w him while he’s really protective of her especially from the greens

pairings: protective!jace x valeryon(strong)!reader

warnings: not quite angst unless the last line. but the tension is there, fluff i suppose, romantic tension, canon typical incest. if anything else let me know, MAJOR SPOILER FOR FIRE & BLOOD/FUTURE HOTD

word count: 1.8k <3

masterlist

a/n: I am sorry i have been tardy with my promise but here is your much awaited request!!

You liked it here. Laying in bed, reading a book of poems while your mother combed through your hair. Rhaenyra always had a soft spot for her only daughter, caving in and allowing every reasonable whim you had. “Mother” you speak slowly, putting the book down and holding it close to your chest. Rhaenyra stops her gentle movement, looking down at you with fondness, “yes my child”?

“Can we stay here in king’s landing for longer?” you ask, “I do not wish to leave grandsire’s side yet. The maesters do not bring news of improvement any longer and I fear….” You trail off not wanting to word it out loud. Rhaenyra knew of the gravity of her father’s health but she feared the wedge between her children and her half siblings will only give rise to new fights and arguments every day.

“You know we can’t my dove”, she pets your head affectionately, “who will look after Dragonstone with us gone?”

“Please”, you request sitting up and turning your back to face her, “I do not want to risk not being here when he passes away and miss my chance at a last good bye.” Even Rhaenyra couldn’t argue with your words. Your request comes from a place of adoration for your grandfather, he was quite fond of his elder granddaughter, but Rhaenyra also contemplated what can go wrong if she isn’t here for her father’s death. No matter the legitimacy of her being named heir to the throne, she is well aware of the whispers at court, the scheming of the hand and the queen. Aegon Targaryen cannot be king if she is here to take control of the situation.

“It’s settled then” Rhaenyra agrees after a beat of silence. “We shall stay here for as long as you desire.” A smile of gratitude makes its way on your face at your mother’s words and you are quick to embrace her “Thank you mother”. Rhaenyra chuckles, rubbing soothing circles on your back “Now rest my dove, it has been a hectic day.” She leans in to kiss your forehead “sweet dreams”.

You make your way beneath the sheets, head resting comfortably on the pillow “Farewell mother”. With one last look at you Rhaenyra steps out of the room. The door closes softly behind her, letting the dim glow from the candles lull you into sleep.

Morning arrives gently, with sunshine streaming through the windows casting a soft glow in your room. The ladies assigned for your care had let themselves in, rousing you from your sleep and ushering you to the bath to get ready for the day.

The baths at King’s Landing were more majestic than back home. You take your time soaking in the warm water with jasmine oil and rose petals, sighing in pleasure. It didn’t take long for you to get dressed with the help of the ladies and having your breakfast alone, opting for some calm in the morning knowing your brothers and uncles will inevitably destroy any sense of peace in the coming hours.

“I’d like to take a stroll through the keep, alone. Much has changed since I’ve been away.” The guard assigned for your duty only nods at your command as you make your way out of the room. The seven-pointed star glares at your face at every turn you make, a stark contrast to the regal décor the keep had in your childhood.

“Sister! Wait!” comes a voice from your right. You stop turning around only to be faced with a panting Jacaerys. “Brother” you greet with a slight smile “You are up early today” you tease. “I was looking for you” says Jacaerys, ignoring your teasing. “I was wondering if you were alright after last night’s events”.

You slightly wince at the memory of Jace throwing a punch at Aemond and Aegon and Luce starting a brawl of their own. Your cousin Baela even tried jumping only for you to grab her by the waist as you yelled for them to stop.

“I’m alright” you dismiss his worries. “It was just a graze”. Aemond’s elbow had hit you in the cheek causing you to yelp in pain. Aemond’s actions did stop midway not expecting you to be so near and get hurt but it only spurred Jace even more as he landed even stronger punches than before at his uncle’s jaw.

Jace gently reaches a hand up to caress your face. “Its good it didn’t bruise” he thumbs at your cheek, “I’d not let it go if that brute ruined your pretty face”. And there it was again. Jace always had a penchant for using certain choice of words which reddened your face.

“Jace” you warn, “Do not fall prey to our uncle’s provoking. You know both of them only say words to rile us up.” Jace let’s go off your face sighing “I can’t help it if they accuse us of…” Accuse us of what? The Truth?

The somber tone in his voice lets you know of his mood dropping. It was only the start of the day and you will be damned if you let your older brother sulk so early. “I’d like to accompany you to your training if that’s alright with you?” Nothing makes him happier than being able to show off his skills to his younger sister and you are well aware of that. Jace is quick to look at you with shining eyes and agrees to your request.

You follow after him as he excitedly tells you of a new method he learnt from Daemon, smiling at his words and nodding when you think its appropriate to let him know you are attentive. Jace liked having your sole attention on him. It was just you and him in the beginning. His mother told him that the first time he saw you when he was a boy of two, you had looked at him as if he hung the moon and the stars in the night sky. Your crying would only stop if your older brother was there to shush you with his toys. You were the happiest baby when in his presence, trailing behind him like a little duckling, a trait which you still carry. Nothing soothes your nerves like being near Jace.

You watch as Jace spars with a squire. A sheen of sweat on his forehead making him look godly in the late morning sun. “I do not think its fit for a lady to be here niece” comes a chilling voice from right behind you, closer than you’d like that voice to be. “Uncle” you greet, your eyes not wavering from Jace at all, “I think I can go wherever I’d like. The Red Keep is my home as well after all.” Aemond smirks at your reply. Out of all the strong bastards you were his favourite to toy with. The boys were quick to throw punches but the ability to sometimes make you unable to come with a witty response brought him immense satisfaction.

“Hmm” he hums, coming to stand by your side, a little too close for comfort, “I hope my elbow didn’t cause you any harm princess. It would be unfortunate to see your brown eyes blacken from my unintentional hit.” Brown eyes. He emphasized it. He is trying to make you take the bait again. And his backhanded words of comfort and presence did unnerve you more than you’d like to admit.

“If you wish to see how real men train perhaps you should watch me instead of your no good of a brother. He moves like a boy who was gifted a sword a day ago” Aemond whispers in your ear. His breath hitting your skin makes your skin crawl and you shiver in disgust, moving back and putting a distance between yourself. “No thank you” you decline politely. “I prefer my brother over all”. Aemond only gives a sly grin at that, “Even in your bed?” he mocks.

What was stopping you from slapping this bastard from even suggesting such nonsense. You grit your teeth in frustration, almost hitting him yourself when a protective arm wraps around your waist bringing you back into a sturdy chest. “Who my sister brings into her bed is none of your concern dearest uncle” Jace says cooly. “And I suggest you refrain from using certain phrases that will bring the honor of my sister into question” he raises his brows at Aemond challenging him. “I’d hate to dislocate your jaw over some misunderstanding, we are family after all.”

One thing Aemond had learned from the beginning was Jace will never lose a chance to be your protective guard dog. He could hit two birds with one stone by simply choosing to pick on you instead. Why rile up one Strong bastard when you can rile up two? “I’d like to see you try” Aemond grins leaning in to challenge your brother.

“Jace” you whisper, “Don’t.” Aemond chuckles at your warning. “Aww will poor Prince Jace listen to his sister like an obedient mutt?” Jace clenches his jaw at his statement. “He isn’t worth it Jace” you interlock your fingers with Jacaerys’s trying to tug him away. Once you are able to move him from his spot, you lead Jace away and turn to Aemond to give him a disgusting sneer “You’re pathetic.”

Aemond's grin widens, his eye gleaming with amusement as he watches you walk away, Jace's hand still in yours. "Run along, little dove," he calls out mockingly, but you don't look back.

As you and Jace walk through the courtyard, the tension slowly eases from his shoulders. "You shouldn't let him get to you," you whisper, glancing up at him with a reassuring smile. "He only seeks to provoke."

Jace nods, but his grip on your waist tightens protectively. "I won't let him hurt you," he promises, his voice low and determined. "Not ever." You squeeze his hand, drawing strength from his presence. "I know, Jace. I know." You kiss his cheek gently hoping to calm him “No one can hurt me with you breathing down my neck” you giggle trying to lighten the mood.

He rests his chin on top of your head. “I won’t let any harm come to you ever. No one can hurt you.” His arms squeeze around your waist.

You always felt restless without Jace, and nothing brought you more comfort than being in his arms. You never have to worry about being safe with your brother around.

But years later when you crumble at the sight of the body of Jacaerys Velaryon with an arrow through his neck, no one is prepared for the wail of anguish that leaves your throat at not having your Jacaerys beside you anymore.

#jia.writes ♡#house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon smut #jace velaryon x you #jacaerys #jace targaryen #jace velaryon #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon x you

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floatyflowers · 6 months ago

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Dark! House Of The Dragon x Game of Thrones! Reader|Part 3

<<< Part 2

Jacaerys is in love with the idea of being a father.

In fact he took Aemma riding on the back of Vermax right after she was born just like his great grandmother Alyssa did with Viserys, just for excitement.

Rhaenyra, loves Aemma and teared up when you named the baby after her mother, she even thought about wedding Aegon III to her when they reached adulthood.

After arriving to King's Landing, the first thing you see is Aemond training while you stand beside Jace and Luke watching him, as you hold your sleeping daughter in your arms.

Jacearys felt jealous on how Aemond took away your attention.

Despite, the real reason why you are impressed by Aemond's skills, is because it reminded you of your uncle/father Jaime, you always loved to watch him train.

While training Aemond notices you and stops, eyeing you and the baby intensely which made you uncomfortable.

All Aemond could feel was anger and jealousy, because you were supposed to be his.

When Vaemond arrives, you prepare yourself and your daughter, you show up dressed in the colors of House Velaryon.

"Vaemond has forgotten that Lady Rhaenys descends from the house Baratheon on her mother's side, Also my daughter, princess Aemma..."

You stand in the middle of the throne room, holding your daughter up proudly for everyone to see her white hair and purple eyes.

Even if you and Jace are the children of Harwin Strong, but your daughter inherited Rhaenyra's appearance, your mother's genes skipped a generation.

Vaemond, decided to insult you and call you and your mother 'whores' as you return back to your husband and mother's side.

Of course, in a spin of seconds, Daemon sliced the Velaryon's man head in half, as Jacaerys blocked yours and Aemma's view.

However, Jace was smirking, happy at what his stepfather did.

Later that day at the feast, Jace and Luke made a promise to you that they would behave and ignore whatever Aemond and Aegon say.

When Jace asked to dance with you at the feast, you objected, insisting on him dancing with Helaena instead.

Aegon and Aemond thought that your marriage wasn't the best with your twin due to how you turned Jace down.

Things escalated when the pig gets placed on the table and Luke whispers a joke in your ear at the exact moment, making you laugh.

Even though the joke wasn't about Aemond, but Luke knew exactly what he was doing as he smirked at his uncle...taunting him.

"Final tribute, to the health of my nephews, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey, each of them handsome, wise...and Strong"

Before Jace and Luke could even think about getting angry, you raise a glass with a huge smile on your face.

"Indeed, Uncle, we are strong afterall, my brothers and I descend from the two purest Valyrian houses, Targaryen and Velaryon, my mother is also the heir to the seven kingdoms"

Your grandfather Tywin taught you how to act wisely in such situations.

Aemond wished to speak more, but one look from Daemon was enough to let him know that you are a red line.

However, Aemond only gave you one last stare, as if to make a promise.

A promise where he will have you as a wife.

Part 4>>>

#yandere aemond targaryen #tw: toxic relationships #reader insert #yandere house of the dragon #daughter reader #possessive #aegon ii targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #platonic yandere

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nebulaafterdark · 4 months ago

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The Succession (Part 3)

Summary: After the battle of Rook’s Rest, Queen Y/N is forced to rule alongside Prince Regent Aemond, in an attempt to keep her children safe and eventually seat her mother, Rhaenyra, on the throne. While attending her husband, on what appears to be his deathbed, she begins to unravel the dark truth of his near passing.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

Alicent’s idea of a procession to gain support for their wounded King, has quite the opposite effect. The smallfolk swam them, knocking the attending members of the royal family from their carriage and down onto the streets with them.

The Dowager Queen clings to Helaena and her daughter by law. With gold cloaks of the city watch forcing the crowd away from them. Making a path back toward the Keep.

Chérie watches in horror as it unfolds, amongst the sea of people, she spots a familiar face. One of Rhaenyra’s ladies-in-waiting. “Elinda?”

“Chérie?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to deliver a message to Princess Y/N, from Queen Rhaenyra.”

“May the gods be with you,” Chérie remarks.

“Where is she?” Elinda asks.

Chérie points toward the center of the mob. Alicent, Helaena and Y/N covered by guards attempting to protect them. “There.”

“Give us the Queen!”

“We want the Queen.”

“Back, all of you!” The guards demand, preparing to draw their swords.

Y/N tries to step forward, give the people what they want.

“Y/N,” Alicent keeps a firm hold on her, shaking her head. “It is not worth the risk.”

“You drug me away from my husband’s sick bed for our people to see me.” Y/N reminds her. “Let them see me.”

Alicent releases her, against her better judgment.

The mass of commoners threaten to engulf the Queen, with the banner of house Targaryen held proudly in their midst. “We want meat.”

“The King makes false promises!”

“You feast in your castle as we starve!”

The shouting builds to a crescendo.

“Do you want my help, or simply to hurl insults at the crown?” Y/N waits until they fall silent before she continues. “Before the King’s coronation, I was told the realm would never accept a ruling Queen. I heard this same sentiment recently, as my lord husband returned from battle, grievously injured. Yet you raise my mother’s banner in my husband’s streets.” Y/N says, loud enough for all to hear. “War is a terrible thing, that costs us all that which we love. It drives a wedge between our houses, makes fools of us all.”

“Stop the war!”

“End the blockade!”

Y/N hesitates, “I have no more agency over that than any of you, I fear. But I believe, as I know my husband does, that our victory relies on the smallfolk. We take to the woods, this day. We will hunt for our meat and we shall feast upon it together.”

The smallfolk murmur to each other.

“Most of you are not trained for the hunt, to which I say, neither am I. But we must stand together, not tear ourselves apart. We are one people, we are one heart.”

Slowly, the townsfolk begin voicing their approval.

“Take to your houses,” Y/N instructs, “gather your weapons and join me at the gates. They will open for us or we will break them down!”

“If you want a word with the Queen, now is your chance.” Chérie whispers.

“And you?”

“I must stand watch over his grace, until her return. After what I have learned this day…he mustn’t be alone.”

The mob cheers as they disband, knocking Chérie and Elinda apart.

Alicent rushes Helaena inside as Y/N heads for the gates.

“She should not be alone.” Helaena says.

“No, she shouldn’t.” Alicent presses cups her daughter’s face in her hands. “Ser Criston.” She calls.

“Your grace,” he stands at the ready.

“You are to accompany the Queen on this venture.” She tells him. “Y/N is not to be out of your sight, no harm must come to her.”

“Of course, your grace.” Cole nods, excusing himself to meet the Queen at the gates. They remain closed as commoners fall in line behind her, pushing at one another as she fights her way to the forefront.

“Where is it you think you’re going?” Aemond asks his niece.

“To give our people meat.” Y/N sneers, spotting her husband’s dagger on his hip. Without hesitation she reaches across, staring him dead in the eye as she yanks the blade free of its sheath. “You are welcome to join us.”

Aemond cocks his head to the side, knowing he has the final say in directing the King’s guard, “open the gates.”

————————————————————————

When Daemon receives Rhaenyra’s letter, detailing her plan to secure Y/N’s safe passage from King’s Landing to Dragonstone, he believes it is a terrible idea.

What they need is for her to hold the throne, the moment she abandons it, any claim Rhaenyra or Aegon holds over it will be lost to the Prince Regent. He knows better than anyone that the realm will suffer if Aemond, one eye, rules.

Instead he plans to enlist help of his own to secure his grandchildren’s safety. With Y/N and Aemond out roaming the woods, taking over half the King’s guard with them, he finds his opportunity.

Whistling through the gates to one of the white cloaks, who harbors a strong dislike of the Hightowers. The man abandons his post, meeting Daemon at the bars.

“How would you like to make a year’s worth of gold in an hour?”

Blood swallows harshly, “what would you have me do?”

“You can start by opening the fucking gate.”

The man does as he’s told.

“Follow me.” Daemon leads him down the alleyway to another man, whom he calls Cheese. “This is an old friend of mine, tonight he’s going to be your friend.” Daemon tosses them each a sack of gold.

“You said a year’s worth.”

“Half now, half when the job is done.”

Blood and Cheese count their bags of coin before nodding their agreement.

“What I need of you is simple. Enter the castle, find my grandson, Aegon.”

“The King?”

“Prince Aegon. He is a babe with dark hair.” With his father incapacitated, they have a good shot at it. “If you cannot retrieve him safely, leave.”

“Is that all?”

“Be sure to scare the seven hells out of the maids while you’re at it. But you are not to cause harm. This is a ploy to increase protection of the Queen’s heirs. Nothing more.”

“What is it they need protecting from?” Cheese wonders.

“Do you want the job or not?” Daemon snaps.

“Y-yes.”

“I will be waiting to collect him at the north gate.” The prince informs them. “You have one hour.”

————————————————————————-

“Disperse and take your share, all of you.” Aemond gives the smallfolk his blessing. They scatter in all directions, desperate and searching.

Y/N sets off with a pack of them into the east woods. Cole follows.

Aemond stays with the masses, showing his good faith. Hoping to win back their support of his claim.

Y/N is the first to spot a deer, running from them, “just there.” She sets off toward is. “Who wants it?”

“I, your grace.” A man with silver, gray hair marches toward it.

“Very well!” Y/N praises, “everyone come round, be sure it does not escape.”

“Together, now.”

They take the first, with some difficulty. Each to follow becomes easier.

Aemond makes his kills alone, happening upon the group eventually. Just in time to see the gleam of the White Hart, watching on from a safe distance. Willing him to slain it, prove himself once and for all, as Y/N toils in servitude of the smallfolk.

“Your grace!” One of the men yell, pointing to the stag. “For you.”

“For us,” Y/N pats his shoulder before hiking up her ruined skirts, “for us.”

“For us!”

Aemond draws his sword, spooking the animal into hiding.

The Queen’s eyes widen.

“May the beast be slain by the true heir, as a sign of good faith.” He says, taking off in search of it.

Y/N runs after him.

“My Queen!”

“Stay with the Queen!”

She chases Aemond deeper into the woods, but the stag cannot be found.

In an instant, Aemond turns on his heels. Leaving the end of his blade pointed at Y/N’s belly.

She flinches as his sword grazes her cheek on it’s upward swing.

Aemond smirks, watching the blood bead on her skin as her eyes well with tears. “Behind you.”

The stag bolts away.

“Aemond!” Ser Criston calls.

The Prince Regent sheathes his sword. “It got away.”

Y/N’s knees buckle, she does not fight as she falls to the ground. It was him. He who would sooner shroud his brother in dragon fire than fight at his side. He who jumped the line of succession to turn the war in his favor.

“Your grace,” Cole moves to her as Aemond retreats. “You’re injured.”

Y/N holds a hand up between them.

“Let me help you stand.”

“Why?” Y/N asks, “each time I stand I am struck down.”

“Because you keep rising.” Cole tells her. “You know, I may not have fathered them, but I raised both Aegon and Aemond as my own. He would not want to see you this way.”

