#rhaenyra finally took what she always wanted

[maidragoste]

Aerion

Age up!Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader (Daeron's twin sister)

Part 3 of I miss you

I honestly didn't think it would take me more than a year to decide if I wanted this to have a happy ending or not lol

Reblogs, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated. comments always motivate me to continue writing 🥹🙏🏻💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

The gods are cruel, Alicent Hightower thought as she watched her youngest daughter enter the throne room. The plan was that Larys would get you out of here with Aegon, Jaehaera, and Maelor but of course, the cursed baby had to ruin everything again. You went into labor and couldn't get away.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” said Alicent, horrified as she saw how the traitorous golden cloaks escorted you. It was obvious that you had barely finished giving birth and were brought here to swear loyalty to Rhaenyra. They hadn’t had the decency to let you clean yourself or wait for you to rest. Your always perfect hair was now a mess. Sweat and blood could be seen on your nightgown and legs. Not only that, but you looked like you were about to collapse. If it weren’t for the master holding your body, you probably would have fallen. Even though you wanted to appear strong, Alicent knew you and could see that you were confused and scared. No one should see a princess like that.

Alicent wasn't the only one horrified by the situation. Rhaenyra was too, remembering how she once had to bring Joffrey to the queen after his birth.

But the most shocked one was Jacaerys. For months he had been going crazy because no one could get any information about you, worried about your well-being and it turns out that you were pregnant with his child. He had no doubt that the baby you hold against your chest was his because he knew that if it were another man your family would have instantly made you marry but when it was him, Jacaerys Velaryon, Rhaenyra Targaryen's bastard, they hadn't wanted the news to spread.

“This is a shame! We are dealing with a princess of the kingdom!” said Jacaerys furiously at the guards as he approached you, drawing the attention of the court and disturbing the newborn.

“¹Ziry iksos sȳz, ziry iksos sepār aōha kepa,” you whispered, trying to reassure your baby. Jacaerys had missed hearing your voice so much but what moved him most was being called Kepa for the first time. He never thought it would be possible to have this with you, of course it wasn’t the best time being in the middle of a war and the child having been born out of wedlock, but he couldn’t help but feel happy. Was it wrong that after months of so much misery and loss, he felt happy to know that now in the world there was someone who was half the woman he loved the most and half his?

“Ñuha jorrāelagon, ivestragī nyke gūrogon ao naejot aōha chambers. Ao should clean bē se rest” Jacaerys said, ignoring the glances of his mother and stepfather. He knew he would have to have a conversation with them later, but right now all he cared about was you.

You nodded, moving away from the maester and Jacaerys took you in his arms and lifted you being as careful as possible. You felt your body relax as you rested your head against his shoulder. Finally, after months you felt something other than sadness and fear, you felt warm and safe with Jace. You needed him so much during all this time.

Alicent hated Rhaenyra's bastard for dishonoring you, with this scene everyone would now know that your son was his bastard, but as she watched you leave the room in his arms she couldn't help but feel grateful to him for being the only one to come to your defense. She knew you would be safe from Rhaenyra as long as Jacaerys was by your side, he wouldn't allow anything to happen to you.

As soon as the handmaidens left, your old handmaidens before you got pregnant, you burst into tears. Of course, as they helped you bathe you and your baby, you filled them with questions about what had happened during all those months that you were locked away. You knew there was war in your family but it was still a shock to hear about the deaths. You were shocked to hear what they did to your nephew Jaehaerys. Poor Helaena, poor Aegon. Your dear brother was the only one who had mercy on you and came to see you during your confinement. You thought he was angry with you when he stopped coming but in reality, it was because he ended up so wounded in battle that now Aemond is Prince Regent.

The doors opened again, startling you and you instantly rushed to wipe the tears on your face with your hands. Not wanting to show yourself weaker in front of Rhaenyra and Daemon. You turned around and your body relaxed when you saw that it was Jace. The maids must have told him that both you and the baby were already clean. You didn’t think he would come until later. You were sure he would be busy for hours being questioned by his mother and your uncle.

“We will marry and my mother will legitimize our son,” Jacaerys announced, approaching you with a smile, but you could still see the tiredness on his face. You had no idea how he had managed to convince Rhaenyra to accept, but it couldn’t have been easy or a pleasant conversation. He must have had to endure everyone’s reproaches. “What’s wrong?” he asked, looking at you worriedly when he noticed that you were crying.

“Is it safe for us to do that?” you asked instead. You should be happy after all, you always wanted to marry Jaehaerys but now you were just worried “Won’t it make Daemon even angrier? I don’t want our child to end up like Jaehaerys or for Daemon to end up poisoning me so you can continue your engagement to Baela.”

Jacaerys tensed at your words. And his head began to fill with different scenarios with you and the baby hurt or worse dead. He couldn’t bear to live with himself if that happened. He already lost his brothers, he couldn’t bear to lose you and his child. “That’s not going to happen” he declared caressing your hip. “I won’t allow anything to happen to you or our child. I will fight with fire and blood to protect you.”

“We will fight with fire and blood,” you corrected him.

He smiled at you and you couldn’t take it anymore. You kissed him, like you had dreamed of doing for all these months and it felt even better than you remembered. It was intoxicating, passionate, and warm. You wanted to kiss him forever, you would never get tired of the taste of his lips or his touch. You could feel his love and devotion for you and you loved him.

Then the baby started crying and the two of you instantly pulled apart. The two of you looked at each other before laughing at each other for being so scared by a simple cry.

“Can I hold him?”

“Of course,” you replied, feeling your heart race as you watched him take the baby out of the crib. You had thought that Jace would never meet his son and now you were witnessing him holding him in his arms for the first time. Thank goodness you were alone or you would feel foolish for watching with tears in your eyes as Jace held his son.

“What is his name?” Jace asked, staring in wonder into his son’s violet eyes, the same eyes as yours. That seemed to be the only thing you shared because later the baby had his nose and brown hair.

“I haven’t named him yet,” you admitted, feeling embarrassed at the surprise in his eyes. “I was waiting for you to choose his name.”

Of course, you had thought of some ideas during your pregnancy but now that you had Jace by your side you wanted him to choose the name.

“That's kind of you,” he said, feeling touched by such a gesture.

For a brief moment, Jacaerys considered naming him Lucerys but rejected the idea, not wanting his son's name to be laden with sadness and loss. His son is joy and hope in the midst of this dreadful war.

“Aerion,” Jacaerys said finally, kissing his son’s forehead, making a silent promise that he would always keep him safe.

¹It's fine, it's just your father

²My love, let me take you to your chambers. You should clean up and rest

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[hauntedfictionland]

❝a storm to remember❞

☾︎✰❛❀ Aemond Targaryen x Fem! Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: As the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and the heir to the iron throne, you are sent to stormlands as your brother to Winterfell, to create allies when you are met with him. Aemond Targaryen, your childhood enemy.

𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬/𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Mentions of violence and threats, kissing, childhood friends to enemies to lovers trope, minor injuries and blood.

🪐𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: He is my guilty pleasure, man who serves face while doing the shittiest things ever aka killing. This is my first Aemond fic ever, so I hope it's not too bad, and I would love writing advices or tips in my asks or messages, so feel free to send any.

The winds were soothing, although getting heavier as Stormlands grew closer. Your one hand on the rope, and the other touching along your dragon's raspy and rather itchy skin. You sighed, as the thought of having to negotiate with Borris Baratheon, who didn't hold a single regard for your mother or any woman for that matter.

You remember your mother's words; no fighting. No bloodshed. It had made you feel strange, as though there could be a need for it. You bit your lip as the dark castle came into view, with dark clouds forming already. You did not have a good feeling about this. But you couldn't disappoint your mother either, as the heir no less. You had to fight for your birthright, which Aegon took.

A strain coming to your head at the tactics of your dragon, who wanted to fly into circles as you had taught her. She wanted to have fun, not knowing this might be the most crucial occasion of your life. When you tried calling out to her, telling her to get down to some place where you could land, she refused. She was being erratic. With a few attempts at pulling the rope, she finally complied.

“Lykiri, Tessarion.” you say, as your dragon flies lower to the ground, to make a decent landing. You smiled as she grunted, in some annoyance. She always was stubborn, and it took some time to command her.

You wondered how much time it would take Jace to reach Winterfell, a part of you was envious. You wanted to be the one to see the North, yet he was the one who got to truly see it. ‘Borros was harder to convince’, as your mother said, how she needed someone with experience in that area. How it was your job as the eldest. Sometimes you felt it was a burden rather than a privilege, being heir to the iron throne. You don't know if you even deserve it, considering who your father is; your blood father. Laenor will always be your only father to you, the one who taught you how to sit on a dragon, or the great sea snake stories.

Hate, was what you used to feel when those rumours started reaching your ears. Of your parentage. Of your mother's king's guard, ser Harwin Strong. You did whatever you could to get away from those, from him. You didn't like it, he acted much closer to your mother than a mere guard should. And jace and luke being young, didn't see it as a problem. Even looked up to him. But you didn't. You felt so humiliated, that such low born could be your father, you—the heir, you, ser Laenor's true born daughter, as you tried convincing yourself again and again.

You didn't want to be a mutt, a bastard.

Harwin Strong tried connecting with you on many levels, but you denied all of them. You didn't even want to be near him, let alone speak with him. Flaunting your power and acting very rudely whenever he wanted to make conversation. You still remember the sadness in his eyes, as you told your king's guard to take him out of your sight. A filth, you called him. All out of insecurity.

That was the last time you saw him.

And now, all you had was Jacaerys's fond memories of him, nothing more. You wonder if you had cared to hear him out even once, what would he have said?

Shaking off the terrifying thought, you open your locks on the belt on your waist, slowly getting down. The storm had prevailed, with rain pouring down your black and red polish coat. You squint your eyes, trying to see better amidst the heavy rainfall. Tessarion let out a wail of joy, she loved rain. Given her so very nickname, the blue queen. After her blue scales and orange wings. That's when you heard a growl, a heavy one. That could only come out of a large dragon.

Your eyes widened, seeing the sight of that dragon.

Vhagar.

Which could only mean he was here.

“A letter from the queen.” you say, hesitantly as still processing the fact who you were to face very soon. The men guarding the castle nodded, letting you in. It felt like a dark cloud over you, as you entered. The black walls and steel throne, with Lord Borros sitting quite comfortably. You knew he was there, swiftly standing with a smirk, you didn't even want to face him.

“Princess Y/N Velaryon” one of the guards announced, “daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

You gulp, “Lord Borros, I have brought you a message.” you make sure to add, “from the queen.” he raises his eyebrows, “Yet earlier this day I received an envoy from the king. Which is it, king or queen?”

Your skin shivered as you felt Aemond's eyes constantly on you—not once did his gaze move. You remember when there was a time, a good time, in childhood, when Aemond was your closest companion. You both were around the same age, both quiet, wise, and mature. And you both lacked a dragon at the age all Targaryen children have one. You used to always defend him against the teasing of Aegon and your siblings, scolding Jace and Luke whenever they hurt Aemond's feelings. You remember how you pushed a hair out of Aemond's eyes, after the pig prank, kissing his cheek gently, promising him that he won't go without a dragon in his lifetime. How you had seen that for him.

Alas, after the driftmark incident, you didn't know who to defend, your brothers, or his taken eye. All you knew was that after you had moved to dragonstone, all talked bad of him, and with time, you started believing them.

“The house of the dragon doesn't seem to know who rules it.” Lord Borros sneered mockingly, as you clenched your fists. This was not at all how you planned it. “What's your mother's message, girl?”

You handed the envoy to one of his guards wordlessly, as Lord Borros—unable to read, called for his Mastor. Aemond Targaryen, wasn't a person you once remembered, you once loved. In a way your family would never approve. And you fear you still hold those feelings after all this time. You wonder what your mother would say, your brothers? if they knew the ways of your heart.

“Remind me? of my father's oath?” he says, sounding very offended.

At the corner of your eye, you could see Aemond smirking, as if he already won the bid. It infuriated you, as your hands curled up around your sword tightly.

“King Aegon at least came with an offer! my swords and banners for a marriage pact.” he continues, as you close your eyes in contrast to stop Aemond's winning stare on you, “now if I do as your mother bids, which one of my daughters will your brothers marry?”

Before you could answer, he speaks again, “—or which one of my sons will you marry?”

Your mouth gaped, as his voice sounded so excited and thrilled, as if he was already imagining having Targaryen grand children. Especially when they could be potentially heirs to the iron throne. You grimaced, a picture of his sons, same as him, fat, bearded and a wild lust, came into your mind and it disgusted you. Aemond looked surprised, straying away from his smirking face. His lips had fallen down to a glare, fist tightening.

You cleared your throat, “My brothers are not available to marry my lord, they're already betrothed to another.”

He nodded as if uninterested, looking for a different answer. Eager to know about you. His head peaked forward in question, a one you didn't want to answer; whether you'll bore his sons children or not. You were just seventeen, and even if westeros considered that to be a grown woman—you were still a young girl. And believed to be as well.

“As for me” you took a breath, “I will have to discuss it with the queen. She shall consider your offer.”

“Hmm” you heard Aemond's voice, glancing at him just for a second. This was wrong, this was so wrong. Not at all how you envisioned. He had to ruin everything, didn't he? now you had to go home with a rejection, while Jace would come with more support of armies.

Everything was a mess.

“So you come with empty hands?” Borros says, angered. You sighed, ready to mount back on your dragon and fly the rest of the way in self pity. “Go home, pup. And tell your mother that the lord of storm's end is not some dog that she can whistle up in need to set against her foes.”

Your jaw clenches, in disappointment “I shall take your answer to the queen, my lord.”

This was indeed, a failure. You failed to prove as the heir to the iron throne that you were capable. Especially because you are a girl. You needed to show it, to your mother and to everyone else, that you can take on that responsibility as well as any king. All because of him. It was his fault, and he sure looked proud. You hated this, hated his cunning smile, his swift posture, his one purple eye and oh, him. Everything you hoped you could achieve, he destroyed it for you.

He sure hated you; that was evident.

“Wait”

You hear Aemond, as you halt in your steps while turning back to the gates, “My lady strong.”

Your eyes widen, “What did you say?” he knew it, how to get in your skin. The dinner, with insults about your heritage, calling your brothers strong that resulted in a fight. It was exhausting, what did he want now? after all this time.

“You heard me.” he tilts his head, “did you really think, you could fly around the realm, trying to steal my brother's throne at no cost?”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips, which makes him furrow his eyebrows. “Your brother's throne? or rather, Aegon the usurper's?”

“I would mind my tongue if I were you, my lady.”

You bit your lip, his audacity, after all he had done, to remind you of your place. As if he ranked higher than you? A beat passed by, tension thick in the air. Neither of you were looking at each other, waiting for the other to make the move. As if it was a chess board, with the winner taking all. A verbal battle. Aemond finally broke the silence.

“So you're here to usurp my brother's throne then?” he spoke with a calming chill, seeing as your eyes turned into anger, “Traitors.” he mumbled in his breath.

You control every urge to grab his collar and hit him across his face, “I am in haste. Is there something you want from me, prince Aemond?”

His head lies low and a dangerous glint comes in his eyes. You gulped, unknowing where he was about to go with this. He had changed ever since Luke had done it. Taken his eye. Somewhere, you didn't blame him. It was true that none of your brothers ever got punished for what happened, a result of your mother being the obviously favoured child. He was angry, at Luke—at you, that nothing happened. Everything was complicated; but, not unsalvagable. After you returned to king's landing, you tried everything to be nice with Aemond, to be civil, for the least. Alas, he denied all of them.

“Yes, there is something I want.” he looks up, eyes cold, “something that was stolen from me not long ago.”

A hitch escapes your lips, “Aemond—”

“You know..” he cuts you off, stepping a little forward towards your direction, “I always wished for your brother to know, what it feels like, to experience such a pain. To have your eye carved out by Valaryan steel, hmm. Unfortunately, now that he isn't here, I'll have to make him learn some other way. What it feels to have an eye cut out, or rather, a loved one's eye cut out.”

There was just the slightest bit of emotion flash in his eyes, pool of stars, in agony yet so beautiful. Your breathing becomes heavy, as you start to fear for your life. Your hands slowly pulled out your sword.

“I will not fight you.”

You intended to sound harsh, but your voice came out more of a tremble. Aemond and your relationship had gone down the drain, you knew that. Yet, was he really willing and capable of wanting to cripple you? had he started to hold such hatred for you? did he truly forget all the best memories he and you made together. He was acting like you were a stranger to him, that he did not care for your being. Even the mere thought of that sends a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Fight would be little challenge.” his voice is hoarse and cold, “No. I want you to put out your eye.”

A small gasp leaves your mouth when he pulls out his eye patch, a blue emerald stone in the place of his lost eye. He looked so very, beautiful, you thought. Majestic and soft. As even after such an attack on his face, he was born to look gorgeous, no matter what. For a moment you became oblivious to what he was demanding, staring in a trance like state. He was the epitome of Targaryen beauty, tall and long haired, pale skin with features that could start wars between great houses. Your heart fluttered and your throat became dry, unable to form any kind of answer. Aemond did not seem to notice, as he only held a sour and blank look in his eyes.

You only snapped back when he spoke again, “As a payment for mine.”

“No, I will not.” your voice is low, but clearly he heard it since something changed in his expression. He was angry. An emotion he hardly showed ever since the accident.

“Then you are a coward as well as a traitor.”

“You can't be serious ab—”

“Give me your eye!” he shouts all of a sudden and starts to walk towards you with rage, “or I will take it!”

You frantically back away, pulling out your sword on impulse. The guards coming in to shield you, as lord Borros stands up, saying something about wanting to have no such ‘bloodshed’ beneath his roof. You barely hear him over your own beating heart, fear taking over every one of your survival instincts. He orders for you to be escorted back to your dragon, as Aemond watches you exit the doomed castle. The rain has worsened, your clothes, that had been a little dried up, now went back to being wet again. You push your hair out of your eyes, raising a hand to itch your neck. Your hair was long, so it irritated your skin whenever they were soaked with rain or water.

But all you could think about was what had happened inside, his eyes, his face, all his hatred for you. Did he really want to send you harm? or was he faking? your gaze turned to the side, expecting the giant green beast yet, Vhagar was nowhere to be seen. You started to panic, if Aemond had already flown away, it could only mean two possibilities. He went back to king's landing, or he was awaiting to do something much worse. The latter scared you.

You walked towards Tessarion, her dark and orange eyes bored into your figure, wings flapping in excitement. You sigh, slowly getting on top of her and adjusting your straps.

“Sōvēs, Tessarion.”

She hears your command and swiftly takes out into the sky. She was futile and fast, if you were careful enough, you both would be able to make it to dragonstone with no harm done. Besides, rain, was her element of sheer power. You squint your eyes, rubbing water out of them as a few minutes had passed by, the storm nowhere to be stopping anytime soon. All you could hear was the flapping of her wings and the heavy rainfall that held out the dark clouds. It didn't matter anymore of Lord Borros's rejection, he couldn't be any more reliable than he already is. Besides, if you could reach your home safely, without the presence of a one eyed prince, that would be more than victory enough.

However wrong had the universe been out there to prove you.

As you were about to loosen your tight ropes, with a newfound relief—a snarl disrupts you. You looked back to see the giant mouth of the big monster in the name of a dragon, coming up towards you. Instantly you yelped, pulling the ropes sideways to avoid getting eaten. You can hear Aemond's malicious laughs, he was enjoying this. You let out a cry for help, struggling to keep hold of your now panicked dragon, as Vhagar flew around you, mouth wide open.

The rain was making it quite difficult to see, as Aemond chased you down.

Vhagar's giant claws kept trying to cut you and Tessarion, as Aemond began to mumble things in high valaryan, something you could not hear due to your panic and wanting to steer away from him and his beast. You tugged on the leash, pulling her away to the left. You knew Vhagar had a hard time with turning around, and it would buy you some time. His laugh, so cruel and emotionless, he was out to kill you. That was unquestionable. You had to get away from them, instead of processing how your childhood best friend, and the man you loved, could become the reason for your death.

A cannon appeared in your sight, and you quickly flew into the narrow path in between it. Aemond could only follow you from the above, waiting for you to come out.

“Jemēla gēlȳni enkā! Taobi!” You hear him shout, an unexpected emotion and anger in his voice. You owe a debt? No, you didn't. You did not take his eye, or tease and bully him all those years ago. In fact, you were the one who defended him. And he thinks you are the reason for his lost eye?

“For the god's sake stop this Aemond!” you shout, a whimper coming out of you. Tears running down, “please.”

Somehow, at that Aemond's demeanor softened. It looked like he was over playing with you. But your dragon wasn't done with him, instead, Tessarion disobeyed your own commands, flew out the cannon and let out a massive fire at Vhagar's face. Something that didn't do much damage. You cursed, as she shrieked in pain when you harshened the ropes to make her listen. Aemond was going through the same situation, yelling out every command in high valaryan to stop, but his dragon was angered. That's when you were remembered of your grandfather's words, the idea that we control the dragons, is an illusion.

“No Vhagar! No!” was the last thing you heard from him, before his dragon grabbed your coat with its claws, losing the balance off the seat, you screamed as you fell off. The height was above the clouds, and in nowhere will you be to survive.

Until the ocean hit your body, and you blacked out.

Rain droplets on your eyes irritated you, as you could still feel it was raining. Not as hard as before, but still. Slowly blinking, you open your eyes. You found yourself laying on top of some concrete—more over rocks and tiny stones.

A sharp pain hits you, as you realise you were having a hard time getting up.

“Ouch!” you hiss, as blood comes out of your forehead and possibly from your ribcage. With minor cuts and bruises on the tip of your fingers and lips. You were too focused on your injuries, without noticing the very familiar presence by your side. “Don't get up, or it will make whatever injuries you have received worse.”

You gasp as his voice speaks out, swiftly turning and locking your eyes with the very man who was at fault for you being here in the first place. Aemond stood a few feet away, with Vhagar a little further up. An alarm went inside you, what was he doing here? was he here to finish what he started? give you a slow and painful death? and moreover, where was your dragon?

“T—Tessarion?” you manage to whisper, the pain worsening at that. Frantically looking around. Aemond reassured, “That bundle of blue is fine, probably lurking around and searching for you.”

He tries to get closer to you, to which you quickly shift away, wincing in pain at the rocks grazing your bloodied back. “Get the fuck away from me!” you say, as you pull out your sword. Hands shakily holding it.

