#she faced off to Meleys

[dirtytransmasc]

me when I realize how willing Alicent was to die for her son (she stood between him and a dragon. what was she meant to do? she could do nothing against a dragon. even if she shielded him from the flames, it wouldn't be enough to save him. she stood there, knowing if Rhaenys was set out to kill her son she would go with him. she stood there accepting that if her son died she would go with him. she would protect her baby with her last breath. she would go out holding his hand, head held high, bathed in fire because there was nothing she wouldn't do for her children):

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hi, can you write a Cregan Stark x Velaryon reader where the reader is the youngest daughter of Rhaenys and Corlys, she is the rider of the Cannibal, she finds out about her mother’s death through a Raven and Cregan comforts her, she nearly breaks down in rage similar to rhaenrya

Request: Being the daughter of Rhaenys and married to Cregan Stark

I had a few requests of the same genre (Lucerys's death, Rhaenyra's deah), but I decided to go with this one as I rarely write for Rhaenys and Corlys' children!Reader

Warnings: mention of death (spoilers for Rhaenys' fate), grief

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Leaving Driftmark for the North after marrying the Lord of the North came with a lot of changes. The weather, for instance, was much different. Driftmark was windy and cold due to the Blackwater Bay, but the North was just cold. And it was always snowing. Even in the summer. 

You landed your dragon in the courtyard of Winterfell, the cold air biting through your riding cloak. Cannibal’s warm breath created brief clouds of steam as he settled, his scales glistening with a thin layer of frost. Around you, Northerners scurried away with looks of terror on their faces. 

In their defense, Cannibal was imposing and scary. With his pitch-black scales, glowing green eyes and the jagged spines that ran down his back; he was a beast from children’s nightmares.

‘’Winter is coming, my Lady,’’ Cregan reminded as you dismounted, sliding down from Cannibal. ‘’In two moons, the snow will be so intense that you will be unable to see Winterfell from the skies.’’

You grimaced, not looking forward to that time. ‘’Do not remind me.’’ 

Cregan chuckled, and Cannibal took to the skies again. ‘’A raven came from Castle Black about troubles. Wildlings trespassing.’’ 

‘’When are you leaving?’’ you asked, knowing what it meant. 

It always saddened you whenever he would leave for the Wall. The journey was eighteen days, and his return was uncertain. But Cregan was the Warden of the North. Protecting the realm from what was beyond the Wall was his duty.

‘’In the morrow. A hundred men are making the journey,’’ he informed, walking alongside you towards the doors of the castle where a hot bath was waiting for you in your chambers. ‘’Winterfell will be in your command while I am away.’’ 

You never wished to take the succession of Driftmark, but you enjoyed your position as Lady of Winterfell. It came with responsibilities, but not too many that you couldn’t be a dragonrider. You took a pleasure being called ‘Lady Stark’. 

‘’The nights are colder without you,’’ you said, curling your arm around Cregan’s. 

‘’And the nights are longer and more lonely without you, my love,’’ he responded, pulling you in by your waist and leaning down to kiss you. 

The kiss was short-lived as you were interrupted by a fellow northmen. 

‘’My Lord,’’ he said, holding a small roll of parchemin. ‘’A raven has arrived. Urgent news from Dragonstone.’’ 

Cregan took the rolled parchemin and unrolled it. You watched as he read, the loving smile from seconds ago washing off his face. 

Something has happened. 

In his life, Cregan has had many bad news to deliver, but the one he just received was one he never wanted to tell you. He knew it would crush you. 

He rolled the parchemin back and didn’t speak until you reached your chambers. 

‘’What did the message say?’’ you asked, worry settling in your guts. Was it the Queen? Or your nieces? ‘’Cregan, you must tell me.’’

‘’My Lady,’’ he began, his eyes somber as he looked down at you. ‘’The Princess Rhaenys has perished with her dragon Meleys at Rook’s Rest. She got caught into a trap set by Aegon and Aemond. The Queen sends you her deepest condolences.’’ 

In that moment, the world around you seemed to turn to a blur as you processed Cregan’s words. Your mother was dead. The news felt like a punch to the gut, a knife to the heart, and you stumbled backwards. Cregan’s hand gripped your elbow, steadying you from falling over. His touch was firm but not tight, his large hand easily keeping you upright. He could see the shock and pain in your face, and his heart ached for you in that moment. 

Years ago, he too dealt with the loss of a parent — his father. He had been three and ten, but he remembered the pain and grief he had felt then. 

Cregan watched you, waiting for the moment you would break down in tears, but you never did. Instead, your jaw clenched and you straightened yourself. 

‘’Where are you going?’’ he asked in concern, watching as you walked toward the door. 

‘’To King’s Landing,’’ you replied, your voice steady and cold. ‘’I’m going to burn the Greens to a crisp. They are about to face the rage of a dragon.’’

—

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[adragonprinceswhore]

Romancer

Aemond Targaryen x Wife

Summary: During King Aegon II tumultuous coronation, Aemond’s wife becomes the first casualty of the Targaryen civil war. The young prince’s grief drives him to Flea Bottom, where he meets a mysterious Qartheen necromancer, who promises to bring his love back. But as with any sorcery, there is a price to pay; with each of Aemond’s touches, she slowly rots away.

Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, death, violence, sorcery, necromancy, angst, longing, smut

A/N: Happy Halloween! 🖤

Word count: 4200

‘Twas but a fleeting instance. 

A dragon, the Red Queen, and her traitorous rider burst through the floors of King Aegon II’s coronation. 

Chaos followed. Shrill voices begging for mercy, children weeping, sobbed ramblings closer to nonsense than prayers.  

Prince Aemond, whose seeing eye had been fixed on his wife before the tumultuous entrance of Rhaenys Targaryen, steps to the side to protect his sister from Meleys’ wrath. 

When their cowardice wins, and the dragon and her rider leaves, his seeing eye falls back to where he had last seen his beloved. 

Only now, he cannot find her. 

As members of the King’s guard swarm around the royal family to protect them, a futile gesture far overdue, Aemond pushes between them to rush down the steps of the elevated platform made for the Targaryens to bask in the admiring gazes of their people. 

She couldn't have left, she was here just moments ago. 

His eye is frantic as it searches the soot-covered ruins around him. His silvery hair whips to the side as he desperately jerks his head from one side to another. Then, he catches sight of her hair. 

She lies on the ground, pushed down by large stones crushing her body. 

Aemond hauls them off with a strength bestowed upon him by his despair. A sob leaves his throat as he pulls her into his arms, gently stroking her hair, burying his face there and inhaling the dust decorating it. 

He holds her until the heat of her body leaves her. Until she’s cold as ice in his grip. Stiff and strange. 

Only once does he glance down at her, and to his horror, she’s changed. It’s not her anymore. 

The soft cheeks he used to trace his fingers down are now hollow. Her skin is discoloured, and her eyes lifeless. Almost white, like the soul has left them and in its wake, a mist settles over the grave that once was a loving gaze. 

Prince Aemond sits like that, with her lifeless, rigid body in his arms, for too long. 

He cannot tell how many hours have passed, but he knows that he has lost a day when the sun appears, and disappears. It feels like an eternity trapped in the blink of an eye. 