“He may never see me again.”

“I do not believe that is true.” Ser Criston sighs, “so long as you live, he will find a way. My responsibility to Aegon now lies in ensuring he has something to wake up to.” He says, pointedly. “You have not made it an easy task.”

“I overheard you call my mother a spoiled cunt once.” Y/N scrubs a hand over her face, “be forewarned, I am worse.”

Despite himself, Cole smiles. Something just beyond her catching his eye. “My Queen.”

She follows the direction of his finger.

“This will be the sign we all desperately need, they would fall in line behind you. There will be no further question.”

The White Hart stares back at her, unblinking. “Have you come to die for me too?” She pushes up to her feet, flashing the blade before the animal’s eyes in warning. But the stag comes closer, she strokes its bowed head, plunging the dagger clean into its heart, allowing the stag to collapse onto her. Rocking the creature as best she can. “Thank you for all you have done for me. Your sacrifice is not in vain.”

Cole carries the slain stag behind Y/N, trudging through the forest, covered in its blood. The smallfolk know what this means. There is no need for a Prince Regent, they have a Queen.

Aemond nods. She’s won the battle, but he’ll win the war.

————————————————————————-

With the smallfolk contented, Y/N retires to her rooms, allowing the bath water to soothe her muscles and her mind. Chérie is still about, therefore the Queen allows another of her ladies to scrub the dirt and blood from her skin.

“It is done, my Queen.” Livia nods, “should you like a towel, or to soak a while longer?”

“The water is filthy,” Y/N murmurs.

“We might draw you a new bath, your grace.”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head. “Just the towel please.”

“At once, your grace.” She reaches for the plush cream fabric, holding it open for her majesty.

Y/N wraps herself in it, as her hair is rung out over the tub.

“Are you thinking of braids, your grace?”

No. Not in the least. “You may leave it hang.”

“Are you certain?” Livia blinks at her.

“Yes, help me dress in my nightgown, please. I am quite exhausted.”

Livia nods, scurrying to the dressing area and returning with a pale purple gown. “Is this to your liking, my Queen?”

Y/N smiles, “it is lovely. Thank you.”

The woman returns the gesture.

“You needn’t always address me so formally when we are alone. I wish for us to be friends.”

“A Queen is not expected to be friends with her servants.” Livia says, “my mother has served the dowager Queen Alicent for many years.”

“My mother was always kind to her ladies.” Y/N tells her. “That is the Queen I hope to be.”

Livia nods, easing the material over the Queen’s head, followed quickly by her robe. “I should like that very much.”

“I understand how difficult it can be, taking on a new role without knowing what’s expected of you. If you’ve questions, please voice them to me, I am more than happy to answer.”

“I have heard whispers from other ladies…that Chérie joins you and the King in your bed.” Livia stammers, “you are both very lovely, your grace, but I would not know how-”

“Oh no,” Y/N huffs a laugh. “Livia, that will never be asked of you. Chérie is very dear to the King and I, but that is not a task expected of my ladies.”

“Forgive me for assuming.”

“It’s quite alright, I am glad to clear the air between us. I would hate for you to be nervous in my presence over a misunderstanding.”

Livia exhales, “thank you for being so kind.”

Y/N takes her hand, “of course.”

“Y/N,” Chérie pants, having rushed past the guards. “It’s Aegon.”

Y/N moves, as if in slow motion, taking the bloodied dagger from the floor. Down the hall, to her husband’s rooms, shoving open the door.

“You’re hurt.” He says, taking in the sight of her, freshly dressed, hair still dripping from the bath.

She gawks at him. Willing her legs to move and dropping to her knees at the side of his bed, casting the weapon aside. Y/N rests her cheek against the coverlet, not daring to touch him.

Carefully he reaches for her, feeling the charred skin of his chest pull as his hand passes over her hair.

“I thought you were dead,” Y/N whispers. “Chérie rushed me out of my rooms to you. I thought you were dead.” She sobs, violently enough that any shred of anger Aegon harbors for the disregard of her own safety is forgotten.

“I’m going to look in on the children.” Chérie excuses herself.

Aegon whispers, as the doors close, “come round this side.”

“I can’t.” Y/N struggles to draw breath, shuttering as she does.

“I wish to hold you.”

“I will hurt you.”

“Hearing you sob on the floor, while I am no more than a foot away, is worse than any pain I am in. Let me comfort you.” Aegon insists, “please.”

Y/N stands, climbing carefully onto the bed, lying her head on the pillow beside his.

Aegon’s neck aches as he turns his head to face her, left eye swollen shut.

“I do not see where it is safe to touch you,” Y/N admits. The unmarred half of his face now rests against the pillow.

“Rest your head upon my shoulder.” Aegon sighs, “but let me look at you first.” He’s just taken milk of the poppy, enough to dull the sharp edge of pain.

“I am a mess.” Y/N lets out a watery laugh, dragging the back of her hand over her face, mindful of her graze.

“You are beautiful,” Aegon half smiles. “Tell me what’s happened.”

Y/N sucks in a breath, “the small council appointed Aemond as Prince Regent. The smallfolk were discontented in their hunger, I took them to hunt. I happened across a white stag and followed it into the woods. Aemond as well. He drew his sword once we were far enough out though Cole found us before anything happened. I think he meant to kill me.”

Aegon swallows, “you must stay away from Aemond, do you understand?”

Y/N nods.

“When I am well enough-”

“Has he done this to you?” Y/N needs to hear it plainly.

“Sunfyre and Meyles were locked together. There is no way of knowing what his intentions were, but it was Aemond who gave the command.” Dracarys.

“I’ll kill him.”

“You cannot.”

Y/N begins to protest.

“Listen to me now.” Aegon presses on, “I want you out of King’s Landing. I want our children out.”

“No, I will not leave you.”

“Go to your mother on Dragonstone.”

“No.”

“Shh,” Aegon gentles her. “I need you to hear what I am saying to you. This is the only way she can take back the throne. She wants Aemond’s head more than any. It will ensure your safety and the kill. I hate being parted as much as you do, but I cannot protect you here.”

“Who will protect you if I go?”

“My mother.”

“She would stand against Aemond, if it comes to it?” Y/N challenges.

“I do not want you here if it comes to that.”

“Why?”

“I will not have you stand between me and a blade. I will not allow you to be harmed or mistreated. I will protect you and our children at any cost.” Aegon says.

“The White Hart appeared for me,” Y/N is sure of it. “It fled from Aemond, returned for me and I killed it. For you, for our house and our people. I am not weak.”

“My concern is not because you are weak.” Aegon tells her, “at present, you are the largest threat to Aemond. He could end me now with a pillow held over my face.”

Y/N’s eyes widen.

“I jest, I jest.”

“I will do it myself if you dare say that again.”

He chuckles, “ah!” The movement is horribly painful. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“I promised the girls they could come visit you.” Y/N tells him, lowering her head to his shoulder.

“Are you certain that’s a good idea?” Aegon nuzzles against the top of her head. “They should not have to see me this way.”

Y/N sighs, “you are their father. They love you no matter what.”

“And you?” Aegon whispers, “you would have me still? They say I may never walk again.”

Y/N pulls away to stare at him with furrowed brows. “Aegon, of course I will have you. I love you.”

“I know that you love me.” Same as he would love her with roles reversed, “but will you…desire me? As your husband?”

Y/N presses her lips to his, oh so gently. “Of course. When you have recovered, we shall make up for lost time.”

Again he nods, not entirely convinced. “I should like that very much.”

“I speak true, husband.” Y/N insists. “Surely my body is different now than it was before our babes and you desire me still, do you not?”

“I desire you more.”

“We’re going to grow old together, you and I. In which time we will both surely change, that is the way of things.”

“Your grace!” Chérie calls, rapping her fist against the door.

“Come,” Y/N wills her.

The woman charges in, clearly distraught. “My Queen,” she says, without realizing Aegon is still lucid. The maesters warned his moments of waking will be few and far between. “Something awful has happened.”

“What is it?” Y/N springs from the bed.

“Prince Aegon…he’s been taken.”

“Taken where?” Y/N demands.

“I cannot say, the maids reported two men in hoods. They came with knives, threatened them and took the babe.”

“Bring us Dahlia, Visera and Laenor.” Aegon insists. “Send in the guards, they are to tear apart the Red Keep until my son is found.”

“Of course, my King.” Chérie bows.

Y/N steals the abandoned dagger, making for the door.

“Where are you going?” Aegon calls after her.

“To kill your brother.”

Part 4

Series Taglist: @oh-you-mean-me @barnes70stark @lovelyteenagebeard @niyahnotnia @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @callsignwidow @hyde-jpg @novelswithariana @klutzylaena @ynbutbetter @ravenqueen27 @danart501

#house of the dragon #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #hotd aegon #aegon imagine #aegon ii

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klaus-littlestwolf · 4 months ago

Text

Unconsummated -Aemond T.

Aemond finds himself quickly falling in love during the week long celebration of Aegon and Helaena’s wedding. Sadly his perfect lady is already married to a Baratheon. Happily, the idiot has yet to consummate their marriage as he never wanted to marry Y/n Arryn in the first place.

Aemond sets out to take the sweet girl for himself and he will not take ‘No’ for an answer…

It was much too loud for her tastes.

Y/n’s husband lived for parties like this, being honored that he was invited to the wedding of Aegon and Helaena and enjoying himself in every way he could. He was drunk 10 minutes after the ceremony and would be for the entirety of the next 6 days that the week long party went on for.

Y/n left the room as soon as it was acceptable for her to do so, her husband being locked on another noble woman, one who would happily spread her legs for him in a dark hallway later that night and she could do without the embarrassment of that. She ended up locating the library on her walk through the castle and she couldn’t help but stop. The room was huge, 10x the size of her husbands library as his father, his fathers father and on and on before had never been able to read (and neither could her husband).

He forced her to read all of his ravens to him in private as if he believed that no one was aware that he couldn’t read them himself. Y/n ended up knowing quite a lot about the houses and their leaders, her husband threatening to kill her if she ever breathed a private word of it. She was privy to quite a bit of sensitive information because of his illiteracy, knowing that many houses had secretly sworn to follow Aegon as the true born King or people like her husband who were sworn to Rhaenyra as the King commanded. She honestly didn’t care who ran the realm, all Y/n cared about was her small life, her duties, and her children (of which her husband didn’t seem to care to give her). He was too busy with his whores to give her a child.

She found herself a book that interested her, it was a book on High Valyrian which she had always wanted to learn. She had been teaching herself for only about 20 minutes before she heard a throat clear and she jumped up in fear, the book landing on the floor as her eyes met with one purple one staring back at her.

‘My Prince! I am so sorry! I did not know anyone would be here while the celebration went on…’

He stared at her for a moment before responding. ‘No reason to apologize, I understand more than anyone not wanting to celebrate with drunken strangers.’

‘Thank you for your hospitality…I will leave you be then-‘

‘No!’ He insisted, startling her a bit. ‘I’m sorry, I mean no, you don’t need to leave. Please, sit.’ He moved to take the seat beside her, picking up her book and looking at it before smiling. ‘Teaching yourself High Valyrian? Impressive…I am Aemond by the way, might I know my beautiful company’s name?’

‘Y/n Baratheon, my Prince. It is an honor.’

The two of them spent the next 3 hours by the fire in the Library just talking. They got to know each other very well and Aemond even gave her her first lesson in High Valyrian which he admitted she was a quick study at. It wasn’t until Aemond asked about her family that any of their conversation became uncomfortable.

‘You’re married to the eldest Baratheon son, are you not? I knew he had a wife but I did not know he had brought her with him while he-’ Aemond stopped himself as if he was unsure if she knew what her husband was up to.

‘I am aware of his indiscretions. It is how he has always been, nothing to concern yourself with my Prince.’ Aemond’s face was stoic as always but she sensed sympathy like she got from most other people. ‘He never wanted to marry me, his father wanted my name and the alliance of certain supporters. He had hoped marrying me to his son would stop his…activities and make him happy to have a family…he has no interest in such things however and I am left 6 months after our marriage unloved and childless…I’m sorry…you don’t care about that.’ She laughed though Aemond could tell it was hollow.

‘Your husband is an idiot if he does not want you my lady. I have known you for mere hours and I know that you are a smart, kind hearted girl without a judgmental bone in your body. You would be a good mother, of that I am sure.’ Aemond had no clue where that came from. Seeing this girl all alone and feeling unloved was breaking his heart…what is she doing to him?

‘Thank you my Prince, you are too kind.’

Y/n retired not long after, in bed hours before her husband joined her, collapsing into the bed in his clothes and for once she did not move to take care of him, Y/n left him in his clothes and on his chest in the bed.

Her days went on like that for most of the week. She would have breakfast and enjoy a walk in the gardens before finding her way to the library again and spending the rest of the entire day with Aemond. They both made an appearance at the party every night as was expected before abandoning the noisy, drunken mess and enjoying each others company again.

Aemond continued teaching her Valyrian and they could hold conversations now (albeit simple ones) as she was a fast learner. He also told her all about Vhagar, loving her interest in his dragon where most ladies were terrified.

She had raged when he told her of how he really lost his eye, furious that his nephew would do such a thing, all of them. She also condemned the ladies in the court who had made Aemond feel ugly just because of his injured eye. She swore to the heavens that he was one of if not the most beautiful man she had ever seen and she would not take his negative words into account.

Aemond had quickly come to love Y/n and she loved him as well, they both knew but neither of them crossed the line to say it. Though as her husband had never consummated their marriage Aemond had decided that he was going to ask his father to annul the marriage so that he could marry her instead. It would be a good match for his family, Y/n originally being an Arryn, and he knew that her father would take insult from the Baratheons for not taking care of his daughter or making their marriage legal. He was determined to convince her that night, the second to last day of the celebration, however his soon to be Princess never arrived.

Aemond waited for over an hour before searching the party. He found her husband, nearly as drunk as Aegon and with his tongue down a ladies throat but Y/n was not there.

He then left the castle and walked the gardens in search of her as he knew she enjoyed the Red Keeps gardens. After about 5 minutes he found her sitting on a wall overlooking the beach.

‘You are difficult to find, my dear.’ She jumped, turning slightly but not looking at him, turning back to the view.

‘I am sorry my Prince. I have enjoyed our time together but it must come to an end, please forgive me but I wish to be left alone now.’ He was stunned, unsure of how to respond but knowing that he wasn’t about to leave her like this.

‘Whatever I have done, please forgive me Byka Zokla? I do not-‘ (Little Wolf)

‘You have done nothing my Prince! It is I who is in the wrong. I have led you to believe that we could be friends and that was wrong of me. My job is to be there for my husband and I have not been doing my duty-‘

‘Your duty? What about him? He has not taken care of you as is his job as your husband and protector! You’re not waiting on him hand and foot anymore so he is upset, yes? Please? Do not push me away Y/n, I can help you to-‘ he cut himself off as he turned her head to make her look at him and he finally saw what she was hiding from him. Her right eye was black and blue, her bottom lip was split in 2 places and her throat was bruised, clearly in the shape of hands. ‘Oh my Love! No! This will not stand! Come with me.’ He insisted, holding out his hand. She hesitated but he looked down at her softly, giving her time to decide. ‘Trust me?’ After another few seconds Y/n took his hand and allowed him to whisk her off and they arrived in the Small Councils meeting room where the Queen walked in not a moment later having been fetched by a guard for her son.

‘Aemond…what is the meaning of this?!’ Alicent snapped, storming over to the girl and seemingly thinking that her son had done it but she changed her tune when the girl flinched away and hid behind him instead.

‘Mother. This is the girl I spoke to you about, her husband has proved…ungallant. I wish to take her as my bride.’ Alicent was looking over his ladies face when she fully understood what he had said and jerked her head up.

‘My son, she is married already. You cannot just take another man’s wife, even as a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. You-‘

‘Their marriage has not been consummated.’ She stopped speaking and looked between them in shock.

‘Well…that changes things…she will need to testify it to the King and he will need to annul the marriage before anything else can happen. It will take time. I will speak to the Hand and start the process for it, we will find a room for her here to keep her safe from now on.’ Alicent turned to Y/n and held out her hand. ‘Come, let’s get you out of those dirty, bloody clothes and put you to bed.’

‘I will come and say “Goodnight” in a bit. You have a bath and relax…I will take care of you, I promise.’ Aemond swore, kissing her hand and watching her blush before she walked off with his mother.

Aemond straightened himself as she left the room and turned to head back to the party where he almost immediately found the man he was looking for.

Y/n’s husband was holding a full goblet of wine with his arm around a ladies waist looking quite content. Aemond moved beside him to grab himself a cup of wine, purposefully causing the idiot to bump into him.

‘Fuck! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.’ He laughed obnoxiously and Aemond found himself wondering how Y/n ever stood being around him at all.

‘Evidently.’ He rolled his eyes and could instantly see that this man didn’t appreciate the action.

‘You may be a Prince but you’re still only a second son, and no where close to Daddies favorite. Watch yourself. I am the head of Storm’s End and soon enough the Vale, you are nothing and even less than that without your Dragon behind you.’ The man was clearly drunk as fuck but Aemond was happy with that. It would make this easier…

Aemond smirked as he leaned in close, the young Tully girl that he had had on his arm long gone, not willing to upset a Prince, let alone the one eyed prince himself. ‘I fucked your wife.’ He mumbled, close enough that only he could hear and he absolutely did.

‘What the fuck did you say?’ He snarled, eyes nearly catching fire in his instant rage but Aemond stayed calm. He needed to control himself for this to work.

‘I fucked…your wife…Gods knows you weren’t doing it. Such a lonely girl, desperate for a man’s affection and all she was given was an insolent child. It’s pathetic. Don’t worry though, soon enough she will be raising my son and she won’t be worried about you anymore.’ The boy was practically shaking in his rage, fists clenched and men were beginning to take notice, several of the women moving to alert the guards so Aemond would need to do this quickly. ‘Give it 9 months and everyone will know exactly who your wife strayed from you with, the silver haired boy suckling on her tits will be evidence enough. I’m sure with enough words to the King I can ensure my son will inherit all of your lands when you die. Too bad you weren’t man enough to impregnate her yourself or y-‘ He was finally cut off by a truly pathetic punch to his face but he played into it, falling dramatically to the ground and biting his tongue, spitting blood out to make it seem worse than it had been.

He was grabbed instantly and held back from coming at Aemond again who smirked up at him, the boy only seeming to now realize what had happened. ‘Chain this drunken fool and take him to the Black Cells for-‘

‘No!’ Aemond snapped, cutting off his Grandsire. ‘It was me that he assaulted and as a Prince of the realm it is my decision what happens to him.’ He declared and though Otto looked at him strangely he nodded nonetheless. He reached out, grabbing the collar of the drunk and yanked him forward, dragging him from the party and outside through the front gate.

‘Aemond-‘

‘He dies tonight, would you like to argue?’ The one eyed Prince hissed at his Grandsire who knew not to argue with him in this state.

Vhagar peeked her eyes open at the sound of men approaching her beach, seeing her rider dragging along a man that was trying very hard to get away or hurt him making her bare her teeth and hiss instantly.