His eyes weakened, as if a guilt was forming in his throat. His lips parted, but nothing came out. You heard your dragon's roars, she was close somewhere. You bit your lip to suppress the pain, refusing to cry in front of him. The rain didn't leave mercy on you, as it continued to fall. You were soaked, both from the storm and possible blood by scars and fractures. If you didn't get help, you could die in a very slow way, taking around seven to nine days. Perhaps faster by starvation or dehydration—or by his very sword. You didn't know which was worse.

“Y/N..” Aemond breathes out, “I—I didn't intend to cause this.”

That was the first time in years, he spoke your name. Only your name, no titles or formality. It was raw. You didn't answer, not knowing what to make of the whole ordeal. At first he was chasing you around like a mad man, and the next minute he was apologizing for almost killing you. You tried getting back up your feet, but winced at the sheer pain that came with it.

“Let me help you or—”

“No!” you immediately shake your head, pointing your sword further towards him.

In no world will you weaken your guard, let him get close to your body only for him to deceive you and strangle you to death. Or cut your throat with that small knife of his. You didn't know why he hadn't done that already? you were blacked out for almost ten minutes, he could have easily killed you with no difficulty. What did he even want? if not to kill you then why did he do all this?

“Y/N, let me help. Falling into the ocean at such speed is the same as falling in concrete ground. If not worse.”

“You tried to kill me! why would I ever trust you?”

He falls silent at that. Unexpectedly so. You bit your lip, struggling to keep up the strong facade with all the pain masking behind it. You didn't know how much longer you would be able to keep your sword pointed at him. Your dragon is far away and no one is here to possibly protect you against Aemond and his giant beast.

“I didn't want to kill you,” he says, his voice faltering from the rain that had now soaked his entire clothes and hair, “Only scare you.”

“Well you did more than that” you bite back, a bitterness in your tone. He scoffs, “Maybe, if your young and wild dragon hadn't leashed fire on mine, this wouldn't have happened.”

A baffled scoff of your own comes out of you, in disbelief, “Oh so this is—this is my fault?”

“Precisely.”

“Fuck you!” you spat, your throat burning up at the yell. Your condition was getting worse by the minute, and Aemond noticed that. He inhaled a deep breath, preparing himself before matching up to you. You yelped as he reached over you, pulling your arms in order to get you up, but struggling as you put up a fight. You wince at the pain of getting on your feet, eventually giving up as he held on to you firmly, his hands of your waist.

You sigh, so tired like all the blood and mass from your body was being drained. You feel his eyes on you, worried as his breath was ragged. If you weren't on the brink of death, you might have realised you liked this feeling. But that moment is gone as soon as it came, you push Aemond away, roughly. This is your enemy. Not your protector.

“Y/N—”

“What do you want?!” you interrupted him, shouting amidst the heavy rainfall soaking both your breaths. “You threaten me, almost kill me, and then help me when it was you who put me in this position in the first place. I don't understand why you are here if you don't want to kill me! what other reason is there for you to do what you have done ever since I landed here?”

Aemond becomes silent, any words he could speak refused to come out. He looks at you hard, before taking his eyes off you, his jaw clenched. You were frustrated now, you wanted the answer. You needed it. He can't just ignore you after all this.

“Tell me. Why?” you inquire, again. When he doesn't answer, you furiously walk towards him, pushing his chest as he stumbles back a bit. “Why—”

“Because you didn't do anything!” he finally breaks, his voice was surprisingly inflamed with a touch of vulnerability.

You blink your eyes, taken aback, “what?”

“You...” Aemond breathes, willing himself to say those words he never wanted to say, jaw clenching, “You were my friend. My dearest one. Yet, when your brother took my eye and I was the one condemned for it, you didn't say anything. You just stood there, in pure silence. I—”

He stops himself, taking a deep breath, “I thought you would always defend me.”

You were speechless. It was true. What he said. You didn't say anything because you didn't know what happened. You weren't there. And being overwhelmed by all the shouting and bruises on your little brothers faces, you didn't know what to think. But you believed your mother. You couldn't defend yourself, he was saying the truth. You didn't have his back and that's what broke what the two of you shared. You went numb to the pain you had, or the seemingly hatred you had for him. This, this was the Aemond you remember. And you weren't about to let him go.

“I'm sorry.” you say, “I'm sorry, okay?”

But it wasn't enough. You knew it wasn't when his face fell, shaking his head and turning around to walk away from you and this. You weren't about to let that happen. “Aemond!” you called out to him, but he didn't stop. The pain was excruciating, but you needed to make this right. “Aemond!” when he doesn't listen, you take all the best strength you had left and catch up to him, grabbing his shoulder and turning him around.

“Aemond I'm sorry!” you yell, wanting him to feel how much guilt you felt, “But I'm in a lot of pain here, okay? it feels like my body is cut by a thousand bolts of lightning, I can't even feel my back and my throat is burning. But still, I'm sorry I didn't say anything. I did not understand what was happening—we were both children for god's sake! but even then, if I hurt you, which evidently now that I have I mean we wouldn't be in this situation if I hadn't, I'm so sorry.”

You don't know if you made it better or worse looking at the stoic expression on his face. But you had tried. The rain had soaked all his emotions, but even then you could see just the little bit of stars in his pupils you once saw as kids. You cross your arms, feeling the cold embrace you as you shudder in your injuries and pain. He gulped, unknowingly laying his head low to avoid looking in your eyes.

“I apologize, for this. For everything. I lost my temper today. It won't happen again.”

Your eyes soften at his words, as if a wall had risen between you two again. You hated it. You wanted to break it. So you did. In a few fraction of seconds, you didn't realise what you were about to do before you walked closer to him, too close. His breath hitches as your face comes in between his wet hair, his hair touching your cheeks just slightly.

“Y/N—”

He was only able to mumble out these words before your lips were on his. So barely. He inhaled a sharp breath, hands coming up but not knowing where to go. You close your eyes and just for one moment, forget the war, the families, the armies. Just you and him. Before you pull away, Aemond finally found his senses and comes up to cup your cheeks. Kissing you back softly but with an unspoken passion. He was careful not to hurt you.

Your hands find his waist, carefully tugging at the black belts that were wrapped around it. It felt like this was what you both had craved all these years. This. All the fight left out of him the moment you kissed him. Like the sun finally just glanced one look at his star. The one closest to it. You were his sun. And he was your favourite star. You only pull away when the growl of your dragon reaches your ears, Tessarion was here. Just a few rocks away. Your foreheads were touching, and Aemond places a small kiss at your head.

“Get home safe.” he whispers, his thumb tracing down your lips.

You didn't know if you would get a moment like this again. But you were happy. That you finally got to have one taste of heaven. Your heaven. Your Targaryen. Your Aemond.

𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑡, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑚:) 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛!

[yandereunsolved]

Thicker than Dragons Blood - ,, yandere Daemon Targaryen pining over Rhaenyra's friend

tw(s): yandere themes, suggestive themes (slight nsfw), grooming, dubcon, purity culture, misogny, stalkholm syndrome

✧ It all began the day that both you and Rhaenyra met in the nursery. Without the ability to speak, only to wail and babble, the two of you were instantly the closest of friends. There was no place where she went that you weren't either. You balanced out her reckless and bratty behavior. She wasn't the best friend to you, but you were stuck to her hip. You always took the fall for her so that she could keep her reputation untarnished. In those moments, you forgot your standing as a child of a noble—a Lord or Lady of a house standing strong. You always gifted her little things that you found as reminders of your bond. She paid you back through adventure and gossip. Occasionally, she would gaslight you if you heard something bad about her, but who wouldn't? She couldn't lose her best friend.

✧ In the back of those red-tinted memories was Daemon. Whenever he happened to be at the Red Keep, he always kept a close eye on what transpired between the both of you. At first, he saw an opportunity to stake his future claim as king by marrying Rhaenyra. Although his eyes always wandered to you. There was something about you that was just so innocent and corruptible. As you grew, so did Daemons intrigue with you. It soon ignited into a fiery infatuation, burning brighter than any flame in Old Valyria ever could.  

✧ His interest, a word far too shallow to explain his attraction, was not unnoticed by your father, the head of your house. Daemon had many talks with your father. Your father did your best to sweet talk Daemon, but obviously he was able to see through it. He didn't need any convincing. That's how he became your tutor. He would spend all his free time dragging you away from Rhaenyra, forcing you to learn whatever he felt like teaching you that day. He wanted to cause a rift in your relationship with her. He was also beginning to feel possessive over you. Why has his neice caught your favor and not him? He could not allow this seemingly 'platonic' relationship with Rhaenyra to further escalate.

✧ The content of his teachings would seem less than savory to most. You had just barely risen past the age of a blooming maiden; that makes you fair game, correct? When you were in your younger years, he never taught you anything that could cause rumors to spread. After all, rumors in the Red Keep spread faster than a dragon's fire. He needed to make sure that you were old enough to keep your mouth shut. He needed to make sure that your age wouldn't be a problem. An age gap wouldn't cause rumors, but a child noble engaging in intimate acts like an adult prince? Unthinkable. He wouldn't ruin his reputation because of that.

✧ However, no gap in age or experience could stop him once you were old enough to be considered of age. He began teaching you the finer things in life, like how to please a man and how to please yourself. You were naive. You didn't know more than how a babe was made. You didn't realize everything was so complicated and embarrassing. He always stifles your moans during your private 'tutoring' sessions. He encourages you and tells you how good you are being. He speaks dirty words in your ears in High Valyrian. He gives you an extra reward if he can see you recognize some of the words in his teachings. It's an addiction for him. He can't get enough of your body and your figure. You had grown into yourself. It was a sight no other whore's body could even begin to match. The gods must have gifted you to him after everything he has done for the kingdoms.

✧ He gives you 'homework' and does more than just scold you if you don't complete it to his liking. Most of the time, he just enjoys watching you. Even after all his teachings, you are still so inexperienced. He hasn't taken the final step with you. He wouldn't take your full maidenhood yet, no. He simply couldn't. Not for any moral reasons. He just wanted you to keep your virtue a bit longer. That's one of the things that attracted him to you in the first place. He would have immediately taken any other slut, but you weren't that. You are a god(dess) among men. You deserve a romantic night filled with passion. A night where he can put a babe in you, fertile or not.

✧ As you began drifting away from Rhaenyra due to your tutoring sessions with Daemon, you were confronted. She clung onto you with tears in her eyes and asked why you didn't care about her anymore. She silently begged and pleaded for a good reason. Then she became enraged. She slapped you and demanded to know once again why you were drifting from her. 

"Is it because of my uncle? Is your knowledge truly worth more than our lifelong partnership?"

You couldn't tell her the truth. You knew what you were engaging in with Daemon was scandalous. If you told Rhaenyra she may hate you, or even worse, use it to blackmail you so you are always by her side. You made up some flimsy excuse. You just said that you were insecure about always being near her, and Daemon said that she didn't like you anymore. That part about Daemon was partly true. He has been whispering lies to you about your relationship with Rhaenyra for years now. For better or for worse, you both are still as close as you were during your younger years, if not even closer now.

She finally calmed after you made your excuse. She didn't question its validity. She was just happy to finally have you back. She made you promise to stay away from Daemon as much as you possibly could. So, you did. Who were you to disobey the command of a princess, your closest companion?

✧ A sense of shame and dread fills you. You don't need a tutor anymore. After an hour-long argument with your father, he finally relents. He threatens that if their house falls out of the Targaryens good graces because you refused to be tutored by Daemon, he'll sell you out to a pleasure house. He didn't know how hard that hit you. You felt impure. You enjoyed what you did with Daemon. Why is that wrong? You were taught only to find pleasure in your future spouse. You found pleasure in him, and look where it got you. A strained relationship with your best friend that you had to fix, and your father threatening to sell you out to a whore house.

You feel like you are being attacked from all angles. Daemon begins to stalk you to get your attention. That's what you can call it, right? Stalking? You swear he's following you, even when he isn't. You thought you heard the guards speaking about reporting back to him. Something just feels more off about him whenever you get near him. Your mind began to repress all the memories of your intimate moments together. You just felt so confused, so lost, and so paranoid. Nothing felt right. You could barely remember your own name. At least you'll be able to find a suitor soon. You'll be able to put this all behind you. Not if Daemon has anything to do with it.

✧ After a few months, everything seems to be back to normal. There are no more of those weird tutoring sessions; you have rebuilt your relationship with Rhaenyra, and you even have some decent choices for a future spouse. You did have to carry on the bloodline as the eldest, after all. 

Daemon, however, was far from 'normal'. Not that he ever was. Over those few months, people could notice the changes in him. He became more unhinged, erratic, and easily angered at the tiniest of mistakes. Behind closed doors, he was drinking all of the spirits he could get his hands on. He was spending triple the amount of time at brothels that he usually did. He forgot about everything else, except for the problem of the bronze bitch in the back of his mind. You were nothing like her. You were like a precious piece of jewelry made out of the finest gold and precious metals that were melted down by a dragon's breath. All he knew was that he needed to court you. 

Not even commanding the Nights Watch could tame the beast within him. He flew Caraxes to contemplate. He would eye over where, somewhere off in the distance, you were in the castle. You were probably spending time with his neice, or gods forbid, another man, one of his men that he commands. 

He's just never wanted anything more than you. He knows you aren't his kin or his blood. He knows that marrying you would be an impossible task. It would mean decreasing his chances of taking the throne. You had something, though; you had the Targaryen spirit in you. He could feel it every time he touched you. He could feel the heat simmering just beneath the skin. You were worthy of his seed and worthy of carrying his kin. He could always bribe one of his family members to use as a surrogate in case you have male genitalia or are infertile. Your babies would still be pure Targaryens that way. It just disgusts him to have to think of impregnating anyone but you.

✧ You had a tournament in honor of Rhaenyra finally being old enough to be courted. It was one that would end on a much lighter note, as opposed to the last one, which ended in her mother's death. It was partly your tournament as well. Well, that is what Daemon thought of it as. He would fight for you, and you alone. He understands that voicing this would be improper. You do see it in the way he glances at you while fighting in the rounds he is participating in. When he is not, he's staring into your soul. His eyes never leave your figure. You feel queasy; something is even more off about him now. Your ex-tutor didn't have any feelings past merely using you as another one of his flings; you tried to assure yourself. Only when the last round of the tournament was to commence did he ask for your favor instead of Rhaenyra's.

The crowd was shocked; some gasped, while others questioned the meaning of this. Was Daemon choosing you over Rhaenyra due to the infighting over who was to be the true heir of the Iron Throne? Was he simply being contrary, as always? Or did he want your favor because he harbored more than platonic feelings toward you?

It was unheard of, as it was customary for Targaryens to only ask for the favors of their family members.

He did the tournament. His actions made clear the message he intended to send; he did it for you. 

Rhaenyra wasn't pleased. She threatened her uncle behind closed doors to stop hitting on her best friend. He laughed it off. He taunted her.

"As if there is anything you can do about it. They want me. They crave my touch."

✧ You only tried harder from then on to separate yourself from him. You purposefully avoided him, and it only became harder to do so. It was as if he had memorized your schedule by heart. Little notes and gifts began to be left on your bedding. They weren't signed, but you had a suspicion that it was Daemon's doing. You tried to express your concerns to your mother and father, only to be given a dismissive response. You tried to confide in your siblings, but your female one(s) only giggled and swooned over him. Your male one(s) simply huffed and waved you off, half-heartedly saying that they'd offer you some protection against the prince if the time came. 

✧ You try to confront him. He admits that the gifts were from him. He doesn't admit the extent of his infatuation for you yet. You already seemed adamant on avoiding him. Scaring you off wouldn't do him any good because he still doesn't have a strong hold over the council or his brother. He promises to stop gifting you things and back off if you just do one thing with him. You reluctantly agreed without knowing what he was planning. If you knew it was to ride on Caraxes with him, then you would have simply walked off and not given his compromise another thought. 

✧ You were intimidated by dragons; dare you say fearful of them. They always seemed to be able to pierce one's soul with their eyes. You refused to be near Rhaenyra's dragon, Syrax, for that exact reason. Now you were within ten feet of one, and you were practically trembling. Daemon was positively ecstatic underneath his facade of poised indifference. He would be able to exert control over you because of his title of dragon rider, if nothing else. 

Syrax seemed like an innocent hare in comparison to Caraxes.

However, you surprisingly felt safe as Daemon placed your hand on Caraxes's scales. There was a certain vulnerability in Daemon's eyes that you had not seen before. He seemed to treasure these moments. Caraxes almost seemed to... like you? The dragon could sense his riders affection toward you. In turn, Caraxes felt the same need to protect you and be gentle. The beast even allowed you to scratch under his chin, a purr-like reaction emanating from his long throat. It was like nothing you had ever experienced before. 

☾ The ride was breath-taking, both figuratively and literally. That's the only way you can describe it. It was the first time you felt safe around Daemon. He was in charge of making sure you felt comfortable in the air, his arms possessively at your sides as he controlled the reigns. He could feel your relaxed muscles against his toned chest. His heart swelled even further with an all-encompassing ecstasy that he had never had the pleasure of feeling before. Caraxes responded to both of you with a comforting roar, somewhere in between intimidating and reassuring. You had never felt true freedom in your life. For once, you felt it, even in the arms of someone you could consider an oppressor. 

☾ You were aware of his wife. You knew that these strange feelings Daemon harbored for you had to be temporary. You at least admitted to yourself that he did hold some sort of romantic attraction to you. He admitted the least of it. Still, you fooled yourself into thinking they were temporary. Not just a fling, something more intimate but less binding than a marriage. Even with this knowledge, even after being introduced to Caraxes and riding him with Daemon, your hesitance was still fully rooted within your heart and mind—your soul. He took advantage of you before. You shudder at the thought. You enjoyed learning those things, but were you truly able to consent to them? You were of age. You push it away within your mind. It is the deepest reason for your hesitance, but you didn't want to think on it. Thinking of your tutoring sessions with Daemon only proved to fill you with heat and shame simultaneously.

☾ You chose to do your best to shake all of the invasive thoughts from your mind. You spent as much time as you could with Rhaenyra. She looked at you with such love and cowered behind you whenever things got too tough. From the shadows of the small council, one man in particular envied your relationship: Otto Hightower. He has taken to calling you 'Daemon's whore'. He has been the one since the beginning to spread whispers amongst those in the court about your loyalty to the crown.

Would you choose Daemon over Viserys?

That was a question many asked with their eyes and not their tongues. It was humiliating. You don't even want to associate with Daemon, and yet your time as his student has left your reputation forever scarred. Not to mention how many times you have chosen to state that Rhaenyra's mistakes were your own, for the sake of your friendship. Even with the whispers, it was not enough for Otto. He needed them to be screams. He needed everyone to see you as the whore you were! He has never grown soft towards you because of one simple fact: you threaten his entire plan for his family's ascension to the throne. Alicent has never been able to catch a Targaryen's attention, yet you are the best friend to one and the whore of another.

☾ It was a mistake for you to align yourself so closely with Rhaenyra. She ranted to you about what her fears were and how terrified she was at the possibility of not being the sole heir. You had to listen while Daemon plotted at Dragonstone. You hadn't seen him since the day you rode Caraxes with him. That was well over half a moon ago by now. You were relieved to finally be rid of his presence. Only you thought so. When the gods rose the moon high into the sky and nestled the sun beneath the cusp of the earth, he returned to you. That very night, after Rhaenyra had left your chambers, Daemon had snuck in. He surprised you and urged you to hush yourself.

You had no choice. He led you to the empty cradle, where the last heir passed after living for less than a day. There was a dragon egg in it. He whispered to you about all the things he wanted to do to you. He made a promise that one day your babe would be in the cradle, with his features and your personality.

It felt like a dream you would have after a fever. You still can't be sure it happened. After he left, the realm of dreams tugged you in once again. You woke up, and no trace of him was there. Daemon was getting bolder in his advances toward you. He still feared scaring you off completely, but he has to take what is rightfully his. He is the heir to the Iron Throne, after all.

☾ Years passed, and you grew older. Daemon was off fighting a war in the Stepstones; Alicent gave the king a male heir with another babe on the way; and Rhaenyra stuck closer to you than any tree sap could. Otto was less of a thorn in your side these days. As this time passed, you were plagued with tragedies every time you tried to take a lover. You were the eldest, and yet you were failing your house dearly. They tried their best to get you courted as well. Your entire family was just perplexed. Every suitor you were supposed to marry showed up dead before your wedding day. Were you cursed by the gods? It couldn't be Daemon, could it? It was so far away. He couldn't simply be orchestrating this while so far away.

It simply left you in tears every single time. Rhaenyra was your only solace. She grew more bratty and defiant of her father. She refused to marry that Lannister fellow. She rejoiced when your newest one came up dead. She couldn't help but smile. She didn't want you to get married and leave her. You both were meant to be companions. You are companions, the closest of them. 

Still, your soul was aching, and your body was deprived of something it yearned for. 

Were you really missing Daemon's odd behavior?

No, never.

Well, maybe.

☾ You didn't realize that perhaps you were even worried about him until he returned to the castle. It felt like a piece that had gone missing had finally returned. The king, his brother, was thankful for his submission and offered him one thing behind closed doors. What was that one thing you ask? Your hand in marriage. When Daemon strolled over to you and told you this, you were flabbergasted, even bamboozled. You couldn't just marry your best friend's uncle. 

☾ You tried every excuse under the sun. You tried to say that you weren't up to the Targaryen standards of beauty; he said that you were created by the gods, so graceful and divine. You brought up the fact that you had no blood tied to Old Valyria; he stated that your soul was that of a dragon, more than worthy of his hand. You tried to reason with him by saying that he had another wife who he already struggled to take care of. That angered him. 

"Don't ever speak about the bitch again, dear. Understand me?"

She died as you would learn later. Some sort of riding incident that led to her demise. You offered your condolences to Daemon. He laughed and said that he'd happily spit upon her rotting corpse. He didn't need to lie to you. He also wasn't compelled to tell the truth when you didn't ask for it. He'll make sure the whispers of him murdering his wife never reach your ears.

☾ Rhaenyra simply shrugged and thought that you marrying her uncle was at least a close match for her. She would still be able to speak with you. You would now be closer to her! She wasn't ecstatic, but pleased—maybe even smug. Whatever negative feelings she had toward her uncle being around you were clearly resolved. It only struck terror in your heart. 

☾ Your family would help, right? No. Such a laughable thing. They were overjoyed. They also told you not to screw it up. Talks of the heirs you two would produce, the tie to the Targaryens bolstering your house's status, and many other reasons you didn't care to listen to.