No one dares approach him. They know that the fiery prince will show no mercy to whoever chooses to disturb his mourning. 

So he’s left alone in his devastation, until he cannot bear it any longer. 

His fingers are blue from the cold air enveloping him in an embrace so chilling, it rattles his bones. 

His love has also turned impossibly cold in his hold. Colder than the freezing, blue burn of a dragon’s flame. 

When he can no longer withstand the chill, he finally stands. His legs almost give in and every inch of his body hurts. Still, he persists, never letting his love fall to the ground as he keeps a secure hold around her. 

She is heavier than anything he’s ever carried before. He knows her, and this is not her. How many times had he not lifted her onto their bed? Pulled her in his lap? This sack of flesh weighs far more than she ever did, and yet he cannot let go. So he persits, and carries her to their chambers, sacrificing his own aching limbs in the process. 

When he thinks he might pass out from the effort, he reaches their marital bed, and lays her on top of it. 

Tenderly, he places her arms on her stomach, brushes her hair from her face, and closes her eyes. 

She’s merely sleeping, nothing more. Nothing permanent, nothing everlasting. 

Soon, she’ll open her eyes, look up at him, and give him a smile that melts his heart. Until then, he carefully places a quilt over her, and lies down next to her to find sleep, as husband and wife, just like so many nights before. 

He finds slumber next to her, if only for a few hours. By the hour of the wolf, he’s once again awake, laying on his back, staring at the intricate carvings in the wooden canopy above him. In a moment of weakness, he reaches for her hand to hold, but when his touch is met by freezing cold fingers, he winches and quickly lets go, instead placing his hand on her stomach, covered by the quilt he’d placed over her. 

His mind is too restless to let him find slumber. One hundred ideas, possible scenarios, flash in his mind. Thoughts of how to fix this; how to undo this, won’t let him rest. 

The Seven say that death is final, but is that truly the case? Surely, in Old Valyria, where dragons roamed free and the practitioners of the dark arts ruled, warlocks would not be content with leaving death to the Gods? 

Another day passes by as Aemond is deeply submerged in his own contemplation. 

This cannot be the end of her; of their life together. His dear wife. His one true ally. The sweet mother of their future heirs. She is not gone. She cannot be.

By next daybreak, an idea from his latent mind floats into his consciousness, and causes the troubled prince to finally see clearly. 

Necromancy. The art of bringing back the dead. 

Fuelled by the fire of determination set ablaze within his chest, Aemond reluctantly leaves his lover's side, throws on a cloak, and orders a member of the King’s Guard to guard the door to his chambers with his life. 

Before he leaves, Aemond throws one last glance at his wife’s lifeless form, and kneels by their bed, pressing a chaste kiss against her cheek. ‘Tis cold and stiff, as he should have expected. Still, his heart breaks when his lips are not met by the warmth he so wishes would still flow within her.

“I will bring you a cure”, he promises next to her ear, and ventures out into the dark, bustling streets of King’s Landing.

Flea Bottom is as he remembers. 

Filthy and depraved. 

The mere smell of the streets corrodes the insides of his nostrils, air so thick with stench from pigsties and tanneries the prince buries his nose inside his hood and breathes through his mouth. 

Around each corner of the dilapidated buildings lurks another distraction; whores beckoning him into their lairs, conmen trying to trick him into buying false treasures. 

‘Tis not a place for the educated. Nor is it for the devoted. Flea Bottom is reserved for the lowest of men; the ones who revel in debauchery and make a living of their falsehood. 

With the help of a few silver stags, Aemond manages to navigate the dirt-filled cobblestones of King’s Landing’s foulest corner. By the hour of the eel, he’s directed towards a short, stocky man with small eyes obscured by thick, bushy eyebrows. 

At last, he has found what he’s looking for;

A foreign man familiar with the dark arts.

He smiles when the prince tells him of the task, cold yet amused, resembling a serpent, 

“There is always a price to pay, my prince. What are you willing to sacrifice?”

“Anything”

“What if the sacrifice is your own selfishness?”

Aemond does not need convincing. He has already made up his mind. Without her, warm and comforting and breathing in his arms, he is willing to offer the sorcerer anything. The strange man inspects him with beady eyes that shine in the fire dancing against the stoney walls,

“10 gold dragons. And I will restore your lady once more”

In the shadows of the night, Prince Aemond brings the warlock into his chambers. 

The mysterious man does not ask for much in order to perform his sorcery.

He orders a servant to bring him boiling water, sage, dirt from the courtyard, and a small vessel. 

The staff of the Red Keep work quickly, and when he has all he requires, he pulls out a short, thin dagger from the inside of his pocket, and hands it to his prince, 

“A drop of your blood, your grace”

Aemond complies, and slashes the tip of his ring finger with the small blade. The warlock catches his blood with the vessel and proceeds to the bed, cutting the skin of the prince’s wife as well, mixing her blood with his. He adds the soil of their land, smoke of burnt sage, and water to his concoction before working his fingers into her mouth to force it open, and pours the brew down her throat. 

Nothing happens. 

Quietly, he leaves her bed to wash his hands in the basin by the hearth. He does not seem displeased by the fact that his magic did not work, or frightened by the dragon prince observing him closely. 

Aemond inhales, ready to have the deceitful bastard executed, flames of anger dancing within his blood from the humiliating disappointment of trusting a common conman. 

But just as he’s about to unleash his fury, he hears it. 

A sigh, quiet as a whisper in the room, yet loud as thunder in the young prince’s ears, floats from their bed to where he stands. He whips his head so quickly to the side his neck hurts, and hurriedly walks towards where she lies, still with her eyes closed and in the same position he had left her in. 

He carefully brings his hand out, shaking like the leaves of a tree caught in a storm. His eyes cannot see her clearly, unshed tears becoming a veil of relief over his eye. His hand gently grabs hers, and despite her still cold skin, he feels it, the drum of her heart, dancing in her chest and sending waves of thuds through her body. He leans in closer, wanting to whisper a greeting against her soft skin, yet is disturbed by the presence behind him he had nearly forgotten,

“We have not yet discussed the price, your grace”

Aemond leans back and turns to face the sorcerer. He wears the same wicked smirk as before, as if the prince’s despair amuses him. 

Disgusting creature.

“You have your gold. You are dismissed”

“Oh, but that is not the price the Gods wish to see, my prince”, he says with a sickly sweet gleefulness that chills Aemond’s bones,

“Witchcraft angers the Gods. It mocks them. I told you your selfishness will be the price you pay, and They have agreed”

“What do you speak of? Spit it out”

His smirk widens, “Release her hand”

Aemond gently lets go of her, and watches as a bruise blossoms forth from underneath the delicate skin of her wrist. 

“With each touch, she moves closer to the Stranger once more. You may have her by your side, but you cannot indulge in her” 

Frozen in place, the prince does not answer. What will become of his life if he is not allowed to touch his beloved? Being beside her, yet so far away. 

The man forces Aemond out of his thoughts,

“Will you settle for that, my prince? Being tempted by her every day, until you draw your last breath?” 