‘Dokimarvos Vhagar! Umbās!’ He spoke to her and she sat her head up and waited for her rider to speak. *Pay Attention Vhagar! Wait!*

‘This is a message to anyone that thinks to defy me or Gods forbid, harm the people I care about. I am not merciful, you can find mercy with my family but not here. Anyone who wants to disagree with this will not end up in the Black cells, but with my Dragon as their punishment!’ Aemond ignored Otto who was trying to stop his rushed decision. ‘Dohaerās Vhagar! Kisās!’ *Obey Vhagar! Eat!*

Everyone watched on as the giant she-dragon lifted her head over the abusive asshole and opened her mouth wide before chomping down on the man and seeming to swallow him whole which had several people screaming and one man actually fainting.

Aemond was proud of himself, he had saved his girl and it barely took an hour.

He quickly made his way back into the Red Keep and up to the room that he knew his mother had put his soon-to-be wife in. As he entered, knocking softly as to not frighten her, he saw her in a sleep shift and he couldn’t help but stare. His girl was beautiful and she was going to be all his now.

‘Did you have a nice bath?’ He asked, moving to pull the blankets back for her and enjoying her soft blush as she crawled into the bed.

‘It was very relaxing. I’ve never had servants to wash me like that before.’ She teased, though Aemond was surprised by that.

‘You are a lady, are you not? How-‘

‘My mother took care of us as children and when we grew she insisted that we were able to bathe ourselves. My husband however, did not want anyone seeing me in a state of undress…it was strange but nice I suppose. A lady could get used to such treatment.’ Her soft laugh was everything Aemond loved as he reached out and cupped the side of her face.

‘You will get used to it. You are to be my wife, and my wife will have the best of everything. I will bathe you myself if it brings you happiness.’ He teased her, kissing the side of her head before standing again. ‘Get some sleep my lady, no one will bother you, you have my word-‘

‘Will you stay?’ She asked and though he was startled he did not let it show, knowing she was still probably feeling afraid after all that had happened, especially now that she’s in a strange place that she’s sure to never leave again. She would need to get used to being his and knowing that she is completely safe here, she would learn to trust what he said when he told her that he would never let anyone harm her again-let alone another husband. Aemond removed his shoes and coat, as well as his weapons before crawling onto the other side and feeling her head rest on his shoulder. He was careful not to touch any of her injuries as he let her drift off to sleep. He knew his mother would be upset at his sleeping here but he didn’t care. Y/n would be his wife by the weeks end and he would give her everything that bitch of a “husband” could not.

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

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fan-goddess · 7 months ago

Note

can you hotd characters (mostly alicent and rhaenrya) when the reader almost passes in child birth? thank youuuu :3

A/N: Yep can do! I’ve never given birth, gotten pregnant nor seen anything resembling child birth apart from the Aemma scene in HOTD so I hope I did this justice!? Sorry this has taken so long!

Character Roll Call: Rhaenyra, Alicent, Daemon, Aemond and Jacaerys (All romantic love)

Warnings: Child birth, talk of infertility, talk of not able to have children, pregnancy, she/her pronouns used in some places for reader, talk of death during childbirth, talk about smut but no smut, dirty talk, a most likely inaccurate childbirth telling, graphic detailing of blood and gore, this is not proofread! (if I miss any please let me know in a way you’re most comfortable!)

Rhaenyra Targaryen:

It was not the typical marriage you and your husband shared. For whilst you had never had a particular fondness for goose, he understood that and went after his own interest in tasting the variety the world provided him with.

So while he was off exploring, you were in the chambers of the heir of the realm. Showing her your devotion in the most unexpected of ways.

Yet soon, after nearly two years of marriage with no children, people were beginning to become suspicious of your womb. More specifically, your husband’s own family. There was talk of them already arranging a second marriage for him as your womb was supposedly infertile. So after a talk with him, you and your husband for a whole of three months, with the help of Rhaenyra. And just when you thought your efforts were unsuccessful, the maester greeted you with a smile, and told you you were with child.

Your lover took the news surprisingly well, as Rhaenyra spent all hours of the day with you comparing possible names for the baby. Your husband had done his part in this game. Now, you and Nyra could spend your days eating the cake and kissing the days away. Acting oblivious to the hateful world surrounding the two three of you.

“What about Aurion?” Nyra suggests, a lazy smile on her lips as she places a fork with a large chunk of vanilla cake on the end between your lips.

“Hmmmmm” You hum, smiling in thought. “Perhaps let’s not raise more suspicions than we’d like my darling. How about something not so Valyrian?”

She laughs, and yet agrees with you with her smile turning strained and sad. Her hand reaches for your own instinctively and you quickly move to grab it and squeeze it tight. “Alright alright! What about Rhys? Ivan? Those are some more boring names!”

You laugh, and yet make sure to note them down somewhere in your head. You discuss names of girls also, just in case. Yet months later as you sat screaming your heart out on the birthing bed, those names disappeared as pain became all you know.

“You must push my lady! The baby is trapped you must push!” One of the ladies in waiting says as she positions herself by your bottom half.

“I’M TRYING TO FUCKING PUSH!” You scream, sweat dripping down your face as your eyes screw shut. Your voice loud as the pain spreads further through you, till eventually you feel it all over.

Soon, the pain that blooms all over becomes numbing. Especially, when you feel your eyes becoming heavy, eventually shutting so all you see is black and the world becomes silent.

“What is happening?!” Rhaenyra screams, her face becoming pale as memories of her mother come flooding to her head. “What is happening to her?!”

“The lady is haemorrhaging!” One of the maesters yells, a multitude of rags of all sorts in his hands as he attempts to stop the blood from further dripping onto the floor. The babe that had quite literally fallen out of your whilst you had fallen unconscious was quickly taken away by the ladies in waiting to be cleaned and attended to. So now, all focus was on keeping you alive. By order of the future Queen of Westeros.

It feels as thought it had taken hours to stop the bleeding. Yet that meant nothing till Rhaenyra who waited anxiously by your side with your hand in her own. Her fingers poised by your pulse so she can reassure herself that you were truly living beside her and not dead like her mother.

By the time you had finally begun to rouse from your deep slumber, the day had turned to night. And all those in the room were exhausted from the effort it took. The maesters in particular, who knew that if they allowed themselves to slack, the princess would soon be upon them with the fury of the dragons.

“My love….” Rhaenyra whispered, at this point uncaring of the multiple people in that room who’d scuttle themselves to her father and the hand at the slightest chance of a scandal. “Do you hurt?”

“As much as childbirth allows me to be in…” You laugh, yet wincing as soon as your body moves. “I am glad you were here… i fear if you weren’t-“

“Do not speak of such things!” Rhaenyra begs, her hands clutching your own tightly as if she was fearful you would drop dead. “I forbid it!”

“Do you say that as my future queen or as my friend?” You murmur, both knowing the true meaning of the word.

“I say that as both..” Rhaenyra whispers, kissing the top of your head as one of the ladies in waiting comes in holding the bundle containing your baby.

“It’s a daughter, my lady.” She says, walking over and placing her in your arms.

“She’s beautiful…” you can’t help but say, brushing away one of her curls from her eyes. You can feel Rhaenyras eyes on you, and so you take her hand and somehow manage to pull her closer.

“I wish to name her Arya.” You firmly say, locking eyes with your daughter who begins to cry in hunger.

“Beautiful…” Rhaenyra says, unable to tear her eyes from the sight of you beginning to breastfeed your child.

Alicent Hightower:

Even while Alicent was married to the king, yours and hers unique relationship had never once wavered. When Alicent had her children with the king, who did not even enter the room when the time of birth came, it was you who held her hand in place of her mother’s, and murmured soft words of encouragement and affirmation into her ears.

While you had your own, even though your mother was there to be by your side as a place of comfort, it was only Alicent name that sprung from your lips. Begging for her to come closer so you can hold her hand and beg her for mercy and encouragements.

Most recently, your third pregnancy had been said by the maesters to be the most difficult one yet. Pain was all you knew through those last few months. Pain in your legs from when you were forced to walk to the dining hall. Pain in your belly from where not only did the baby insist on kicking but also from the cramps the maesters insisted did not need to be further looked at.

Yet Alicent was always close by ready to lend a helping hand whenever the moment allowed her too. According to her, she still has the old treatment the maesters had prescribed her with just in case she fell pregnant again after Daeron.

“You… my utter darling, are my world!” You moaned, eyes shut closed as Alicent carefully massaged the soothing ointment into the base of your feet. She continues to help whenever she can. The ointments and herbs she providing you with being much better than anything the dreading maesters could’ve ever given you.

Yet like most treatments, the effectiveness wore off. Soon, not even the most obscure of medicines would work on you. Pain was always lingering in every part of your body. Even in places you had no idea were on your body.

“I just want this babe out of me!” You groan one night while Alicent once again attempts to stop your pain using this time a supposed miracle working ointments from Lys. “Nothing is fucking working!”

“Well complaining won’t solve anything!” Alicent attempts to jest, though quickly haults any other further attempt after a harsh glare worthy enough to rival the Strangers is sent hastily her way. “Perhaps it is the gods way of telling you how strong you are for having this child? A way to tell you how powerful your son will no doubt be in the future?”

“I would not care if I was to birth a dragon for gods sakes I only with for it to come out of me so I can no longer feel so fucking horrible!” You groan, “I have already told my lord husband that this shall be my last time on that fucking bed! If he even brings his cock within inches of me it’s being torn off his body and fed to your children’s dragons my love!”

“Oh hush now!” Alicent scows, a rare bout of anger coming about her. “The gods have their meanings and their ways! Though I for once shall agree with you. You will be having three beautiful children my love, and that is all you need. Perhaps you could give birth to a daughter and we can betroth her to Aemond?”

“Perhaps…”

By the time the ninth moon has passed, it is quick to say that you were very much serious about this being your last child.

“GET THE FUCKING CHILD OUT OF ME!” You scream, the maesters wincing at the volume rivalling that of a child being born. Something your own child it seems is refusing to let happen. “RIP IT OUT IF MUST BUT IF I DIE I SHALL HAUNT THIS KEEP FOREVER MORE!”

“There shall be no talk of dying on this bed from you!” Alicent yells, her grip on your hands almost as tight as your hand on hers.

The maesters voices cutting through though as they announce how they can see the babes head. Meaning to much your relief the pain will hopefully be soon over and you can hold the thing that’s been hurting you for nearly nine moons in your arms to give it a stern talking off.

You make sure to push hard when the maesters tell you too, even pushing when they don’t so you could hopefully get the babe out quicker. But even when you feel the babe quite literally fall out of you and hear its cries, the maesters make their own cries far more audible.

“Alicent what is happening?!” You ask, feeling what feels like warm liquid gushing from your lower half. Only she does not respond. Only turning paler than the sheets that with horror, you realise are turning a deep red from blood. Your blood.

And It only turns worse when you realise just how faint you feel. A once iron grip you had on Alicents hand turning weak and feeble as your eyes slowly begin shutting.

It’s all a blur when you feel your body waking. Yet still your eyes have not grown enough strength to open, so it’s with great horror you realise you are still conscious but are practically unable to move. You are alive but it is as if your body is dead.

You can hear Alicent beg for your sake. And you realise with your heart beating frantically in your chest that you can also hear her hushing a baby you had not realised was crying this whole time. Your baby.

“Your mother is sleeping now…” You can hear her say, tears building in your eyes when you hear how damaged her voice sounds. “She is strong, your mother. She will wake and see what a beautiful baby boy she has waiting for her… it won’t be long now. I promise.”

You try as hard as you can to open your eyes, yet your attempts prove to be impossible. Yet somehow, you manage to utter two words to your lover while your lower half screams in pain at you.

“Thank you…”

Daemon Targaryen:

It was no surprise to anyone when after a few mere moons after your marriage to the rogue Prince Daemon, you were announcing you were pregnant with his child.

The king had said his congratulations and announced a feast in his nephew or nieces name, and even Daemon had to admit the whole ceremony was wonderful.

Yet like everything in life, all good things must come to an end. The announcement of the first babe of the rogue prince turned sour as news quickly spread about how much pain you were in from them.

The babe refused to let you rest for even a second. All it did was kick and kick, and make you feel shitter than any other possible ailment in the world. You almost felt like having a conversation with the stranger after one too many bouts of particularly bad spells.

“You must let your muña rest ñuha trēsy… let ñuha jorrāelagon rest…” Daemon murmurs one night against the swollen bulge of your stomach. The warmth his dragon like body providing you with being possibly the best thing he’s given you since the day you married him.

“You know I do not understand a single thing you say in that tongue of yours…” You say, eyes closed as you relish in the lack of kicking and blinding pain. If it wasn’t obvious before, it was at least obvious now that your child had chosen favourites.

“Just because you cannot understand something does not mean you cannot understand the beauty of it.” Daemon murmurs, his voice gentle and nurturing as he continues attempting to soothe you.

His words to others would be considered strange and out of character. But as you’ve come to realise over the time of your betrothal and marriage, even though that shared time has lasted around only a year, you know deep down beneath the hardened dragon scale skin of his is a heart that bears solely for the life of those he loves. The latest addition being of course the babe of his own blood nestled in your belly.

It was such a lovely moment, and yet it seemed that would be the last of its kind the rest of the time your babe was steadily growing inside. The more time passed the less Daemons unusually warm body worked in soothing your unrelenting aches and pains.

“Are you okay ñuha jorrāelagon?” He asks one evening, his brows furrowed in what has become a near constant state of stress and worry for you. For is has now nearly been a full nine moons of pregnancy, and with that, it means the babe will hopefully be born.

“Unless you can get this child out of me with no pain,” You grunt, mentally cursing Daemons cock for being what it was. “Then I suggest you leave me be and allow me to wallow with the seed you yourself placed within me!”

For the first time in a while, Daemons worried stricken face turns cheery as he laughs at the familiar wit of yours that helped him to fall in love with you in the first place. The rest of the day is filled with similar circumstances, as while the babe continues to make your days a misery, Daemon is right by your side never ever venturing too far away from you.

You suppose it is why he insisted on being by your side when two days pass and you were on the birthing bed, his hand locked firmly in yours while your screams echo off the walls. You swear you can feel your cunt tear and drip with blood, yet with how much you screamed you honestly couldn’t be able to hear it.

“Please Daemon!” You beg, a multitude of tears running down your face. “Please make it stop!”

“It’ll be over soon ñuha jorrāelagon…” Daemon tries to comfort you with soft words and a tight reassuring grip, and yet his face clear as day is struck with fear and nervousness.

“You said that hours ago Daemon!” You sob, screaming even more as you feel the dragon spawn within you break even more of your innards. “I just want it out!”

“You will my love you will! You are strong and brave and a fighter! You will not die today do you hear me!?”

Daemons hands envelope the sides of your head to force you to look and him, and yet he’s utterly horrified when your eyes roll to the back of your head and your hand that was once clutching his shirt for dear life falls limply by your side.

Daemons words reach no bounds as he insults the maesters and common people alike, swearing if his wife was to die then all shall die with her. So even in the seven hells his wife can make sure she achieves the justice she deserves.

Yet it somehow enrages him further when by the next hour, the maesters have managed to successfully take out the babe from within you, and present it to him as his first born, whilst other maesters make quick work of stemming the bleeding and disposing of the evidence.

Daemons eyes watche as a wet nurse moves to take his son into her arms and takes him into another room so she can clean his son, and it’s not until they’ve left does he begin to shout.

“IS THAT ALL IT TOOK? MY WIFE WAS SCREAMING IN AGONY ON THE BED, BLOOD POURING OUT, AND YET IT IS ONLY WHEN YOUR LIVES ARE THREATENED DO YOU HELP HER?!” He yells, his hand clutching the hilt of dark sister as a reminder that he has the upper hand. He’s the prince of the realm. The rogue Prince. If he wanted to kill people then he will fucking kill someone.

The maesters faces turn ashen as they stand there, practically shaking as they fear for their lives. Daemon is almost tempted to actually kill them. To send a message that no one fucks around with the rogue princes wife. That is however, until he hears a stir behind him and feels a familiarly soft hand clutch his own that previously had clutched dark sister.

“My love!” Daemon breathes, his face one of pure joy as he drops the sword hastily and moves to clutch your still weak body in his arms. “I was so worried!”

“What have you done with my Daemon?” He can hear you say, the laughter in your tone surprising considering what had just happened.

“Don’t worry ñuha jorrāelagon, he was here a few moments ago, about to kill some pathetic fucking maesters…” Daemon begins, turning with a dark glare when he sees the said maesters still standing where they were before in fear. “But I suggest they scarper before dark sister becomes hungry for rat blood once more!”

This time, Daemon doesn’t turn back to watch them all practically run from the room. Not when there is someone in front of him so much more important.

“Where are they?” You say, your movements still sluggish as you wince while trying to turn your body to look around the room.

“Where is who ñuha jorrāelagon?” Daemon asks, preoccupied with finding the cup of milk of the poppy one of the maesters had said was somewhere in the room. A hum of satisfaction slipping his lips when he eventually sees it and grabs it, before placing it by your lips to try and force you to drink it.

“Where’s our baby?” You murmur, wincing again when the bitter taste of the drink runs down your throat. “I want to see them!”

“I will get him for you jorrāelagon.” Daemon says, moving to the direction of where the wet nurse had taken his son too. When he does find her, he does not care for whatever she has to say. Instead just moving to take the boy in his arms and walk back to you, who’s already sat up through the pain ready to see your son.

“Oh Daemon…” You breath, your eyes focused solely on the babe in his arms. “He’s beautiful…”

“He takes after you…” Daemon murmurs back. A soft smile on his face as he moves the boy into your arms. “What shall we name him my love?”

“What about Aenor? First of his name…”

“I love it…” Daemon murmurs, kissing the top of your sweat soaked head and moving to perch against the edge of the bed transfixed by the holy sight in front of him. “I love you…”

Aemond Targaryen:

Your husband wasn’t anything except attentive. Every moment after finding out you were with child he spent within meters of yourself. Even when you slept, his hand was always placed on your stomach.

“I would never allow myself to live if you were hurt ñuha vēzos.” Aemond would murmur against your skin, amongst other Valyrian words this time against the curve of your slowly swelling belly. Each one sending your skin further and further aflame with desire and love for your husband.

The whole pregnancy though, for the most of it, was smooth and ordinary. The baby had begun to kick a little after the fifth moon of your pregnancy, and Aemond was eager to experience every part of it. Yet when you’d passed the eighth moon, that was when everything began to turn on its head.

Pain was blooming in your stomach nearly everyday, and even with the maesters having to forcibly pour milk of the poppy down your throat, you had resisted firmly, not wanting the babies health to be put as such risk especially so close to the due date. Especially when you have been in the presence of the king, who openly abused the opioid near daily.

Yet the maesters with stern eyes and unwavering faces, claimed that if anything, it was the pain inside you that would risk the babies health. So whilst you wished pain on the maesters, they stood there stiffly with a near full to the brim cup of the drink. They watched every time you were needed to drink it. Even going as far as to make you open your mouth wide to make sure you weren’t resisting.

Aemond though like he had done so earlier in your pregnancy, was never as far as an arms reach. He never said anything to maesters face to face, yet he certainly did not hide his anger from you when the two of you would lay in bed holding one another in a close embrace.

“If it weren’t for the babe, I’d strike them where they stand…” He’d begun to murmur. Starting his now usual evening moan about how according to him, they weren’t good enough to care for his pregnant wife. Sometimes it’s sad as you realise how he at his lowest points believes even he is not good enough for you.