☾ You were—are trapped. You were to marry a man that you couldn't make up your mind about. It could be worse. Every strange thing must have been because of the gods, right? If only you knew the lengths Daemon went to marry you. The people he threatened, the people he beheaded, the poisons traded in markets that aren't pure of heart but dark and foreboding. He finally felt at peace. So did Caraxes. Your family would be so perfect. He could already see you holding a babe in your arms that he had bred into you. Is this what you truly want? Or is that hesitancy in your soul still strong enough to pull you out of his hold and help you escape him?

[ghostssimp]

Pretty Boy //Aegon Targaryen

Aegon has always been a mind absent. His mind was mostly clouded with thoughts and he always seemed sorrow. That's what you mostly saw of him.

In the early morning, you would get up. Sometimes he wasn't even there and you found him somewhere else sleeping away. When he was there, he smelled like wine and whores. You knew from the beginning what it meant when Viserys decided to marry you to him. Aegon didn't want to do anything with you. You were his sister's daughter. His niece. And he was supposed to be the Usurper King. He took his sister's throne.

The most important part is that he didn’t trust you. You could see that in his eyes.

But he didn't care. He was hoping that you would slit his throat in his sleep. He hopped you would pierce his chest and take that damn beating thing out of there. Every night, he would get drunk and go to his whores to make you hate him. That drunk, he would lay and close his eyes in hope you would end it.

But every morning when he opened his eyes, disappointment would reach his chest. You never were in bed, your side would be long cold.

The night when he pinned you to his bed and pounded into you, he hoped you would do it. He didn't even look you in the eye. He didn't share not one kiss with you. It was all to make you hate him.

You felt pain in your body from the force he took you. He took your purity, not being once gentle about it. Not having any sympathy for you. But he is your husband. You are his wife. You are supposed to spread your legs to him.

When he was done, he just rolled off. Went to sleep. He couldn't lie to himself, it felt amazing to feel you. He hoped in the morning, they would find his King dead.

Dissapointment.

You were once again, nowhere to be seen.

That morning, you went to your dragon. A beautiful beast pitch black with gray straps on wings. Up in the clouds, it finally felt like you were free from everything. Free from the claws of The Greens.

Your heart leaped towards your mother. You wanted to go back to Rhaenyra, to your brothers. To your father. It all seems like you just could have a change of mind and fly away, but you remember the promise you gave to your mother.

Tears run down your face as she cupped it in her hands. "Mother I don't want to be away from you. Don't leave me here with them." Your voice was pleading her. As she soothed you.

"My heart hurts just from the thought I have to leave you here. But listen to me Visenya. You are the only one that can stop this. Try to reach him. Promise me."

You're here to prevent a war. And it's not doing great. Aegon is absent from you. Ignoring you with his every step.

As you lower down to the ground, you could always see on the faces of the dragon keepers that they were surprised that you didn't escape. That you didn't flee from this hell.

You slide down from your dragon and lean your head against hers. "Kirimvose ñuha gevives." Thank you my beauty.

Your dragon purred a growl to you leaning her head and nudging you. You loved her and it was you and her always. You notice your husband standing just a few feet away. His dragon, Sunfyre nuzzled his tip of the nose against Aegon.

That's when you see a smile. Beautiful smile was plastered on Aegon's face. Something in you stirred. You pat your dragons neck as you walk over to your husband, faded smile making it's way on your lips.

"He's magnificent." Aegon suddenly heard your soft voice behind him. When was the last time you said something to him? When was the last time he said something to you? He couldn't remember and it made him shocked that you even spoke to him. His eyes never left Sunfyre as he embraced the beast.

"He truly is." You heard him. When was the last time you heard his voice? When was the last time he heard yours? You didn't remember.

Your eyes didn't leave his face. To see a good emotion on him was truly rare. "You're pretty when you smile."

He froze. Did he hear you right? He was trying so damn long to make you hate him, for you to kill him and here he blew everything up, by a fucking smile?

"I wish you safe ride, husband." You lastly said as you leaved him. You knew that he wasn't bad to the core. You knew he was man starved of love. His mother never gave it to him. You knew that all she knew was to yell, scream out his mistakes and even strike a slap across his beautiful face. There was a twinge of sadness in your hear for him.

You didn't see or hear from him for the rest of the day. You didn't even think that he would come before you fell asleep. You stood by the window, undoing the last braid in your hair looking outside at silent world when you heard the doors opening.

Your head turned just a little surprise stroke you as you saw your husband entering your shared room, without any odor of wine or whores. He seemed... Normal.

Aegon found his seat on your shared bed, turned to face you. He watches your figure through your night gown. Moonlight making your face gleam with beauty your mother gave you, your hair seemed to shine. You looked too beautiful and too pure for him. He was broken. Dirty and broken from the inside. A black hole seemed to fill him everyday. It made him sick in the stomach now, to think he was ruining you.

"Why?" You heard him whisper. Your eyes found his, confusion placed on your face. "What?"

"Why?" His voice was soft, silent, kind of a broken. "Why don't you end me? Why don't you hate me? I ruined you. I took your mothers throne. I come to your bed drunk, I cheated on you and I-" He cut himself as he lowered his head down, frown on his face. "I've never been gentle with you. Why haven't you ended me by now?"

Your heart broke hearing him. You stood in front of him soon and your hands cupped his cheeks, lifting his head up. You saw pain and void in his violet eyes. "You're my husband Aegon. Everything you do, doesn't matter. You can't hurt me. I know you don't want to."

"You should've killed me."

"Can't do it. I'm your wife." He couldn't do anything to make you hate him. It drew him mad. How couldn't he fall under your pretty foot?

"Then you know your duties." He tried again, last time, he promised himself. He wanted to try to make him hate you one last time, but when a smile reached your soft features, he stopped himself.

"I do." You sat down on his lap, your legs on each of his sides, your night gown pulled up. When your lips cupped his finally, he felt like he was in heaven, something alike a soft whimper left his lips as your hands reached down and undo his pants pulling him out and stroking him slowly.

He finally starts to kiss back, his hands finding your waist holding you close. You lift yourself up and pull him by your entrance.

"Let me take care of you, my King."

[lady-ashfade]

Thread

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Younger!Rhaenyra Targaryen x Fem!Reader

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Ask by @loveislove4 : Hey I was wondering if I could request and rhaenyra fem!reader where rhaenyra and the reader have been together since they were young but through time the reader starts to feel used and unwanted by rhaenyra because of all the men she has put before and she try’s yo leave but rhaenyra seizes her and holds her captive

╰･ﾟ✧☽ words: 1.3k

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: yandere behavior, slight dark rhaenyra, being held captive, reader sadness, angst, DARK!THEMES, toxic!Rhaenyra, suggestive topics. Don’t come for me. I support my queen.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ fades notes: my first request since the new season

-`｡ﾟ˘: ﾟ⋆ ––✷☽ ᱬ ☽✷––⋆ ﾟ: ˘ ﾟ｡.`-

The side of Rhaenyra Targaryen is where you stood all your life, even if you had a choice or not.

Things began when you were chosen to be one of her ladies by coming from a great family. There was nervous but skip in your step when you got to kings landing for the first time, anxious to meet the year older princess. And you weren’t sure if you could be good enough for her but you had brought a lovely gift for her.

A hand stitched dragon.

You fiddled with the cloth behind your back as you bowed at her presence. The day was warm with a comfortable breeze and the garden was blooming with beauty. But you had never seen something more beautiful then the young white haired girl. 

The girls beside you stood in a line and you could tell everyone was just as nervous, but they had more social skills. The bugs in your stomach made you feel sickly, so staying a good distance was all you could do. Each girl swarmed around the princess and overflowed her with comments and ask her questions of all sorts. About her dragon and what it’s like to ride one, or how beautiful her dress was and the brightness of her hair.

Standing just beside the table you look curiously at the princess, she had a glint in her eyes unmatched to anyone else. A mischievous smile as she teased the others by answering their questions. You heard of Targaryen features and she had the best of the stories.

A blush swept over your cheeks when you realized you’re staring, so you turned to the cup in your hands and played with the metal and carvings. Glancing over to the stitch you made for her—embarrassment filled you at how every detail was off. You worked hard of course, but her napkins must be more fancy then it and without mistakes.

Frowning your brows you glare down at the cloth. You shouldn’t be here if you can’t even talk to the princess. How could you be friends if you can’t speak? Though the Targaryen princess noticed you too, the only girl away from her and took silence. She was intrigued by you since everyone alway wanted to talk to her and these girls threw themselves at her feet.

She dismissed the others and headed over to you, you didn’t notice at first. Her hands grabbed a small pie and your eyes finally met her but slowly reaching up to her eyes. The moment of realization was pleasant to watch, the wide eyed expression and a soft gasp and fumbling over yourself to bow at her.

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” she teased, you swear in the second she would bite. You set down the cup on the table and wiped of the palms of your hands quickly, “Forgive me, your grace. I didn’t want to overwhelm you, I- um,” you lose your words as she bats her eyelashes at you and tilts her head like you are the most interesting thing. The gaze felt mischievous, like she was making fun of you or wanted you to break.

Watching her eyes drift down to the corners of the table you frowned and rushed to grab the stupid gift. You laugh nervousness and picked at the sticked out threads, “Tell me, is the apple pie good?” You choked over your dried throat, maybe she would talk about anything else. Your wishes aren’t granted, her hand extends out and flicks her eyes to the stitch.

Heavily you handed over the cloth for her judgement you felt more sick then before. Shifting from foot to foot as her eyes trailed over the gift, and you couldn’t wait to see if the gods would strike you down. “You made this?” you nodded to the question.

“Sincerest apologies, it was my first attempt at making a dragon—”

“I shall hang it up on my wall,” she flashed a smile and threw herself at you and tugged you close to her side, “I shall show you Syrax, she is perfect to paint or stitch.”

As years go by the attraction and affection of Rhaenyra grow stronger. She is the only person who demands your attention and hates when it’s on someone else. And romantic feelings come fast, but only when she is a bit older do you both share your first kiss. You are her main priority. The world is made to make you smile and she will do anything to have you stay by her side.

At first it was heavenly, so much passion and love. She watches you like a hawk to make sure no one takes you, gifts you jewelry to claim you in plan sight. She clings to your side after the passing of her mother and most night she ends up in your arms. Of course things could never go smoothly forever as her ego grew larger, she played with her protector and never spent time with you anymore. Unless she needs to be held.

“Don’t act like this,” she groaned as rubbed her temple at your outburst, her chamber filled with yelling and cries from you. You scuffed and crossed your arms, “Act reasonable? I am tired of being treated like a toy unworthy of respect and love, only to call on at night for comfort or affection.” The pointed glare you gave made her eyes roll.

Shaking her head, she smiles like you are crazy, like you aren’t even worth hearing. “I am the heir to the throne, what do you want me to do? Drop all my duties and cater to your needs?” thats the irony because you do that just for her, you have refused countless proposals to stay by her side.

But that had stopped a few weeks ago.

“You never have to,” the anger continued to make you tear up in frustration and grabbed a letter from the table and throw it to her direction. She gave a puzzled look at you before opening the letter to read what was inside. And you hate to admit— you felt satisfied at the shocked and scared look in her eyes.

“Your father granted us permission, seeing as I was a loyal lady for you for years. My things are already being packed,” you calm down your voice and straighten your dress to take a few breaths. “Let me never be a burden again like you think of me. Nor, someone who you use like a pawn.” glory was a amazing feeling as you expressed your feelings, and the feeling of being freed from the pain she caused.

The door was right there, but she blocked the way with a bitter expression you never seen. You stopped and tightened your jaw to seem unaffected by her tempts. “You think you can leave after everything. No matter what you think,” she stepped forward and you tried to back up but she grabbed ahold of your wrist. “You are mine, and I love you.” trying to pull away from her got her more upset.

“I will not let you leave me.” You broke free from her grasp only for her shout for her guards and they came flooding in at her command. The skin in your wrist pulsed in pain. “She is to be taken to her room and locked in, and not to be let out by any means.” she demanded to the men. The guards look at each other wandering if the order is right to do.

“I am the heir,” she roared and the noise made all ears ring, so they did their job and grab you by the arms as you struggle against them.

“You can’t do this, Rhaenyra. Stop this at once.” your pleads fall death to her ears as she gave a victorious smirk as you are dragging into the hall.

There was no escaping Rhaenyra Targaryen. Not when she controlled the thread of your life.

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (1/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: the angst, kidnapping and imprisonment, abuse of power, violence, panic attack ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

It took him a long time to bring her to the Red Keep. Too long, to his frustration – while Aegon on his throne preferred to loudly announce to his subjects things he could not provide for them, he acted in silence, trying to ensure that he was always one step ahead of their sister-whore.

When Larys Strong's spies reported to them that Rhaenyra was seeking dragon seed among the bastards in King's Landing his brother laughed, but he, their mother and all the lords were horrified.

This meant that the slight advantage Vhagar had given them was going to be in vain, as she stood no chance in a confrontation with so many dragons.

Helaena was riding Dreamfyre, but at his words to move into battle with him she covered her ears and turned her head away, saying she would never burn anyone. Daeron's dragon was still too small, so that left him and Aegon, who was the King and could not die, on the battlefield.

That was not enough.

And then it dawned on him.

Rhea Royce must have been devastated after learning that her hated husband's seed had taken root in her womb. The whole kingdom knew that she and his uncle loathed each other sincerely, and while he stayed in King's Landing, she remained in Runestone.

He thought she certainly felt satisfaction when she gave him a daughter, although the Rough Prince wanted a son.

According to rumour, she was born accompanied by her mother's loud groans a few months apart after his own birth, and was supposed to be the reason Daemon waited with murdering her mother: he did not want the burden of caring for a newborn child to fall on him.

Though he would never admit it out loud, of the many lords or bastards born of dragon seed, his choice was guided not only by her close kinship to their family, but also by the fact that having her by his side could be a humiliation to his uncle, a show of his strength, prudence and sheer malice.

Of how dangerous he was not only because of Vhagar.

He had prepared an ambush for her with reverence, through Strong's spy network weaving servants close to her into his plan.

He had no idea what kind of woman she was, whether or not she resisted, whether or not she could wield a sword like her mother, but he received a letter weeks later that they had succeeded, and Daemon's daughter was heading for King's Landing against her will.

He felt a pleasant tingling in his fingertips at the thought of what he would be able to do with her: if he found her pretty and humble enough, if indeed she succeeded in taming a dragon, he could try to invalidate his betrothal to the Baratheon whore and allow her to receive the honour of bearing his heirs instead.

His own dragon inheritance.

When she finally arrived, she was, much to his mother's displeasure, placed in a dungeon – he wanted her to understand that her situation was serious and that any answer from her that did not satisfy him would end in one way.

Her death.

He went down to the underground with the guards and dismissed them when he stopped under her cell with the torch in his hand, its light exposed her face to him.

She was sitting on the ground with her knees tucked under her chin, her head raised towards him, the look of her eyes frustrated and grim, her dark brows arched in displeasure.

She was not afraid.

For now.

He looked at her figure from top to bottom, finding that he had imagined her differently: he had hoped to see any Targaryen features in her. However, her long hair was dark, her eyelashes long and black, like a fan surrounding her brown eyes, which were as big as those of a doe.

Clearly it was her mother's blood that prevailed, he thought with disappointment, however his face remained stony.

"Do you know who I am, woman?" He asked coldly, the corner of her mouth twitching, her gaze softening as if his words amused her, making him feel uneasy.

"It's hard not to guess." She replied without any pleasantries.

He licked his lower lip in a gesture of frustration, recognising that he would not allow himself to be verbally dominated by her.

He had to knock her off her guard.

"Do you understand why you're here?"

She sighed heavily, looking down at her fingers, suddenly tired and small, like a child who wanted to go to sleep already.

"Because of my father, I guess. You are wasting your time. I don't represent any value to him. He will not pact with you for my sake." She said, and he snorted, grinning broadly – she looked at him in surprise, as if she hadn't expected such a reaction from him.

"You are mistaken. We need your blood."

She shook her head, shocked by his words, raising her shoulders in a gesture as if trying to defend herself against what she just heard.

He liked the look of terror on her face, no doubt at the thought that they were about to cut her wrists open and drain her of blood like an animal.

"We will find one of the wild dragons hidden in the mountain caves and you will try to claim it. You will die, or you will succeed and join the war on our side." He said coldly, and she burst out laughing, as if she hadn't heard a greater foolishness in a long time, causing his jaw to clench in fury.

Stupid cunt.

"I know nothing about dragons or their riders and have no desire to learn about them. This, I think, is something that is destined for those endowed by the gods with white hair. I have no intention of sacrificing myself for your family. Behead me or burn me, but spare me this farce." She sneered, looking away, as if she thought she could get away with such impudent words.

She picked herself up and took a few steps back as he unlocked her cell and a moment later he was beside her, dropping the torch to the stone floor, grabbing her by the neck, her body and head hitting the wall hard.

He stared at her for a moment, listening to her heavy breath as if she was choking, panic in her big, brown eyes.

Fear suited her.

"Do you think I'm asking you for your opinion? You will serve me, and you will serve me well, or I will burn not you, but all of the fucking Vale. Only dust and ashes will be left of the people you knew. Is that what you want, my Lady?" He scoffed, and she shook her head quickly, her lower lip quivering all over, her small, soft hands clenched on his wrist.

He leaned over her, digging his fingers deeper into her delicate skin as if he wanted to break her neck.

"So we have an agreement, as I understand it?" He whispered, as if asking her a secret, something only he should hear.

Her eyebrows arched in pain, her plump lips parted in a deep, shuddering breath as she nodded, her warm gaze filled with pain and regret at the same time.

Was she now begging in her mind for her father to save her?

For him to come to her rescue?

The thought made him want to laugh.

"Mmm." He hummed, looking at her red eyes and full lips, feeling a strange kind of intimacy now that he could feel her veins, her blood, dragon's blood, pulsing under her bare skin.

Their shared heritage.

His seed was stronger than Daemon's, he thought with a confidence bordering on vanity.

Their children would have his white hair.

He felt arousal at that thought, his length pulsed softly in his breeches.

He let go of her, and she took a deep breath, sliding to the ground, clutching at her neck where he'd driven his fingers.

"You will be moved to one of the chambers. You will not lack anything. Serve me well and no more harm will befall you." He said in an offhand manner and simply left, satisfied with how childishly simple it was.

The women and their soft hearts, their despair at the thought that someone else might lose their life because of them, their eternal pondering and tenderness that made them so weak.

"I have heard of your success, brother. I was told we had a visitor in the Keep." Said Aegon, glancing at him, seated at the other end of the table, while his hand played with the marble green orb lying before him.

"Yes. She will obey us. I will personally prepare her." He said, resting his elbows on the table top.

The King laughed.

"You, brother? What does your beloved betrothed in Storm's End would say about it?" He sneered, glancing at the lords around them as if asking if his joke was in fact funny.

He grinned, trying to contain his anger and that familiar, unpleasant feeling of humiliation rippling through his chest.

"Who else would do this? You, with your superior knowledge of the language of Old Valyria will teach her commands and behaviour towards a wild dragon?" He asked, looking him straight in the eye.

His brother grew pale and swallowed hard, tense, feeling that he had lost this battle.

"Bring her in." He ordered.

Soon the door to the room opened, and she walked in, accompanied by the guards: she was wearing one of his mother's old brown gowns, its red sleeves reaching to the ground. Her hair was loose but not in disarray, falling gently down her back, as if she had not let any servant touch it and combed it herself.

"Come closer, cousin." Said Aegon with a smile, raising his hand and nodding, clearly wanting to encourage her.

She reluctantly took a few steps closer, looking around the assembled people anxiously, finally meeting his gaze – she stopped for a moment at his face, as if she was thinking hard about something, and then turned her head away, suddenly tired and resigned.

Good, he thought.

There was no need for her to stand up to him.

"We are overjoyed by your presence, even though you were brought here under not very pleasant circumstances. I hope you will quickly forget about these… discomforts and support us in our cause. My brother is extremely eager to prepare you for this." Aegon said, her lips twitching in a grimace that he didn't like when he mentioned him, but no words left her mouth.

"Are you not glad to face your father? Did he not forget you and abandon you for so many years?" Continued Aegon, their mother looked at him and shook her head, wanting him to stop.

She lifted her gaze to his brother-king and looked at him for a moment, her expression gentle and calm.

"I have nothing to say to you, cousin. Do with me what you wish."

A heavy, uncomfortable silence fell around them – he feared what Aegon would do with this insult – the fact that she had humiliated him by simply calling him her cousin, speaking to him without proper etiquette or manners.

Aegon pressed his lips together and leaned forward, as if thinking hard about something.

"Our family has forgotten you. Left you the fuck knows where, motherless and fatherless. And I am deeply sorry for it."

He looked at him shocked, not believing that he had said such a thing, apologised to her even though it was she who had offended him, and then looked at her face – her eyes turned red, her lips parted slightly, as if he had stuck a needle straight into her heart.

What was he doing?

Aegon spread himself comfortably in his chair with a loud creak of wood, smiling with satisfaction.

"You may leave."

He did not know why he had been furious all evening, why, bent over the maps of Westeros, planning his fucking war, he had been unable to focus or calm himself.

He knew why his brother had done it: he wanted to bond with her, to show him that he was the one she would obey, that he was in control of the situation, that he was the King.

"Bring our prisoner." He ordered loudly so that the servant who was just taking the tray from his table heard it.

"As you wish, Your Highness."

When she walked into his chamber she stopped immediately behind the door, which closed behind her with a loud clatter. He glanced up at her dispassionately and looked again at the books he had taken from his shelves, which he had often browsed through as a child.

This was his legacy, not hers.

But he had to do it.

"Come here. Sit down." He said dryly and after a moment he heard the rustling of her gown.

As she sat in the chair beside him he smelled her, some kind of oil that scented of field flowers, chamomile or daisies, and he thought that she had taken a bath.

Something in that thought, in the idea of her bare, soft body sunk in the warm water, made his manhood throb pleasantly, tingling heat spreading through his lower abdomen.

He moved one of the books towards her, open to the page on which was written what he wanted to discuss with her.

"Can you read?" He asked coldly, and she threw him a look from which he felt like grabbing her cheeks and shaking that little head of hers.

She didn't answer, which frustrated him even more, clutching the volume in her hands and leaning over it, following the text with her eyes.

So she could read, he thought mockingly.

"The dragons understand the language of Old Valyria, and this is how the dragon riders communicate with them. You have to learn to speak the commands properly." He sighed, running his hand over his face, feeling tired and discouraged.