“If that is the price the Gods wish to be paid” 

“Hm. And you are content with a life without heirs? Without a bedmate? Or will you look for that elsewhere? Have another bed your wife, claim the offspring as your own?” 

The question turns Aemond’s stomach. 

“Watch your tongue, warlock. Or I will take it” 

His icy voice does nothing but amuse the man further, whose lips draw even taunter as he feigns regret with a courteous nod,

“Forgive me, your grace. I did not mean offence. Surely, you must have considered all implications carefully to reach this conclusion”

In truth, he had not. But the thought of another touching what belongs to him, his most dear possession, is so repulsive to Aemond he swallows the bile pushing up his throat. 

No one else may ever touch her. 

By next morning light, she awakens.

Still in a delirious state, she asks her husband to come closer and embrace her, frightened by the visions she had seen in her resting state. 

The contentment Prince Aemond feels from once again speaking to her; seeing her draw breath, seeing colour reappear on her cheeks, is dulled the separation between them, and the realisation that this is how they will remain from now onwards. 

He tells her of it all; Rhaenys bursting through the boards, the necromancer and the price he paid to bring her back. 

A tear falls from her lashes when he tells her that they may never touch again, for she will once more decay if they do. 

With a forceful swallow, she pushes down her own sadness and nods, grateful that he loves her too much to live without her. 

And so, their new normality begins. 

They enjoy the same things they did before; taking their meals together, reading together, speaking of their duties together. 

He had told court that her life was saved thanks to a skilled maester visiting from Oldtown, aware of the dangers enlisting a man of the dark arts carries.  

Should the truth about her resurrection come to light, she might be sanctioned not only by the court, but by the Citadel as well, and thus forced back into the arms of the stranger. 

In their endurance, their days grow tense, each moment tainted by the unspoken heartbreak of separation. 

The most prominent change to their lives together is the longing squeezing the prince’s heart. 

Never before has he ached so much for something as he does for her touch. 

The pain inside his heart doubles when he catches her eyes observing him from across the table whenever they sit together. 

She looks so devastated by their separation, so overcome with yearning. 

He knows the feeling, ‘tis the same sorrow that reflects in his heart. And yet, there is nothing they can do. 

Aemond would rather spend an eternity with her, and never once more feel the warmth of her fingers on his flesh, than to watch her get pulled away by the stranger yet again. 

So he endures. 

An unforgiving storm whips the Red Keep with vexed, rainy lashes when he returns from Storm’s End. 

He is drenched, dripping from head to toe. His face looks haunted; as if he has met the eye of death himself. 

She sits by the hearth, embroidering a small, green dragon onto one of his tunics. Her needle clumsily pierces the tip of her finger as she sees her husband’s distressed state, 

“What is the matter, my love?” 

“Lucerys, he-, he’s dead” 

Aemond shakes from the cold of the rain soaking his clothes. With shaky fingers he peels off his leathers, until he is only in his underclothes, standing right before her by the fire to seek some warmth, 

“I did not mean to-, Vhagar-, she-”

The explanations die on his tongue. 

She meets his gaze, bewildered and pitiful, and nods in silent understanding, unsure of how to comfort him. Aemond sinks down to his knees, feeling the heat of the fire lick against his cold skin. ‘Tis little comfort; his bones still feel freezing. As does his heart, when he looks at her. So close, yet never close enough. 

Torture, that is what it is. A cruel jest from the Gods. 

“How can I ease your distress, my love?”, she asks, and he nearly whimpers at her sweet concern. If he cannot confess his suffering to her, then who? 

“I fear I am a selfish man, after all”, he says defeatedly, 

“Even now I miss you, when you sit before me. I crave your touch - to feel you near. To be inside you. I am not whole unless I am with you - part of you, my love”

The smile on her face is filled with sorrow, piteous eyes glimmering against the warm glow of the hearth. She shuffles in her seat, pulls her hand out, and opens it in an inviting gesture, 

“I can spare a few years in my elderly days if I may feel your touch for one more night, my love”

And who is he to deny his love? 

To dismiss her sweet pleas? 

He would never deny her anything. 

He moves forward, crawling towards where she sits like the depraved hound he is. When he reaches her, he pulls the skirts of her small clothes up to reveal the soft meat of her things, and lays his head there, only for a moment. 

A sigh escapes him, so content to feel her softness against his cheek once more. ‘Tis like finding salvation after a life in sin; an otherworldly experience. 

He nuzzles into her skin, and she brings one hand to the side of his face, gently tracing his cheekbone and threading the silk of his hair between her fingers. After a moment of still devotion, he pushes the fabric further up to kiss her cunny, the only drink his parched lips crave. 

A startled gasp echoes above him, and the hand she carefully stroked his hair with turns into a painful grip. He adores the sting against his scalp. Hurriedly, he steals a peak from her, wasting no time to finally feel whole again. 

Kissing his way up her panting body, he finally tastes the reward he had coveted so. Her lips are even sweeter than he remembered them; soft, warm and most comforting. 

He stands and pulls her up to do the same, leading her to their bed with quick, long strides. He removes her small clothes as if he despises them, tearing the fabric and grunting at the layers separating him from the light of his life. When she is finally bare before him, he strips himself and joins her on their bed, finding his home between her thighs. She is so slick he slides in as if he were the missing piece of her incomplete body, and they both cry out at the all-consuming bliss of finally being together, being one, once more. 

His arms snake underneath her back, pulling her so close to him each inch of her skin touches his. Their lips stay locked together, moans and pleasurable sighs bouncing between their mouths. 

He cannot tell if the wetness on her cheek is proof of her own relief, or his. 

Nevertheless, he kisses it away, closes his eyes, and disappears into the bliss of having her again. 

They stay intertwined through the night, and by first light, Aemond reluctantly lets go of his love. 

The light that illuminates their chambers is scarce in the early hours of the morning, yet he can see the discolouration travelling up the limbs of his wife; painting her legs and arms in odd, painful colours. 

Their indulgence had cost her greatly. 

Regret stabs his heart; potent and aching. 

What have I done? 

‘Tis as if the small dagger the warlock carried were lodged inside his chest, reminding him of the devious man he had become. 

A kinslayer. 

His bloodthirsty quest for selfish pursuits; justice, comfort, love, is naught but foolishness. 

And now those around him pay the price. 

Aemond makes sure to keep distance from her, and he suffers immensely from it. 

On the night he came back from Storm’s End, he had found peaceful slumber in the arms of his beloved. Each night since, he is tormented by nightmares; visions of his worst fears playing in his mind. 

Cold skin, blood, bruises.

He fears Rhaenyra’s wrath. The retribution he will have to atone for Lucerys’ life. 

Will he be the one to pay it this time? 

Or will the burden of his crimes once more fall on the shoulders of his loved ones? 

Aemond does not need to wait long for retaliation.  

Rhaenyra’s revenge go by the names of Blood and Cheese, a ratcatcher and a disgraced butcher. The pair snook into the chambers of his young nephew, heir to the Iron Throne Jaehaerys, and slew the boy in front of Aemond’s sweet sister, Helaena. 