“Don’t let that stop you…” You indiscreetly murmur back, a clear glare on your face as you try to drink something to wash away the bitter taste of milk of the poppy.

“Dont you tempt me now ñuha vēzos… I very much can and will make my way to wherever those men lie and slaughter them before it’s time to break fast tomorrow.” Aemond chuckles, a comforting hand on your stomach where near instantly you can feel the babe kick twice. As if the babe was eager to say hello to its father.

“That’s right ñuha valītsos… kepa is here…” Aemond murmurs, his deep voice sending shivers down your very spine. If you weren’t already eight moons pregnant, you very well would be eager to take him right at this moment and take his seed deep inside till it takes root.

“You are getting distracted valītsos…” Aemond says, smirking at the dark blush that spreads on your face. It matters not how long you’ve been married to Aemond for, since he’ll always manage to find a way to fluster him. You suppose it’s as fun for him as it is for you to fluster him. Though you suppose by doing that is how you ended up in this position in the first place…

“How can I not, when theres such a beautiful man in front of me?” You say, grinning triumphantly when Aemonds own face turns a light pink. It’s not as dark as your own, but even seeing Aemond blush without him trying to hide himself away counts as a win to you.

The two of you revel in the rare soft moment between you both, and it’s not long before you both fall asleep holding each other.

It felt so perfect at that moment, as all the previous worries about the babe swept away. The both of you honestly didn’t think the whole ordeal could get worse. That is however, until your waters broke and you were lying on the birthing bed. Your screams breaking Aemonds heart as he tries his best to comfort you to the best of his ability.

Yet his controlled anger and frustration comes out in waves as your screams continue further and further into the day, and the maesters it seems are no further to helping you than from when they started.

Aemond withholds every single urge to kill them for their insolence for your sake, given that they are supposedly they best men available to help bring his and your child into the world. Though when he sees your eyes roll to the back of your head and your body go limp after attempting to push the babe out again per the maesters instructions, all hell broke loose there and then.

“What have you done!?” Aemond yells, his voice whilst commanding also torn with how scared he feels at that moment. His uncles wife, and his grandsires wives had died in childbirth attempting to bring a child into the world. He cannot have such a thing happen to you.

“You are meant to help my wife not fucking kill her! If she is to die today then so shall all of you! Your blood shall stain these walls if she dies do you all understand!” He yells, tears brimming in his eyes from how emotional he currently feels. Aemond refuses to let go of you hand as the maesters scurry around like rats to appease him.

It’s not long before the sound of a babes cry brings him from his sorrowful thoughts.

“It’s a daughter my Prince.” One of the maesters says, before handing her off to a nearby maid presumably to go clean her off of all of your blood and other bodily fluids Aemond most certainly does not wish to be thinking of right now.

Instead, Aemond chooses to grab a lone damp cloth free from any uncleanliness, and carefully uses it to wipe away the sweat on your face. Yet even with all of that Aemond still believes you to be as beautiful as when he first ever saw you.

The sound of your blood onto the floor that Aemond had tried to ignore for his own sake earlier finally stops, and he’s grateful that the maid comes back with his daughter then so he doesn’t have to think about any of that.

“I will give the baby to a wetnurse my Prince for her first feed.” The maid begins to say, about to walk away. That is however before she feels the princes hand clutching tightly on her shoulder forbidding her to leave.

“She will feed from her mother.” Aemond says firmly, moving to take his daughter away from the silly woman’s grasp. “‘Twas a decision me and my wife made and you shall respect that. Now leave.”

The maid stands there a moment surprised, even looking to the maesters for guidance in the situation. But when Aemond looks up at them with a cold glare on his face and a sneer on his lips, both the maesters and the maid make quick work on leaving the Prince with his daughter in his arms and his unconscious wife by his side.

He does not know how long it is till you finally begin to stir, and yet it does not matter. All that does matter is that you woke at all.

“How are you feel ñuha vēzos?” Aemond murmurs, his daughter in one arm as in the other he holds the cup holding the milk of the poppy he makes you drink. Making sure you don’t waste a drop.

“Like I’ve given birth…” You simply say, suddenly focusing on the baby in Aemonds arms. “Is that-“

“Yes ñuha vēzos. This is our daughter.”

Aemonds hands her to you, and when she begins to stir it’s almost instantly you bring down your dress and place her near your breast. Hissing slightly as she begins to immediately nurse from it.

“She’s beautiful.” You find yourself saying, refusing to take your eyes from her. “She looks like you sweet husband.”

“She may look like me but I believe she has her mother’s beauty.” Aemond says, moving to hold your hand in his. “What shall we name her my love?”

“What about Elaenor?”

“It’s perfect…” Aemond says, kissing the top of your head. “She’s perfect…”

Jacaerys Velaryon:

It appears Jacaerys was ever as loyal as they say. As even after being married in an arranged fashion, and finding out you were pregnant with his child after consummating the marriage, his presence was never far from you.

When in the middle of the night sickness plagued your body, it was Jace who was right there next to you with a bucket in hand. Even going as far as to hold your hair back with his hand so no sick could ruin it.

“Is this what it is like for all women?” Jace asks, attempting to smooth you while you once again throw your dinner up into a bucket, groaning whilst you do so.

“Only the lucky…” You moan, about to turn to look at your husband before you find yourself immediately needing to throw up again.

At first, it was strange to you to have a husband be so close and eager to be by up side, given the stories that your mother had told you. Yet now, you honestly could not think of your marriage without the little services Jace provides you with.

Whenever you find yourself craving a certain food, no matter how bizarre or disgusting it may seem to him, Jace was always willing to call a maid and inform her to make it for you.

“Thank you husband.” You sigh in delight, chewing on some honey dipped carrots in the comfort of yours and Jaces bed.

“It is no problem my lady.” He says, awkwardly perched by the edge of the bed covers while he watches you eat.

“You can come closer Jace…” You laugh, patting the side of the bed indicating your want to have him closer to you. His warmth comforting. His smile kind. “You have seen me naked before. I do not think you have the ability right now to be shy. Call me by my name Jace. It is only fair since I have been calling you by yours.”

“Of course… wife.” Jace smiles, a strange girlish sounding giggle leaving your lips as he moves himself closer and opens his arms so he can enclose you in them. “Has the babe been bothering you much today?”

“Only as much as usual.” You sigh, choosing to invite his pointed stare in honour of eating another one of your special foods. “Though not as much as I have been eating these.”

“That is good.” He simply says, softly kissing the top of your head as he touches the skin of your arms with his hand. “That is good…” He repeats again more gentler than the last.

The next few months all went smooth as they could go. You were still throwing up in the mornings and some evenings, and experienced some horrible cramps once every few weeks. What was the most difficult and painful thing you had to endure however, was the birth of the babe itself.

It felt like it was ripping out of you. Screams pierced the air as it felt as if the babe was determined to take your insides out with it.

“It hurts!” You cry, holding Jaces hand so hard he has to hide any audible winces in pain, as whilst he is not the most experience man with women, he knew at that moment to not even think about saying his own pain. Not when he could tell his pain was like a mere headache compared to your own.

“It will soon be over!” Jace says, trying to squeeze your hand in an attempt to comfort you and let you know he is here. But with how much pain is flowing through your system he honestly doubts you can feel it right now.

“I just want it out!” You yell, screaming again as the maester intruders you to push. It’s almost like a rhythm, as when the maester tells you to push, you push. And when you push, you scream at the top of your lungs. It’s like that for what feels like hours and hours on end.

Yet soon, it’s finally over, as the maester finally steps away from you holding a crying baby. The maester looks at him, and shows him his crying daughter.

“A daughter my Prince.” The maester says, placing her in Jaces arms. Your husband’s eyes unable to tear away from the smallest child he thinks he’s ever seen. Possibly smaller than Joffrey from when he saw him as a child.

He turns to you to show you with a smile on his face, but that soon disappears when he sees your face.

“My love?” Jace begins, looking worriedly at your pale sweat layered skin. “You do not look well…”

You try to answer, and yet you even with all your strength you cannot even find yourself able to move your lips, your head even.

That though is when Jace turns his own head and sees the frantic moving of all the maesters and ladies in the room. It’s when he hears a most frightening of sounds. The sound of your blood falling and dripping onto the stone floor. It’s almost worse when he sees how deeply stained your dress is by your own blood.

He’s frozen as he stands there, completey horrified by what he’s seeing and hearing and yet he cannot find himself able to move. His daughter still in his arms, only it’s when she begins to fuss and make sound does another lady in waiting take her into her own arms to put her from the room.

The maesters are beginning to yell now. At the ladies in waiting mainly but to each other a handful of times too. They sound too loud. But that may be because Jace hasn’t said a word since you collapsed against a bed. He does not know what it is he should say. He does not know what it is he should do. His mother has insisted he be in the birthing room alone with his wife, and yet here he is standing alone in the middle of it looking like an idiot.

Yet while he’s thinking, it’s like some sort of driven force when he suddenly realises he’s been holding your hand. Your skin feeling cold and damp from sweat, and Jace stays there the entire time holding onto your hand and staring at you face. He commits to memory the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe, and the feeling of your heartbeat in his hand. He blocks out the sounds of chaos and panic, and chooses to focus on you.

Jacaerys slowly watches the colour bloom back into your face when the maesters finally manage to stem the flow of your blood and keep it inside you. Yet when he sees you open your eyes sluggish and exhausted, he cannot help but have his heart speed in happiness and joy. The smiles may have to come later though.

"My love, how do you feel?" Jace asks, still clutching your hand as he edges himself closer to you.

"Like l've given birth.." You simply say, even smiling as you slowly turn your head to look around the room. "Where is the babe?"

"She is with one of the ladies in the other room, if you wish me to fetch her I shall." He asks, watching as your eyes widen and your mouth fall open in what he can only say in a comedic fashion. Not that he'd dare mention that here though that is.

"We have a daughter…" You say, so silently that he barely even heard you. "Yes. Yes I want to see her!"

"I will go get the lady." Jace says, letting go of your hand for the first time in hours and admittedly as soon as he escapes your sights wipes the thick layer of sweat lingering on his hand on his shirt.

When he arrives back with his daughter in his arms though, he cannot help but smile as he watches your entire face light up at the sight of the babe with what could only be utter awe.

"We did that..." You say, reaching out and immediately rocking the small girl when she's in your arms. "We made her..."

“Yes…” Jace can’t help but agree with you, placing his hand on you as he sits beside you on the bed, watching you as you hold his and your child closely to your breasts. “We made her…”

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nyrasvoid · 3 months ago

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A Knight’s Prize pt.3

Gwayne Hightower x Fem!Reader

Summary: the princess Velaryon marries Gwayne Hightower and their wedding night is filled with passion and lust.

Warnings: smut, it’s all really fluffy but there is some teasing, also a little bit of teasing in public, morning sex, riding, and idk if there’s anything else 🤸🏽‍♂️

A/N: just two horny mfs on their wedding day 🎀🧸 btw I had so much trouble looking up how weddings were in westeros under the faith of the seven cs some ppl said they exchanged rings and others that they didn’t, so I just went with the cloak exchange cs it’s what we see in GOT

- Word count: ≈1.9k words

Part 1 Part 2

The tension in the Red Keep was noticeable.

The moment you stepped into your mother's chambers, you could feel the weight of their gazes on you.

"Mother, Uncle," you greeted them, knowing that this conversation was inevitable.

Rhaenyra stepped forward, her expression softening as she reached out to touch your arm. "My daughter," she began, her voice filled with worry, "we need to talk about Ser Gwayne."

"I know what you're going to say," you replied quietly, "but my mind is made up."

Daemon scoffed from his place by the window, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Made up? You've barely known him a fortnight, and you're ready to throw yourself to the Hightowers?"

Rhaenyra shot him a warning glance before turning her attention back to you. "It's not just about Ser Gwayne" she said gently. "It's about his family, their ambitions. Otto Hightower has never hidden his desire to see his blood on the throne, and now he's using you to accomplish his plans."

You stiffened at her words, "I overheard them, Mother. I know what they're planning. But I also know that Ser Gwayne is not like them. He's different."

Daemon's laughter was filled with sarcasm. "Different? They're all the same, playing their little games for power. And you-" he paused, stepping closer to you, "— you're the prize they're all reaching for. Do you want to be a pawn in their game, niece?"

"No, Uncle. But I refuse to be a pawn in anyone's game; not theirs, not even yours."

Rhaenyra sighed, her hand dropping from your arm. "We only want what's best for you," she said softly. "You're a dragon, my daughter. You deserve to be with someone who sees you as my than just a tool for power." she said softly

"And he does," you insisted, meeting her gaze. "Ser Gwayne is sincere. He will be a good husband, and I will make this marriage my own. I won't let them control me. We both want this to be more than a political arrangement.”

Daemon shook his head "You're making a mistake," he warned. "But it's your life to ruin."

"If this is truly what you want..." he continued.

"It is," you replied firmly.

Your mother sighed deeply, her shoulders sagging in defeat. "Then we won't stand in your way," she said quietly. "But know this, my daughter if you ever need us, we will be here. Always."

You nodded, “I know you are, you will still be my family, my blood.”

The evening of your wedding was a storm of emotions. The grand hall was filled with the lords and ladies of the realm.

At the entrance of the sept, you stood in your wedding gown, the gown itself was a delicate shade of white, adorned with gold embroidery.

Over this, you wore a blue cloak, the color of House Velaryon, a symbol of your heritage and the life you were leaving behind.

Since your father, Laenor, couldn’t walk you down the aisle, your uncle did it.

Daemon Targaryen, stood beside you, his gaze steady, filled with pride as he lead you towards the altar.

The guests rise to their feet as you approach. At the end of the aisle, Ser Gwayne awaits, his eyes locked on you. His dark green cloak, the colors of House Hightower, rests over his shoulders, symbolizing the new life you will be joining.

As you reach the altar, the septon, steps forward. The ceremony begins with a prayer, invoking the blessings of the Seven.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger,” the septon says, calling upon the Seven to witness this union. “We gather in your sight to bless this marriage, that it may be strong and enduring.”

You and Gwayne face each other, the moment arrived for you to recite your vows.

Gwayne begins, “I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

At the same time, you respond, “I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

The septon then instructs “You may now kiss the bride”.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” Gwayne leans in, his gaze never leaving yours. His lips meet yours in a tender kiss.

The guests rise as you both turn to face them, their applause ringing through the sept.

When the ceremony was over, the feast began. The hall was filled with the sound of laughter and music.

Gwayne leaned in, his voice low. "You are radiant tonight, Princess," he murmured, his hand resting on yours.

He looks at you, his voice soft as he asks, “Would you honor me with a dance, my lovely wife?”

This time, you don’t hesitate. “Of course I will, my dear lord husband,” you reply, allowing him to lead you to the dance floor.

But just as you begin to relax, flowing to the rythm of the music, you hear a familiar voice.

“Such a lovely couple,” says Lord Otto Hightower. “It warms my heart to see you both so happy.”

You tense as you hold Gwayne tighter, as if he would run away if you didn’t.

“Thank you, Father,” he replies, his voice calm. “We are indeed fortunate to have found each other.”

Lord Otto smiles, “Indeed,” he says, his gaze lingering on you. “I trust that you will both make our house proud.”

After your dance with Gwayne, you return to your seat beside your husband. The hall is alive with the sounds of joy, but your attention is solely on the man next to you.

You lean closer, your voice a soft murmur. “You danced so well tonight, Gwayne. I almost forgot why I was avoiding you the other day.”

“Ah, so you admit to avoiding me? And here I thought you were just eager to dance with Ser Loras.” Gwayne said with a false indignation.

You smirk, your hand brushing against his thigh under the table. “Perhaps I was just trying to make you jealous.”

His gaze drops to where your hand lingers. “Is that so? And did it work?”

You lean in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper teasingly, “I do not know. You tell me,” he looked back at you and smirked.

You continued “but I think you have more to offer than just jealousy. And now I can’t help but wonder what other talents you might be hiding.”

“Is that so? Perhaps you’d like to explore those talents further?” Gwayne whispered in your ear teasingly.

You leaned in, “Mayhaps I do.”

His eyes filled with desire at your words, and he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "Shall we retire, my lady wife?" he asked.

You nodded, as he stood, offering you his hand.

Together, you left the grand hall, the eyes of the court following your every move as you made your way to your chambers

The moment the door to your chambers closed behind you, the atmosphere changed.

The formalities of the court were left outside, replaced by a fierce carnal desire for each other.

Gwayne turned to you, his eyes burning with a desire that mirrored your own.

"Princess," he began, "you've bewitched me. I've thought of nothing but this moment since I first laid eyes on you."

Your heart raced at his words, "And I you, Gwayne," you whispered, stepping closer to him. "I've wanted you from the very start."

He reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek. "You are the most beautiful woman l've ever seen," he breathed, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "And now you're mine."

You closed the distance between you, your lips crashing together in a kiss that was both desperate and sweet. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as his boner pressed against your crotch.

"Say it again," you murmured against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair. "Tell me l'm yours.” You started kissing him down his jaw all the way to his neck.

"You're mine," he murmured, his voice filled with possessiveness. "All mine."

He obliged, pulling away just long enough to strip off his clothes, revealing his lean body.

You reached out, your hands trembling as they helped Gwayne take off his clothes. "Gods, Gwayne," you whispered, "You're magnificent."

His hands moved to your gown, untying the laces with a "Let me see you," he begged, his voice filled with desire. "I need to see you."

You stepped back, letting the gown fall to the floor, leaving you bare before him. The look in his eyes was one of pure adoration, as if he were looking at a goddess.

"Perfection," he breathed, stepping closer and pulling you against him. "You're perfect."

You gasped as his hands roamed over your bare chest, exploring every inch of your skin.

"Gwayne," you moaned, your head falling back as he kissed his way down your neck. "I need you, now."

He didn't hesitate, lifting you into his arms and carrying you to the bed, laying you down gently as if you were made of glass. "I've waited so long for this," he whispered. "But now that I have you, I want to savor every moment."

You reached out, your fingers wrapping around his wrist as you pulled his hand down between your legs. "Please," you begged, "Don't make me wait any longer."

He positioned himself over you, his body pressing against yours, as he rubbed your clit. “I'll give you everything," he promised. "Everything you want, everything you need.”

When he finally entered you, it was like everything else around you disappeared, leaving only the two of you in the heat of the moment.

The feeling of him inside you, filling you completely, was overwhelming, and you cried out his name, your nails digging into his back as you clung to him.

"Gods," he groaned, as he began to move, his thrusts deep and powerful. "You feel like heaven, my love."

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you as he sped his thrusts.

"Gwayne," you moaned, your voice filled with need. "You're everything. You're all I've ever wanted.”

His pace quickened at your words, his breath against your ear as he whispered, "And you're mine. My love, my life, my everything."

Every touch, every kiss, was a promise, a declaration of love that needed no words.

"Tell me you're mine," his voice filled with desperation.

"I'm yours," you moaned, your body arching against his as you reached your climax. "Always yours."

When you finally came, it was like an explosion, it felt way better than when you did it yourself. He followed soon after, his seed filling you.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the only sound in the room were your gasps for air. He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms and holding you close as if he never wanted to let you go.

“You’re mine” he whispered one last time.

“And you’re mine” you replied, as you curled up on his chest.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the politics of the realm, not the disapproval of your family, not the future that awaited you.