"Dohaerās means serve. Rȳbās means listen. These are the most important words, right next to Lykirī, which commands a dragon to remain calm." He said, tilting his head back, closing his eyes. "Repeat."

Silence.

He pressed his lips together, opening his eyes, thinking he was about to kill her with his own hands.

He looked at her, wanting to hiss to her that he was going to slam her head against the table until she dutifully recited each of the words he was ordering her to repeat but his voice stuck in his throat when he saw the look on her face.

He had the impression that although she froze in stillness, her whole body was quivering, as if she was cold.

Her eyes were open wide in fear, and even though her lips were pressed into a thin line she was breathing heavily, as if she were suffocating, her fingers clenched on the back of the book.

Was it possible that she had heard these words before, had read a book similar to this?

Did Daemon try to teach her the language of Old Valyria when she was a child?

He didn't know what he should do, feeling that if he touched her she would just fall apart, so he merely looked at her, wondering how such a person was supposed to tame a dragon.

He rose from his seat as if burned, snapped out of his reverie when her eyes rolled back and she simply fainted, her body, numb and heavy slid to the floor beneath their feet.

He circled the table and knelt beside her, slapping his palm against her cheek in an attempt to revive her, but she did not wake up.

"Bring the Maester, quickly!" He called out and cursed loudly, restraining himself from screaming with rage.

"What have you done to her?" His mother hissed quietly, so that only he could hear it while the Maester examined her.

He turned his face away and shook his head, wondering if everyone in this damned fortress was against him.

After all, he was doing this for them.

For their family.

"Nothing. She was only supposed to read a few words. I didn't even touch her." He growled, his hands intertwined behind his back clenched into a fist.

Why didn't she trust him?

Why was she looking at him like this, as if she didn't recognise him?

Hadn't he always been faithful to her?

"What words? What did you say to her?"

"Words in Old Valyrian, nothing more. She must learn it if she is not to burn in the dragon fire, and our efforts are not to be in vain." He scoffed impatiently.

"We do not know what Daemon did to her. Whether she saw her mother die."

"I don't care what he did to her or what she saw." He said, throwing her a look from which she froze. "We have an agreement and she knows what will happen if she doesn't fulfill it."

"What will happen? You'll burn the Vale?" Alicent asked with a sneer, and he pressed his lips together, feeling a terrible, piercing shame.

"She will stay in my care tonight. Don't go near her until she recovers." She told him and stepped around him.

He felt as if she had slapped him in the face so he left, not wanting anyone to see the burning tears of disappointment that had gathered under his eyelids.

He didn't let them flow.

He was not weak.

He was not like her.

He was not like Aegon.

He was not like his father.

[scarlet-star-witch]

The shackles of duty

Summary: In the aftermath of Aegon's fall in the Battle of Rook's Rest, Aemond envisions his future as King with his Queen at his side

Reader is Rhaenyra's daughter and in a secret relationship with Aemond

Part 2 to His Sacrifice

WC: 2.2 K

Warnings: Implied smut, possessive Aemond, kinda dark Aemond, but not really, he's more pathetic than anything

~~

Aemond stared at the plumes of smoke that billowed from where his brother and his dragon had fallen. 

His heart still raced with satisfaction, the adrenaline pumping through his veins keeping him in an almost high-like state he never wanted to come down from. His victorious smirk remained as he turned to the woman beside him who stared at the smoke with a conflicted expression. 

“With any luck, Aegon has perished, or at least will in due time.” 

She looked to Aemond, the furrow in her brow deep, betraying her indecision and unease.

She always knew what Aemond was capable of, she knew of the darkness within him, but to see it now, displayed so blatant before her very eyes, shook something within her, something she didn’t know she could feel towards the man she had loved for so long. 

Aemond grabbed her hands, holding them in his tightly as he turned to face her fully. 

“We can go back to King’s Landing. With Aegon’s state, I will be named Regent. I will sit the throne and you will be my Queen.” 

“What?” She breathed out, the only word she’d been able to speak in the past few minutes. 

“Aegon is not long for this world, surely. It won't be long until I become King. No one can deny us anything now. We can marry, you can stay with me by my side, we can rule together.” Aemond spoke with a franticness that was so unlike him, it unsettled her more than the gleam of desire in his eye in that moment. 

“Aemond…”

“We can finally be together.” He reminded her as his hand reached out to grasp her cheek affectionately, the longing he displayed tearing her insides, as if she were being pulled in two radically different directions. 

She watched him for a long moment, savoring the sight of that beautiful face she’d spent the past few years memorizing, every perfect dip and curve that never failed to leave her breathless, and emotion swelled as she realized she’d have to break his heart. 

“I can’t go with you.” She told him, her voice barely above a whisper, as if it would soften the blow, as if saying it quietly would mean it wouldn’t completely destroy him. 

His lip twitched, his smile fading slowly as he took in her words, praying he had misheard her. His grip on her hands tightened, as if he could keep her with him, as if he could forever stop her from leaving his side. 

“But…”

“Aemond, you know I cannot go with you. No one will accept-”

“Fuck what they think! You are mine and the second I sit on that throne I can make it so. No one could stop us.” 

She shook her head and moved to pull away, but he didn’t let her, his hand sturdy in hers, a look of heartbreak on his face as he felt her hesitation. 

“We are at war, Aemond. Our marriage will not solve anything, it won’t miraculously dissolve what is happening in our family, it will only create more chaos.”

“I don’t care.” Aemond spoke through gritted teeth as he stepped towards her, his hands now cradling her face. “I don’t give a shit about this war, you are all I want.”

She sniffled, bowing her head to avoid looking into his eye. It was too painful to see how she was hurting him. 

“Think about what you are asking of me.”

“I am asking you to be with me.”

“You are asking me to abandon my mother!” She yelled. 

His chest ached, the rush he’d been thriving on suddenly turning to despair as he looked at her, realizing he wouldn’t soon have her in his arms as he had hoped. 

“We can fix this.” He spoke with reverence, but it did little to soothe the storm within her. 

“Maybe we could have… but that was before- before Lucerys.” 

Aemond flinched, recoiling as if she had delivered a physical blow. 

“You know my regret for what happened. You know I would have never willingly jeopardize-”

“I know, I know.” She whispered tearfully, her hands moving up to grip at his wrists, feeling his pulse race beneath her touch. 

She remembered the night after learning of her brother’s death as she met Aemond on their Island, how he immediately fell to his knees in forgiveness, how he let her scream and cry and rage at him, how they held each other as they cried, knowing the state of their family had broken beyond repair, ruining what little chance they thought they had to one day be together as they wanted. 

She wiped her tears and with one last gentle caress to his hands, pulled them away from her, taking a step backwards before he could reach out to her once more. 

“I have to go.”

With every step she took away from him, he took a step closer, his face shifting each time she moved, his frown growing deeper and deeper as it abruptly dawned on him that he was about to lose her, yet again.

“Please, don’t do this.” 

“I’m sorry.” She choked out, the sight of him blurring as tears sprang to her eyes. She turned and didn’t look back as she climbed upon Vermithor, ignoring the pit that grew in her stomach, ignoring the voice in the back of her head that screamed at her to stay with him. 

She didn’t dare spare him a look. She knew she’d cave if she did, that she would fall back into his arms and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist. 

She wiped her tears as she flew, ignoring the pull she felt to her other half as the distance between them grew greater. 

~~

A yell of pure rage escaped him as he flipped the table in his room. He grabbed anything he could get his hands on, throwing any and every object he found across the room, destroying everything in his line of sight. 

His bed was in disarray, the tapestries that lined the walls torn to pieces at his feet, candles knocked to the ground, trinkets shattered into nothing but dust as he raged. 

He only stopped when there was nothing left to ruin. 

His chest heaved with exertion as he let himself slump against his bed, burying his face in his hands as he struggled for breath, forcing himself not to let his tears fall. 

His mind raced with her words, each like a dagger to the heart, each one tearing away a piece of him, leaving him unwhole and untethered to the one thing in the world he cared about. 

Nothing made sense without her. It had only been hours and he was already spiraling. 

Simply picturing her beautiful face caused his chest to ache, as if the dagger of her words had been real, causing him to bleed and fade away until there was nothing left of him. 

He could not let this be the end. 

With a half-formed plan in his mind, he stood with haste and reached for his cloak, ensuring the hood covered his head and stepped out of his room, his steps quick and purposeful. 

He would not let her slip away from him again. 

~~

Her mind was racing, keeping her from her much needed sleep. She couldn’t stop picturing Aemond’s face, the pain she had caused him stirring her own. 

She couldn’t ignore the regret that overtook every inch of her. While she loved her mother and longed to see her as Queen, she couldn’t deny that Aemond had stitched himself within the fabric of her, he was now a part of her she couldn’t ignore. 

She didn’t quite know when it happened, all she knew was that it was too late to go back now, too late to pretend she felt nothing for him. She couldn’t move forward without him. 

She had to see him.

She hissed a curse and tore the covers off, getting to her feet and dressing in her riding leathers quickly, acknowledging the stupidity of her plan, but steadily ignoring it. 

It was easy to sneak out of the castle. She’d been doing it for years now, she could do it with her eyes closed. 

It took little time to get Vermithor in the air and on the course for King’s Landing, her heart in her throat as she flew. She didn’t know what awaited her, what danger she would be placing upon her head, all she knew was that once there, Aemond would never let any harm befall her. 

It was the only assurance she needed to drive forward into enemy territory. 

Suddenly, the bellowing roar of a dragon sounded over the din of the wind. 

She startled and narrowed her eyes, the moon providing light for her to see, but as the hulking figure of the dragon coming before her became clear, she soon realized, her eyes widening as she stared back at Vhagar. 

A breathless laugh escaped her, pure relief overtaking her as she realized Aemond was in the same state she found herself in, unable to settle for their circumstance. 

She pulled at the reins, directing Vermithor to descend, heading towards their Island with Aemond following seconds behind. 

The two mighty dragons landed and their riders met each other's gaze, the both of them taking a moment to simply admire each other, their shared smiles of equal relief and awe that they had had the same thought, the same longing to see each other. 

Her hands almost shook with anticipation as she untied herself from the saddle. 

She felt nervous, as if it were their first meeting in secret, as she approached him, but her reservations didn’t last as Aemond stepped towards her quickly, with no hesitation.

A shaking breath escaped her as she was pulled into his arms. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispered weakly, her voice strained as her throat tightened, overwhelmed to be back in his loving arms. 

He shook his head and held to her tighter, softly whispering his relief to see her again

Time was lost to them as they embraced, as they held each other as only lovers could. 

“I don’t know what will happen next.” She mumbled, hating to break the moment with their reality, but it wasn’t something they could ignore for much longer. 

“I don’t either.” He admitted quietly. “But what I do know is that, whatever I do, it will not be without you. I don’t care how many times I will have to chase you down and bring you back to me, I won’t lose you.” 

“You won’t have to chase me. I’m not going anywhere.” 

His exhale of relief was loud and she barely had time to apologize again before he was kissing her firmly, leaving them both breathless and lightheaded with desire. 

His touch was desperate as he laid her down in the dewey grass. It was familiar to them, these fleeting and frantic touches all they could spare in the war that ravaged their families. 

He took her with an intensity as if it had been years since he’d felt her touch and not mere days as it had been. She felt more loved than ever before as he lavished his praise onto her, as his lips caressed every inch of her, as he made love to her with the burning passion as only a man in love could. 

Their cries of pleasure echoed on the desolate Island, their secret remaining shrouded in darkness and isolation. 

As he spilled his seed within her, his call of her name sending shivers down the length of her body, she held him tightly, wishing she could hold onto him forever, wishing she didn’t have to leave his side time and time again. 

He wasn’t quick to part from her, laying over her, his hands still eager to touch her, to remember the curves of her body in fear that it would be the last time. 

But they would never let it be the last, not as long as they still breathed life. 

He left her side with a promise to see her the next night. 

There was no mention of the throne, of titles or battles. It didn’t exist in their time together, the both of them determined to blissfully ignore the reality that was slowly crushing them, slowly pulling them further and further apart, no matter how hard they tried to fight it. 

~~

He lingered in her mind as she woke alone but sated, the phantom bliss of his touch, bringing a smile to her lips in the early morning. She could still feel the warmth between her thighs, feel the pleasurable burn of the marks he had left on her body. 

She smiled politely as her maid entered, placing breakfast down for her. 

“Is there anything else I can get for you, Princess?” 

Moon tea.

The words were on the tip of her tongue. She trusted her handmaiden, she’d never given her a sideways glance over the past years when she requested the drink. Her mother was still blissfully unaware, which meant her maid was at least keeping her secret. 

Yet the words didn’t come, a decision made in a fraction of a second. 

“No, thank you. That is all.” 

As her maid left, her hand drifted to her stomach, a smile forming on her lips as she wondered what their child would look like. 

~~

Hope you enjoyed! I have more Aemond content coming! I literally have a thousand ideas for this beautiful man, so stay tuned xx

[filmsmakkari]

the tale of a princess and her fair lady

rhaenyra targaryen x velaryon!reader

Summary: The daughter of House Velaryon makes a promise to her princess

CW: None!

A/N- I have not written and published a fanfiction since I was 14... bare with and pray for me.

The chamber was silent as a young girl with silver hair knelt before hundreds of candles beneath the stained-glass windows of the starry sept. Though she had never been a believer in gods and myths before, her love and worry filled her so deeply at present that she was brought to her knees in prayer.

Lady (Y/N) of House Velaryon had been in love with Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen for the better half of a year. They’d known each other since childhood and had always been quite close. Being the only two daughters of the great Valyrian houses in the Red Keep, they’d always felt that no one could understand them as well as each other. Their relationship, which had always toed the line between platonic and romantic, had turned into an unadulterated love affair the day Rhaenyra realized that her disdain for marriage to a man had never truly been about marriage, but more so the man.

Ever since, (Y/N) and Rhaenyra had been living in pure bliss, catching each other’s eye, walking with linked arms in public, and worshiping each other’s bodies during those private moments brought on by the cover of night. In recent days, however, the girls have been slightly at odds with each other, as (Y/N)’s parents have posed a potential marriage between Lady (Y/N) and King Viserys to strengthen the realm. Rhaenyra had hardly been able to look at her lover as she could soon become her stepmother, and she didn’t want it to be more painful by prolonging their relationship until the moment (Y/N) stood at the altar.

On this day, the 13th of the eighth moon, the princess had taken a most dangerous risk in flying to her family’s seat of power, Dragonstone, to subdue her wretched uncle Daemon, who had been squatting there for a year and who had just stolen a dragon egg for his unborn bastard child. (Y/N) had gotten wind of these plans and miraculously arrived at the dragonpit just before Rhaenyra took flight. (Y/N) had implored her princess to be safe, telling her that she would not know what to do if anything happened to her. Rhaenyra, overcome by the love and emotion she had been repressing, could not think of anything else to do but cup (Y/N)'s cheeks and pull her into a kiss. (Y/N)'s eyes widened in shock for a moment, but she quickly got over it, placing her hand on Rhaenyra’s cheek and wrapping her free arm around her waist.

How lovely that kiss was, (Y/N) sighed, remembering it. Rhaenyra had left after their lips broke, and (Y/N) had been in the sept worrying ever since. Eyes closed, she murmured promises to the seven that she would never sin again if Rhaenyra was protected.

Upon hearing a familiar voice softly calling her name, (Y/N)’s eyes fluttered open. She quickly turned her head to see none other than Rhaenyra Targaryen. Her princess. The purest love in her life. Her everything.

(Y/N) ran to her lover, immediately cupping her face and kissing her fiercely. Rhaenyra met (Y/N) with the same passion, grabbing her tightly by her waist and pulling her closer. 

Two dragons burning together under the midnight sky. 

The kiss communicated everything they had been too afraid to say. “I’m sorry.” “I miss you.” “I need you.” “I love you.”

The two girls finally broke apart for air, giggling shyly in the throes of their young love. 

Suddenly serious, Rhaenyra looked deeply into (Y/N)’s eyes. A pure shade of violet only found in those with the true blood of Old Valyria, with little flecks of blue- a trait passed down from her seafaring ancestors. She then scanned (Y/N)’s entire body, her shimmering silver hair, braided at the top, loosening into long coils past her backside—the curves of her breasts and hips, the softness of her hands, and the way her brown skin shone in the moonlight.

“A true Valyrian goddess, you are,” she said.

(Y/N) looked down shyly at the compliment. Rhaenyra lifted (Y/N)’s chin with her finger and stepped closer, leaning her forehead against hers. A moment of sweetness and intimacy. 

“Kivio naejot sagon rūsīr issa va moriot,” Rhaenyra said quietly. “Dōrī jorrāelagon mirre tolie hae ao jorrāelagon issa.”

Swear to be with me always. Never love any other as you love me.

(Y/N) exhaled. “Oh, issa dārilaros. Nyke kivio, jaehossi uēpossi arlȳssī."

Oh, my princess. I swear, by the old gods and the new.

[wildrangers]

Hello i see you're accepting fic requests, i have a matt smith fic idea, can u do a behind the scenes w matt and fem!reader where they are both married in real life but they're rivals on cam, and when the scene cuts they're like all lovey dovey and their castmates are always teasing them 💟 tysmmm!!!

Thank you so much for this request anon, I loved this idea! I created an OC HOTD character for the reader to play and kind of worked her into different key moments from the show. I hope you enjoy 🙂

Tropes & Topics: total fluff

Word Count: 900

“What would you call the husband of the Queen?”

“Well, the king-”

“There it is, then.”

“...consort” 

Your eyes met Daemon’s, fury coursing through your veins. His head tilted, eyes assessing you. “That seems redundant, no?”

“I speak for the Queen when I say it is not.” 

There was a long pause as you two stared each other down before “CUT! Good work you two.”

“Darling! You were stupendous” Matt praised, walking towards you with his arms raised. Mostly joking groans sounded from the crew around you. “Oh, stop it you lot.”

“I always forget how angry you make me when you have that fucking wig on” you tease, wrapping your arms around his middle tightly. 

“I could say the same to you, my love” he chuckled, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your silver wig.

Your role on House of the Dragon was Anora, a close confidant and cousin of Rhaenyra. Given your character’s fierce loyalty to Rhaenyra, she shared a tense, often hostile, relationship with Daemon which you two delighted in playing as it was so opposed to your real-life dynamics as newlyweds. 

“Are you love birds ready for lunch now that you’ve terrorized the crew?” Emma’s voice called from behind Matt and you threw a grin their way. 

“Are they up to it again?” Harry seconded from behind them. 

“I don’t know what you’re referring to” you argued and Matt chuckled beside you, his arm resting along your shoulders as you followed the pair off the studio lot. 

“Oh, so you don’t remember the post-wedding incident?” Emma posed and you felt your face warm as the memory flooded your mind. 

“Wed?! Laenor has just died!” you shouted, whipping around to face your best friend and her apparent new husband. 

“No, cousin, he’s not dead. We arranged it so he could be free and we could marry” Rhaenyra explained and your eyes widened. 

“You let our monstrous uncle convince you of this?!” 

“Watch your tongue” Daemon replied, eyes blazing.

“Or what?” 

“Or I’ll take it.”

You took out the dagger you kept hidden on your side, “Well come on then, Daemon. You don’t frighten me.” 

“Enough!” Rhaenyra screamed, stepping between you both. “Cousin, this was my decision he forced me to do nothing. He wants to better support my claim to the throne when the time inevitably comes.” 

“He will be your ruin, Rhaenyra. Mark my words.”

“CUT! I think we got it guys, take five.” 

“My fierce wife!” Matt cheered, picking you up and swinging you around as you laughed. 

“Must you do this every take?” the director questioned, earning laughs from the cast and crew on set. 

“Am I wrong? She was incredible” he praised, placing you down and lovingly straightening the wig he’d disheveled in his excitement. 

“Yes, yes, your wife is brilliant and we’re all lucky to be graced with her presence” Emma teased and you stuck your tongue out at them. 

“The most brilliant one of us is you, my love” you tell him and are met with another chorus of groans as you giggle and squeeze his hand in yours.

“Oh! And you can’t forget the birthing scene from last season’s finale, that one was iconic.” Harry added and Emma eagerly nodded their agreement.

Rhaenyra wailed from the bedchamber behind you as you charged after Daemon. “What are you doing Daemon? She needs you!” 

“She needs someone to prepare for war, I can do nothing for her in that room.” 

“She’s calling for you Daemon, not me! She doesn’t want you to act on her behalf, just to be her husband.” 

“I am your king now!” he roared, turning around so quickly you slammed into his chest, his hands gripping your shoulders painfully to keep you upright.

“You overstep Daemon. You are no more than her king consort” you replied, adjusting your stance and fighting the wince of pain wracking your system.

Matt’s face completely broke, false anger draining from it, “Love, are you alright? I’m sorry everyone but she’s injured, we have to cut.” 

“Matt, it’s fine I could have finished the scene” you insisted but your argument fell flat as your ankle rolled out from beneath you. 

He didn’t hesitate, one arm gripping under your knees, the other under your arms to lift you off your feet. “Where’s the medic?!” 

“Matthew, it’s a twisted ankle, not a mortal wound” you assured but his face was panicked. “Hey, look at me” you said firmly, hand cupping his cheek. His hazel eyes met yours and you could see him fighting to control his fear that you were seriously injured. 

“I’m not putting you down until someone’s looked at your ankle” he insisted and you nodded your agreement. “I’m so, so sorry darling.”

“It was an accident, I’m fine, I promise” you replied, pulling his face down to yours for a brief kiss. 

“We have to release this as a blooper, the fans will eat it up!” you heard Emma call as Matt carried you off set towards the medic tent with the cameras still rolling.

“How could we forget? It went absolutely viral” Matt groaned and you laughed, pinching his side.

“You’re lucky you didn’t get charged with spousal abuse” you tease and he rolls his eyes as the others laugh. 