His hands are no longer merely tainted by the crimson of Lucerys’ blood. His pursuit for vengeance cost him the life of his nephew, and his sister, so lost in grief she can no longer leave her chambers. He only visits her once, horrified by the ghost of a person the queen has become. 

‘Tis my fault.

And it echoes in the prince’s mind anywhere he goes. 

When he trains with Ser Criston. When he flies on Vhagar. When he breaks his fast with his wife.

‘Tis my fault. 

When his mother can’t meet his eye. When his brother sinks deeper into his cups. When his grandfather no longer confides in him.

‘Tis my fault. 

The only light remaining is his dear lady wife. 

She still regards him with love. 

Her eyes still sparkle as he enters their chambers after a long day. Her mouth still forms a smile whenever he greets her.

“Her sweetness is wicked”, Prince Aemond thinks, “So inviting, beckoning me in, yet I must remain at a distance”

They still sleep next to one another, separated by an arm’s length. A small distance that feels infinite as he longingly steals glances of her sleeping form. 

A siren calling to him, taunting him with her soft, warm flesh. 

He knows that a night with her in his arms would ease his distress; allow him to find slumber and wake up as a better man. 

I would be a better man, for her. 

And that is the last thing he thinks before he shuffles closer, gently pulls her into his arms, and buries his nose in her hair. 

If he were a better man, he would have stopped after one night. But by now, Aemond knows that he is not. 

He is a self-serving, weak craven. 

The first night of having her in his arms while she slept did not soothe the longing aching in his chest as he thought it would. It doubled it. And by next nightfall, he waited for her to drift to sleep before greedily pulling her into his arms once more. 

He sees the toll his nightly indulgence has on her body rapidly. The bruises that had decorated her limbs grow darker, like those of an apple decaying. They now travel from her hands and feet, up her arms and legs, and bloom out over her stomach, chest, and neck. 

Aemond finds himself looking at her less and less. 

‘Tis my fault. 

“Mayhaps we need to seek out the sorcerer again for council?”, she questions one day as she carefully observes the bruises colouring her body. She presses on one and winces, lips pulled down into a displeased frown. 

She is withering. Rotting away. 

“I will”, Aemond says, and the lie is so bitter on his tongue, he wonders if his foul ways have caused poison to grow from within him. 

He had stolen Lucerys’ life above Storm’s End. A quick affair, an instance that he regretted as soon as he saw Vhagar’s jaw close around the small dragon. He did not mean to do it; to take his life. He only meant to seek justice for his eye; for the pain his nephew had caused him. For disfiguring him. 

‘Tis what he has become known for; kinslaying. The merciless murder of the young boy who wronged him. If the court only knew of how vile he truly is.

With each night that passes, he steals another flicker of the flame keeping the light of his life alive. He sees her grow paler, the bruises now covering nearly every inch of her being, slowly working their way towards her heart, drumming weaker and weaker in her chest. 

And yet, he cannot stop. He needs solace; the only good thing in his life. Holding her near, feeling the heat of her melt the icy bolts of remorse and guilt shooting within him. 

Tonight, he knows it is their last time. She can hardly open her eyes anymore. Her lips are purple, skin a sick melody of various shades, and her heart beats slowly, as if it is fighting with each thud. 

Just like the nights before, he lies down next to her, pulls her into his arms, inhales her scent, and closes his eyes. 

“This time, she perishes by my hand”, he thinks, “She gave me everything, and yet I took more”

But what is love, if not to take? 

Take and take and take, until there is nothing left. 

No one savours love. 

No one would ever feel satisfied with only a taste. 

It is meant to be devoured. And that’s what Prince Aemond tells himself, as his love finally draws her last breath in his arms. 

“Forgive me”, his whisper begs, 

“I have devoured you. I have let my selfishness slaughter you. Now I await my own demise, one that will come to me soon”

His fingers gently dance over her cheek, 

“I welcome it. I welcome a chance to meet you once more”

He holds her closer, feeling the warmth of her body leave for the second time in their lives,

“Until then, sleep well, my love, and I will return to you soon”

A/N; I hope you enjoyed this little Halloween fic of mine! I tried to go with a bit more classic, haunting and tragic theme, and it was so fun to write.

If you enjoyed this, please check out my fic Colour My Mind, Bring Me Back. It has very similar vibes and I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Kisses!

[asumi2020202]

You and I.. We were Born to Die

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Princess Y/n, The Foreseer and Princess Rhaenys, The Queen who never was, were chosen to fly to Rook's Rest.

A/n: It's just a different ending than the one they actually presented in the show. I just wanted to write something for Aemond. Anyways, Thank you for reading!

Note:

Reader is Rhaenys' granddaughter.

Reader's dragon is Moonfyre The Nightdream. She was one of the last eggs of Balerion and Dreamfyre. She is only 9 years old during the Dance of the Dragons.

Reader can Foresee glimpses of the future.

__________________ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ_______________

Cole and his army were marching towards Rook's Rest. The council was in distress in the absence of the Queen.

The lords argued with themselves and the Heir to the Throne. Pointing out their views on the matter. Y/n stood beside her brother and Princess Rhaenys.

The council's bickering halted as the Queen suddenly walked in.

Jacaerys, your brother, looked very dissatisfied with your mother, the Queen. They argued as to who would go to Rook's Rest.

Your mother volunteered herself which made Jace rage up.

"Send me" Jacaerys said with confidence.

"No" Rhaenyra replied with a sarcastic laugh.

"I will go to Rook's Rest and wipe Cole's line and return-"

"You lack the experience." Rhaenyra stopped Jace's argument.

"You must send me. Meleys is the second largest dragon you have." Rhaenys intervened, to which Rhaenyra felt speechless.

Rhaenys gave Corlys a smile before leaving the room. A vision flashed before your eyes as your body stilled.

Meleys getting killed.

Rhaenys falling to her death.

There were..... two dragons.

One was Sunfyre you thought you saw... But you couldn't recognise the other.

Your mother's calling snapped you out of your vision. You looked panicked. Your mother and brother sensed something wrong.

"Y/n-" Jace reached for you before you said

"Send me as well"

"That cannot be done sweet girl." Rhaenyra said.

"It must be! Rhaenys- .... I saw her. And Meleys! They were ambushed. There were two dragons! Aegon will come! She cannot go alone! She Will Die!"

Rhaenyra looked shocked at your outburst. She pondered for a while before agreeing.

Moonfyre and Meleys were the largest dragons of the blacks. Rhaenyra trusted her daughter's judgement.

_________________________________________

As you walked to the Dragon Pit, you saw no one. No one dared to come closer to your child. They feared their lives.

Rhaenys had left early. You left an hour after she had left. You doubted if you could catch upto her. Meleys was the fastest dragon.

Moonfyre let out a groan as she flew through the clouds to Rook's Rest.

Your memories flashed before you. The first time you rode a dragon was with your father. It was Seasmoke.

"Kepa! Soo high! Hehe" little y/n threw her arms up in the air as Seasmoke flew through the clouds, huffing proudly.

"Yes. Do you like it? Being here atop the clouds?" Laenor asked his daughter who only giggled and said.