All that mattered was the man beside you.

The first first ray of light came through your chamber’s window. You turned beneath the silky sheets, the warmth of Gwayne’s body pressing against you, his arm resting over your waist.

The memories of the night before remained in your mind. How he had made you his, worshipped you, as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

You turned slightly, feeling his jaw against your cheek, as he pressed a kiss to your neck.

“Good morning, my lady.” he said against the crook of your neck, while his eyes were still closed.

A smile played on your lips as you turned around to face him. “Good morning, husband” you replied, your voice teasing.

Gwayne’s eyes, bright with mischief, roamed over your face before settling on your lips. “I’m not sure if I told you enough last night how beautiful you are,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the line of your lips.

“You told me plenty,” you said, though your heart skipped a beat as his hand slipped lower, brushing over of your hip.

“Not enough,” he insisted, “I think I need to remind you.”

Before you could respond, Gwayne rolled you onto your back, hanging over you. His lips found yours in a kiss that started slow, deepening as you arched into him.

“I think you’re just looking for an excuse to delay our departure,” you teased between kisses.

“Can you blame me?” he asked, “Leaving this bed is the last thing I want to do right now.”

Without breaking the kiss, you pushed against his chest, gesturing him to lie back. His eyes widened in surprise, but a smirk appeard on his lips. “Taking control, are we?” he murmured.

“Someone has to,” you replied, positioning yourself on top of his hips. The feeling of him, hard and ready beneath you, made you wet. You took a moment to savor the sight of him, laid out beneath you, before leaning down to kiss him as he made his way inside you.

Gwayne groaned into your mouth, his hands gripping your hips tightly as you began to move, slow at first.

His eyes locked onto yours. “You’re incredible,” he breathed. “Gods, you’re perfect.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the praise, your movements quickening. Every touch, every word from him only elevated your desire, pushing you closer and closer to your climax. You rode him like your life depended on it, your bodies moving in perfect sync, the room filled with your moans and gasps.

“Gwayne,” you gasped, as you felt yourself close to your climax.

He captured your lips in a desperate, hungry kiss. “Come for me,” he murmured against your mouth. “Let me feel you.”

His words pushed you over the edge, your body collapsing on top is his. Gwayne didn’t last long before he joined you in your climax.

For a long moment, you stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, eventually, you rolled off him, collapsing onto the bed right next to him.

“I could get used to waking up like this,” he said, with a soft smile.

You smiled back, reaching out to cup his cheek. “So could I,” you replied softly.

Gwayne seemed to sense your change in mood, his brow furrowing. “What’s wrong?”

You sighed, “I don’t want to leave. Or rather, I don’t want to say goodbye to my family.”

He nodded “It’s never easy, but you know they’ll be alright. And we’ll return soon enough.”

“I know,” you whispered, though the thought of leaving your mother and brothers behind still hurt you. “It’s just…we’ve always been together. And now…”

Gwayne leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’re not losing them,” he murmured. “You’re just starting a new life. And I promise you, we’ll come back as often as we can.”

You nodded, “You’re right,” you said, forcing a small smile. “I’ll just miss them.”

“And they’ll miss you,” Gwayne replied, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “But they’re proud of you, and they know you’re where you need to be.”

With a sigh, you pushed yourself up, slipping out of bed and reaching for the clothes that had been laid out for you. Gwayne watched you for a moment before following, the two of you dressing in silence.

As you tied the laces on your gown, you glanced over at him. “Ready?” he asked, extending a hand to you.

You took his hand, squeezing it gently. “As I’ll ever be.”

Together, you left the chamber, to say your goodbyes. You and Gwayne make your way to the courtyard. You embrace your mother and brothers, your voice trembling as you promise to write often and visit as much as you can.

Gwayne takes your hand gently, guiding you towards the carriage. With one last look back, you wave towards your family and you set off for Oldtown, hoping to live a good life filled with love.

PS: Im pretty sure this will be the last part, maybeeeee I will write another one with a time jump where they have children or something with the dance and choosing sides but idk.

#gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne fanfic #gwayne x you #gwayne hightower fanfic #ser gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower x you #gwayne x reader #gwayne imagine #gwayne hightower #hotd x reader #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd season 2 #fanfiction

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aemondmybbg · 3 months ago

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★ hotd bots masterlist

@ illumielle on character ai !! ᡣ𐭩

here you can find all my existing bots and a short description, i will update this page! 💌

ᯓ aemond targaryen: {14}

(1) — not his children? (niece!user {no dance!au} where they're married and he begins to believe the rumors that she conceived children from jace) (2) — his beloved niece (niece!user where he proposes to her during dinner in 1x07 episode) (3) — postwar marriage (niece!user the only surviving child of rhaenyra and daemon, in which he takes care of her and grooms her to build a trusting relationship and marries her when she grows up) (4) — forbidden feelings (aunt hightower!user and he just being in love with her, but afraid of this) (5) — after 'the pink dread' (niece!user consoles him after this joke) [platonic] (6) — in harrenhal (twin-sister wife!user where she pregnant and afraid of that rhaenyra captured king's landing) (7) — the only queen (lannister-wife!user who wants to be a queen and he does everything for her) [r] (8) — his strong girl (niece!user after dinner scene when he calls her and her brothers bastards) (9) — street of silk (niece!user where he finds her there after aegon took her to the street of silk) (10) — get his attention (baratheon!user that daughter of borros whom he chose as his wife) (11) — fear of closeness (wife!user {u can choose her house if you like} where he's afraid of s3x because aegon took him to a brothel when he was thirteen) (12) — war trophy (strong!user who is the legitimate daughter of harwin and aemond takes her to his bed after the capture of harrenhal) (13) — trying to be a good father (niece!user he cheated on her with alys rivers and after the war he tries to take care of their children) (14) — father for the first time (niece!user where they become parents for the first time and he worries about whether he will be a good father)

ᯓ aegon ii targaryen: {10}

(1) — king wants to see you in his chambers (niece!user after the 'dance of the dragons' trying to have a child) (2) — burning body and heart (wife!user stays with him after rooks' rest) [r] (3) — seeks comfort (wh0re!user he just comes to a brothel and for the first time he is looking not for s3x but for consolation) (4) — may become a father (aemonds wife!user where aegon becomes a father to her children after news of aemond's affair with alys rivers is revealed) (5) — takes you to the street of silk (niece!user where he takes her to a brothel to anger rhaenyra) (6) — newborn (niece!user where they meet their first child) (7) — his rhaenys (sister!user who was going to become a septa, but he wants to take her as his second wife because he always wanted only her) (8) — after usurpation (niece!user where he visits her with their son after the usurpation) [r] (9) — blood & cheese (niece!user comes to his chambers with their daughter after the murder and finds him in bed with her lady-in-waiting) (10) — different twins (twin-sister-wife!user where they are complete opposites but he wants to find a common language with her) [r]

ᯓ daemon targaryen: {6} (1) — won't allow it (sister!user where she is engaged to viserys, and daemon takes her to a brothel to tarnish her honor and take her as his wife) (2) — teacher's pet (stepdaughter!user where he no longer finds rhaenyra interesting or attractive, and his attention shifts entirely to her eldest daughter) [r] (3) — he regrets it (niece!user who accidentally became pregnant by him, but to hide it she was married to otto hightower) (4) — late visit (hightower!user which otto sends to the daemon after laena's death so that she can console him) (5) — obvious things (sister!user who is married to viserys, but her children are actually from daemon and they keep it a secret) [r] (6) — queen wants to see the newborn (sister!user where they meet their child and alicent wants to see him) [r]

ᯓ jacaerys velaryon: {2} (1) — solace (sister!user where they both find solace in each other after luke's death) (2) — one of those dragon seeds (bastard!user where he's just still grumbling about bastards riding dragons)

ᯓ rhaenyra targaryen: {2} (1) — she likes you more than your husband (harwins wife!user who has an affair with rhaenyra) [wlw] (2) — something she will never forgive herself for (daughter!user who is aegon's wife and lost her child during blood & cheese and rhaenyra tries to comfort her after all that) [platonic]

ᯓ alicent hightower: {1} (1) — her only child (daughter!user who looks exactly like her, and alicent has the strongest connection with her) [platonic]

ᯓ daeron targaryen: {1} (1) — reunion (sister!user where they are reunited on the battlefield after a long separation) [r]

ᯓ helaena targaryen: {1} (1) — doesn't want to fly into battle (lannister!user calms her down after aemond's attack) [r, wlw]

my requests are still open and i am happy to receive them ⭑.ᐟ

i didn't leave any links, but again you can find my profile and all these bots there! and if you need a specific link send me a message!

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novaursa · 2 months ago

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Hello my love! I absolutely adore your writings and wanted to send a request that might prompt some imagination.

I would love a fic where the reader is velaryon (rhaenyras daughter) and married to cregan stark through a marriage alliance. They have grown to love eachother and have one child, a young son, and reader has a dragon. Reader is a dragon rider and may ride into battle with her dragon for her mother’s cause.

Whilst cregan is needed at the wall, a handful of men—sent by the greens in response to blood and cheese—sneak into winterfell with a mission; kill/take readers dragon or pay the price with her son. After killing the guards and a fight where reader tries to defend herself and her son, (maybe resulting in reader getting injured) the men give reader the option. Her dragon or her son. (I’ll leave the choice/what happens up to you 🤭)

cregan soon gets word about what has happened and rushes back to the aftermath.

it would be an honour if you were to even consider my ask 🥰

thank you for all you do and the joy you bring to this side of tumblr <3

The Cycle

- Summary: Cregan leaves with his duty to the Wall and you are left alone with a choice Larys Strong brings.

- Paring: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: The reader is Rhaenyra's daughter and is bonded with Grey Ghost.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Alternative scenario: one for the price of two

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

- A/N: I hope this is what you had in mind, dear anon. ☺️❤️

Winterfell is quieter than you have ever known it. The grand halls that once echoed with the clamor of swords and laughter are hushed, the absence of Cregan’s men leaving an emptiness that stretches through every corridor. Outside, the sky is smothered in a blanket of heavy clouds, the winds howling mournfully, as if they sense the danger that lingers just beyond the gates.

Your son, Eddard, sleeps soundly in his cradle, his tiny fists curled by his face, the sight of him softening the edges of your worry. You brush a gentle kiss to his brow, your thoughts drifting to Cregan, away at the Wall with his men, fulfilling his duties to the Night’s Watch. The last thing he said to you before leaving echoes in your mind.

“Winterfell is safe. You are safe.” His grey eyes were serious, his hand warm against your cheek as he spoke.

You had believed him then, believed in the strength of the castle walls and the loyalty of the men who guarded it. But you can’t shake the unease prickling at the back of your neck, a mother’s intuition whispering warnings in your ear.

The first scream splits the night like an axe through ice. You jolt upright, heart hammering, and before you can even grasp what is happening, the door to your chambers bursts open. Figures, shadowed and swift, flood the room. Larys Strong’s men, their faces obscured by masks, their blades gleaming in the dim light.

“Stay back!” you cry out, instinctively placing yourself between them and Eddard’s crib. Your hand reaches for the dagger hidden beneath your pillow, but one of them is faster, knocking it from your grip and seizing your wrist with bruising force.

“Princess Velaryon, or is it just Lady Stark now? There’s no need for heroics,” the leader sneers, his voice a sickly mix of mockery and menace. “We’re here to deliver a message.”

They drag you from the room, your protests muffled by a rough hand clamped over your mouth. Your heart pounds as they force you down the twisting stairs, through the empty halls, until you’re thrust out into the freezing night. Your breath plumes in the air as you look up, dread curling in your stomach.

Grey Ghost is there, your dragon, your bond. Chained and wounded, his scales stained with blood, his wings pinned cruelly to the ground. He lets out a weak, rumbling growl as he sees you, his eyes gleaming with pain and anger.

“No…” you whisper, struggling against the iron grip of your captors. “No, please—”

Larys Strong steps forward then, his smile a twisted, grotesque parody of civility. “You see, Y/N, the Dowager Queen in King’s Landing sends her regards. The blood of a child for the blood of a child, was it not?”

The horror of what he means dawns on you, a sickening wave of realization that turns your limbs to lead. The butcher and the ratcatcher. The trap your mother and Daemon had laid for the Greens. And now, here in the cold North, the Greens have come for you.

“Your dragon or your son,” Larys says softly, almost kindly, as if he were offering you a choice of fine wines. “One lives. One dies. You decide.”

You can barely breathe, the cold air clawing at your throat as you shake your head in disbelief. “No… please, don’t do this… Eddard is just a babe, he’s done nothing—”

Larys cocks his head, feigning sympathy. “Nor did little Jaehaerys. Yet your mother saw to his death, didn’t she?”

Tears blur your vision, but you force yourself to stand tall, to meet his gaze. “If you kill him, I swear on the gods, old and new, I will burn you all to ash.”

Larys’s smile widens, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Such fire. But threats won’t change anything, my lady. You have until the count of ten.”

The men around you tighten their grip, and you know, with a cold, sick certainty, that they will carry out his command. That you will lose one, either your sweet son, innocent and helpless, or Grey Ghost, who has fought beside you, who has bled and burned for your family’s cause.

“One,” Larys begins, his voice calm, measured.

You look at Eddard, bundled against the biting cold, his eyes wide and trusting as they meet yours. He doesn’t understand. He’s too young to understand what is being asked of you.

“Two.”

Grey Ghost lets out a low, mournful wail, his tail lashing weakly against the chains that bind him. You can feel his pain, his fear, through the bond you share, a connection forged in fire and blood.

“Three.”

The world narrows to the beat of your heart, the silent plea in Eddard’s eyes, the agony in Grey Ghost’s. How can you choose? How can any mother be asked to make such a choice?

“Four.”

Your hands are shaking, the words trapped in your throat. You want to scream, to beg, to offer anything, everything, if it will just make this nightmare end.

“Five.”

But there is no mercy in Larys’s gaze, no compassion in the men who hold you.

“Six.”

Grey Ghost’s roar rises, a desperate, broken sound that tears through the night.

“Seven.”

Eddard’s small, soft cry, frightened and confused, cuts through your soul.

“Eight.”

You look at Larys, the man who holds your fate in his hands, and you know that there is no victory here, no way to save them both.

“Nine.”

“I choose…” The words scrape out of you, each one a knife to your heart. “I choose my son.”

Larys’s smile is slow, triumphant, as if he had won some great game. He turns, gestures to his men. “Kill the dragon.”

“No!” The scream rips from your throat as they move toward Grey Ghost, their weapons drawn. You struggle, kicking, biting, but they hold you fast, forcing you to watch as the blades rise and fall, as your dragon, your beloved Grey Ghost, thrashes and roars, his blood staining the snow red.

You sob, your heart shattering with each cruel blow, each gasping breath your dragon takes. He fought for you, for your family, and now he dies, his life ended by your choice, your terrible, necessary choice.

When it is over, the silence is deafening, the night air thick with the smell of blood and death. Larys releases you then, his gaze almost pitying. “There, you see? It wasn’t so difficult.”

You collapse to your knees, your body shaking with grief and rage, unable to tear your eyes from Grey Ghost’s still form. Eddard cries out, and you gather him to you, clutching him close, his tiny warmth the only anchor in a world that has gone cold and dark.

Larys steps back, his work done, his men already withdrawing into the shadows. “Remember, Lady Stark,” he calls over his shoulder. “A debt paid in blood can always be collected again.”

As the night closes in around you, the promise of vengeance burns in your veins. You have lost so much, but you will not break. You will rise from this. For your son. For Grey Ghost. And you will see the Greens pay for every drop of blood they have spilled.

The journey back to Winterfell is swift and relentless, Cregan pushing his horse hard across the snow-swept landscape. There’s a weight in his chest, a gnawing dread that had taken root the moment he received the ravens’ grim message at the Wall. The North is no stranger to death and violence, but the attack on Winterfell, the heart of his home, is a scar he never thought he’d bear.

As the castle looms into view, his heart stutters at the sight. The once proud and imposing stronghold is shrouded in a somber silence, the gates barely guarded, the towers and walls bearing the signs of a vicious struggle. It’s as if the very soul of Winterfell has been drained away, leaving only a husk.

He rides through the gate, dismounting even before his horse fully stops. The few men left in the yard stand grim and silent, their eyes shadowed with exhaustion and grief. There are still bloodstains on the stones, patches of crimson stark against the pristine snow, a testament to the horrors that have transpired.

“Where is she?” he demands, his voice a low, urgent growl. “Where is my wife?”

One of his men, Ser Bryndon, steps forward, his face lined with fatigue and sorrow. “In the Great Hall, my lord. She’s… she hasn’t left her chambers much since the attack.”

Cregan’s heart clenches. He brushes past them, striding through the courtyard, the cold biting at his exposed skin, but he hardly feels it. Every step echoes in the eerily quiet halls, the silence pressing in around him like a vice.

When he reaches the Great Hall, he pauses, bracing himself for what he might find. The heavy wooden doors creak open under his hand, and he steps inside, his eyes sweeping the shadowed space.

There, at the far end of the hall, you sit by the fire, a small, fragile figure in the vast, empty room. You are clutching Eddard to your chest, his small form bundled in blankets, your body curled protectively around him. The flames cast flickering shadows across your face, highlighting the dark circles beneath your eyes, the pallor of your skin.

“Y/N…” His voice is rough, almost breaking, as he crosses the room in a few long strides.

You look up at the sound of his voice, your eyes red and hollow, and for a moment, you just stare at him as if unsure if he’s real or another cruel vision conjured by your grief. Then, with a broken sob, you are in his arms, clutching at his furs, your body trembling with the force of your anguish.

“Cregan…” Your voice is a ragged whisper, muffled against his chest. “They took him from me. They took Grey Ghost.”

He holds you tightly, one arm around your shoulders, the other cradling your son. His heart twists at the sight of you, at the haunted look in your eyes, the way you cling to him as if he is the only thing anchoring you to this world. “I’m here,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”

Your breath shudders out of you in a broken gasp, and you shake your head. “It’s not your fault… It’s them. Larys Strong… he made me choose, Cregan. He made me choose between Eddard and Grey Ghost.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He can feel your pain, your guilt, as if it were his own. He tightens his hold on you, his jaw clenched against the fury and helplessness threatening to overwhelm him. “You did what you had to do,” he says fiercely, his voice low and steady. “You protected our son. That’s what matters.”

But he knows, even as he says it, that it will never be enough to ease the agony in your heart. He can see it in your eyes, in the way you curl in on yourself, as if trying to shield yourself from a blow that has already struck. And the sight of it breaks something deep inside him.

“I should have been here,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “I should have protected you both.”

You pull back slightly, your hand coming up to cup his face, your touch gentle despite the tremor in your fingers. “You are here now,” you say, your voice a soft, wavering thread. “That’s what I need. You and Eddard… we’ll get through this. Somehow.”

He nods, swallowing against the lump in his throat. He looks down at your son, at the innocence in his small face, the way he sleeps so peacefully despite the storm that has raged around him. Cregan’s heart aches with love and sorrow and a fierce, unyielding determination.

“I will make them pay,” he vows quietly, his voice hard with the promise. “For every drop of blood, for every tear, I will see them suffer.”