“Keep it going, I’ll just save up my annoyance with you for when we’re back on set.”

matt smith taglist: @slayraxes-blogs @littlehorrorlover

I'm always happy to hear any feedback, message me if you want to get added to the taglist! I have a few more asks waiting that will be out soon 🫶🏻

[earth4angels]

𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

modern!jacaerys x f!reader

── semi angst? jacaerys is super in love, gets teased about it! one sided?? has an open ending, open for interpretation, not edited.

summary: over the course of an year, he watches her from afar, admiring the small details, falling in love with a stranger that does not know he exists. and as the final year of school almost at its end, he questions whether he wasted time or if it’s the perfect time to recover lost time.

a/n: short drabble and very rushed bc i just needed to post this before my idea died, and it’s a little sad with some fluff sorry jace nation, listen to beautiful stranger by laufey

jace tag list: @jacaerysgf @star611 @jules420 @gracexthoughts @astrxq @reyndaisy @hxtd @smurfelle @nanaldy @valdezthg @littleblackcatinwonderland @nixtape-foryou @starrgurl46 @ethereal-athalia @stelleduarte @canyonmoon-2 @ambrosia-v-black @ilovequeen978 @melsunshine

The wind blew through his face hard enough for his long trences of hair to fall into his mouth and his eyes. He sighed irritably, his hands pushing his hair back while he took the strands that ended in his mouth away.

He checked his watch, biting his lip when he realized he was running late to school - his mother would surely kill him if she found out. He always rejected their personal driver to take him to school as he did not like bragging about his status so he relied on public transportation to blend in with his classmates.

He never whined about it either, he loved the scenery, but most especially he loved to watch you.

You were beautiful, your hair always styled in bows, clips, your ears were always covered by your headphones blocking the noise of the outside as he would always see you reading. He studied every single detail of yours, the slight crinkle of your eyes when you read something interesting, the way you constantly licked your lips as your eyes darted through the pages of your book. He saw you always with pens as you highlighted or wrote in your journal pieces he would figure grabbed your attention.

Jacaerys admired you from afar, and often found himself dreaming about you when the day ended.

“I don’t know why you haven’t talked to her. You’re Jacaerys Velaryon, heir of your family’s business after your mother Rhaenyra Targaryen,” Cregan nudged him as the said heir only shook his head, his curls bouncing, he looked away to the window to watch you cross the street, your long hair blowing delicately against the wind.

“It’s not like it matters, school ends in two weeks. We will all graduate, and I will be moving miles away to attend law school. It wouldn’t work,” Jace muttered, his hands rubbing against each other, a nervous tic of his.

Cregan groaned childishly, “You depress me Velaryon. The gods made you with such looks you could pull anyone and you’re wasting it on a complete stranger? Someone you haven’t even made moves on for an entire year?!”

Jace glared at him before muttering again, “A year and a half… actually.”

“Seven hells mate. You have gone absolutely mad,” Cregan shook his head in disbelief, rolling his eyes at his idiotic lovesick best friend who hung his head.

Jacaerys did want to speak to you, maybe he could’ve asked what book you read or make a random question about what train stop took him to the academy. He didn’t know, but maybe he just could’ve just said something to get you to look at him. Time was clicking and he didn’t know how much longer he should wait.

He saw you enter the train again, this time a fluffy hat sat on your head, your cheeks a rosy pink from the wind outside, in your hands held a book. He smiled knowing you were going to spend another ride with your nose deep in the pages. You were so delicate with every move you made, and he felt like you lit the entire room with your presence.

He already knew your routine for how much he had seen you, but this time it was different. You turned your head looking around finding him sitting by the window, your eyes met his fiery brown ones. It was then he felt like he was going to faint, his heart beating rapidly - you smiled.

You smiled and he felt like the world vanished, leaving him breathless. It was only you, a ray of light caressing your shoulders illuminating you like a goddess. It was his chance… this was the chance he could’ve said anything. Yet he did something so idiotic that he went home that day slamming his head into the pillow cursing himself for being so stupid.

He looked away, his cheeks turning red. He did not smile or said anything but rather fixated on the blurs of the streets that passed by.

As the last week of school came, and his friends teased him about a crush on the beautiful stranger he was infuriated with - he found himself sitting the train ride again.

The familiar stop came, and he listened to the doors slide open, his hands shaking from the nervousness. The seat next to him suddenly became occupied, he did not look thinking it was a stranger that sat next to him.

A soft chuckle was heard and it made his heart flutter crazily, he peeked beside him slowly finding the beautiful stranger next to him.

You smiled at him, for you were waiting for him to speak first.

You did notice him a lot, and you knew about him, the famous Jacaerys Velaryon, first born son of the famous businesswoman Rhaenyra Targaryen.

You saw him in every train ride, but you also saw him on campus, laughing with his friends, often throwing a football as he played during lunch breaks. He was popular, maybe for his name or his money, but he walked around campus with such grace - his aura leaving many boys with envy and girls wanting him.

Your smile never left your lips as he stared at you in disbelief that you actually sat next to him.

From up close, you were much more beautiful, your scent overwhelming him as you smelled like he thought you would, a mix of floral and vanilla, you smelled like home.

Graduation was two days away. And he was set to leave the week after to start summer camp.

Perhaps, it was too late to start anything but his chance came to finally hear your voice, to at least know your name, the girl, the beautiful stranger that made his dreams sweet and made him smile when he sat to think of you.

Jace finally smiled back, and his soft voice made your insides warm, “Hello.”

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ I am yours and you are mine, whatever may come ⭑

Masterlist

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x sister!wife!reader (characters are +18)

Summary: after your mother Rhaenyra ascended the iron throne you were finally able to wed your betrothed. But with a royal wedding comes a bedding ceremony.

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, smut, vaginal sex, making out, handjob, grinding, humping, creampie.

Word count: 2.2k

You anxiously played with your hair as one of your handmaidens braided it. Your other handmaiden standing in front of you, adding the accessories to your beautiful ivory gown. Today was your wedding day. It was a joyous day in King’s Landing, your mother, the queen,  having ascended the iron throne and having slayed your traitorous uncle, she could finally rule. You were already betrothed to your brother Jacaerys before the war but the wedding was put on hold because of the events. But today was the day, you were nervous but also excited. After 7 days of celebrations the royal wedding would take place, in the very room the iron throne was in. After some time of preparing you were ready to head down to the doors that led to the throne room. As you stood there nervously waiting for the doors to open you felt a hand on your shoulder, your step father prince Daemon would walk you down the aisle. He offered his arm with a smile and when you took it the doors opened revealing the huge room decorated with candles, feathers and flowers. And not to mention the hundreds of people from court within. Your eyes immediately shot to the end of the aisle where your soon to be husband stood next to the high septon who would be officiating. 

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Daemon started walking, all the eyes in the room were on you, soft gasps all around at the sight of your beautiful dress and hair. You walked alongside Daemon down the aisle and when you reached the end, Jace took your hand so Daemon could join your mother and brothers at the base of the steps. Jace walked you up the few steps to where the high septon stood. Both of you taking each other's hands and giving each other a nervous smile. Then the high septon spoke. “The love of The Seven is holy and eternal. Source of life and love. We stand here today in thanks and praise to join two souls as one. Father, Mother, Warrior, Smith, Maiden, Crone, Stranger hear now their vows.” You kissed Jace’s cheek before he spoke. “I am yours and you are mine. Whatever may come.” Then you repeated the words. “I am yours and you are mine. Whatever may come.” You smiled, which was returned by Jace. The high septon continued. “Here in the presence of gods and men, I proclaim Jacaerys of house Velaryon, (Y/N) of house Velaryon to be man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.” The septon ended. Jace gave you a light kiss on your lips and the room disrupted with applause. You both looked at your mother, brothers and Daemon, and they smiled. Then Jace took your hand and walked you down the steps, now the celebrations could begin. 

After hours of dancing, feasting and entertaining your guests you started getting nervous for the next part of the wedding, the bedding ceremony. Even though the old tradition of people “making sure” the ceremony actually took place was dropped years ago, it still scared you. You knew the basics of it, of course. But still, you didn’t know what it would actually be like and it made you nervous. Obviously Jace was a sweetheart and would take care of you, so you expected it to still be a positive occurrence. What you didn’t know was if Jace had any experience already, of course as a man he was allowed to bed whomever, whenever he wanted but you always thought it didn’t fit his character, and he rarely left the Red Keep, so you decided you were both clueless, which made it a little less intimidating. Jace sat beside you at the large table in front of the guests. Your family all sitting next to you two. And alas the feast was declared over by the queen and you and your new husband left the room to his bedchamber.

His bedchamber was a place you have been to many times before but now it was different, you were going there with a completely different intention. An intention that made the heat pool in your belly. As if Jacaerys read your thoughts he asked “Are you alright? It’s okay to be nervous, I’m nervous too.” You were glad that even though wine was poured as water tonight, he didn’t overflow his cups. Wanting to be sober with just enough of a buzz for confidence. “I’m alright, yes, but I am nervous. Ha- have you had any...well experience?” You asked him anxiously, getting ever closer to his bedchamber. “No not really, I wanted to save myself for marriage too, it’s only fair. And I have to admit that I also didn’t want to uhm- father bastards, you know.” He explained, grabbing your hand and ordering the guards by his door to leave you, you both certainly did not want anyone listening in. As he led you inside your nervousness grew and you started to feel hot all over your body, and he hadn’t even touched you yet. 

“Jace, do you know...well you know, how to do this?” You asked him, looking him in his beautiful chocolate eyes. “The basics, yes, don’t worry. I’ll make sure to never hurt you, and if you want to stop you can always just tell me, okay?” He told you sweetly, as he put his hands on your waist, taking in your beautiful figure. “Okay, I trust you.” You mumbled putting your hands on his chest. He looked in your eyes and brought his lips closer to yours. You could feel his warm breath on your lips and you slightly parted them, waiting for him to close the gap. At last his big soft lips were on yours, the moment heating by the second and you grabbed his brown hair slightly tugging at the roots, which earned you a groan from him. He then walked you back towards his bed pushing you down before confirming you were still okay with it. 

After you told him it was okay he immediately had his lips on yours again, his tongue now asking for permission to enter. Something that you eagerly permitted, as his tongue came in touch with yours, you softly moaned in his mouth. You could feel your wetness between your thighs and you wanted him to touch you so badly. “Jace, please touch me, just touch me, anywhere.” You begged as you removed your lips from his for but a mere moment. “Anything for my wife.” He muttered. He kissed your cheek and started removing your dress and undergarments. After he undressed you he started removing his own clothes as well. And holy fuck did he look good, his toned abs, his biceps, you didn’t know your husband was this well gifted under his clothes. But as you observed him, your eyes landed on his already hard cock, glistening with precum at the tip. He was big, at least you assumed that he was bigger than other men, he sure looked like it. 

Jace saw you observing him and smiled. “I hope I am not disappointing you my love.” You looked at his face again and a blush spread across your face. “No no, not at all. You are incredibly handsome Jace.” You admitted, he grabbed your face again and kissed you deeply. You moved your hands over his toned chest, which made Jace groan against your lips. “Let me touch you Jace, please.” You pleaded with him, you wanted nothing more than to wrap your hands around his slightly dripping cock. “Of course, please touch me.” He moaned at your touch and you started to move your hand experimentally. Gripping him sometimes harder and sometimes softer again to test how he would react and what he would like best. A firmer grip clearly got the best reaction so you firmly started jerking him off until he begged you to stop. “Why? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” You asked him nervously, had you grabbed him too hard and hurt him? “No no not at all, it’s just- if you had continued... I would’ve... finished too early.” He smiled awkwardly. 

“Oh- of course, I’m sorry. I just wanted to make you feel good.” You smiled. “Ooh fuck.” He mumbled to himself, loving the way you said that. “And it did feel really good, I promise but I need to make you feel good now. So that I might prepare you for...the actual activity.” He expressed. You smiled at him and he pushed you to lay down, while trying to remember the words of the book he had read about sex he decided that he would be better off experimenting himself to see what made you tick. So he slid his hand up your thigh and touched the mound between your legs softly. He decided that that was the right move as you moaned at his touch. Again he touched you only this time he added a bit more pressure and moved to try and find the spot that made you moan the loudest. Then he found it, the nub that made you moan his name in pleasure. “Yes- please- right there Jace.” You moaned, grabbing his wrist out of want. 

He smiled to himself and felt himself become even harder, unable to stop himself he began humping the bed softly while rubbing circles on your clit at the same time. He joined you in your moans and soon you trapped his hand between your legs when you closed your thighs shut as you came, feeling the wetness gushing out of you, almost screaming your husband's name. Jace stopped moving to avoid cumming and removed his hand when you had calmed down and opened your legs again. “That was amazing Jace, I think I’m...prepared enough now.” You smiled hazily at him. “Alright, as you wish.” He said before moving his hips close to yours, gripping is cock and sliding his tip across your slit, trying to find your entrance. When he slipped in, you both let out a moan. He stayed still for some time to let you get used to his size. After a while he moved deeper into your wet cunt making him moan again, never in his life could he have imagined the pleasure, finally understanding why men are so desperate for it. 

“Are you alright? Can I start moving?” He asked you not sure if you had adjusted enough. “Yes I’m okay, it doesn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would.” You reassured him, it was indeed better than you thought. So he started moving his hips slowly, grinding against you while trying not to moan too loud, he was clearly in heaven. After a couple of thrusts he began moving faster not being able to help himself, you just felt too good. “Oh Jace, yes- you feel so good.” You moaned his thrusts starting to feel better each time he moved in and out of you. Jace then moved closer against you, pressing his chest against yours, burying his face in your neck, now absolutely pounding into you hard. He couldn’t help but moan your name over and over again against your neck. 

But he really did it when he moved to be hitting you right against the spongy spot that made you scream for more. You begged him to finish inside you, all you could feel, see and smell was Jace. He was filling your every sense. The slapping of your skin and your moans surely to be heard in the halls, but you were too focused on Jace and chasing your own high to notice. Jace’s balls pounded against your ass and even that felt good. You could tell by his moaning, stuttering and heavy breathing that he was getting close to his release. Luckily you were dangerously close yourself, and this time it felt different somehow, like it was going to be more consuming. You moaned Jace’s name at every thrust and he started to get sloppier. Just as he was about to cum you felt yourself squirting hard, soaking the sheets underneath you, you arched your back and your hands gripped on to the mattress for dear life, screaming your husband's name. Your walls tightening around him made him fill you with his seed, as he moaned loudly. You gasped for air as you had apparently been holding your breath due to the intensity of your release. Confused as to what just happened. 

Jace kissed your neck and moved to your side to hold you in his arms. “What just happened?” You asked him, slightly embarrassed at the soaked sheets. “It’s okay, I read that it can happen when women feel extremely good, so it’s quite the compliment I suppose.” He grinned. You smiled at him and wrapped your arms around him, hugging him close. “I love you Jace.” You said, kissing his cheek. “I love you too, my beautiful wife.” He said, stroking your hair. You definitely didn’t need to be nervous anymore and you knew for sure this would become a frequent activity.

[the-fiction-witch]

Needs

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Aegon Targaryen Couple - Aegon X Reader Reader - Alena Targaryen (Rhaenyra's Daughter, Aegons Wife) Rating - Smutty / Flirty Word Count - 1650

Aegon sat in his chambers of course drinking and sulking as usual,

Alena marched into the chamber in her usual emerald gown with small black accents, her hair in a long braid, "Some men would be thankful, even joyous to see their wives alive" she glared a little,

"I might." Aegon spat in response before he finally gave his gaze upon her person, taking in her hair and figure. He could recall the memories of the previous nights they spent in the same chambers. "I trust the island was well while you were there, and your mother is still as insufferable as always." He said with his usual air of arrogance,

"Mother was mother planning endlessly, Daemon taking well to fatherly life, Jacaerys struggling with his high valerian, Lucaerys struggling with puberty, the twins reckless and the new babies adorable. All of which send their pleasties” she explained as she took a goblet from the table and filled her goblet with the wine Aegon has been drinking as she spoke finally collapsing down in the chair by the fire,

Aegon’s attention was peaked as Alena mentioned the new babes but he didn’t want it to become evident that he cared. So instead he poured himself another drink, taking a few sips before he answered in a dry tone. “I’m not too interested in your family on Dragonstone nor am I interested in my sister's bastards.” He said with a slight scowl. In truth, none of his ire was towards Alena, just the fact that he had been alone for the past few weeks.

“I lied. Gave them your pleasnties” she chuckled sipping her wine

Aegon raised an eyebrow as she spoke, taking a few steps until he hovered just above her at the fireplace. He couldn't help but admire her in this moment, her emerald-green gown was hugging her form, and her hair was braided and fell over her shoulders, gently tickling her collarbone. “Did you?” He said with an amused chuckle, setting his goblet down next to hers as he took a seat on the arm of the chair she sat in.

“I did. Your be surprised how often I lie for you”

Aegon let out a chuckle though the way she spoke didn't go unnoticed. He could hear the disdain in her voice that told him she didn't enjoy doing such things, yet the fact she did so anyway made him admire her. “Well then…” He reached out and took her hand, gently tracing his fingers over her knuckles with his thumb. He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her fingers. They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping on their drinks before Aegon finally spoke up. “I had grown used to your presence at my side and your absence made me irritated at times.” He spoke softly, his thumb still tracing the back of her hand. He felt more vulnerable when he was around Alena but it made him want to tell her the truth in his thoughts.

“is that your way of saying you missed me?” She raised an eyebrow

Aegon rolled his eyes as he gave her a teasing smile. “Missed you is a strong word…” He looked down at their intertwined hands and the way the flames of the fire flickered across their skin. “But I admit I felt your absence when you were gone.” He finally said, looking back up at her.

“as did I…” She said “But... I wanted a word”

Aegon nodded to show her he was listening, raising an eyebrow in curiosity as he spoke. “And what would you like to speak about?” Aegon asked, taking a small sip of his wine before giving her his undivided attention.

“Rhaenyra As it stands is still your father's heir. Even is president and I'm sure the realm's preference is for you to sit on the throne when viserys passes... Which we both know is happening sooner than later”

Aegon nodded in agreement with her as she spoke, already knowing where this conversation was going. He finished his drink from his cup before he spoke, “Yes, I’m sure you’ve already taken the hint by now but my father isn’t well and likely won’t live much longer. He will be dead soon.” Aegon’s voice was blunt, the idea of his father’s impending death didn’t fill him with dread and he spoke of it with nonchalance.

“as upsetting as that will be... We must understand that this isn't going to be a simple transition.” She sighed “And as it stands Rhaenyra sits as heir to the Iron Throne, Daemon her king consort, my brother Jacaerys sits as heir after her leaving him as heir to Dragonstone the seat of the Iron Thrones heir, Lucaerys heir to Driftmark, even disregarding... Female children” her tone pointed given Alena was Rhaenyra’s firstborn child and should be her heir but given she was a girl her brother was heir and not her my mother sits with four male heirs. “You sit as viserys heir and we have... Nothing. I believe it would improve your claim... If we were to have a child”

Aegon nodded as she spoke, though his eyes widened as she mentioned pregnancy. He was already familiar with the fact that Alena wasn’t exactly a maternal type, but then again did any woman want to willingly become pregnant. “Are you sure?” He asked in a soft tone, reaching out to take her free hand in his, while his thumb gently caressed her.

“do we really have much of a choice?”

“No, I suppose we don’t.” Aegon said with a shrug, he was right in a sense. They were married, and both were expected to produce heirs and they’d been married a whole year and not even attempted to. “When… would you like to start?” He finally murmured the question as he leaned in closer to her.

“When the sky runs to ash” she joked before she finished her wine in one large gulp “let's just get this over with” she sighed pushing herself out the chair and heading towards their bedroom

Aegon couldn’t help but chuckle at her little quip, though he felt butterflies in his stomach as he rose from his own chair and followed her into their chambers, his eyes wandering over her figure and her braid once more.

She stood by the bed and didn't even bother to undo her hair or her gown fully he just loosened the lowest ties and laid herself down on the bed with her ankles against the bedposts, her gown around her knees for him to move when ready, This was almost exactly how she laid for their bedding ceremony and any other times they had to 'do their duty' and consummate their marriage, even if Aegon has always made sure it was not possible to give her a child, now that is what he knew he had to do even if neither really want to, Alena sighed her hands on her stomach her chest rising a falling with each breath

Aegon took a deep breath as he reached the bed, taking in the sight of her for a few moments. Even though she didn’t want this and neither did he he couldn’t help but think she looked beautiful. He took a few steps closer to the bed, before he climbed onto the mattress and hovered over her “Please tell me to stop…” Aegon murmured before leaning down and kissing her neck.

“why?”

Aegon continued to kiss along her neck, gently nipping at her skin now and then before he pulled away and looked down at her, he had a hand on either side of her head as he leaned on his forearms. “Because I don’t want to continue if you feel uncomfortable.” He murmured, looking down into her eyes. He wouldn’t dream of forcing himself on her if she didn’t want this. “my comfort is not your concern,” she answered “we have to have a child for a good of the realm”

Aegon sighed softly, though he did have some concern for her. He sat up now, kneeling between her thighs as he gently undid her laces, he would have to be gentle. “Just tell me if you want to stop…” He mumbled again, even though she had reassured him he didn’t want to hurt her. While he focused on undoing her gown, his hand gently caressed her waist.

Alena bit her tounge and nodded

Aegon nodded back as he finished untightening her laces, he shifted his position so they were still on their knees but they were almost face to face now. He reached out, gently pushing the silken gown off her shoulders and down her arms. “You can touch me too you know…” He said lowly, his voice was slightly teasing as he continued to undress her.

she shook her head as she laid on her bed almost dissociating as I'd leaving her body and whatever Aegon was to do to her

Aegon paused, taking a moment before he reached out, gently cupping her face in his hands. Though he was slightly frustrated at her reaction he kept his frustration under wraps as he pulled her closer.

“Darling… look at me.” He said softly, his voice was still quiet as he gently lifted her chin so she met his gaze. “I know we… Have to do this. But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy it,” he cooed, “Tonight,” he smiled moving her legs off the bedposts and cradling her in his arms, “We shall not think of the realm, or our duty, or of any needs… but our own. Our own needs and desires. Tonight we shall think only of pleasure and I promise I will do anything I can to get you pregnant but we will enjoy it as we do, Okay?”

“Okay,” she smiled stroking his cheek and kissing him as they both moved to flip over, 

[danysdragon]

Haunted

Aemond Targaryen x ghost!niece!reader

Summary: Aemond Targaryen is haunted by the ghost of the girl whose life was stolen at the hands of himself. He is fighting a mental battle, seeing her face in the shadows and walking about the Red Keep is truly a torturous and haunting sight…

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Brief mentions of smut. Dark context! Manipulation, taunting, blood, haunting, Aemond being in denial, large mentions of death!! Reader teasing Aemond and making him feel bad, Aemond crying, Aemond’s ego being beaten, mostly just regret and denial. Drunk Aegon, Aegon teasing Aemond, Aegon being a dick.