"Yes kepa" laenor smiled and said "If you like, we can fly on Seasmoke every now and then. Just don't tell your mother or i won't hear the end of it."

You smiled at the memory. Those times perished very quickly, right infront of your eyes.

You could only look ahead now, not behind. You may not even make it out alive today. But you'll die knowing that you tried.

_________________________________________

Meleys tackled Sunfyre in the sky as the roar of another dragon was heard. Larger wings taking off in the sky.

Vhagar had arrived.

"Thank the gods!" Aegon exclaimed before his face turned to horror upon realisation of what was to come.

"Dracarys!" Aemond said

"No! Noo!" Aegon screamed trying to take cover of his dragon. Meleys fled the moment Vhagar breathed fire.

Meleys was away from Vhagar and Sunfyre. Rhaenys felt no hope returning back home. She would fight. She would fight here and die. She closed her eyes and opened them slowly before saying

"Angōs Meleys.."

Meleys turned back to the fight, she gave a look to Rhaenys which she reciprocated. Rhaenys tightened her strap, and held tighter to the saddle.

Vhagar and Meleys were flying towards each other, when suddenly...

A loud roar could be heard...

Moonfyre came out of the clouds. Her size a close match to Vhagar.

She was one of the unhatched egg of Balerion and Dreamfyre before Balerion passed.

"Dracarys!"

All eyes went on the White dragon and her rider as she breathed fire. Vhagar flew away from the fire before she could collide with Meleys.

Rhaenys watched as Moonfyre the 9 year old dragon chased after Vhagar the 180 year old dragon. Both almost equal in size.

"Angōs Moonfyre!" Y/n shouted to her dragon.

Aemond looked back once. He didn't anticipate that another dragon, let alone the dragon of his once betrothed, would be coming to Rook's Rest.

He didn't turn away and flee. Vhagar turned back and charged towards the Nightdream.

The largest dragons collided with each other. Moonfyre clawed at Vhagar's wing as the Queen of the Dragons let out a loud wail.

Rhaenys got rid of any of the remaining green soldiers before joining Y/n in her battle.

Y/n grunted as Moonfyre flew away just in time to dodge Vhagar's attack.

Meleys came in and clawed at Vhagar's right wing. Tearing away some flesh from her wing.

Aemond, knowing he couldn't win and fled from Rook's Rest.

Yet amongst all, two were completely forgotten.....

Aegon the Usurper and Sunfyre the Golden....

Meleys told y/n that the last she saw them was when Sunfyre crashed near the woods.

Nodding at her grandmother's word, Y/n took off towards the direction of the woods along with Rhaenys.

_________________________________________

Moonfyre and Meleys were just a few feet away.

As you walked through the woods with Rhaenys, she drew out her sword for protection.

The two of you saw smoke coming out. Upon a closer look, the two of you saw Aegon and Sunfyre.

Aegon's body partly burned and bent. While Sunfyre's one wing was almost torn.

Rhaenys and you shared a look before deciding that you both would take Aegon back to Dragonstone.

Sunfyre was smaller than Moonfyre so she could carry the Gold dragon with her feet.

_________________________________________

"Your grace you must calm down-" Corlys tried to reason.

"How can I possibly calm down?! I don't know if my girl would return safely! I cannot lose another child!" Rhaenyra said, her voice raising.

All became silent....

A loud roar was heard. Rhaenyra and the rest ran outside. There they were...

Moonfyre and Meleys.

Rhaenyra squinted her eyes which widened when she saw what came with the dragon riders.

Moonfyre dropped Sunfyre's body a bit far before landing on the beach.

Y/n came down from Moonfyre as Rhaenys came down from Meleys, taking Aegon down with her.

Guards took Aegon's body away. He would be dealt with afterwards.

Rhaenyra ran and hugged her daughter. She offered Rhaenys a smile and thanked her for protecting her daughter.

Baela ran and hugged y/n as she hid her face in y/n's neck.

_________________________________________

When night came over Driftmark, you stood near the balcony. A letter in your right hand. You turned back to your trusted maid and gave her the letter.

She nodded and quickly left from to room. She was to deliver that letter to the one eyed prince or rather..... The Kinslayer..

You gently took the letter you had received from him that evening in your arms, reading it again.

You look up at the sky, closing your eyes as Moonfyre soared above the sky, your white hair flowing away from your face due to the wind.

The letter which you had received made you question everything. You do love that man even though he killed your brother..

Dear y/n,

I didn't expect to see you today. I realised after today that this war is neither yours nor mine to fight yet we both find ourselves tangled in it.

I wished for the throne because my brother is unfit for it. But I realise now that... I wish for you more. That I need you more than any throne, any power.

Aegon will die and so will the other Greens. I know that you would not believe me but I am willing to leave my grudges and be with you.

I need you not some Baratheon girl.

I have realised that you.. and i... We were born to die... together....

That was what the letter stated. You stilled as a vision flashed in your eyes.

Your little brother..... Was it Aegon or was it Viserys? Who ever it was.. looked quite grown up...

He was getting coronated....by Aemond..

You stood beside him, and on the opposite side stood Lord Cregan Stark...

You panted as your vision ended, eyes regaining their color.

Maybe everything was going to okay after the war ends.. You and Aemond lived.. your brother sat on the throne..you could only hope the rest of the family was okay.

You felt relieved a bit by the vision, thinking about the letter you had sent.

It stated that he must accept Rhaenyra as the queen and pledge loyalty to her. If he doesn't, there isn't any thing you can do. He already took your brother, your mother won't let go of that easily but he could try.

The last line was one of the same lines he wrote to you.....

"You and I .... We were born to Die...."

-Lillian

[tamayakii]

a son for a son.

notes: I changed a thing or two of what happened in the show, basically putting Maelor in cause i still cant believe they didnt put him in it (same thing with Daeron) this can be read as a stand-alone fic or paired with the Their Angel series. pairings: Otto x reader (romantic), Helaena x reader (can be viewed as one sided or platonic) warnings: Otto & reader have a son, SPOILERS FOR HOTD S2;E1!!!

The candle light illuminates the room, flickering against the stone walls of your and Helaena’s chambers. You had moved into her living spaces the night that Aemond had come back from the Stormlands, a sick smirk upon his face as he waltz into the small council room.  

And when your husband had shown no remorse for your brother's actions, no sympathy for your dead nephew? You couldn’t stand to look at him, matter of fact, you couldn’t bear to look at anyone. The grief toppled upon the hatred you had towards everyone who had played a part in usurping your sister’s throne. 

The twins and Maelor were already asleep within their beds, and your own son blinks his big owl-ish eyes at you. He looked so much like his father, even at two years old, a little wisp of white tangled within his brown locks- almost emulating Otto’s salt and pepper hair.

“Why can’t I..?” Alerion fumbled over his words, tiny hands curling over the cotton blanket, trying to fight his heavy eyelids as they dropped low. Chuckling lightly as you brushed his hair aside, he was quite stubborn. Especially as bedtime neared and sleep hovered over him. “Because I said so, besides; don’t you want to play with your cousins on the morrow?” Your reasoning seemed to reach him, Alerion’s brown eyes slowly shutting as he murmured. Sighing, reaching around your back to unclasp your heavy necklaces, you couldn’t help but smile as your son unconsciously pulled the blanket closer. 