He can feel the weight of your gaze on him, the fire of your own resolve rekindling in the depths of your eyes. “We’ll make them pay,” you agree, your voice firmer now, a steel edge beneath the sorrow.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin as if he can somehow shield you from all the hurt and loss that has been inflicted upon you. “Rest now, Y/N. I’ll take care of everything.”

But even as he says the words, he knows there will be no rest for either of you, not truly. Not until the debt has been paid in blood and fire.

Later, when you’ve finally fallen into a fitful sleep, he steps outside, his breath fogging in the frigid air. The courtyard is almost deserted, the few men left tending to the grim task of clearing the bodies, the fallen. And there, on the far side, lies the massive, still form of Grey Ghost, his once-silver scales now dull and bloodstained.

Cregan approaches slowly, his heart heavy as he takes in the sight of your dragon, his body broken and scarred from the fight that cost him his life. He reaches out, his hand resting against the cooling scales, and he bows his head, grief and rage roiling within him.

“I swear,” he murmurs, his voice a low, fierce vow, “I will see justice for you, for my family. The Greens will pay for this treachery.”

The wind howls through the empty yard, the promise of vengeance carried on its bitter, biting breath.

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan x reader #hotd cregan #grey ghost

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divinesolas · 7 months ago

Text

Bound by blood

summary: Its the morning after your unspoken confessions with jacaerys. And you are faced with the aftermath of your actions.

r.q: Ok 1. Your writing is so good 2. I need a part 2 to Jacaerys x alicentdaughter!reader where reader stays with Jacaerys joining team black and we need tk get everyone's reaction to alicent daughter!reader staying like

w.c: 2.1k

c.w: implied smut, alternative timeline, dialogue heavy, nail biter jacaerys, aemond appearance, fluff, even though they are now lovers they still argue lmaooo, not proofread, happy ending!

a.n: heavily requested im so sorry this took awhile and it might not be what people wanted but i hope you all enjoy !! <3

part one part three

Your eyes flutter open and you rubbing your hand to cover your eyes as the bright shining sun begins to shine rays down on you. You look over at the spot next to you expecting to see jacaerys laying next to you but instead you reach over and feel the cold spot next to you. He must have been up for a long time.

A pit forms in your stomach maybe preparing yourself to turn over and see a cup of moon tea sitting on the bedside table but when you’re instead greeted by a folded piece of paper and a cup of water with some fruits.

‘I'm sorry that i will not be here when you awake my love, i had some things i must discuss with my mother. Do not rush yourself but once you're ready you should make your way to the main hall so we can speak.

with all my love, jacaerys’

you sit up, chugging down the cup of water and taking a few bites of the fruit before sliding off the bed, eyeing the red splotches of blood pooling around where you had been laying leaving some dried blood on your thighs. You needed a bath. As if they could read your mind a maid walked in and you jumped.

“i am so sorry for startling you princess.” with a bow of her head you relax and bring the blanket to wrap around yourself suddenly feeling very embarrassed that she saw you like this. An unmarried woman who had clearly been sullied.

“The princess had requested i come here and run you a bath my lady” The princess? your face heats in embarrassment as you can only nod you head. He had told her, of course he would, especially after last night he seemed very keen on you staying here with him.

The only you could think about as you get scrubbed down was the slight ache between you legs and your mother. You wondered how she would react to all this, what was going to happen when you don't return home, or maybe you do but come back? all of your stuff is in the keep but its nothing of true value to you you suppose, everything that matters to you is here because all that truly matters to you is jacaerys.

You worry what your family will think if you don't return home, maybe that they killed you or kidnapped you. Will they send people here to come retrieve you? You wonder what jacaerys is doing right now, is he considering the same things you are?

You're shocked to be presented with a nice black dress instead of your older green one, you stare at your old dress on laying on the ground. You remember when she had gifted it to you, she had said it was hand made for you made in the house color. You remember her face and how she smiled at you when you spun around to show it to her and how she told you how gorgeous you looked. you look back at the maid who was looking at you expectantly and you apologize allowing her to dress you. You cant get hung up on these things, especially now that you’ve chosen to stay it does break your heart a bit to think about the fact that your last conversation with your mother was so short.

You try to suppress your anxiety as you are led towards the main hall where jacaerys had asked you to met him. when you get closer you can hear heavy discussions, you try to softly open the door but once you’re in the room the door closes so loudly behind you you hiss. Dreadfully turning around to see the room full of not only rhaenyra daemon and her children but the velaryon’s and many a council man.

“Good afternoon.” Everyone nods their head at you giving you a good afternoon in return. You don't notice him until he's standing right in front of you, “jacaerys,,”He lifts up your hands and presses a kiss against your lips. “Did you rest well?” You nod and he smiles at you, his hand reaching into his pocket and pulling out a necklace, reaching head hands behind your back to clip it on you.

You grab it in your hands and notice its a black metal sigil of house Targaryen. You look at him and he's just smiling at you, “You like it?” You hum and nod your head, he grips your hand and leads you towards the table where everyone had been standing around watching you. Your face heats when you notice rhaenyra’s happy face and daemons smirk.

“Now that the princess is here might we address the issue at hand?”

“where are we to go from here?”

Jacaerys takes a step closer to the table keeping one of his hands on your back “as i said we will be married tonight-”

You flashes back to last night where he had mentioned over and over again with shake breaths how he would marry you and how he would love to be your husband. You look down at the ground as you flush.

“Not to rain on your parade my prince but i have to be the one to ask it, how do we know the princess is to be trusted?” His hands slam on the table and he leans forward glaring daggers at the lord, “You will not accuse my wife of anything-” You place your hand on his back, “please do not get angry on my behalf Jace its fine. Besides there's something i should bring up.”

Everyone in the rooms attention turns to you, “I think it is best if i return to the keep.” Jacaerys whips towards you with an alarmed look, “what-” “i believe it is best if i inform my family i am staying here in person.” “That is a horrible idea they are animals!” “And you think they would act any better lest they believe me kidnapped?!” “You could send them a letter.” “a letter that you could easily have forced me to write they need to see and hear me say it.” “you are acting irrationally.” “I am acting irrationally?!?! for fearing they shall send their bannermen here to storm dragonstone putting everyone in danger?!”

“do they even like each other?” lucerys whispers to rhaena who just shrugs, baela stands with her arms crossed staring at the pair who are glaring daggers at one another, “they are angry because they care about each other.”

“and you would rather risk your own life?” “it is the best option-” “you are a ridiculous women.” “and you are nothing more than a fool if you believe you are right!”

“and what if they believe you are forced into saying it?” daemon cuts into you and jacaerys argument. You take a deep breath and step away from jacaerys, “They shall believe me, i am family.”

You look at jacaerys who has begun biting on one of his nails with a far away look. You grab both his hands and lace them with yours. “you must realize i am not asking for your permission.” he sighs and rests his forehead against yours with his eyes closed. “You must not leave me.” You can feel his heartbeat in the palm on his hand, beating erratically against his skin. He is afraid. Of not only you not returning back to him because you were forced to stay in the keep but because he is afraid you will not returned because you will be slayed.

“i will return to you i promise.” He is silent for awhile, thinking it over before he nods and takes a step away from you without a word. You turn your attention back to everyone else in the room trying your best to suppress your embarrassment as they give you sly looks.

“I do however agree with my son i worry for your safety should you return to the keep, they are not kind people.”

“I thank you for your worries my queen but unlike the rest of you they consider me their own flesh and blood. the worst that would happen to me is a few bumps and scratches i swear this. As i had been saying it is best if i were to return as soon as possible as i was even supposed to return last night. I am surprised they have not sent anyone to see me.” You know your mother must be worried sick and it leaves a pit your throat that you swallow down to your stomach. You cant think about those things right now.

As if on cue you hear a loud dragon roar from out side and you whip your head around to look out the window. “Vhagar.” “Aemond.” Jacaerys spits out next to you his face angry.

“I should go speak with him.” “I shall come with you.” “absolutely not. I will not have him harm you jacaerys. You remember what he did to you Jace.” You hand running lightly across the cheek where he had been struck.

“I shall go.” “I'm sorry prince daemon but i fear you are the worst option.”

You instead turn to the most familiar face in the room, “ser erryk will you accompany me?” As he was your sworn protector before he had left he nods, “Of course princess.”

A few more exchanges are spent between you and the others in the room, exchanging a kiss with jacaerys before you exit erryk quickly following behind you. Rhaenyra walks over to jacaerys and places her hand on his shoulder. “She will be fine sweetheart. You should not worry.” She rubs his back as he runs his hands down his face. “I hope you are right my queen.” She pinches his back lightly and smiles at him. “You love her.”

“More than anything.”

The grip you have on the fabric in your hand is tight as you quickly make your way down the bridge while aemond gets off vhagar. “Sister I am shocked to see you unharmed.”

“Aemond.” He stares at you with a curious look in his eye. “I had told mother the storm must have kept you held up but she was insistent i come and see you myself. She’s been worried sick.”

“extend my apologies too her.” He raises an eyebrow and looks you up and down. Once you two lock eyes and you stare at him not saying a single word. He seems to catch what you are saying and scoffs. “You are a fool.”

You shake your head at him, “They would not want me home anyway. For i have been tarnished and tainted by one you claim to be a bastard.” He freezes and you catch it even if its for a split second. His eye twitches. He says nothing just stares at you for a long moment. “I thought you were better than this. That you would get over whatever fascination you had with him. But it seems i was wrong.”

“extend my well wishes to sister and mother.” You toss your green dress towards him and he catches it. eyeing it before he looks back up at you. “I should kill you where you stand.” He makes no move to make good on his word, you doubt he fears ser erryk taking a step closer with his hand on his sword. “You do not wish to kill me brother. For there is no worse fate than being a Kinslayer.” Without even sparing another glance at you he climbs on vhagars back and flies off. You do not move from where you stand until he leaves you sight in the sky. a bittersweet feeling filling you stomach knowing it was the last time you would probably see him.

You do not notice you are even crying until ser erryk is crouched in front of you using his cape to wipe your face. “It is for the best princess.” “was it hard to leave your brother ser erryk?” he pauses for a moment, deep in thought before he nods. “It was. but i know it was for the best. You should feel the same.”

You rush back inside and are quickly greeted by jacaerys who was pacing anxiously by the doors his nail in his mouth but he quickly springs into action wrapping his arms around you tightly. burying his head in your neck as he lets out a sigh of relief. “do not worry my love. nothing will separate us.” and it is the truth. for not only a few hours later you two share a blood kiss, bounding the two of your souls together at last.

tags: @b00kw0rmsworld

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starcrossed-lov3rz · 5 months ago

Text

The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 3

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Series Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI, violence, minor character death, general filth, mild smut, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), and Daemon Targaryen is his own warning

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: 2.2K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

You gaze out across the stadium, shocked at the hundreds of people clamoring to see the violence and pageantry of the tournament. Your hands smooth down your dress anxiously. Rhaenyra picked a beautiful gown. The deep red of the gown is offset with gold embroidery along your shoulders and waist. The patterns resemble dragon scales, glistening as the light hits it.

Rhaenyra looks over, seeing your anxious movements and grabbing your hand to still the gesture. She brings it up to her mouth, kissing the back of your hand before she turns to address the crowd.

“Be welcome!” She shouts. “I know that many of you have traveled great distances to witness these games. I trust you will not be disappointed.”

The crowd’s cheers are deafening, but Rhaenyra continues once they die down to a dull roar. “Looking across the fine knights here today, I see a group without equal. May the luck of the seven shine on our combatants!”

She raises your joined hands in a cheer. You brace yourself for whatever disapproval might come from the crowd. If two women in modern days still got weird looks in public, you weren’t sure you were ready for whatever reaction this medieval world would have. The crowd continues to cheer, and you swear you can hear someone shouting “all hail the queens.”

Rhaenyra pulls you in for a chaste kiss before motioning for the tourney announcer to take over. Your cheeks are on fire from her very public display of affection. “I wasn’t expecting that reaction,” you admitted as you both took your seats.

“Whatever do you mean, darling?”

“I-” you pause for a moment. “You know? I just didn’t think people would be so accepting of our relationship?”

Rhaenyra laughs, “the smallfolk have always adored you. How could they not?”

“It’s just that people where I’m from-”

“You’re from here.” Rhaenyra interrupts, frowning. “Your place is with me, with us. Our people–your people–would fight wars in your name.”

You sigh in frustration. Rhaenyra, Daemon, and the maester were still convinced that you fell and all the memories of your past life were just an odd dream. It wasn’t a frequent argument, but one that never failed to begin at the most inconvenient times.

When you don’t respond, Nyra cups your face in her hands and forces you to look her in the eyes. “Do you know what the smallfolk see when they look at you?”

“Nyra-”

“They see the same thing that I see,” she says. “A queen.” Your hand comes up to cover hers as you lean into her palm.

Rhaenyra’s thumb gently strokes your cheek. “I love you. It doesn’t matter where you came from, you’re here now. You’re here, and you’re mine. Never forget that.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “It’s not fair,” you whisper. “You always know exactly what to say.”

Before Rhaenyra can respond, a yell from the arena draws your attention. “My queen! My lady!” Daemon’s voice reverberates through the stadium. Both you and Rhaenyra walk to the edge of the balcony, and the site nearly takes your breath away. Your husband is terrifying in his armor, and so, so, so attractive.

“Fuck,” you swear. The dark armor is covered in the Targaryen crest and adorned with dragon-reminiscent flairs throughout the pieces. Daemon removes his helmet, shaking our his hair and preening at the attention.

“My beautiful wives, I am certain that I will win this tournament.” Daemon boasts. “But with your favor, there will be no doubt.”

Rhaenyra laughs, “I don’t know. Should we offer our dear husband our favor?”

“Hmmm,” you pretend to think it over. “I fear there are many knights worthy of this honor. How am I to deci-”

“My love, must I get on my knees to beg your favor,” Daemon teases.

“It would certainly be a start,” you smirk. “I suppose I can give you our favor, on one condition.”

“Anything.”

“Win this tourney swiftly so we might celebrate your victory together.” You say, grabbing the favor.

Daemon winks at you, raising his fist as the crowd roars in approval. You watch your husband ride out to meet his first opponent.

“You know we are never going to hear the end of it if he wins,” Rhaenyra sighs. Daemon takes his place across from the other knight, placing his helmet back on and adjusting his grip on the jousting lance.

“Was there ever a doubt he would?” you ask as Daemon and his opponent charge at each other on horseback. The crash as the lance hit lands and breaks is unsettling. Daemon’s opponent flies from his saddle, landing hard on the ground.

“True,” Rhaenyra agrees. Daemon tosses the broken half of his lance, jumping to the ground and drawing his sword. “Next year I plan to find Daemon a real challenge.” Daemon stalks in a circle around his opponent, waiting for the knight to regain his footing and draw his weapon. The knight recovers, going on the offensive to swipe his sword at Daemon.

You snort in amusement. “Are the rest of the knights really that bad?” Daemon easily dances around blows, not even bothering to waste his energy by parrying them. He’s toying with the other knight. Letting him exhaust and embarrass himself in the arena before Daemon ends the fight. You see the ghost of a smirk play on Daemon’s lips as he tosses his helmet to the ground.

“No, they’re actually quite skilled,” Rhaenyra replies. The knight’s attacks become harder and more calculated. Daemon parries them with practiced ease. You see the knight lean in as he gets closer to say something to Daemon. They’re too soft for anyone else to hear, but Daemon clearly heard them. His smirk drops and his gaze darkens.

He’s ending this now. Daemon pushes the knight back, swinging a hard blow with his sword.

“Daemon is just….” The knight scrambles to parry the swing, but the blow is hard enough to dislodge his grip. Your eyes widen in shock, Daemon is ending more than this fight. You instantly snap your eyes shut, but you can still hear Rhaenyra’s words in time with Daemon’s strikes.

“That.”

“Much.”

“Better.”

The knight’s screams stop with the final blow. You open your eyes to peak at the scene in front of you. The knight is unmoving on the ground. His armor dented in. His sword hand on one side of the arena. His head at the other.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” you mutter.

“A Targaryen tourney without at least one death would be considered boring.”

Your eyes land on your husband. He’s looming over the headless body of the knight. Daemon spits on the corpse before walking away.

Even Rhaenyra is shocked, but regardless, the tournament continues on throughout the late afternoon. The other fights are nowhere near as violent as Daemon’s round. Daemon is eerily calm as he wins his rounds with brutal efficiency. He doesn’t kill another opponent, but he makes light work of each one.

After the stadium clears out, you walk with the maids back to your chambers as Rhaenyra left to greet some of the noble houses who haven’t visited Kings Landing since the last tournament. When you get back, you ask the maids to draw a bath and you gather up Daemon’s favorite soaps and oils. You didn’t realize just how serious a tournament was. After seeing that brutality, you were just relieved that Daemon was coming back safe.

The doors to your chambers shuts loudly,and you turn to see Daemon still in his armor. “Daemon-” He cuts you off with a kiss, sweeping you off your feet.

“I need you.” Daemon says, pulling at your gown as he struggles to unlace the back. Growling in frustration, he tears the fabric.

“Daemon! What’s gotten into you?” You yelp. “At least take off that damn armor first!”

“Fuck,” he swears, backing away from you as he begins slipping off his armor piece by piece. You reach forward to help him.

Once he’s rid himself of the armor, Daemon picks you up. You wrap your legs around his waist instinctively, and he grinds against you. He kisses and bites at your neck like a starved man. Whimpers and moans fall from your lips as you tug roughly at his hair. “Daemon, wait,” you say breathlessly.

“Hmm,” he rumbles as he pulls back.

“If you keep going, it’s going to ruin my plans,” you whine. “I wanted to spoil you. Please get in the bath before it gets cold.”

Daemon follows your gaze to the tub and sees your handiwork–candles meticulously placed around a steaming bath. The table next to the tub piled high with luxurious oils, wine, and fruits. “You did this for me?” He asks. You nod vigorously and he captures your lips in a heated kiss. “Gods above, you never fail to surprise me.”

You giggle as Daemon carries you to the tub and you both sink into the water. Daemon moans as the water eases over his sore muscles. You shift so that Daemon is leaning back against your chest and begin meticulously scrubbing his body. “You’re so perfect,” he groans as you massage at the knots in his shoulders.

You hum in response, focusing on the knots. You find yourself softly singing as you work, and you glance down to see Daemon nodding off. Moving to work on his hair, you gently detangle his braids and massage the soap into his scalp.

“Love,” you begin, “what happened in that first fight?” You feel Daemon’s body stiffen against yours.

“Nothing.”

“Are you sure? It didn’t seem like nothing.” You answer.

“It. Was. Nothing.” He’s definitely hiding something.

“No it wasn’t,” you insist. “He said something and you lost it. What did he say?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Daemon’s tone is short, but it’s clear he’s still upset over whatever that knight said.

“Yes it does, just te-”

“He called you a whore!” Daemon shouts, whipping around in the tub. “That spineless bastard called you a whore, and asked if he could take a turn after you finished eating Rhaenyra’s cunt on the balcony.”

You blink. Shocked. You assumed it was bad, but didn’t realize it would be quite that vulgar. “And you killed him for it?”

“If I could go back, I wouldn’t kill him,” Daemon bares his teeth as he hisses out the words.

You raise a brow in response.

“I would cut him apart piece by piece until he begged for death,” Daemon growls. “And when he’s on the brink of death, I would call for the maester to heal him so I could do it all over again.”