A/N: soooo… I was super excited to write this because it was on my mind for a while! I love the Aemond getting haunted ideas! I hope you love reading this story just as much as I loved writing it💋💋💋💋💋 the photos do not describe the reader in any way!

Aemond Targaryen is haunted. Haunted by the girl who stole his eye all those years ago. Haunted by the girl whose life he stole. He doesn’t know if he regrets what he did or not. But he does know that he is going to lose his sanity if she continues this. This little game of hers. She taunts him, and teases him. She enjoys it more than she enjoyed taking his eye, he thinks. When he sees her, he sees the blood seeping out of the soft skin of her stomach, her dress being stained by the red liquid. When her dragon was hit by dragonfire, it began going down. And she went down with it. She hit the rocks in the sea, dying immediately. She washed up on shore days later. He killed both her and her dragon. He did not mean for that to happen, though. You see, he was angry. He wanted revenge for what she did to him, but he never meant to take it that far. Now she’s dead, and it’s is his fault. It is also his fault this war has started. Rhaenyra was crushed after the death of her daughter, declaring war and demanding Aemond’s head. Alicent was also livid. Livid at how careless Aemond was with his actions resulting in the brutal killing of the girl. The girl he has reluctantly grown to love, but he shouldn’t. She’s dead because of him. And it doesn’t help that he sees her face every fucking day.

It was a busy day in the Red Keep. Helaena and Alicent attended Jahaerys’ funeral, Aegon killed one of the men that took the life of his boy, and Aemond visited a brothel. Aemond has been visiting the brothel a lot lately. He’s only doing this because of his conflicting emotions regarding the recent death of his niece. He needed comfort that his mother could not give him. He has come back and began thinking. He sits by the fire, waiting for her to show up. She always shows up around this time. He has taught himself not to be frightened of her visits, it will only make this battle worse.

He gazes at the flames dancing atop the burning wood in the fireplace. He pouts his lips in thought. The chair he sits on tonight is uncomfortable, more than usual. He can feel her presence, though, she hasn’t spoken yet. He will not look up from the fire until he hears her silky voice. “It is your fault he is dead.” She speaks, finally. Her voice is quiet now, compared to her voice when she was falling. Down and down, into the water. He sighs, his hand clenching into a fist against the arm rest of the chair. “Whose death are you speaking of?” He asks, knowing who she is speaking of, but wanting her to say it herself. “The boy. It was an action made in my mother’s words “blood for blood.” She spoke those words because of you. What you did to me.” He stands up, facing her. She is standing next to his chair, looking into his eye.

“Must you taunt me so?” The Kinslayer asks, not being able to look into her cold eyes. She doesn’t answer. She puts a finger on his chin, making him look up at her. “You did this to me, uncle. You put me here.” He is forced to look into her eyes, now not being able to look away. “Stop it, you’re not truly here.” He forces out. He sees the coldness, the anger, but also the teasing in her eyes. “Oh, but I am. I am in your skin, in your mind… In your heart. I am a part of you now, Aemond.” She takes a step closer, her cold lips nearly touching his. “You are nothing but a ghost, haunting me, torturing me.” Her eyes darken. “Is that all I am to you? Just another soul you snatched away because of your greed and selfishness?” She whispers to him, her voice like a soft breeze in a green forest. He sucks in a sharp breath, wanting to reach out and touch her. To pull her close to him and claim her body as he claimed her life. But he also wants to push her away at the same time. “Stop it.”

He is just about to push her back when he hears a loud knock on his door. Too aggressive to be a simple servant. He looks to the door then back at her, gently pushing her to leave. She sighs and takes a step back into the shadows, disappearing from his sight. He lets out a breath and sits back down in his large arm chair. “Enter.” He grumbles. The large, wooden door creaks open and he soon hears the irritating sounds of Aegon’s drunken laughter. He fights the urge to yell at him to get out, wanting to see his beautiful, darling niece again. The door shuts and Aegon plops down onto Aemond’s bed, still giggling like a child. “Evening brother, I hope I’m not interrupting your… conversations with your little ghosts and such.” He says with a chuckle, looking at his brother. Aemond wonders why Aegon is drunk now. “What do you want brother?” Aemond hisses, not in the mood for Aegon’s antics. “I just wanted to speak to you about… this war, and all these deaths. Father, my son… our niece.” Aemond winces at the mention of his niece. Aegon knows he struck a nerve. That’s what he does, he loves taunting Aemond until he snaps. “What about them?” Aemond isn’t in the mood for Aegon’s games. He doesn’t look at the king, thinking that if he looked, he would become even more irritated.

“Oh, you know… I was thinking. Thinking about you. And our sweet niece. I always thought that there was something between you both. Until you killed her. I wouldn’t be surprised if you two fucked while the Blacks were here to see our dying father. Perhaps it was in your bed, or in a closet… Or on the dining table-“ Aemond snaps. “Get out.” Aegon stops laughing and looks at Aemond, a bit offended and confused. “Sorry? I don’t think I heard you correctly, brother.” Aemond stands up and faces Aegon, peering into his soul like a predator eyeing its prey. “Get out, brother. Now.” Aegon’s eyes darken and his smile completely fades. “Alright then. I’ll leave.” He gets up and begins walking to the doors. He stops and looks at the prince. “It’s a shame she’s dead. I know how badly you yearn for her.” He finally leaves, shutting the door with a small slam. The young prince lets out an irritated sigh, sitting back down. The fire is slowly dying.

He can feel her presence back again. She gently puts her hands on his shoulders behind him, her hands cold. He feels this pain in his heart. He knows she is not truly here, and it’s his fault. He did that to her. And now he’s haunted because of what he did, forever haunted by the ghost of his sweet niece. The girl that was simply trying to protect her brothers all those years ago, causing him to lose an eye. She leans down and gently presses her frigid lips to his jaw. He lets out a small hum, not stopping her from commencing her actions. Her lips slowly trail down to his upper neck, just under his jaw. Her tongue darts out of her mouth to taste his smooth skin. He lets out a small whimper of pleasure and need as he feels her tongue dance on his skin. He feels her hand snake around his throat, squeezing a bit, not hard enough to choke him, but hard enough to make him feel it. She sucks and nips at his sweet spot, enjoying the sounds he’s making. Until she suddenly stops. And he no longer feels her lips on his neck and her hand on his throat. He doesn’t feel her at all. She’s disappeared once again. He sighs at the loss of contact, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair.

Until next time, ghostly girl.

Hello loves! I hope you enjoyed reading! This was a short one but I truly enjoyed writing it. Hope you liked it!💋

-Liv💋

[spacerockfloater]

“Ha! Alicent finally understands what patriarchy is! She supported a misogynistic system and now she’s facing the consequences of her actions! She made her bed, now she has to lie in it! She really thought the leopards wouldn’t eat her face!”

Except that Alicent:

was one of the first victims of patriarchy in this show so she very much always understood how fucked up it is.

was the only one to advocate for her friend’s right to rule even when Rhaenyra’s own father doubted his decision to make her his heir.

was the only person to suggest that Driftmark should pass on to Baela.

did not go to war against Rhaenyra because she thought women couldn’t rule. She did it because she wanted to protect her family after her former friend got her father fired, took her son’s eye, demanded he be tortured despite being her kid brother and because she genuinely believed that Aegon II becoming king was her husband’s dying wish.

This is the “hypocrisy” bullshit all over again and I just have to say that those who genuinely believe such analyses are illiterate.

[marthawrites]

could you write smut for Aemond like prompts 1, 15, 11, 52, 49, 25, 13, and 26? They are all so good 🥹 Reader could be his betrothed (Targaryen would be perfect but if you aren't comfortable then Stark is great) and Aemond didn't want to wait until the wedding

Hello dear nonnie! You requested this back in September - I apologize for making you wait so long for this story. If you're still around I hope it's what you want, and that you enjoy this rendition of Aemond and his (fanon) niece!

Shadows, Beastsong, and Dragonblood

Aemond Targaryen x niece reader

Word count: 7.6k+ (whoops)

About: Growing up you and your uncle Aemond always shared a special kinship. As you grew older, tension between your family and his rose. Moving to Dragonstone led to long years of not seeing each other. When you and your mother visited her father, King Viserys, yours and Aemond's relationship changed. It changed further, years later, upon your final visit to the capitol.

Includes: Fluff, angst, tension, and smut. Featuring incest (uncle x niece), mentions of Aemond's virginity loss at the brothel, mentions of minors sexually experimenting, male receiving oral sex, vaginal fingering, adult reader's virginity loss, and unprotected vaginal sex.

Note: Hello lovely reader! This story follows canon events. HERE is the prompt list used. Reader is technically a Velaryon!Strong bastard who personally identifies as a Targaryen because she looks just like her mother, Rhaenyra. Reader is implied to have pale skin, silver hair, and purple eyes - everything else is entirely up to you. Rhaenys has her canon black hair in this fic. I heavily debated about breaking this into three parts but decided to keep it as a single story. This fic has many firsts for me and it's different than those I've written in the past. It took a lot of effort and I hope you enjoy it!

I.

The years following Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon’s marriage bared fruit after fruit. It wasn't long long after Jacaerys’ birth that Rhaenyra began to show signs of another pregnancy. A woman’s body goes through tremendous changes during, for, and after childbirth, and sometimes her moon cycle can take half a year to return to normal. The princess’ first moon’s blood after his birth hadn’t the chance to appear before the maester’s deemed her pregnant for a second time. 

Another boy, Laenor hoped, to help strengthen the Velaryon line. A healthy babe, Rhaenyra hoped, to love and grow.

Their second child was pinker and paler than Jace upon entering the world. Unlike your brother who had a fine covering of dark hair over his head, yours was so pale it looked akin to winter’s first snow upon your head. A tiny, sweet, healthy baby girl who would grow into the very image of your mother.

And, again, after you came into the world, Rhaenyra showed signs of pregnancy soon after. Laenor got what he hoped for with their third child: another boy, Lucerys, with a splattering of dark hair over his head, too.

Another three years would pass before your little brother, Joffrey, was born. Dark of hair and dark of eyes just like his two older brothers.

As you all grew, none of your brothers showed any signs of Targaryen or Velaryon features. They all had rich brown eyes, dark curly hair, and were quicker to tan than you. Whereas you were a copy of your mother. A true Targaryen beauty: silver hair, pale skin, and eyes the color of amethyst. If Rhaenrya was the Realm’s Delight, then you were the Charm of the Realm. The only thing you lacked as a Targaryen was a dragon. Disappointingly, the egg that was placed in your crib never hatched. The older you grew, and the more you learned of the world, the more you hoped to have a dragon of your very own one day. Rides on Syrax with your mother–thrilling as they were–left you sad. You wanted to be in charge of the reins. You wanted to speak and command a dragon. You wanted the power of your Targaryen ancestors; a conqueror like Queen Visenya or Queen Rhaenys.

You and your brothers grew alongside your uncles, Aegon and Aemond, and your aunt, Helaena, in King’s Landing. As young children you all, for the most part, got along well. You and your uncle Aemond shared one profound thing together: neither of you had a dragon. It was a topic of extreme sensitivity for him. And because of this, sadness, anger, and even embarrassment hung around him from a young age. You wouldn’t lie and say you didn’t carry those emotions in your heart, too, because you did, but Aemond’s was heavier. Suffocating. 

Shameful. 

When everyone else trained in the dragonpit you and Aemond were known to stay in the library together. You bonded quickly through tales of your shared ancestry, love of philosophy, and the histories. Much to Aemond's annoyance, your penmanship surpassed his own. When you told your mother you wanted to be a scribe when you grew older she laughed. “Princesses aren't scribes. You will do much more wondrous things than live your life by the quill.”

You nodded, ever sweet to your mother, and still practiced your writing. Your septa and parents praised you–and Aemond scowled in your retellings. It made you giggle. It was harmless and the extra attention (however negative it seemed to be) from your uncle who was barely older than you made your heart soar; emotions you couldn’t quite name soared too.

He surpassed you in everything physical. If it happened in the training yard, he had you beat by a league.

You surpassed him in subtlety. At first, you were the one who snuck up on him. You were the one who showed him secret passageways in the Red Keep, as well as hidden nooks and crannies that had surely been forgotten.

It didn’t take Aemond long to exceed your skill, however.

Time went on and life continued. With each passing year the innocence of childhood melted like candlewax. You all stopped playing as often until play happened no longer. When once there were shared sweets, games of tag, and exaggerated stories of ‘grand adventures’ to the stables, now there was gossip. Whispered words, sniggers behind hands, and an air of aloofness that had never been there before took over.

“Why do you and your family treat me and my brothers like this now, uncle?” You asked Aemond with flushed cheeks and eyes filled with unshed tears. Whether it were anger or hurt he could not tell. Your heart couldn't, either.

“They look nothing of their father. Or my sister,” he answered plainly with an edge of something you couldn't quite decipher. 

“And what of our cousin Rhaenys? Hm? The Baratheon blood runs strong in her for she is black of hair. No different than my brothers!”

“‘Tis different,” Aemond answered curtly, still refraining from speaking bluntly to you about what his mother gossiped about.

“It's not!” You proclaimed.

Not long after that confrontation did Laena Velaryon suffer an unfortunate death. Her funeral was memorialized in King's Landing with the closest of her kin. And, as the God's would have it, it was that fateful night Aemond gained a dragon–Vhagar, the largest and oldest in the world–in exchange for his eye.

A small price to pay for the way the young prince would bloom beneath her wings.

Rhaenyra’s family, as well as Alicent’s family, were all summoned by King Viserys to make sense of what happened to Aemond and why it happened. Tension swelled and crackled through the collected room like living storm clouds. You stood quietly behind your mother, purple eyes wide and scared as you surveyed the chaos. Even as all the kids yelled over one another trying to make their side of the story heard, you didn’t utter a peep. How desperately you wanted to ask Aemond himself what happened. How terribly you wanted to hold his hand through the pain of his slashed face being stitched up. How awfully you wanted to kiss him if only to let him know he could still feel something–to see if he could still feel something. 

The King seemed to hold no love for his son as he asked him–ordered him–to tell the truth. You felt your heart breaking as you witnessed father and son hold a stare off that could alight the entire room aflame. Two dragons, one old and one young, challenging each other, daring each other, their teeth seconds away from rending into the other.

The following moments were a blur and you didn’t realize what was happening until Alicent ran to your mother with her husband’s dagger clenched in her hand. You screamed and were pulled away in time to not get pushed or stumbled over. Blood spilled and the tension broke in a devastating clash of emotions. Emotions you, as a child, couldn’t understand, not fully. 

Kings Landing was no longer safe for your family. 

During the following days, before departing for Dragonstone, you were able to sneak to Aemond a handful of times. He didn’t talk much. You never pressured him to. Often, it was only silence and your uncle’s soft sobs that filled the otherwise quietness of his bedchamber. It was at the peak of those times, those heart wrenchingly raw moments, that you would sing to him. Admittedly you were no singer–flat most of the time and awkwardly sharp at others–but neither of you cared. You weren’t even sure if the song you sang was proper in its pacing and pronunciations. It was a song you both deemed secret: learned from the pages of an Old Valyria history book, paced to your own tune, the ancient words were sung with all the wonder of adolescence. 

Vhargar and Aemond’s bond had already been forged by grit, determination, and a kind of stupidity that only young boys held, and it grew by the day. You weren’t sure if Vhagar’s roars were louder while Aemond quietly sobbed into your comforting embrace, or while he was utterly silent. You wondered what brewed beneath the surface during those times. Part of you was afraid of what that silence might gestate. There were many tales of beasts being soothed by music, and so you sang and hoped your ancient song might keep his beast at bay.

“We’re leaving for Dragonstone at first light, uncle,” you said to him a little sadly. You hadn’t ever been away from Aemond. Would the libraries at Dragonstone offer the same respite as the ones here at King's Landing? Would you see hopeful glimpses of him from the corner of your eye only to realize it a play of your imagination?

While he acknowledged your words he didn’t say anything in reply. 

“When do you think we’ll see each other again?” You asked softly, tentatively.

“Likely when we are grown and free to make our own decisions,” he answered, words flat. 

It stung. It hurt. “Then I shall tame one of the wild dragons and fly to visit you.” Aemond’s single eye, that lovely hue so similar and so different to your own, glittered at you for the briefest second. So he can still feel things, you thought to yourself. The corner of his mouth twitched in tandem, and before you could stop yourself you learned forward and pressed the gentlest kiss to the outside of his mouth. You didn’t stay to catch his reaction for you turned on your heel and walked down the secret passage from whence you came; naught more than a whisper of silken skirts.

Such affection would be improper by Gods and men alike if you were born of a different bloodline. The Targaryens were closer to Gods than men, however, and so you did not have to play life by man’s traditions. The blood of the dragon runs thick, and your heart pulled to Aemond. A surge of energy rushed through you and you wanted nothing more than to kiss him properly. But when you turned to look over your shoulder, you only saw darkness. He was already gone.

II.

Dragonstone’s libraries were much different than the big library in the Red Keep. Over the following years, you finally, slowly, began to feel peace akin to what you and Aemond shared. Similar, but not quite.

Rhaenyra married her uncle Daemon and they had given you two more little brothers: Aegon and Viserys. Part of you missed life in King’s Landing with its bright sunshine, lavish gardens, and wide populace. Despite the grimness of Dragonstone, however, this place truly felt like home. An ancient seat of Targaryen glory, the the Targaryen's of old spared nothing while crafting this castle with arcane arts, dragonfire, and sorcery. The fabled magic of it sent your veins thrumming. If it weren’t for Aemond you might not ever want to go back to King’s Landing. Aegon’s garden was your favorite place in all of Dragonstone with its tall dark trees, wild roses, and thorny hedges. You wrote diary entries as well as letters there. You and Aemond wrote back and forth a few times over the years, but just like in childhood when games of chase were played no more, your letters, too, stopped. Still, the garden with its piney scent and tart cranberries remained your place of solace.

A letter from King Viserys arrived some time after you’d turned fifteen. Rhaenyra pulled you aside that same day, away from your brothers, and said, “father’s health is beginning to fail. I'm going to see him. Daemon said he will stay here while I visit on dragonback. Would you like to come with me? I’d love for you to. And I know Syrax would too,” she smiled hopefully, giving your forearm a gentle squeeze in annunciation.

You blinked, slightly taken back, before beaming a bright smile. “Of course, mother! I miss my grandfather and would love to see him.”

“I’ll send a raven. Perhaps he will have a belated nameday gift for you,” your mother answered with one of her playful expressions. 

A return letter was indeed sent and over the next few days Rhaenyra and Daemon made plans for the upcoming week. It wouldn’t be a long stay but that didn’t stop excitement from crawling up your spine and settling in your belly. How would uncle Aemond be? It’d been so long since you two had seen each other! It'd even been a long time since you wrote to one another. Would he remember you as you remembered him? Would he even care to see you?

You donned your warmest wool and most comfortable leathers for the flight to King’s Landing. Gray clouds broke to open blue sky and the brisk salty air had you feeling like you were in charge of the flight. Syrax knew the way well and flew right where she knew to–the dragonpit.

There wasn’t a grand welcome for your arrival and yet somehow it felt more comfortable than being paraded around for hours on end and being forced to entertain a grandiose feast. Viserys–he did look ailing, much more than you last remembered–and Alicent welcomed Rhaenyra and yourself. Ser Criston Cole and Aemond stood with them.

He did want to see you!

“Father! I’m sorry we haven’t been back sooner. Daemon and I–”

Excited hugs were exchanged between the three of you, and the conversation droned out as pressure built behind your ears; dull ringing taking over as anxiety, excitement, and something else unnamed thrilled along your spine. Aemond, only a short time older than you, was no longer the boy you remembered. He’d grown tall and sharp. Any softness of childhood melted away during the last few years. Placed over his damaged left eye was a simple black leather eyepatch. It stood out starkly against his pale complexion–though, it matched the rest of his black leather attire. His slash healed well, you thought privately, but a gnarly scar remained. It looked painful.

Aemond peered at you looking at him; keen. Something simmered beneath his eye and you were reminded of singing to him all those years ago–how you’d hoped to soothe any beast that might be growing in the shadows. The corners of his bowed mouth quirked.

“Darling?” Your mother asked, her voice finally making sense in your head as she turned to regard you closer. “Are you feeling okay?”

With a quick flutter of blinks you looked up to her. “Sorry. Yes, I’m feeling alright. A bit tired from the flight is all. May I have a snack before supper?”

“Of course,” she replied with a reassuring squeeze of your hand.

Alicent smiled. You always thought her pretty. A part of you wondered how none of her children shared her brown eyes or auburn hair. “Check with the kitchen. I’m sure there’s breads and cheeses available at the very least. Wine, too, I imagine.” She looked between you and Aemond before adding, “let Aemond take you. He’s been quite excited to see you since Rhaenyra’s letter.”

“Uncle,” you breathed, surprised by your lack of breath upon saying his name. “I daresay I barely recognize you.”

“I could say the same, niece. It's been many years,” he said with an inclination of his head. “You are looking a little faint. Let’s find you some food, hm?” He asked. 

At first, conversation proved to be sparse. Before, things had always been so easy with Aemond and silence had always been comfortable. Now, it didn’t feel easy nor did the silence feel comfortable. Anytime you looked up at him, or over to him, he was already looking at you. His attention barely seemed to wander elsewhere. You ate until you felt better while Aemond pretended to eat. Slowly, with effort on your part, conversation picked up. Before too long the air of awkwardness lifted and your shoulders relaxed.

Aemond seemed to notice, too.

Three days followed and each proved to be more eventful than the last. You’d met up with your aunt and uncle, Helaena and Aegon, and happily–even if Aegon's jests were more perverse than you ever remembered–caught up with them. They were married now. Though, you saw no sort of physical or emotional connection between them. You liked Helaena; you wondered, privately, if life was treating her well, and if she found any enjoyment within it. The faraway look in her eyes suggested not, but you remembered her always being a peculiar child. She didn’t always have both feet in this world, you realized, and you didn’t feel any sort of jealousy for her otherworldly gift. Did dreamers fall into a silent abyss while slumbering? Or did they even dream when they slept, resulting in a never ending barrage of sight and madness?

On the fourth day Aemond introduced you to Vhagar. Sympathy–or perhaps pity–shone in his eye when you told him you still hadn’t bonded with a dragon. “And here I remember you saying you would tame a wild dragon so you might fly across the sea to visit me?” He proclaimed with an arch of brow, snark and jest in equal measurements.