The recent days weighed heavily on you; the war was impending. With no word from Rhaenrya, Rhaenys and Meleys helping guard the gullet with the hundreds of Velaryon ships, war was going to burst like a bloated goat. 

Perhaps if you were more active in the small council, you would’ve stopped the rats that sat in those seats. Staring at the necklace as you set it down, dark jade glimmering in the light. Helaena’s soft reflection reflected in the deep sea of green. It hits the table with a soft thud.

As you hear steps incoming, you simply assumed it was Helaena. She always had a sense for when you were upset, coming to you like a doe, with her big purple eyes and soft face filled with worry. 

Or perhaps she came to take you to bed. Since your move, Helaena was delighted to have you close, and near-ordered that you sleep in the same bed, just as you did when she was a little girl. “Quiet! Quiet!” The voice made you turn around, and your gasp died in your throat. Fear laced through your veins like a snake coils around its prey, freezing your body like the north. 

A strange man holds a dagger to Helaena’s throat, her blood dripping over the steel. Her eyes were wide with fear. The man's eyes flicker over to you. “Move and I'll cut her throat.” He spits, slowly dragging the blade, causing more blood to leak. Nodding as the tears well in your eyes, heart beating against your rib cage. The blood roars in your ears like a thousand horses stampeding. 

Another man comes in, a bigger and scarier man, and your heart stops. 

“A son for a son.” His words were all muddled until he said those five words, a son for a son. Helaena offered her necklace to the men, trying to convince them to run off with its worth, but the bigger man snatched it from her. “It’s not a son.” He turns around and looks at the twins in their beds, sleeping ever so peacefully. Gently, you reached back for Alerion’s crib. Shaking hands gripping the wood with a grip tighter than death and yet you were too weak to fight these men off, in the past week and a half, you’ve neglected your meals within your grief and even if you didn’t, you’d sooner be dead on the stone floors of the Red Keep with your sons fate unknown. 

The men came to the realization that they did not know which twin was the boy, and for a brief moment you felt elated that perhaps they would give up their mission, but all hope vanished when Helaena pointed at Jaehaerys.

“Helaena..” You whisper, lips trembling and you can't help but feel bile come up your throat as the men storm to Jaehaerys, the bigger one covering his mouth, covering his scream. Helaena shakes as she makes a move to her daughter and youngest son, and you do the same.

As you hear the splatter of blood, a sob escapes your throat, your hands trembling as you hurriedly and carefully retrieve Alerion from his crib. Helaena runs out first, holding her children close to her and you’re not too long after her. 

Whilst Helaena makes a mad dash down the stairs, you run onward. Climbing up the other pair of stairs, Alerion stirs in your jumbling hold. Whining at the rude awakening and you try to shush him over your crying, 

“Shh.. shh.. Alerion,” The halls rushed past you as you ran, the skirt of your night-dress threatening to trip you. Only thoughts of protecting your own son ran through your frightened mind, fearing that perhaps he would be targeted too. 

The doors to Otto’s chambers slam open and a flurry of fabric and hair falls to the floor in sobs. The man looks at the sight bewildered, but soon he realizes it is you, his wife, that refused to look him in the eye. Surely, you had come to beg for forgiveness, having come to your senses. 

But as you look up at him, your son in your arms, cradling him like he was about to shatter- he knew something was wrong.

“They killed him.. They kill the boy!” 

[targaryen-dynasty]

Congrats on 2k!!! LOVEEEEE 💞 I WAS SO INDECISIVE OF WHAT I WANTED but I finally chose meleys

Can I get Aegon II with the prompt #87 “wanna fuck?”

This screams him fr.

TIPPING POINT.

Modern!Aegon II Targaryen x female Reader

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol and intoxication

WORDS: 792

NOTES: Tysm, Mae!! This request was amazing, and it's so on point for him. 😭

Let's celebrate my milestone!

It’s the fifth jello shot you’re drowning with Helaena, the frat party around you in full throttle, and even before you’ve swallowed it down, you feel your inhibitions sinking lower and lower. What certainly doesn’t help is the skimpy, black dress you’re wearing, hugging your curves so well, it’s taken your confidence sky high. 

Helaena has left the dancefloor a few minutes ago to stalk off with none other than Jace Velaryon, the quarterback of Westeros’ greatest football team, the King’s Landing Commanders. It’s widely rumored he’s the owner of the teams largest packet, so you don’t begrudge her that she’s left you alone. She’s certainly earned herself a good fuck for the night. 

Swaying your hips to the rhythm of the music, though it’s not exactly the kind of music you usually listen to, the state of your tipsiness gets you off-balance for a moment, prompting you to take a step back to steady yourself, and bump into something very firm. 

“Easy there,” the gruff voice rings out, and knowing who it belongs to, you turn on your heels with a teasing grin. 

“Aeg,” you reply, meeting his eyes. 

He’s Helaena’s older brother, and ever since he’s switched teams to join the Oldtown Saints, people rarely see him around. It’s clear that his presence somewhat catches you by surprise. There hasn't been anything happening between the two of you, however, it has been more than dangerously close at more than one of Alicent Targaryen’s famous family dinners. 

His hand trails to your back, and he uses that grip to pull you against his side. You’re forced to hold onto him to steady yourself, but you don’t really mind. He’s charming, easy on the eyes, and there’s certainly worse company lingering around at the party. Jason Lannister, for example. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks, his eyes flitting down to take in your body. His Adam's apple bobs slightly as he lets them linger on your exposed thighs, taking in the short skirt. 

You bring a hand to his chest, and turn yourself in his grasp so your body faces him now. “Enjoying myself?” you purr, licking your lips. “I always do when I have such fine company.” 

Aegon grins at your words, his eyes taking over a hooded look that has you squeeze your thighs for a moment. 

He dips his head forwards, bringing his lips on a level with your ears, the proximity allowing him to take in your scent and let his warm breath caress your skin. “Oh, is that so?” It feels as if his voice has become ten times huskier after your words, a thrill of arousal flickering up your spine. “Well, that makes two of us.”

You lick your lips yet again, and tilt your head forwards. You’re batting your eyelashes at him when you speak, the flirting game you’re playing is all too obvious now. “Good answer,” you muses, grinning mischievously. 

The tension between you two is thick enough to be cut with a knife, and you figure that with Hel away somewhere probably getting dicked down, you’re more than allowed to have some fun yourself. After all, she knows that there was a time you’ve lusted after Aegon. 

“I’m glad you’re so easily pleased,” he teases. It’s clear he’s noticed your attraction towards him, and even though his jab at your susceptible manner should make you feel slightly embarrassed, you can’t bring yourself to care; not when his scent and the warmth emanating off him makes your mind hazy with lust. 

He has his signature smirk splayed over his pouty lips, the one that sputters with cockiness and always has you biting your lips. 

His breathing is just as heavy as yours, and you giggle softly when you feel his hand squeezing your side, and it works to bring you closer towards him, pressing against him to escape the pinch of his fingers. 