“Fuck,” you swear. Hearing your husband’s bloodthirst shouldn’t be this hot. Your breath quickens, and you shift.

Daemon notices your sudden shift in demeanor. “I see,” he grins. “I kill a man for disrespecting you, and all you can think about is my cock.”

You whine, desperate for Daemon to touch you. After he and Rhaenyra left you wanting this morning, you’ve been on edge all day. Daemon stands up, water sloshing from the tub as he climbs out and pours a glass of wine. He sips a mouthful before leaning down to kiss you. You moan as the wine hits your tongue. Daemon pulls back, popping a grape in your mouth before picking you from the tub and tossing you on the bed.

“I’ll just have to give my sweet girl exactly what she wants,” Daemon says. He drips wine across your body, lapping up the drops as he follows the trail with his tongue. Daemon knocks back the rest of his wine, placing the chalice on the dresser. He settles between your legs, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he dives into your cunt.

Daemon’s tongue swipes broad strokes across your cunt, lapping greedily. He suckles at your clit, and you cry out in pleasure as his hums vibrate against you.

“What is this?”

You try to shoot up to greet Rhaenyra, but Daemon’s arms have you locked in place. “Rha-Rhae-fuck-Rhaenyra” You struggle to speak as you feel your orgasm building. Your eyes roll back as Daemon moves an arm to slide two fingers into your weeping cunt. Moans fall from your lips as you buck into his mouth and hands.

Just before you climax, Daemon pulls back. “My queen,” he greets as Rhaenyra leans in for a kiss.

“I take it our girl couldn’t wait?”

Daemon grins. “She never does.”

NOTE: This was supposed to just be smut, but I got carried away. Anyway, hope you enjoyed bloodthirsty Daemon, I know I did. Next part coming Friday or Saturday night (and yes, it’s going to pick up RIGHT where we left off). I have two delicious requests in the works: 1) a Feyd Rautha request (featuring the iconic darlings), and 2) a Daemon request (featuring some angst and steamy make-up sex). ~ Lacie <3

Taglist: @syraxnyra @avalyaaa

Want to be added to a taglist? Click HERE!

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd #hotd daemon #hotd rhaenyra #daemon targaryen #rheanyra targaryen #daemon x rhaenyra #daemon x reader #daemon x rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra x reader #daemon smut #hotd smut #hotd fic

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lizzyiii · 3 months ago

Text

His Lady Love (3)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson!reader

word count | 3.7k words

summary | calm before the storm. the queen forces you to go to the targaryen-hightower supper where you finally sit face to face with aemond, (whilst getting interrogated by prince daemon as well.)

tags | reader is just here for the targ drama tbh, fluff, small angst/but reader comforts,

note | I just realised that both rebekah and reader fall for boys that they technically watched grow up (not really, but really tho, also would you consider this pedophilic, since rebekah and reader had mere platonic feelings, while marcel and aemond were already obsessed)

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 — 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

It had been a moon's turn since your return, and Aemond had taken to shadowing you through the sunlit halls of the Keep, his presence felt like a specter lurking just out of reach. Instead of confronting you directly, he observed, his violet gaze lingering on you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Meanwhile, the currents of Targaryen drama began to stir anew, this time not over the succession of the Iron Throne, but over the shores of Driftmark and the title of the Lord of Tides.

Lord Vaemond Velaryon was set to make his case, summoned to the court to argue vehemently against Lucerys Velaryon’s claim to the ancestral seat, while the King deliberated on who would wear the mantle of the next successor.

Your mind, however, was torn asunder by the weight of the situation. It was as clear as the midday sun that Rhaenyra's three sons bore the mark of bastardy, the truth hanging in the air like a bitter fog. Yet, despite their dark hair and brown eyes, they were still Princess Rhaenrya's sons, making them true Targaryens, and as long as the crown acknowledged their legitimacy, they had every right to embrace their heritage.

Yet, the specter of justice loomed heavily. They bore no true Valaryon blood in their veins, a fact that rendered their claim to Driftmark similarly disquieting. If they were to inherit such a coveted title, it would be naught but a dagger to the heart of the Velaryon legacy, erasing centuries of honor and heritage in one fell swoop.

But who were you to cast judgment on the matter? You were, after all, a bastard yourself in your own right. With no discernible features from either your father or your mother, the only tether to the Mikaelson name was the multitude of witnesses who could attest to your mother birthing you into this world.

Soon enough, the matter erupted into a grand spectacle, as the Queen had relayed with a glint of grim madness in her eye. Viserys, frail and near death, had heaved himself from his sickbed, a ghost of his former self, to proclaim the legitimacy of his grandsons. That proclamation, laden with tension and bitter truths, secured their claim to Driftmark—an act of desperation that would surely echo through the halls of history. It was not long after this madness that the Prince, Daemon Targaryen, wielded his fury like a sword, severing Vaemond Velaryon's head from his shoulders for daring to call Rhaenyra a whore.

To your great displeasure, Queen Alicent had insisted your presence at the supper of Targaryen and Hightower—a feast destined to spiral into a night of revelry or ruin, most likely the latter. You preferred the shadows, where the light of their self-destructive feud would not touch you, allowing you to observe from afar rather than be ensnared in their political webs. Yet, refusal was a luxury you could not afford.

As the time of the supper approached, you dedicated a substantial time deliberating over your choice of attire. The vibrant hues of black and green were decidedly unfit, signifying discord and allegiances you wished to avoid at all costs. Instead, you selected a gown of soft pink silk, its flowing fabric draping elegantly over your form, a symbol of innocence amidst the clamor of tensions. You wove your hair into intricate braids interspersed with delicate pearls that caught the flickering candlelight, culminating your preparation with a cherished pendant—a family heirloom adorned with the Mikaelson crest.

Stepping into the grand dining hall, you were met with the scrutinizing gazes of the Blacks. Whispers and curious glances darted in your direction as you approached the long table, poised and unwavering, choosing to disregard Aegon's lecherous leers that felt all too familiar. A frown tightened your lips when you spied that both seats beside Helaena were occupied. Resigned yet resolute, you claimed the next available chair—seated close to Aemond.

"My prince," you intoned softly, offering a nod of acknowledgment.

Aemond's violet eye bore into you, a swirl of unspoken thoughts birthing an electric tension between you. Time seemed to stretch as he regarded you, his expression inscrutable, before he replied, "My Lady," his voice low and controlled, yet laden with something you couldn't discern.

With practiced grace, you settled into your seat, the heavy air thick with unspoken politics. You leaned slightly forward, attempting to listen as King Viserys, broken and weary beneath the weight of his crown, delivered a grand speech. He spoke of unity and the bonds of family, though in truth, all you wished for was the freedom to roll your eyes, a habit you had long restrained. His words felt hollow, a poignant irony given his role in fracturing his family as much as he sought to mend it

From what Queen Alicent had confided in you, you were painfully aware of the King's heart-wrenching choice—his decisions that saw his first wife deprived of her future and life, all in favor of the male heir he hoped for. That tragic episode echoed through the halls of the Red Keep, leading to not just his wife but both her and their son's death. And now, as King Viserys eagerly sought the son he so desperately desired, he had all but disregarded Aegon, neglecting the boy from the moment of his first cry.

As the King’s voice echoed in the hall, you caught sight of Helaena, Aegon, and Aemond—each face twisted in quiet agony, a poignant testament to the empty love their father bestowed upon them. In that moment, you felt a surge of empathy and support for them — even Aegon. With a discreet but deliberate motion, you slipped your hand beneath the table, gently covering Aemond’s tightly clenched fist.

He tensed at your touch, but after a heartbeat of hesitation, Aemond relaxed and opened his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. A small squeeze passed between you—a silent token of gratitude that spoke volumes in contrast to the empty words spilling from the King's lips.

As the evening wore on, the air thick with unwelcome tension, your mind began to drift, thoughts becoming a haze as the speeches droned on around you. It was only when Aemond's hand slipped from yours, his presence withdrawing as he rose to his feet, that your gaze sharpened. You found him casting a fierce glare at Jacaerys, who was regaling the gathering with yet another toast.

However, it was Helaena's gentle voice that truly broke through the fog enveloping you. She stood, her lovely countenance illuminated by a warm, sugary smile as she raised her glass high. "I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena," she declared, her tone carrying a dreamy lightness, "They'll be married soon. It isn't so bad. Mostly he just ignores you... except when sometimes he's drunk."

Her words pierced your heart, the bittersweet truth laced within them shattering whatever sympathy you had harbored for Aegon. With a mixture of sorrow and indignation igniting within you, you cast a venomous glare towards Prince Daemon, who, aflame with mirth, laughed at Helaena’s toast. Yet you were not as discreet as you’d hoped; the piercing gaze of Prince Daemon met yours, a knowing smirk creeping upon his lips.

“I do believe I am yet to have the distinct pleasure of being introduced to our guest,” Prince Daemon declared, his voice tinged with the kind of arrogance that could curdle the blood of the unwary. The room fell silent; all attention was drawn to you, as if you were a curious creature caged among the dragons, and you suppressed the urge to sigh at the mischief brewing in his expression.

Queen Alicent cleared her throat—a notable attempt to extricate you from Daemon’s merciless gaze. “She is one of my esteemed ladies, Prince Daemon,” she interjected, her tone hinting at a subtle warning, though the sharpness of the prince’s wit remained unyielding.

“A lady, indeed?” Daemon’s voice was laced with mockery, his eyes flickering over you as if you were an intricate puzzle, “Yet here she sits, so comfortably, as if she belongs to the very blood of House Targaryen.” Daemon replied, the cunning glimmer in his eye only intensifying. He leaned forward, every inch the contemplative predator. “What is your name, my lady?”

The warmth of the hall contrasted sharply with the coolness of his gaze, yet you met it with unwavering resolve, the remnant courage of your lineage steeling your heart as you told him your name and lied about hailing from The Reach, your voice steady, resonating amidst the stillness.

"Mikaelson?" Daemon mused, his smirk as sharp as Valyrian steel. His silver hair framed a face both youthful and hardened by conflict, and his voice dripped with the playfulness of a cunning predator. "And yet you're no son."

A tight smile graced your lips, the playful banter igniting the spark of your short temper. "My father has enough sons, I assure you, Prince Daemon," you rebuffed, your tone dipped in irritation.

"How old are you? Six and ten?" he pressed, his gaze unwavering, while you caught sight of young Jacaerys approaching Helaena, asking her for a dance. If only irony were not woven into the very fabric of their fates—how you wished Queen Alicent had seen fit to unite them in a more harmonious bond than the betrothal she made with Helaena and Aegon.

But also at that moment, you recognized the precariousness of your own web of lies. Since your arrival at King's Landing, you had deceived the queen into believing you were six and ten, which in truth you were. Oh, how the centuries rolled by, yet your vampiric nature kept your visage untouched, a fragrant bloom eternally in its prime. It was a game of wit and veiled truths, and you knew well how to play.

You met Daemon’s piercing gaze anew, your expression turning steely, tinged with an edge of irritation. “No, your highness,” you replied, your voice as cool as ice. “I am three-and-twenty.”

Prince Daemon raised a silver eyebrow in surprise. “My, my, even older than Prince Aegon,” he drawled, the words rolled off his tongue like honey laced with venom, aimed to sting, "And unmarried, I presume?"

Though you longed to retort with the truth, that you were even older than him, a creature of darkness preserved by the very essence of your nature, you instead offered a demure smile, saying, “Yes. But I prefer it that way. Much more preferable than marrying whilst I was a girl." Your words, though soft-spoken, held a steel beneath their surface—a blade forged in the fires of countless unsaid anger at the world around you.

Daemon’s lips curled into an amused smirk, and he shrugged, seemingly unfazed. “And yet, that is the world we live in.” His tone was laced with the disillusionment of a man who had seen much—his own brand of charm wrapped in an air of indifference.

“Indeed, a world where old men prey upon young girls,” you countered, your voice steady and unwavering, “but I daresay you are no stranger to such tactics, your highness.” The look of amusement that had brightened Daemon’s features dimmed, his smirk wilting like a flower in winter, which you took great satisfaction in.

You jolted in your seat, when Aemond, seated beside you, suddenly slammed his fist onto the table. The cacophony of music and chatter in the hall fell silent as he rose, his goblet held aloft like a rallying cry. "Last Tribute!" he announced, a boldness in his voice that demanded attention.

You glanced around the room, and the unease reflected in the faces of his kin did not escape you. Aemond continued, "To the health of my nephews: Jace… Luke… and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise… hm… strong."

A faint gasp escaped your lips as you caught the veiled insult aimed at the Velaryon boys' bastardy. The shocked expressions of the Targaryens around you were a clear indicator that Aemond’s words had struck a nerve. Queen Alicent, her composure straining against the affront to her family, attempted to intervene. "Aemond," she cautioned, her voice taut with concern.

But he paid her no heed, raising his goblet higher, a wicked gleam in his eye as he spoke, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Come… let us drain our cups to these three… Strong boys," he declared, the words echoing through the revelry like a distant thunderclap.

The hall fell silent, eyes turning to Jace Velaryon, whose face had flushed a deep crimson, betrayal etching lines into his young features. He advanced on Aemond with the fury of a dragon, fists clenched tight. "I dare you to say that again," he challenged, his words barely concealing the tempest of wrath within him.

"Why? 'Twas only a compliment." Aemond retorted with a smirk that could cut glass. "Do you not think yourself Strong?" The taunt flew from his lips like a well-bred serpent, and before the words had fully settled in the air, Jace's fist met Aemond’s cheek with a resounding smack.

Yet, to Aemond, it seemed naught but a gentle breeze, his expression barely shifting as he staggered back only a pace. His pale violet eye sparkled with mischief, unfazed by Jace's sudden fury.

In a swift motion, you rose from your place at the table, the wooden chair scraping against the stone floor as you moved to intervene. Aemond, with a dismissive shove, pushed Jace down, the young prince hitting the hard ground with a thud.

Without thinking, you stepped towards Helaena, and gently took her by the arm. “Come, boys are such immature creatures, yes,” you said softly, guiding her away from the escalating chaos that threatened to engulf them both. Her wide eyes flickered with uncertainty, but she leaned into your touch, casting a sorrowful glance back at the scene as you ushered her away.

You watched as Aemond stormed out the dining hall, his anger crackling in the air like the storm clouds that often loomed over King's Landing. As chaos settled around you, you felt an impulse, a momentary lapse in resolve, and left Helaena's side to pursue him.

He strode fiercely through the halls of the Red Keep, the glint of his silver hair catching the flickering torchlight. You hurried to match his pace, concern fluttering in your chest. "Aemond," you called out softly, "are you alright?"

The scent of his wrath surrounded him, palpable as the incense in the court. He did not glance your way, his voice a frigid whisper laced with venom. "Absolutely splendid."

Your brow furrowed at the sharpness of his words, and with a hint of naïveté, you responded, "I sense a trace of sarcasm in your tone."

Aemond exhaled sharply, quickening his steps in a feeble attempt to distance himself from your probing presence, but your determination was steady. "Did my mother send you to chastise me?" he snapped, the words like arrows loosed from a drawn bow.

"No," you responded gently, your eyes softening with empathy. "I am here of my own accord, wishing only to know if you are truly well."

His stormy glare wavered for the briefest moment, as if the floodgates within him were on the verge of breaking, as if realising it was you he was talking to. But just as swiftly, he clamped down on it, his demeanor hardening once more. Suddenly, he halted and turned to face you, the tension palpable in the air between you.

You lifted your chin defiantly, unwilling to cower beneath the intensity of his stare. "Knowing," he began, his voice low and resonant. "And yet I find I do not know you at all."

Your brow furrowed, a hint of confusion playing at the corners of your lips. "I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean."

He raised a hand, holding out three fingers as if counting off a point. "Three things," he affirmed, his tone matter-of-fact. "I now know three things about you: your name, your home, and that you have brothers."

You paused, gazing at him with wide, innocent eyes, your voice a gentle whisper, "You seem troubled by this knowledge."

He exhaled heavily, pressing a knuckle to the jagged scar that marred his skin, perhaps seeking solace from its lingering pain. A part of you longed to ease his suffering. "It is only my frustration that weighs heavily upon me," he confessed, his tone laced with a mix of irritation and longing. "You hold the knowledge of my life in your hands, yet I know naught of your story."

You crossed your arms defiantly, donning a mask of indifference, "I do not understand the depth of your frustration."

Aemond's singular violet eye bore into your soul with an intensity that made your heart race. "I suspect you do. You are well aware of the affections I hold for you."

A sharp breath caught in your throat as you shook your head, dismissing the peculiar warmth blossoming within your chest. "Those were mere whims of a boy, your grace," you retorted, attempting to cloak your uncertainty in bravado.

His gaze remained unwavering, a storm of emotion swirling within that piercing eye. "Yet here I stand, no longer a boy, and the flames of my desire for you still burn fierce."

"You mustn't speak so," you urged, desperation threading through your voice like a fraying rope.

"Why ought I to remain silent?" Aemond shrugged, a hint of defiance lacing his words. "This is but the truth of my heart."

"Which is wholly improper," you retorted fiercely, the tension between you thickening in the wake of your words.

An awkward silence enveloped you both, heavy with unspoken thoughts, until Aemond cleared his throat, shifting the fragile atmosphere. "You held your own remarkably well against my uncle's incessant probing," he remarked, seeking lighter ground.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as a tendril of chill from the nearby window touched your skin, though the coolness hardly bothered you. "There is only one man who may speak to me in such a manner," you replied with a touch of defiance, "and that is my brother."

“Mhm,” Aemond murmured, his gaze locked onto yours, an intensity in his violet eye that seemed to pierce through the very air between you. “Pray, tell me more.”

You stifled a roll of your eyes, at once annoyed and amused by his insatiable curiosity. "I am the youngest of six," you said, your tone now lighthearted yet elusive, "and my favorite color is pink. Might that suffice for your unquenchable thirst for knowledge about me?"

His lips curved in a smirk, his gaze unwavering. "No," he replied, his voice low and firm. "It shall never be enough."

With a genuine exasperation, you rolled your eyes this time, a small smile betraying your annoyance. "Well, if you must know—"

But your words were abruptly stolen by Aemond’s boldness. His strong hands cupped your face, his touch igniting a warmth that seeped through the layers of silk between you. In an instant, his warm, soft lips met yours, and time seemed to freeze. Your heart raced, an unexpected firework of emotion exploding within you as you instinctively leaned into him, responding to the kiss despite the whirlwind of confusion in your mind.

Yet reality came crashing back as your senses settled, and you hastily broke away from him, breathless and bewildered. The air in the room felt charged, and you glared at him, regaining your composure and a semblance of control

The fool wore a dopey grin, that infuriatingly charming smile that only deepened your ire. You shot him a withering look. “I was speaking,” you pointedly reminded him.

His brows knitted in confusion, a flicker of surprise on his face. “What?”

You planted your hands defiantly on your hips, your indignation brewing like a storm. “I was speaking, and you interrupted me! Not only that, but you did not seek my permission to claim my lips.”

Aemond’s laughter rang like the chiming of bells, an amused glimmer in his eye as he observed your vexation. “Very well, my lady. May I kiss you again?”