“It’s not quite so easy. I enjoy my skin and my hair. I have heard many tales of brave men trying to bond with those dragons only to end up as a pile of ash. Or forever scarred. Or–” you lowered your voice and tipped closer to him, adding with a whisper, “–lacking of limbs.” You tilted your chin, purple eyes glittering with playfulness; teasing, testing.

“Hm,” he stifled a laugh with a press of his lips. “Both of those are a marvel. It would very much be a shame to scathe the beauty of Old Valyria.”

Your heart jumped and you blushed. Surely he was only being kind, right?

He flew you on Vhargar until the spilled watercolors of sunset mottled into gray. Upon returning to the Red Keep, tucked away in one of your secret childhood places, Aemond dared to kiss your lips. Stunned and exhilarated alike, you returned the affection with fervor. He wasn’t your first kiss, but the things that sparked and webbed through your body were much more intense than any before. “Aemond…,” you whispered against his mouth. “We shouldn’t be doing this, uncle.”

“You can stop any time,” he rasped in reply, eye dark.

In a shuddered breath you admitted, “I don’t want to.”

“Me either.”

You kissed until voices and footsteps filled the nearby corridor. Hiding your giggles behind a hand, you slunk away in direction to your chamber leaving Aemond behind. You turned to see where he might be going. Already he’d turned on his heel and strode in the opposite way. He didn’t follow. That night–with a thundering pulse– you dreamt of wild roses, flying, and your hands on your uncle’s chest while he kissed your neck.

The following day was yours and your mother’s last day in the capitol. She intended to leave after lunch, and until then she let you do as you please. Requesting, of course, to be back in time to leave on time. With how much you missed the rest of your family you could only imagine how much she missed them!

“Come to Dragonstone with us. I don’t want to leave you so soon. I can show you all my favorite places at home. At the ancient seat of our family,” you added the last bit with bright eyes in hopes of seducing him away with you.

“My place is not there,” replied Aemond. “I am to stay here with my mother and siblings. ‘Tis my duty as second son.”

You knew, as second son, that Aemond would have to carve his own path with fire, blood, and teeth–heavy emphasis on the latter, most likely.

“Daemon can train you. Our castle yard has an impressive training pit. It’s different from the one here. Everything is different there. There’s some nights when the magic in the walls makes my blood sing. There is no magic like that left here,” you tried to coax him further, stepping close so you had to look up at him with soft eyes. Eager eyes.

Instead of accepting or denying your request he leaned down and kissed you like he did yesterday. And just like yesterday you warmly accepted the affection. The blood of the dragon runs thick, and dragonblood runs hot. Despite your relation, and despite yourself, you found yourself wanting. Needing. He was too. You could tell by the tightness of his pants. Two young dragons hidden away amongst sparse candlelight in a secret passage perhaps only Maegor the Cruel knew of. “I’ve always wanted to try something. Will… will you let me?”

He pulled back to peer at you curiously. “What is it?”

Slowly, running on an instinct that any wanton young woman harbored, you sank down onto your knees before him. “You can tell me to stop at any time. Okay?”

Aemond wasn’t an idiot. He nearly spent in his pants at the very sight of you lowering like that. Aegon had taken him to a brothel on the Street of Silk for his thirteenth nameday, and he lost the last innocence of boyhood within those perfumed walls; a secret not many knew. And, perhaps less knew how much he despised it–how it disgusted him. The thought still made his stomach turn.

But you? His beautiful, perfect niece, with your epitome of Targaryen beauty?

He never asked you to stop as you sated your curiosity. The rush of sensation that blazed through his body was more intense than anything he’d yet experienced. At the peak of his pleasure he swore he blacked out.

He returned the gift as best as he could with his fingers. 

You barely made it back in time to your mother to fly back home. You sincerely hoped she didn’t ask any questions about where you were or why you were running late.

III.

As the Gods would have it, it would be another few years before Rhaenyra and her family were summoned to King’s Landing for, perhaps, an even more dire situation than the first: the legitimacy of Lucerys’ claim to Driftmark and its throne. It was a matter already settled many years ago by none other than King Viserys. Yet, still, conflict stirred with Vaemond Velaryon and his proclamation.

A never ending political headache for the King who’s health was in such despair it was a miracle he lived to see each new morning.

Similar to when you and your mother arrived three years prior, there wasn’t a grand welcome awaiting your family. In fact there was… nothing. Tension sparked to new heights and you wanted nothing more than to crawl into yourself and disappear. While not entirely disappearing, you and your brothers made way to the private guest bedchambers; Rhaenyra made sure to have rooms arranged for all of you prior to arriving. Before leaving, she told all of you that she would summon you later once things were settled. Or supper. Whichever came first.

Truthfully you had no plans to eat with everyone. Uncaring of any potential consequence it might bring you loosened your hair, stripped down to your shift, and plopped in bed so heavily that a plume of dust rose from the sheets. If you were less exhausted–mentally and physically–you’d be repulsed by the dust. Right now? You cared little.

Slumber washed over you like the waves you were so used to at home.

You didn’t wake until hours later when a servant rapped over and over upon your door. “My lady? Hello?” 

Coughing and turning to face the doorway, you asked, “what is it?”

A young girl stepped inside and bowed. “Your mother has summoned you for dinner.”

“Bring me a plate, please. I have no wish to eat with a crowd tonight.”

She twisted her hands a few times as if in disapproval but said nothing. Instead, she simply nodded, bowed again, and left with a click of the door.

That night you ate alone and silently hoped Aemond would come find you. Surely he knew ways around the Keep that would lead him to you... But, he never did. After eating your fill you slept like the dead.

Sunrise gently woke you and gradually you began to prepare for the day. Once ready to get dressed, you were confused to see your dress on the floor instead of on the back of the chair you hung it over last night. Strange… you thought to yourself, scanning around the room for what might have caused it. A section of curtain fluttered with morning breeze and when you walked to inspect it you realized the window had been partially cracked. You laughed a short sound and rolled your eyes–how silly to be paranoid about the breeze. You couldn’t remember any strong gusts last night, but you did sleep very hard.

Fully around, now, you made your way to find breakfast. Eventually you did and broke fast with your brothers. For a few moments it felt like you were all children again. Talking, laughing, stealing bits of food off each other’s plates, it felt… good. Homey. Lighthearted in a way only they could make you feel. Once finished, they departed for the training yard and you went to explore the gardens. There might not be any wild roses here and the hedges might be considerably less thorny than those at Dragonstone, but that didn’t stop you from missing it.��

Flowers, shrubs, and trees were in full beautiful display and their fragrances sent you right back to childhood. You lost track of how long you wandered. At least a full hour, surely. Likely more. It wasn’t until you heard your name spoken behind you that you snapped back to reality. Turning to look over your shoulder, you stuttered, excited and surprised, “Aemond!”

He stood taller and sharper than he did three years ago. He was a man grown, now, just like you were a woman grown. Gone were any traces of awkward lankiness. He was slim, yes, but judging by the width of his shoulders he had a strong back and arms. “Niece,” he replied. “Your brothers graced my training session earlier. As did Vaemond Velaryon and his entourage,” he paused to inspect a bit of dirt on his sleeve before folding his arms behind his back. “I thought perhaps your strong brothers might grow into their Velaryon features as they aged. But, alas, they haven’t.”

Prick.

Was he really going right for your throat? Immediately?

“Do you have so little faith in your sister’s lineage” You asked, hands folding behind your back, mirroring him, as you slowly closed the distance between yourselves with deliberate steps. “Myself and all my brothers were grown in the belly of a dragon. Birthed into this world by a dragon. Tell me, uncle, how is that any different than being seeded by a dragon?”

“It is not my sister’s lineage I lack faith in, dear niece, it’s the roots she climbs.”

Fury heated your face and for a moment you considered punching him in his stupid, sharp, beautiful nose. Or perhaps kneeing him in the root he no doubt made reference to. In the span of three heartbeats you settled for neither and instead gave him a disappointing quirk of mouth. “And here I was upset that you didn’t come to say hi to me last night.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I saw you plenty last night.” he said, tone making it seem like everyone watched you sup together even though you ate alone.

You squinted at him suspiciously. “Did you come find me to be rude, or was there another reason you graced my company?”

“We recently received a collection of books from Myr. Would you like to look at them with me?” Hopefulness briefly lit his features. Idly, you wondered what his deal was. He was an outright asshole only a moment ago, and now he offered to read with you like you did so often as children? The library always had been a place of solace for both of you. Mayhaps he was simply nervous today, on edge, and let the ugliness of anxiety guide his tongue. It would be quiet in the library–the perfect place to, perhaps, connect once again as adults.

You continued to look up at him, attempting to read his features, before replying, “sure. Only if we can have tea and scones too.”

It was his turn to squint at you suspiciously.

That made you laugh; tension began to ease around both of you. “I won’t get crumbs on the pages. Promise!”

And so, walking shoulder to shoulder, you both made way to the library. Tea and scones arrived shortly afterward. As soon as you began reading from different tomes conversation began to flow more freely. Nerves might be flying wild everywhere else in the Red Keep, but here? Safely within these walls? You relaxed. Aemond relaxed. There were no more subtle jabs at bastardry, nor Driftmark, nor anything else. Every now and then you’d laugh and Aemond would smile. Other times it was perfectly silent. When you thought him engrossed by something he read, you eyed him carefully through your peripheral vision–and sometimes with your full vision–trying to keep rising sensations at bay. Despite his sharp tongue and rude quips, he was horribly handsome. You thought he was the last time you were here, too, and now those same feelings intensified to new heights. You caught him doing the same to you. Though, he didn’t coyly turn away when caught. Tension of a different sort heated the air around both of you. 

Hot-blooded. 

Dragonblood.

You ate supper with your mother that night. She and Daemon discussed things from earlier in the day but you paid it little mind–yours was still on Aemond. 

After supper you had a quiet night in your bedchamber. You requested a bath, and it didn’t take the servants long to prepare it for you. Soaking in the hot water was exactly what you needed–complete with your favorite oils generously added to the water until sweet florals and subtly spicy scents lingered around you. By the time you were done your fingers and toes were wrinkly and the water was tepid at best. Sitting in front of the vanity, you dried and braided your silver hair for bed. The day’s events–Aemond–proved to be mentally exhausting. Conflicting emotions warred in your mind as you laid in bed and started up at the neat lace underlay of the four poster bed’s silken drapes.

A noise at your door startled you from whatever daydream danced in your head. How was it opening? You triple checked the lock! Who was coming inside? Frozen and wide eyed, you couldn’t move from your spot upon the bed as someone silently intruded. As the figure stepped out of the shadowy frame you took note of their height, body shape, and silver hair… “Aemond!?” You asked shrilly. “Seven Hells what on earth are you doing?”

“Coming to pay a proper visit to my little niece, of course,” he answered with quiet amusement. Standing at the side of your bed, now, he tilted his head and continued, “I requested a specific guard for this duty tonight so I could slip past him.”

You looked up at him as he looked down at you, regarding you closely. Something shone behind his eye and you couldn’t quite put a finger on it. A rush of emotion rose and settled in the pit of your belly as Aemond gently dragged his thumb across your lower lip. Down the curve of your chin. You swallowed thickly. “You could have just as easily knocked like any regular person would, uncle,” you said.

“What's the fun in that?”

Silence followed as you both took each other in, that unknown expression behind his eye becoming more clear. Lust. 

Did your own gaze mirror it too? The sound of your blood filled your ears.

“Do you remember the last time you were here? When we were in that passageway all alone?” He asked, tracing the backs of his fingers along your pretty face. 

Of course you did. You smiled–coy–and tipped your head into his touch. “Quite well.”

A soft satisfied hum accented the curve of his mouth. “Good.” His fingers pressed against the underside of your chin as he tilted your face up to him, embers sparking through the eye contact. “I've searched for that type of release again and again and have yet to find it,” he said; desperation and intensity so evident you knew he meant it.

Shivers took over your entire body and your spine arched forward, curving as if to seek the sensation of his body against yours. “You have?” You asked between parted lips. 

“I have.”

A hot rush of excitement overcame you and before you knew it both of your hands pulled on the buckles of his tunic, pulling him down to you. You kissed him fiercely and he returned it with ferocity. There wasn't anything tentative about it; lips, tongue, teeth, all meshing until you whimpered into his mouth.

Aemond pushed you back on the bed and fell atop you, one arm holding him up for support, as his silken hair draped along his face. He was so warm, and felt so good over you, that you moaned into his kiss again; he swallowed it whole.

You whined, voice raspy and sweet alike, as you tugged on the front of his belt, “again. I want to do it again,”

“Look at you, so needy for my cock,” he rumbled against your neck, kissing and nipping along the sensitive flesh. He grinned warmly into the crook there and you giggled.

Pushing yourself up on your elbows you turned your body so you could push him onto his back. The startle of his angular lovely face was more than enough reward. With the new position you could feel how hard he was inside his pants, and you wondered if he could feel your heat through the thin material of your smallclothes. You slid down the front of his body until you knelt delicately on the floor. Looking up at him as innocently as you could, your hands ran up the lean length of his thighs while you nestled between them. “You left my window open last night,” you whispered at him as your fingers began to unlace the front of his bottoms.

A low, restrained sound came from Aemond at the combination of your touch and words. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he replied with cool indifference, supporting himself partially up with his elbows so he could watch you.

A knowing smile spread on your pretty lips as you answered, “you're a bad liar, uncle.” Kissing the flat plane of his abdomen, you tugged the front of his pants down until he was fully freed; hard, solid, and already blazing with heat. You moved those same kisses lower–placing them all around the base of his need until your nose tickled with his scent. His length twitched, the velvety smoothness of him bumping your face.

Above you, he hissed an inward breath, head tilting to the side. “Go on then, this cock isn't going to suck itself now is it?” He crooned, doing his best to appear in control even though his heart thumped wildly with anticipation and the clawing ache to be inside of you–any part of you–had him going mad.

If the slick between your thighs wasn't already unbearable you'd have retorted his taunt. But, you wanted this nearly as much as him. Lifting one of your hands you gripped around his length, pumping slowly, as you rolled your tongue beneath his tip; tasting him, teasing him, coating that part of him with saliva so you could more easily take him into your mouth.

Aemond could have lost it there–would have lost it if he hadn't already fucked his hand to release prior to visiting you. “Did I tell you you could use your hands?” His eye glittered like dragonglass.

Without having to be told again you released your grip and instead held onto the tops of his thighs with both hands, the wholeness of your expression feline. You licked up each side of his cock, circling your tongue around his head, again and again, coating him to your satisfaction. And then, just when you saw Aemond's hips twitch and flex beneath you, you took him into the fullness of your mouth and consumed him.

He groaned, head tipping back. Countless times had he tried to recreate the pleasure you gave him first; no woman ever made him feel the same way and he hated them for it. 

You bobbed, and sucked, and savored the hot solid length of him in your mouth. You dragged and worked your tongue against him, too, lost in the heady sensations of him. The quiet sounds he made coaxed you further and soon you became uncaring of the slobbery mess you were leaving on him. Relaxing your throat, you swallowed as much of his cock as you could. When you gagged at the intrusion you pulled your head up, only to do it again. And again. You moaned around him; wanton.

It was too much for Aemond. Somehow he grew even hotter, even harder, and soon one of his hands pushed your head down while his hips bucked up into your mouth. He panted. Peak was so close. Looking down at you, then, he saw how dazed and desperate you were as he fucked your mouth. The knot of pleasure at the base of his spine exploded and he groaned, guttural, as his balls tightened and cock released down your throat.

You about peaked with him. Breathing through your nose you did your best to take all of him, the hot pulses of his length making you clench around nothing. 

“Swallow. All of it,” Aemond said down at you, slowly easing the pressure of his hand on your head.

Panting, you did. You showed him your empty mouth with pride. “Dragonseed is never to be wasted, uncle.”

If Aemond had anything intelligible to say it didn’t leave his mouth properly. Both his hands gripped around your upper arms and he yanked you up, maneuvering you atop the bed once more. Reaching to the open belt around his waist he unsheathed his dagger with a whisper of leather and steel. It glinted orange in the chamber’s lowlight. “My sweet, lecherous niece…,” he said darkly, sweetly, pinning you down to the bed as he loomed above you. “I know how to make you a true Targaryen, bastard,” he hissed the last word into the shell of your ear and reveled in the way he saw your throat tighten in defiance.

You tensed beneath him and he laughed.

“My favorite bastard,” he crooned, trailing his dagger up the front of your body. “I will make you my wife.”

Goosebumps pebbled your skin as he teased you, taunted you, thrilled you with the edge of his blade. He never drew blood. It only grazed your shift. “I already am a Targaryen,” you proclaimed, voice strong despite its softness.

“I’m going to ruin you tonight and you will let me. Mother will have us wed by the turn of the new moon.” He tilted his dagger just slight, just enough, and the delicate material of your shift stood no chance against it. He sliced it open to reveal the fullness of your lovely body; your shape, your form, your clean floral scent… all of it made his mind feral. “Marry me, niece.”

A hundred–no, a thousand–things ran through your mind all at once. You saw and felt him already fully hard once again, and the hot press of his cock against your flushed skin had you losing sanity. “I will,” you breathed, nodding. “I will marry you.” 

Aemond tossed his dagger away to instead pull your smallclothes down your legs. “My darling betrothed,” he growled, shouldering off his tunic and undershirt as you lay completely bare beneath him. He didn’t even bother kicking his pants off the rest of the way before he moved between your spread thighs. “Let us promise our union now before any Gods that are watching.”

It was wrong. You knew it. And yet… Your heartbeat pounded in your ears and between your thighs. Madness. Surely this was madness. “We can’t,” you protested weakly.

He laughed another dark sound. “Targaryens are closer to Gods than men. We don’t follow the same rules as everyone else.” One of his hands moved over your breasts, sliding and squeezing over them with reverent affection. His other lowered between your legs and the tips of his fingers brushed over your budded pearl. He nearly snarled at the wetness he met there. He circled that bud. Slid over it. He worked your bundle of nerves, watching you all the while.

“A-Aemond!” You gasped, stuttering. Your nipples pebbled firmer as tension built in your belly, tightening in a way that only you were able to make happen. You needn’t any more convincing to give him your maidenhead. So wrong. But, with Aemond? So, so right. Your thighs spilled open wider for him; inviting him.

The rasp of his thighs pressed against the smooth undersides of your own and slowly, carefully, he lined himself up with your dripping entrance and began to press forward. 

Your body yielded and the fullness of him was a sensation unlike anything you’d experienced before. His heat seared into you as he sunk, cautiously, through your opening and past your body’s unmarred barrier. It pinched and you winced, blushed face staring up at him with doe eyes. 

Full. 

You were so full. 

You whimpered a little sound as Aemond’s jaw clenched and a groan rumbled deep in his chest. “You’re doing so well,” he mumbled, the intensity of his eye making you dizzy.

Finally, he was seated all the way inside you. With a heaving chest he held the position for a long moment, knowing you needed the time to adjust just as much as he did. He pulled back and eased back in, testing you. Testing himself. Fuck. He wasn’t going to last long. You were absolutely fucking perfect around him. You breathed his name again, gripping onto any part of his body that you could. 

Aemond’s movements became a little more sure with each moment. It didn’t take much longer until he was taking you fully. The softness of your breasts rocked with the motion of his thrusts, your face loosening as pleasure began to take over any pain there might have been. His greedy eye raked down the front of your body so he could watch where you were joined. Each time he pulled out his cock glistened with your slick, and each plunge sent you gasping at the pressure. Never had he seen anything that made his cock, and gut, and chest ache with such need. “You look so pretty with my cock inside you,” he said lowly, barely able to make words.

“Feels good, Aem,” you simpered in reply.

His mouth crashed to yours in a heavy kiss, licking into your mouth so your tongues slid against one another. The soft sound of skin slapping on skin began to grow louder as both of you worked into and against each other’s thrusts. “I’m going to mark that pretty little neck so that everyone knows your mine,” he rasped against your skin as he kissed over your chin, your jaw, until he reached your neck. He nipped there, biting harshly, kissing over each bite mark to soothe any lingering sting. He did it over and over, sucking the sensitive flesh into his mouth until he knew he’d leave a mark behind.

You trembled beneath him, squirming with pleasure, as he fucked into you at an angle and pace that had you soaring. The balance of pain and pleasure was more than anything you’d felt before and you were wholly at its mercy. You scratched his skin as you squeezed your fingers against his lean muscle, marking him as he marked you. “‘S too much,” you whined, breathless.

He only continued. Panting, he said, “I want to hear you scream my name when you come. Understood?”

You nodded, desperate. “Yes, yes yes yes..!” 

His pace grew sloppy, frenzied, as his own high threatened to push him over the edge any second. “Give it to me,” he moaned, pleaded. “Come with me.” One of his hands squeezed over your breast again, pinching and tugging the nipple, while the fingers of the other worked your clit. 

“Aemond!” You gasped thinly, covering your mouth just in time to muffle the scream that no doubt released with the intensity of your peak. Aemond’s mouth replaced your hand as climax took him, too, cock twitching as spurt after spurt of his seed filled the deepest parts of your body. You both rode it out together, senses buzzing and fuzzy, while the wonderful post-climax bliss sensations intoxicated you more than any wine. 

He carefully slid out from your body and nearly grew fucking hard again as he saw the evidence of your maidenhood upon your clean bedsheets. 

“You will be the loveliest bride,” he said, relishing the sight of you glowing from pleasure.

Pulling the top quilts back, you beckoned him in, asking, “stay awhile longer?”

He did.

You laid together, limp and blissful, and for the first time in over three years Aemond found himself fully sated.

-

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[madamealys]

Imagine Aemond and Aegon Targaryen take you as their wife. (+21)

***

The king is on the throne room, listening to the babbling of his nobles. Today’s topic concerns the marriage of his sons. Since the queen only delivered him boys, Viserys is not inclined to search for a bride that is not a Targaryen. And despite the strong protests of his wife, there is a good solution for it that might also appeal to his brother, Daemon, as well as that follows the Targaryen tradition: betrothing his daughter to Aegon.

In the meantime this occurs, whilst the solution is agreed between the king and the council, no one can foretell what a simple arrangement might result. And so whilst they are leaving in discussions concerning Aemond’s betrothal, let us take a look at what is happening outside these quarters.

Notwithstanding the fact that you are the daughter of the feared and powerful Daemon Targaryen, who took residence at Dragonstone with his sister-wife Rhaenyra Targaryen, you are everything he is not.

Sweet tempered, gentle, kindhearted and good. Your wit is as sharp as any sword, your tongue, when provoked, cut as hard as any iron. You are patient, often tolerant to others flaws. This makes you a great companion to all.