Aegon scoffs, and with his head tilted forwards and his hooded, lilac eyes lingering on your lips, it’s his voice ringing out again. “Wanna fuck, sweetheart?” 

It’s as blunt as it can get, yet that’s exactly what you want. “God, yes,” you chuckle. “Two more minutes without you asking, and I would have jumped your bones right here and then.”

“Now, that’s what I call an enthusiastic answer,” he teases. “I know a spot.”

Your side is squeezed once again by him, before he intertwines your fingers and leads you through the crowd to the rooms upstairs. As far as you know, he doesn’t know any of the people belonging to the frat that hosts this party, yet you wouldn’t even care if he’d fuck you out in the open as long as it would give you what you want. Him. 

Small Taglist: @heimtathurs @valeskafics @black-dread @watercolorskyy @darylandbethfanforever9 @hypocritic-trash-baby @connorsui @moonlightfoxx @snowystark @fan-goddess @lovelykhaleesiii

[achaoticeternal]

a presentation

word count: 750 summary: finding aemond admiring the throne once more, you tell him of your wish to simply be his wife again a/n: just a quick drabble to get some writing going again. not proofread. this is based off the song the greatest by billie eilish

All my love and patience Unappreciated You said your heart was jaded You couldn't even break it

The mass of swords welded together to form the Iron Throne loomed over the Throne Room. Its' magnificence was equally spectacular yet terrifying. An item that represented unity and obedience melded together by fire and death.

It was a seat many had craved over time. Yet she saw the jagged edges that had nicked King Viserys, then Aegon... and soon Aemond would be subjected to it. She had dreamed of it only nights prior.

Her husband ascends the Throne before a mass of nobles and common folk alike. A wolfish smile invades the faces of those surrounding them. Yet when he took his seat with the Conqueror's crown high on his silken hair, an undulled sword from the arm of the chair would slice his palm open. The princess had felt it an omen, an even darker one after Meleys had been carted through the street. The dream was the only thing to replay in her mind as she approached where Aemond now stood. His eyes flickered our the steel of swords stuck together permanently. She always sensed his hunger for power and prayed that his thirst did not come at the cost of blood or their marriage. But the gods paid little favor to them. "It is late," She called out to him, "We should be sleeping." Aemond hummed, acknowledging her comment. He cocked his head to the side, not quite looking at her as his eye remained fixated on the Throne, "We shall be standing up there tomorrow."

The princess swallowed, only to take another step forward as she responded, "You. You will be up there tomorrow. I will be perched next to your mother or Helaena. Either hearing prayers for Aegon's ailments or your ascension." A small, playful smirk painted his lips, "I'm sure I could order a seat to be placed near my feet. So that I may present to the court all my prizes: the Throne, the Crown, the perfect Wife."

Her lips tugged downward, disgust lining her stomach, "Will you dress me and braid my hair too? Paint my face to make my skill look porcelain?"

The Prince Regent finally turned to face her, "Do not use such a tone with me, wife. You have nothing to complain about as I have built you a perfect life." The air between them went stagnant as her eyes remained fixed on them. You face betrayed nothing of what you felt which shocked your husband. He had always been able to read you so plainly, it was something he even enjoyed in your relationship.

"A perfect life?" The princess repeated her words, "Will you put me in a glass display and title it 'A Perfect Life?'?

Aemond's jaw tightened and he took a great step toward her, "I have proven myself to be the greatest Targaryen since Maegor himself and yet you look at me like a villain. This will make people see. This will make people fear me and regret their spineless actions. Now they have no choice but to love and respect their new King."

"And yet I did all of that when you were just Aemond," She barked back at him, her own hurt and anger slipping through, "I respected you, I listened to you, I loved you... for just being a prince- no, just being a boy." "Wife, I-" He attempted to interject.

"I am not finished," The princess stopped him, "I have played the part of your wife, perfectly. I provided you with love, comfort, hospitality, my spirit, my body. I never asked for you to give more of yourself than you could because I knew what a fragile heart you keep locked away. But I am not some pet or doll to be displayed as another prize of your ambition. I am your wife, and you could at least let me enjoy that duty. I only ever wanted to show you love."

At her speech, Aemond had fallen silent. His hands rested behind hs back, silently fidgeting with his leather cuffs. All was still.

"It is late," Aemond finally spoke, "You should get some rest. I will join you in our chambers when I have wrapped up my duties for the evening."

"Very well," The princess swallowed back her pain, once more feeling powerless. She turned on her heels and exited.

I shouldn't have to say it You could've been the greatest

[vanilleandclove]

the meadow in which you lay | 7

ser erryk cargyll x arryn!reader | chapter seven: body and soul

Tensions rise in Dragonstone as Rhaenyra took off in search for Lucerys's corpse, the only vice being the husband she left behind whom has a shorter temper than that of a child.

word count: 1.5k | warnings: strangulation (daemon you cunt), non-sexual nudity, oral sex (f recieving), ERRYK IS A MUNCH! grief. | a/n: two more parts perhaps, until we are all wishing the worst on criston cole himself.

previous - next

taglist: @wolvestitches @holb32 @callsignwidow @fwaeriys @hummusxx @erysione @snixx2088 @opheliax98 @celestialstar111

"Ser Lorent, have you seen Daemon?" you asked Ser Lorent as you strutted down the steps in Dragonstone leading into the war room, Erryk opened his arm for you to balance onto as courtesy, you earned a bow from Erryk; Rhaenyra named you "Hand of the Queen" just before she set forth to look endlessly for Luke's body, nearly several days ago.

"Last I have seen the Prince, he was dressing into his armor, very set on the words 'a son for a son'" Lorent answered you, giving Erryk a slight nod, "I believe he is in the Dragon's quarters my Lady Hand".

"Please, just call me Lady" you smiled dimly, Erryk was pleased to see you smile, you had not in days upon hearing of Luke's death. Every single night filled your chambers with violent sobs and screams, Erryk having to restrain you in order for you to gain your composure once more, making sure you were hydrated upon the hour, and combing through your hair to soothe you, cooing in your ear like a mother does a babe.

You looked at Erryk and nodded as well, signaling to him that you were sound, able to walk to Dragonstone's Dragon pit on your own to confront Daemon; upon arrival it seemed Rhaenys had already finished the job. Though, it never hurt to weigh in, especially to a hot-tempered man like Daemon.

"Where were you off to?" you questioned the Prince, "Thank you Rhaenys, may you and Meleys rest, your efforts are great" you then celebrated the Princess, earning a whisper from her.

"Give him hell".

"You forget it is the Queen whom makes the decisions in war Daemon" you continued, Daemon looking like a near child whom was patronized by their parents.

"You forget your ranking Lady Arryn, as well as Valyrian blood. Had this been my war-".

"Had it be your war, you'd turn the realm against itself, the kingdoms receding from your Valyrian blood. I may not be Targaryen nor a fucking Prince, but I am the one the Queen entrusted with her hand" you told him sternly, hearing the steps of Erryk and Lorent enter the corridor.

"Who knows perhaps we may hear of House Arryn usurping the throne next. You forget yourself Y/n, there is always a reason Alicent ostracized you from conversation to get into Rhaenyra's head, you were the only one with sense; granted I believe now that you know how it is to have a cock inside you, you've lost it" Daemon insulted, looking to both you and Erryk.