Your irritation flared, your cheeks warming with a blend of anger and embarrassment. You took a deliberate step back, confusion simmering just beneath your skin. “No, of course not. You have already stolen a kiss from me, but I shall not so easily grant you another.” You held back the childish urge to stomp your foot in frustration. With a petulant huff, you turned on your heel to storm away, your voice carrying a wisp of indignation. “This is most improper and indecent! Good night, your Highness.”

“Good night, my Lady Love,” Aemond murmured, his violet gaze lingering on you until you vanished around a distant corner. His heart swelled with an unexpected mix of hope and affection, the chaotic Targaryen supper and the impending shadows of war fading from his mind. With a tender gesture, he brushed his fingertip against the spot where your lips had just brushed against his, savoring the memory.

And as you stalked off into the dimly lit corridors of the castle, the weight of his gaze lingered, leaving you with a tumult of emotions swirling in your mind, an echo of the kiss that you could neither dismiss nor desire to forget.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd #the originals #mikaelson #vampire!reader

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leftoverpages · 5 months ago

Text

Starlit Sands

Pairing 𓅪 Knight!Benjicot "Davos" Blackwood x Targaryen!reader

Tags 𓅪 forbidden love, angst, fluff-ish, no war AU, reader uses she/her but no physical description, she’s Rhaenyra’s daughter (no mention of the father)

Notes: spent all day writing for this man so you’re going to be fed for the next few days <3

Wordcount 𓅪 1.1k

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen's chambers in the Red Keep were a sanctuary of silk and velvet, where whispered secrets echoed in the tapestries and the scent of jasmine lingered in the air. From her window, Y/N watched the city of King's Landing bustle and buzz with life below, the setting sun casting a fiery glow over the rooftops. It was here, amidst the opulence of her mother's court, that she felt most trapped.

Tonight, however, a restlessness stirred within her heart, a yearning for something beyond the gilded confines of the castle. With nimble fingers, she unlatched the window and slipped out into the twilight, her silken gown billowing softly in the evening breeze. Moonlight bathed her in its gentle embrace as she made her way through deserted corridors and shadowed alcoves, guided by the distant murmur of the sea.

Unbeknownst to her, Ser Benjicot Blackwood stood vigilant outside her door, his silver armor gleaming in the flickering torchlight. His duty as a knight of the Kingsguard demanded unwavering vigilance, yet tonight, his thoughts strayed to the young princess whose safety was his charge. As the hours wore on, a sense of unease gnawed at him, prompting him to check on her.

When Lady Rhaenyra arrived at her daughter's chambers, her brow furrowed with concern. "Where is Y/N?" she demanded of the guards stationed outside, her voice edged with urgency.

"She was here, Your Grace," one of the guards stammered, his eyes darting nervously. "But we haven't seen her leave."

Rhaenyra's jaw tightened with worry. "Find her," she ordered sharply, her tone brooking no argument. "Now."

Meanwhile, Y/N reached the deserted beach at the edge of the Blackwater Rush, her bare feet sinking into the cool, damp sand. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery path upon the water's surface as waves whispered secrets to the shore. The rhythmic ebb and flow of the tide beckoned to her, offering solace amidst the tumult of her thoughts.

She paused at the water's edge, her gaze drawn to the horizon where the last remnants of daylight clung stubbornly to the sky. Stars began to twinkle overhead, painting the heavens with their ancient light. In that moment, Y/N felt a profound sense of peace, as if the weight of her responsibilities had been momentarily lifted.

Ser Benjicot, racing against time and worry, finally caught sight of Y/N's figure silhouetted against the waves. Relief flooded through him as he quickened his pace, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and exhilaration. "Y/N!" he called out, his voice echoing across the deserted beach.

Startled, Y/N turned to face him, her eyes wide with surprise and a hint of guilt. "Ser Benjicot," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of the waves. "I... I needed..."

Her words faltered, caught between explanation and apology, as Ser Benjicot approached her with measured steps. "My lady," he began, his tone a mixture of reproach and concern. "You cannot simply wander off like this. Your safety..."

Y/N met his gaze, her expression a mix of defiance and vulnerability. "I needed to escape," she confessed softly, her voice tinged with melancholy. "To breathe, to feel... alive."

Ser Benjicot's stern countenance softened as he regarded her with a depth of understanding that belied his knightly demeanor. "Your safety is paramount," he insisted, his voice tinged with anguish. "I cannot bear the thought of anything happening to you."

Y/N reached out tentatively, her fingers brushing against his armored sleeve. "I know," she replied softly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "But sometimes, I need to remind myself that there's beauty beyond these walls."

Their gazes locked in a silent exchange fraught with unspoken words and unfulfilled desires. Ser Benjicot's heart raced with conflicting emotions, torn between duty and the undeniable pull of his feelings for the young princess under his protection.

"Y/N," he began, his voice thick with emotion. "I am bound by oath, by duty..."

Before he could finish, Y/N closed the distance between them, her lips capturing his in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of longing and forbidden passion. In that fleeting moment, time stood still as they shared a stolen embrace, their hearts beating in unison beneath the starlit sky.

When they finally pulled away, their breaths mingling in the salt-tinged air, Ser Benjicot's resolve wavered under the weight of their unspoken truth. "I cannot," he whispered hoarsely, his voice betraying the turmoil within. "I should not..."

Y/N silenced him with a gentle touch to his lips, her eyes shimmering with determination. "Sometimes, Ser Benjicot," she murmured, her voice filled with quiet resolve, "love cannot be bound by duty alone."

With a heavy heart and a lingering touch, Y/N turned towards the Red Keep, leaving Ser Benjicot alone with the echo of their forbidden kiss and the weight of their unspoken yearning.

But instead of leaving, Y/N hesitated, feeling the pull of the serene beach and the quiet company of the knight who watched over her. She turned back to Ser Benjicot, whose expression mirrored her inner turmoil.

"Let’s stay," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the gentle rush of the waves. "Just for a moment."

Ser Benjicot hesitated, torn between his duty and the undeniable bond that had formed between them. But in the end, his heart won over his sense of duty, and he sank down beside her on the soft sand, his armor creaking softly with the movement.

They sat in silence, watching as the last vestiges of daylight faded from the sky, giving way to a tapestry of stars that glittered like diamonds overhead. Y/N leaned against Ser Benjicot, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her cheek.

"This is beautiful," she whispered, her voice filled with wonder as she traced the outline of a constellation with her finger.

Ser Benjicot glanced down at her, his gaze softening as he looked upon the young princess who had captured his heart. "Yes," he agreed quietly, his voice rough with emotion. "But not as beautiful as you."

Y/N met his gaze, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I know we cannot be together," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "But in this moment, let us forget about duty and honor."

Ser Benjicot's hand found hers, intertwining their fingers together in a silent promise. "Just for tonight," he vowed, his voice thick with emotion. "Let us be together."

They sat together in the tranquil embrace of the night, their hearts entwined amidst the stars and the whispering waves. For in that fleeting moment, duty and love coexisted harmoniously, bound by the silent oath of their hearts.

And as the moon sailed high overhead, casting its silvery light upon the world below, Y/N and Ser Benjicot watched the sunset fade into memory, cherishing the fragile yet enduring bond they had forged amidst the serenity of the beach, knowing their love was a secret whispered between the stars.

#benjicot blackwood x reader #davos blackwood #hotd x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #game of thrones #asoiaf #benjicot blackwood

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housetargaryenloyalist · 4 months ago

Text

Oh So Sweet

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Summary: Although married off at age three and ten and sent away from Kings Landing, you never forgot your first love.

Word count: 2.7K

Content warnings: Bad parenting? Some self doubt and sadness, and also fluffy flufness.

Little author's note/disclaimer: (feel free to skip this)

I haven't written anything properly in years, which means I am very very very rusty. I essentially wrote this as bit of challenge to myself and I know it is not my greatest work, but I'm still proud of it.

So I hope you will like this! Feedback is welcomed and very appreciated <3

Happy reading!

Six years, that is how long you had been gone from King’s Landing and now you were back to celebrate Jacaerys Velaryon’s 20th name day. You had come as a representative from your husband’s house. He was currently indisposed due to some nasty fever and was too unwell to make the journey, and although you wouldn't admit it aloud you were all too happy to journey alone. Eager to see the man again whom you had loved since childhood.

Your husband was an insufferable swine four times your senior who had essentially trapped you in his estate after your marriage. Not allowing you to leave unless he were to breathe down your neck, it infuriated you.

However this specific name day celebration invitation had urged you specifically to attend, therefore you could not refuse or you would risk the fury of the royal household. Their fury was not one you wished to invoke.

Although it had been six years it felt as though little had changed in the Red Keep, much still looked the same. The same Targaryen heraldry hung the walls and decorated the castle, reminding you with every step you took to whom this place belonged. In case you forgot the dragons screeches outside. Years ago your father had been a member of Viserys I’s small council and had taken your mother and you with him to reside in the Red Keep.

It had allowed you to grow up with the royal children, and in that time you had grown partially fascinated with the eldest son of princess Rhaenyra. You had grown so close to him, the both of you were practically inseparable. Close in age and proximity, it was no wonder you were such good friends. He would take you to see Vermax and promise to take you flying to wherever you wanted to go. Every time he would train, he wanted you there and every time he won, he wanted you to be the first to congratulate him. You told him legends and stories of heroes and warriors of old.

On your tenth name day the two of you had snuck out of the party to the Godswood, it is there under the glowing moon you were discussing the future when Jacaerys had let something slip. “I want to marry you,” he had whispered in a soft voice, almost as if he hadn’t meant to speak it out loud. In response you took his hand in yours as you whispered back “I want that too.”

By the time you were three and ten your mother had discussed a potential engagement between your two houses with Rhaenyra, who hadn’t seemed opposed to it. However, this discussion between the two of them had angered your father. He didn’t want his only daughter to marry a, what in his eyes looked like, a “bastard”. It prompted him to marry you off as soon as possible.Not even two months later you were wed to some lord in the Reach far away from King's landing. It was a sad ceremony and it resulted in a sad marriage.

Early in the evening a knock at your door roused you from your sleep, the handmaidens from earlier had come back to help you get ready. They carried several boxes each revealing a different dress, in various different shades.

“What are these?” You asked as you examined the fabrics up close, they all looked to be of highest quality but you recognised none of them, they were not gowns you had taken with you.

“Courtesy from prince Jacaerys my lady,” one of the handmaidens replied, her answer leaving you shocked. Jacaerys bought you these gowns? Your heart fluttered at the thought and you couldn’t keep your smile at bay. You looked through the many options, there were dresses in shades of purple, pink, red, green.

There was even a gown in the signature black and red of the Targaryen’s, no doubt intentional from him. After a while you settled on one, the fabric feeling soft against your fingers and you had a feeling Jacaerys would be pleased with your choice.

“I choose this one.” You turned to your handmaidens, they nodded and helped you with undressing and then helped you put on the new gown. Afterwards you sat at your vanity as one of the handmaidens did your hair and the others put the other gowns back into their respective boxes. It didn’t take long before you were ready, your hair beautifully done and all the gowns put away, meaning it was now time to make your way to the throne room to join the others in the celebrations.

The throne room looked amazing, there were tables laid out with food and wine, a large chandelier illuminating the room alongside the various candle holders. Nobles from all over Westeros were gathered here today and were mingling amongst each other. You hadn’t seen a scene so grand since the wedding of prince Aegon to princess Helaena, and even then it had not been so grand. Your arrival was announced by a courtier and as you descended the stairs you looked to the Iron throne.

Rhaenyra Targaryen sat on the throne looking as regal as you remembered her, on her left stood Alicent Hightower with her three children. You were slightly surprised the four of them attended the celebrations especially after the usurpation attempt. Although it was a short lived attempt it was still a shock for the entire realm and you were relieved to see that they all seemed to be on decent terms with each other.

King-consort Daemon stood on the right side of the queen alongside his two daughters and his two youngest stepsons. You almost didn’t recognize Joffrey, he had been so very young when you last saw him, too young for him to remember. With a pang to your heart you made your way to where they served wine and asked for a cup.

The servant handed you your cup and as you were taking your first sip the crow dispersed, the servant who had just a few moments ago announced your arrival now announced the arrival of the guest of honour. “Prince Jacaerys Velaryon of House Velaryon and House Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne.” Your eyes immediately darted up to where he stood and as you laid your eyes upon him, your breath left you.

Jacaerys Velaryon stood in the entrance to the throne room dorning targaryen red and black, standing tall and proud. His brown curls framing his face and making him look all the more handsome. You watched him make his way through the crowd as applause followed, echoing in the large room. You felt your lungs constrict, he looked so handsome, he looked even better than how you had imagined him all these years.

It almost felt as though the Gods were taunting you. It felt unfair, so so unfair. You drank more of the wine, letting the alcohol flow through you in an effort to feel more at ease. However it had much the opposite effect.

The crown prince gave a short speech in which he thanked everyone for coming and wished everyone a pleasant evening. For a short moment you could have sworn your eyes locked but you could not be sure.

Soon the crowd made way for the crown prince and Baela Targaryen, who were going to be the first to dance as was custom. You knew it was illogical but a bitter part of you thought that it should have been you, you in his arms dancing and laughing. It should have been you standing by his side, touching his arm, caressing his face.

You drank more of your wine, before long your cup was empty and the dance had ended with applause from the attendees. The band started a new number as the prince and princess disappeared in the crowd, other dancers swarmed the floor and you felt it to be in your best interest to find some fresh air. No one was paying attention to you as you slipped through the doors, at least, that’s what you thought.

There was a small balcony not far from the throne room, it overlooked the water and the crashing waves hid any sound from the party. You leaned against the rails as you tried to hold back tears. All these years being locked away in an estate of a man you didn’t love, with no one to keep you company.

Just for you to return to where you had longed to be and feel equally out of place. It hurt, it hurt a lot. The angry waves crashing against the shore mimicked your own frustration, you were so engrossed in watching the waves and their endless assault against the shore, you did not hear the footsteps approaching.

“I hope you’re not planning on jumping.”

You turned around faster than light could reach earth, the voice sounded so familiar yet deeper and more mature. Your breath caught in your throat

“Jace?” You whispered to the man in front of you, convinced you were dreaming. He looked even more magnificent up close, full lips and strong brows and fair skin. Jacaerys smiled at you before stepping closer. “Yes Y/n,” his hand reached out to touch your cheek and you instinctively leaned into the touch, closing your eyes. “It’s me.”

His hand wiped away the tear that escaped your eye, and as you opened your eyes again he stood so much closer. “I missed you,” you spoke as he stepped closer. “I missed you too.” His arms encircled you and you were pulled in a strong embrace “I missed you so much.”

He buried his face in your hair as he cradled you against his frame. You stood there for a while, clinging to him as though he were to disappear if you let go. The waves continued to crash against the shore, the nobles continued dancing and the music kept playing, regardless of everything at that moment it felt as though time stood still, just for the two of you.

However, you knew this wasn’t appropriate. If anyone saw you two, it would damage both your reputations, yours more than his. You retreated your hand and put it on his chest, intent on pushing him away, although you knew it would be futile.

It was you who pulled away first, although you couldn't go far. Jacaerys’ training paid off because you could not escape his arms even if you had earnestly tried. You looked into his eyes, now it was your turn to cradle his face. He turned his face slightly sideways before planting a soft kiss to your palm, a content smile gracing his face.

“We can’t Jace.” His eyes opened as pressed you closer to him. “Why not?” “It’s improper.” He laughed in response. “Why?” You slapped his chest softly in jest, and looked at him. “Because I’m married, Jace, so we really really shouldn’t continue.” Instead of pulling away as well, he cupped your face and lowered his own face so he could look deep into your eyes.

“I don’t care,” was all he said before his lips met yours. It felt odd to be finally kissing the man you had pined after for so long, it felt like a gift from the heavens, and it was gift you were going to cherish forevermore.

He left your lips briefly to whisper something only for you to hear, “I love you.” Before you could respond, his lips went back to yours and his hands cradled your face to prevent you from leaving. The kiss was sweet, sweeter than anything on this earth. Sweeter than the cakes in the banquet hall, sweeter than any fruit you had ever tasted. It was so sweet, you knew you would be addicted before long.

His hands left your face and travelled down to your back, pulling you closer to him. The kiss felt heavenly, his lips soft against your own, it was like life was brought back into you. You kissed back with vigour, your hands reaching for his neck where they crossed over one another.

Jace was quick to deepen the kiss, tugging you closer to him as if he was planning on devouring you. Your heart was racing a mile per minute, and you couldn’t help but let your hands travel. On instinct they found their way into his soft, brown curls. A soft moan escaped him as you lightly tugged on the curls, at this you smiled. In response Jace gathered your skirts and hoisted you up so you were seated on the balcony, your legs crossed behind his back on instinct. His hands travelled up and down your sides, almost tugging at the fabric so hard it would rip.

You pushed against his chest when it felt as though you were going to pass out, you needed to breathe as did he. He parted to let you breathe, and he let his head fall to your forehead. A bright smile on his face as his chest fell up and down in quick succession, mirroring your own. It was he who broke the silence between the two of you after a few moments.

“Never leave again,” he whispered as he started trailing kisses from your cheeks to your neck, and as you opened your mouth to reply, he sucked on a specifically sensitive spot on your neck. A moan escaped your lips as a result and you could feel his smile widen against your skin. You giggled softly, “I won’t.”

He continued to lavish your neck with kisses as he did so, you could hear loud footsteps approaching, and a variety voices talking over one another. If they passed by and saw you in this position with the heir to the throne, you didn’t want to think about what was to ensue.

“Jace-” your hands tugged on his hair, which resulted in a gorgeous moan escaping his beautiful lips -” Jace, we should stop,” you said, hand caressing the curls you had tugged on. He grumbled before raising his head, and you let your hands fall to his shoulders. “Why do you want to stop,” he asked, “did I do something wrong?”

You shook your head, “We’re too exposed, anyone could walk in on us.” You glanced to the hallway and now it seemed that Jacaerys heard the same voices that you had heard moments prior, however now they were growing ever closer. He helped you down from your position and straightened his tunic.

“We should continue this elsewhere.” At this you let out a giggle, “bold of you to assume we will continue.” The puppy eyes he threw at you in response were enough to make almost any person swoon and fall for his ploy, but you needed to remain strong. “Jace I’m serious, I am married, continuing this would be most unwise.”

He took your hand in his, and looked you in the eyes, “I promise you this." His thumb stroked over your knuckles as he continued, "I will have your marriage annulled. I will beg my mother to do it and then-” he placed your hands on his chest, ”then we can marry, as was always the plan.” You smiled at him and softly caressed his chest. “I would like that.”

The voices in the distance disappeared and emboldened you to give him a small peck. “I should return to my room now.” He nodded in return, “I shall escort you.” You shook your head with a smile. “You should entertain your guests. They will wonder where you are.” He sighed, because he knew you were right. “Very well then. I shall see you on the morrow.” You smiled and nodded before departing to your chambers.

Once at your chambers you noticed something sitting on your vanity, a small raven scroll. Upon closer inspection it appeared the letter was sealed with the crest of your husband’s house. You opened the scroll and dropped it as soon as you read its content. You followed to scroll in its descent on the floor, shocked breaths falling from your lips. The content from the scroll laid bare for all to see.

Dear lady Y/n

It is with great sadness that we inform you that your husband has succumbed to his fever, passing away in the late hours of yesterday eve. We pray for you well being and eagerly await your return.

With regards

Maester Tansen

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