As the only daughter of Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra, it does surprise to those who know them for a long while that you came up with a different personality. Regardless, they spoil you and only want the best for you. And Daemon knows that by the time of your marriage age, he is not marrying you to anyone. Perhaps your father is aiming higher than you know.

You’ve grown close to your brothers: Jace being close to you in age has always been your twin. But you were also close to Luce, a sort of mother to Joffrey, Viserys and Aegon. Being the only lady amidst these men also meant that you were very protective by them.

Now years went by and you are a well formed women, whose uncle requested you to spend some time at court—probably in ignorance of the plans arranged for you between him and your parents.

Your oldest brother, Jacaerys, is already married to his cousin Baela Velaryon, all the whilst Lucerys is married to her sister, Rhaena. Joffrey is betrothed to Sara Stark, and even Viserys and Aegon are about to be betrothed to some good noble lady. You remain unmarried, though.

This idea does not occupy your thoughts for many times since you prefer to spend your time helping your mother, with whom you are very close, and flying your dragon, Dreamfyre. Due to your introspective and intense nature, it is in the air where you feel mostly… free and wild, a side you like to keep to yourself.

But ever since you’ve been summoned by the king, you suspect your liberty and wilderness are about to be end. Resigned to your sense of duty—for duty means to sacrifice who you are, or part of it anyways—, you speak nothing of the matter.

“Remember, my daughter, who you truly are”, your mother, who is carrying another child in her belly, speaks to you in the day you are departing to King’s Landing next to your father. “A Targaryen, no more, no less. Equal to all.”

You understand that she and the Queen Alicent do not always see eye to eye. The subtle warning is there, but you too have your share of pride. You smile.

“I shall not disappoint you, mother.”

“I know you won’t. You are my daughter, every bit of me is in you.”

That saying, Rhaenyra kisses your forehead and you are finally ready to leave.

***

Aegon is waiting impatiently for his betrothal. With Aemond by his side, both brothers can only conjecture about the cousin whom they last saw when everyone was a toddler. Both recollect you differently: Aegon judged you as a child who had weird interests; but Aemond understood you as someone who had a very interesting side underneath a gentle demeanor.

“I hope you do your duty well, Aegon”, muses Aemond thoughtfully.

“How else should I do? I am the heir to the Iron Throne. I am not allowed to forget that”, and then Aegon shoots an amusing glance to his younger brother. “What a shame the crown cannot be shared with you, though.”

Aemond limits himself to a roll of eyes, but Aegon knows he agrees with his sarcastic remark. But soon they are distracted of their small talk for the heavy iron doors of the Red Keep are about to open, with the King’s herald announcing your name and your father’s.

Every sound dies before such announcement, but what matters is how you are seen by your betrothed. Aegon looks astonished by the woman you’ve blossomed to. Your silver locks tied in perfectly braid seem to reinforce your heart-shaped face, whose intent lilac eyes mirror innocence.

Your rosy lips open shyly in an inviting smile, and Aegon cannot help wonder what it would be like to kiss you. It doesn’t really help that your black gown reinforces your curves.

Aemond too cannot help lingering his gaze on you. A damsel in every sense of the word, you are like a character of the novels he used to read as a child. Fond memories of the time spent together in this period rush in the back of his mind.

Lovely as always, he thinks to himself, suddenly aching for the idea of never having you. But… he cannot help himself either, can he? Must Aemond be the second in everything, a shadow of his brother?

“Greetings, niece!”, King Viserys smiles down at his brother’a child. He leaves the table to greet you properly, and Daemon is smirking proudly in response. The rogue prince is more than aware of the attentions you caught, specially of two royal princes, which only fuels his ego.

His ambitions will fruit, he knows.

“Your Grace, my uncle”, you dip to a curtsy. “I appreciate your warm welcome.”

“Soon we will be united as one once again. Tradition shall follow like has always been dictated since the days of Old Valyria”, boasts King Viserys. “Y/N is such a pearl, brother. How on earth did you manage to produce a lovely daughter?”

“A question I often ask myself, brother”, says Daemon, proudly. “She is my only girl, very precious to us. We don’t expect a marriage that is below of the prize she is.”

“Father!”, you protest shyly.

“Don’t be too humble, daughter. It’s the true”, he smirks at you, gently ruffling your hair. “We must always be aware of who we are.”

“Then let us celebrate this union. I notice our sister hasn’t come. What happened?”

“Rhaenyra is heavily pregnant, in due time to labor now.”

Whilst they exchange amenities, you are heading to your seat when Aegon comes to greet you. This tall, handsome man, whose looks mirror yours, astonishes you with such a charm that your knees go weak.

It doesn’t really help your case that Aemond is promptly joined by his side. You blush.

“My lords”, you curtsy graciously. “I appreciate the warm welcome.”

“My lady”, greets Aegon, pompously. “How different you look.”

“Forgive my brother”, subtly Aemond meddles in the conversation. “He lacks gallantry when it comes to words. You have grown to a beautiful woman, cousin.”

You detest how the presence of these two men affect you. Worse, that not only your betrothed allures you, but so does his brother.

Aegon flushes, irritated with how poetic Aemond is towards you.

“How could I when a beauty like our dear Y/N stands before us? A mortal could not voice out the most proper form to express such an awe.”

“Oh, please. I am unworthy of these praises though I deeply appreciate them. Shall we enjoy the rest of the evening together? I have missed the company of you both for a while.”

You smile. And soon subtle rivalries dissolve. How could they deny you anything?

***

It’s been a curious, unspoken agreement that you arranged with Aegon and Aemond. The mornings are spent with the latter and the evenings with the former. The evening you spend by your soon to be mother-in-law, whom you manage to charm.

Today, you are flying with Aemond. You come to figure out how you two have lots in common: the same taste for history, philosophy, art and even politics. Not to mention, dragons, of course.

“You are nothing like your father”, muses the quiet prince, once you two land the dragons somewhere nearby a lake, out of the people’s sight.

“This is something I hear often”, you smile at him, eyeing his handsomeness even though part of you admonishes for desiring a man who is not going to be your husband. “But we have some traits we share. Like the taste for wilderness. We are not easily tamed.”

“I’ve always sensed you had something of the sorts in you, Y/N. You pose as the good lady, but are you?”

“I am dutiful”, you say. “I do my duties. Never claimed or aimed to be perfect.”

“Neither have I, even though my dutiful performances have been somewhat misinterpreted”, he snorts.

Before you know, you take his hand in yours. Unconsciously, fingers are laced.

“I think you’ve been misunderstood for a very long time, dear Aem. And I wish so many of us saw that.”

Silence hangs for a while. You and him share a long gaze. You find yourself wishing he kissed you, but Aemond knows his place. He looks away and withdraws his hand. Never before you felt so cold. So you sigh.

***

All the whilst you engage in conversations with the Queen, learning queenship from Lady Alicent herself, Aegon finds Aemond in the corner of the court, observing you with a mix of admiration and distrust.

“If this was about to any other man, I’d have him hanged for looking at such a manner to my wife”, says Aegon, amused.

Aemond has the decency of blush and look away.

“Pardon me for prying, brother.”

“What is there to be pardoned? She is a handsome woman, I give you that. Like honey, too sweet to avert the gaze away”, says Aegon, encouraging his brother to share. “Rumour has it that Aegon shared Visenya with his Baratheon brother.”

Aemond scoffs.

“Visenya wouldn’t play this part, surely. You must be mistaking to Rhaenys.”

“Either one, they shared her, didn’t they? And like my namesake, Aegon was no jealous man.”

The one-eyed prince turns his head to his older brother, intrigued by the subtle suggestion.

“What the fuck are you trying to say, Aegon? Straight to the point if you may.”

Aegon smirks at him.

“I think that, since she likes you too, we should both take Y/N as our wife.”

***

Aegon awaits you this evening in his privy chambers. He’s been anxious for this moment, even though with his mother’s strong presence at court, he didn’t have any moment alone with you aside of public courtship.

A knock of the door is heart, taking away of his thoughts. The prince of Dragonstone stands, concealing his unusual insecurity. When he opens it, he is struck at the thought of you.

So beautiful in the green color, your full breasts almost out of the tight gown you purposely chose to reinforce your curves. The desire alight in Aegon’s eyes makes you dripping wet in your legs, but you know this is the farthest you go to tease him.

Right?

“My prince”, you dip to a curtsy as you walk inside the door, shivering when hearing the click that locks it behind you.

“My princess”, he then takes the chair for you to sit and makes sure to pour red wine in your glass before serving you himself.

When earning you a smile, Aegon forgets that he one day was the charmer, never the charmed.

“You look gorgeous, cousin.”

“I could say the same about you, lord. Thank you. I’ve been looking forward to hearing more of you, out of the prickly ears of the court”, you tell him.

“Indeed. Formalities are not my thing, I’m afraid. But at least the king has been noticing me”, Aegon doesn’t usually open himself this way and when noticing what bursted out of his tongue, he prefers to occupy himself with wine.

You do notice, though, and try to captivate him by sharing something about you.

“Despite being close to my family, I was raised to be somebody else’s wife. I know I was not allowed to choose my heart, even if my parents did.”

Aegon reads you, you spot some early distrust despite the mutual attraction. You feel eager to please him, but you hold back yourself. Eventually he settles.

“I do lament that I am your groom and not Aemond.”

You blush, but do not fly away of the subtle accusation.

“Well, I was always closer to Aemond in age and in interests, my dear, but this does not mean I regret that you are the one I will espouse.”

His slander fingers play on top of the table, and you find yourself holding your breath. When does this tension suddenly come up?

The stare he gives you pierces your soul and you know that, if he wanted you to, you’d be on his knees before him, pledging innocence. But why does the mere image of you in this position arouse you?

“I am hard to love”, muses Aegon, resented. “I am by no means jealous of you and Aemond, but…”

And your anxiety takes your best, of course. You rush to his side and take his hands into yours, surprising him by the urge of your usual composed manners.

“My prince, my liege, you are no hard to love. Your smile enchants me, your eyes read my soul like no other. Your jokes bring a smile to my lips, your good manners give me the certainty that I am not marrying a monster.”

“How can you be certain of this?”, Aegon inquires, puzzled.

“We are lights and shadows. I saw both of them in you and I still choose you.”

He knows you speak the truth, so he lifts you and pinning against the wall, Aegon kisses you. You realize you’ve been longing for this kiss, wishing to feel the taste of his mouth, to pair your tongue with his.

Your husband to be is as sinful as you are a saint. And yet you let him have his way with you. Soon, his mouth is on your neck and sounds start to leave yours.

“My beautiful princess”, Aegon works to kiss your chest, almost ripping your gown with his teeth to get into your breasts.

“Calm down, lord. I need to get to my chambers in whole state”, you smirk at him.

And it’s when you are surprised by how easily he slips to his knees, his lustful eyes wiping off your smirk.

“L-Lord…”

“I want to hear you call my name, Y/N”, he lifts the skirts of your gown, caressing your paled thighs. “I want you to sleep thinking of me doing this to you. Rewarding for being such a good princess.”

And he at first inserts his finger in you, getting you aroused. You are surprised to find yourself so wet, as well as he.

“Never before untouched?”, Aegon asks you, sounding too anxious.

“Never”, you moan, eyelashes barely lift as you search support in the wall. Your hips begin to follow his finger, and you get scandalously louder as his finger finds deeper ways to get to your core.

Aegon watches you in awe and lust, ignoring the bone he has for being the reason you are coming undone—and not Aemond. Though he wills to share with his brother, he knows that ultimately the prize of having you like this is his.

“Let me ruin you”, he groans before replacing his fingers with his mouth.

His tongue dives into your womanhood, twirling around your clot before sucking it skillfully. You are breathless, burning, aching for this prince. Your mind goes blank and all you can think is of this blissful experience of being ruined by this man to whom you are expected to marry.

He drinks every juice he can of you, not stopping until you are about to release. And when you think you do, he removes his face away and stands in absolutely composed.

“Aegon!”, you protest, vexed to be left this way.

“You don’t think I’ve noticed how you teased me?”, he smirks, approaching to you. “We will fuck you, my lady. My brother and I. You wait and you will see.”

Never before you got so pink before.

And when Aegon smiles devilish to you, you are surprised by your own thoughts of wishing this to be true.

***

Aemond is practicing his sword this day when he spots you at a corner, unaccompanied. The one-eyed prince, who happens to be shirtless in this lonely practice, tosses away the sword to greet you in a gentleman like manner.

“My lady Y/N”, he doesn’t mind to get a shirt and dress when you stare at his perfect abs, which makes him smirk. “To what do I get the honor of your presence?”

“Aegon has departed to Citadel to visit Daeron”, you tell him, trying to control your impulses. “The queen forbade me to follow him. She said I’m under your charge, lord.”

Aemond moves from the yard to get to you. You find yourself holding your breath at the proximity of him. Suddenly both arms lock you against the wall.

“Are you now?”, and here he lifts your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Are you playing with us, my lady? Have you been instructed to turn me against my brother?”

Though he sees he’s offended you by the suggestion, Aemond does not take back what he said. And even though you are annoyed by these unflattering words, you don’t run from a fight either.

“You may call me many things, my prince, even though I judged you to know me better than this. But I am no home wrecker.”

And here he pins you against the wall, much to your dismay. He begins to unlace your gown, completely not fearful of being caught. And you barely protest, already dripping wet by how he presses his knee against your womanhood.

“Who am I to judge?”, he lowers his gaze to your mouth, your neck and your breasts. “These are lovely nipples, Y/N.”

You’d have decency covered them, but guessing your moves have Aemond hold your wrists above your head. You are at his mercy and he knows it.

“My brother told me about the gowns you wear, aware of how they reinforce each. But he did let me take a look at them before him.”

A sensible person would have been horrified for being in this position, but you feel aroused by this. To know they wish you like you wish them makes you warm.

As if he reads your mind, Aemond starts to caressing your right nipple, pleased to see you horny.

“Aemond…”, you moan.

Naughty that he is, underneath that dutiful demeanor he puts so well to the public, it’s this prince who speaks dirty to your ear.

“You will be fucked so well, my love, that you shall not have to choose, I promise you. Aegon and I have always shared what we loved the most”, and saying so he bites down your ear. “I will fuck your pussy until you burn and you will feel it with my being. The first born son will be mine, though. I know it.”

And then his indecent tongue paces around your lips only to get to your neck and then…

“Aemond!!”

Like a thirsty prince, he sucks each nipple, biting it, craving it desperately. You want more, you are doomed, you know well. Your pious conscience accuses you of whoring, but nothing is stronger than giving yourself to this prince.

But of course Aemond has to interrupt it.

“We best not get caught”, he whispers, smirking victorious before the protest you shoot him in a gaze. “I thought you liked it, no?”

You pull him for one long kiss, though, and every lust is carefully put aside as Aemond, albeit hesitantly, kisses you back.

Not long after that, the rogue prince realizes that he left more than lust in the taste of your tongue.

***

The marriage, albeit scandalous, happens. Fortune rises underneath tradition. Some might say this is Aegon and his wives in other forms, back to the flesh in another version… certainly a good omen for those who believe in old stories.

Feasts and tournaments are thrown by the king and his brother to celebrate this unique union, never before seen until the day Aegon espoused his two sister wives.

“I hope that you know what you are doing”, says Rhaenyra at this day of your marriage. “These are wayward boys, one of whom nearly got into a fight with Lucerys.”

“I remember that night well, mother”, you try not to sound so irritating at your mother’s grudge. “This is not the time to speak of what has long been buried in the past. If I recall well, they have amended their relationship and all is well, as it should be.”

“I only worry over you, my daughter.”

You gently place a kiss over your mother’s face and smile at her.

“I aim as high as any Targaryen would in my position.”

“As ambitious as your father”, so chuckles Rhaenyra.

“I am his daughter too, after all.”

And you two smile in confidence.

***

Later that evening, bedding ceremony begins. You want both of your husbands there in your chamber. And when they show up, you cannot believe your eyes.

“Lady Y/N, you are beautiful”, says Aegon, already partially naked. He’s the one to pull you, making sure you stand between him and Aemond.

You feel Aemond’s cold hands rest in your hips, giving you shivers.

“We have all been longing for this, haven’t we?”, he murmurs in turn.

You turn your head at him, barely blinking as he is about to kiss you but this moment is stolen by Aegon, who plants his lips against yours. It’s a slow kiss, peppering for what’s coming all the whilst Aemond slowly lifts your nightgown, caressing gently your tits before removing it over your head.

“I am too fortunate, I’m afraid”, you whisper before stroking Aegon’s face. “Such handsome men.”

You kiss him back before breaking it to do the same with Aemond. Now Aegon leans to kiss your neck, whilst his brother plays with your tits.

You get hornier and naughtier, moaning softly before these teasings.

“There’s no need to play the good girl anymore, Y/N”, says Aemond, biting down your lip.

“Indeed”, and here Aegon pulls back your hair as his brother inserts his finger in your womanhood. “We will ruin you, won’t we, Aemond?”

You gasp as Aemond fucks you with his finger, trying not to lose control as Aegon kisses your neck and plays with your tits again.

“We will, indeed. But I need a reward for all this waiting…”

“We both need it”, agrees Aegon. “Show us what you are capable of, Y/N.”

So indecently you go down to your knees. Your eyes spark bright when looking at each erected manhood, unsure what to choose first until you start to caress Aemond’s all the whilst giving the privilege to Aegon’s.

You come to agree with both of them. You are hardly a saint, or divine by any means. You lust after each, and you devour these cocks with devotion. Pausing in between, you let them guide you.

It’s indecent, it’s sinful, but you like this. And so do they.

“Let us treat our princess kindly”, says Aegon, leading you to bed. “Not sparing my seed in these red lips…”

And here he uses his two fingers to play with your mouth, which you promptly devour. Only then he inserts them into your womanhood. Oh, how condemned you are. Such is the price for loving these wayward brothers.

“You may go, brother. I will watch”, says Aemond.

His voice purrs something in you and you find yourself a beggar. Where has your pride gone to? Oh, nowhere to be found.

“My lord!”, you push Aegon to your lips, so you kiss him fiercely and passionately. “Please!”

Aegon smiles like a lion, aware that he has the prey he wants under his power. Thus it is he finally makes way to penetrate you, deflowering his beautiful flower after years of repressing his desire for you.

In the meantime you and Aegon consume this flame, Aemond burns alone, touching his manhood before the scene he watches, which in turn wakes in him darkest desires. He wants to possess you, to make you his, to dispute over your flesh, to hear you call his name.

But there is something powerful in delegating this to Aegon, submitting to his brother’s will even here.

As Aegon collapses over you, he doesn’t let his brother to waste his seed. Though your womanhood is sensitive, you ache for more. They know you are as hungry as they are.

Aemond doesn’t need to be summoned. He crawls over your body, and here with no eyepatch to cover his eye, you stare at old wounds, at his taunted gaze covered by a beautiful sapphire.

“Fuck me”, you mewl under his powerful stare. “Aemond…”

He is gentle at first. Slow is his touch over your curves, taking his time in holding your face, drinking on your pleading eyes as he cups your nipples, touching each until they are hardened enough to make you beg. Only then he bends over you, kissing you passionately, prompted to release his fire.

It’s indeed a very wild evening. Soon Aegon comes to dispute you. Suddenly all of the three are sitting in bed, and you are in heaven. Standing in between them, your husbands’ mouth devour your exposed skin, and new levels of pleasure are disclosed as you are under their power.

Neither part dares to stop what’s been doing however until you throw your head back at Aemond’s shoulder and let a cry out.

“The dragon lady has burnt”, so whispers Aegon in your ear, watching as Aemond kisses you softly.

What a night. Oh what a night indeed. And you couldn’t have been happily married, could you?

***

Epilogue.

What has started as a lustful game between the three parts soon results in a successful partnership. You do love each brother and they love you in turn.

To a general astonishment, this works like in Aegon I’s days. You rule court, playing your part well. Welcoming guests with your smile and good manners, much of which you’ve learned from the former Queen, who actually cares for you like a daughter she never had.

All is well. You are Daemon Targaryen’s daughter after all. Peace is established successfully and familial relationships are restored. Soon, your brothers are back to frequent court with their wives whom you delight to call sisters.

In due time, you prove to be as fertile as your lady mother. You produce fifteen children, not many of which come to adulthood. These are:

1. Jaehaerys II, who takes as his wife his sister; had offspring of their own.

2. Rhaenyra, wife of Jaehaerys.

3. Maegor, lord of Harrenhal; he first took as espouse his sister, Daella, but she died in childbirth; then he contracted a new marriage to Minisa Tully.

4. Maekar, lord of Summerhall: took as wife his sister, Rhaena.

5. Rhaegar, died in infancy, known as Prince of Winter.

6. Rhaena, Lady of Summerhall; wife to Maekar.

7. Baela, lady of High Garden.

8. Daeron, became a Maester at Citadel.

9. Aerys, lord Hightower; married lady Gaena Tyrell.

10. Helaena, lady of Winterfell.

11. Mariah, died in infancy.

12. Visenya, lady of Casterly Rock.

13. Daenys, lady Arryn.

14. Viserys, ward of the West.

15. Alys, Viserys’s twin and wife.

***

“You are still as gorgeous as ever”, whispers Aegon in your ear.

It’s late evening and both of your husbands are found in your arms. You still shiver at how King Aegon speaks to you, how he plays with your tits. You purr lightly.

“Oh Egg, you know not what you speak”, you giggle quietly. “Despite my efforts in looking elegant to you and Aemond, I gave birth to fifteen children.”

He plants a kiss over your forehead, careful in not waking Aemond, who sleeps against your left breast. From certain perspective, you three are engulfed in one another.

“I maintain my word. When did I ever look out of our bed, wife?”, says he, once very familiar amidst brothels before marrying you.

You turn at him with malice in your eyes as you speak.

“No whore does what you taught me to do to you”, you smirk.

Aegon sighs heavily, sinking into your lips again.

“Always restless.”

You chuckle.

“Not always”, you lean against his chest. “But I have been blessed, that is for sure.”

As you stroke Aemond’s hair, you slowly drift to sleep, glad that Aegon is looking after you.

“Haven’t we all?”

Chroniclers maliciously say you’ve married Aegon out of duty and Aemond out of pleasure, but what do men know of a woman’s heart? You love them both, with no difference of affections. And you are more than pleased to know they are not jealous when it’s about you.

It’s how it works. Tradition, power, yes. But love and confidence too.

You sleep this evening like you slept many others in the former twenty moons: as the luckiest woman of the Seven Realms.