You lost your temper at the insult, smacking the prince blankly in the face, "Your wife's son is dead! You do not wish to kill Aemond to avenge Lucerys's death you wish and desire for power, it kills you from the inside that your kin was slain not in the manner of grief but in the manner of ego!" you shouted, only earning a distressful look from the prince before he began to size you up, quickly wrapping his hand around your neck. Hearing a sword drawn from behind you as well seeing Daemon punched in the face, the sword of Lorent was drawn, the fist belonged to Erryk.

Upon the hour, you stood in your chambers to rest, Erryk had joined you. He examined your neck and the light bruising that painted your skin, now tender and ached.

"I would have killed him had I not sworn an oath to the Queen" Erryk spoke with venom laced in his tone, "Forgive me".

"For what?" you questioned, you had sat down on your bed as Erryk was standing between your legs, looking up at him.

"I fear loving me comes at an expensive price as the days pass seeing that it is not just oaths that prevent us from loving each other- body and soul".

You scoffed lightly before bringing the knight to his knees in order to be at eye-level with you, "I would take thousands of strangulations and petty insults to love you Erryk- body and soul", you kissed his lips once you saw the twinkle in his eye, only to be interrupted by the roars of Syrax, distinctive they were, signaling your cousin's return.

As Erryk and yourself hurried down into the war room, seeing everyone gather around the map of Westeros, Erryk taking his post and you taking your place on council. "Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, the first of her name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm" Erryk begun to announce as Rhaenyra made her way into the room. Daemon being the first to greet her, asking if she had found solace and purpose now that she had found Luke, just as Syrax found Arrax, grieving mothers they were.

"I want Aemond Targaryen" were the only words your cousin spoke, pure hatred and anger laced in her voice to the near sound of her brother's name, as you all bowed, you had quickly followed your cousin to her chambers.

"Let's wash you up" you spoke softly, looking to Erryk who was walking strides behind you, you nodded, once again signaling that you both were sound.

Opening the door to Rhaenyra's chambers, you were met with the handmaids who had already drawn a warm bath. You quickly shut the door and began to help your cousin undress, her lightly shuddered, her jaw clenching and unclenching repeatedly, slight sobs left her mouth and goosebumps cascaded along her body. You looked to Elinda, simply entrusting her to handle your cousin from there. Speaking up to say, "I will be in my chambers, okay? Alert anyone if you wish to see me, I will be here immediately".

You walked out of your cousin's chambers, being met with Erryk who was taking the time to sharpen his sword. "May you help me?" you startled the knight by breaking the thick silence.

"Always, what is it my love?" he immediately responded without second thought.

You quickly guided him to your chambers, undressing as the water now grew ice cold from the bath the ladies drew for you hours ago. "I need you here, with me" you pointed to the water, "Please".

The knight looked uncertain before seeing your eyes coated in tears, he nodded before beginning to strip of his armor and his undergarments, your eyes seeing the scars that riddled his body clearer. Allowing him to enter the bath first before he guided and aided you to enter the water, his warm body helped ease you into the bath. His arms wrapped around your body as you went slack against him, the water painted your body like varnish, how beautiful you gleamed under the moonlight that peaked through your chambers. Your scent intoxicated him but, he did cloud his judgement, allowing himself to begin cleaning you, not missing any spot or curve of your body. You took the liberty to pepper kisses along his neck and chest, before choosing to kiss his lips yearningly.

With enough time having passed that of your love holding you, Erryk removed the soap with ease from your body before standing up and holding you securely to his chest, carrying you out of the water, your nipples perked and body shuddering from the coldness. He gently set you down on your bed before looking up at you, "Let me please you tonight my love", earning a nod of consent from you. His lips laid kisses along your body, his beard tickling parts of you that you were not aware could be tickled.

As his mouth made its way further down, the growing heat within your body soared as the knight then was met with your cunt. Kissing the inner portion of your thighs gracefully, earning a whine from your vocals, he saw it as an invitation to kiss the bud that sent blissful pleasure to your body all over. He quickly felt your cunt become wetter and wetter by the second, easing himself to licking your cunt with vigor, nibbling at your clit slightly to send yourself to disrepair. Moans left your mouth, you reached for Erryk's hand that laid on your stomach, as both of his arms secured themselves around your hips to prevent you from squirming. His beard sending you over the edge, as his nose teased the upper portion of your cunt and his tongue worked masterfully on your cunt. You reached your peak upon minutes, seeing white and a combination of stars. The man had known to pleasure you, body and soul.

[buffysummers]

"season 2 of house of the dragon was filler. nothing happened"

Things that happened:

Daemon ordered Aemond's death in retribution for Lucerys' murder, Jaehaerys is instead beheaded

Rhaenyra is blamed for the murder, labeled "Rhaenyra the Cruel"

Rhaenyra realizes Daemon is at fault. She confronts him, tells him she isn't sure if she can trust him, calls him pathetic. He flees

Aegon fires Otto as his hand and sends him away. He then makes Cole his hand

We later find out that Otto has, in fact, been held prisoner ever since he was exiled

Rhaenyra sneaks into Kings Landing to vie for peace with Alicent and the Greens. She wants to avoid bloodshed in a needless war after inheriting years of peace from her father's reign. Alicent rejects her and says it's too late

Rhaenyra forces a blockade on Kings Landing, withholding food and resources in an attempt to make the Greens surrender

The people of Kings Landing are starving, start to turn against the Greens

Rhaenyra sends food and resources to the smallfolk in an attempt to get them to support her claim. This seems to work

Rhaenys and Meleys die in battle against Aemond

Cole parades Meleys' head through the streets of Kings Landing, calling her a "traitor dragon." This is seen as an omen by the smallfolk. It disrespects the symbol of the House Targaryen and in turn makes them look weak. Whereas before they appeared invincible and god-like because of their ability to ride and command dragons. "It's just meat."

Aemond burns Aegon, almost kills him, Sunfyre also dies

Aemond then goes to finish the job, but is interrupted by Cole

Aemond becomes Prince Regent despite Alicent advocating for herself to become Queen Regent again

Aemond fires Alicent from his council, then later threatens Aegon

Daemon almost goes insane in harrenhal after he is haunted through dreams and visions by the witch Alys

Daemon considers turning against Rhaenyra out of jealousy and anger

Daemon sees a vision of the song of ice and fire. He re-pledges his loyalty to Rhaenyra and has an army at her command

Helaena also appears in this vision and tells Daemon to kill Aemond

Rhaenyra finds three new dragonriders

Rhaenyra now has seven dragons versus Aemond's two. (Three if you count Dreamfyre)

Helaena reveals to Aemond that she knows he burned Aegon. She refuses to ride into battle after he demands her to. He threatens her, she says she saw his death and that Aegon will be king again

Aegon flees the city with Larys to ride out the war between Aemond and Rhaenyra. Aegon's dick was also burned off

Aemond burns Sharp Point out of fear and frustration after he learns of Rhaenyra's new dragonriders

Alicent realizes she misinterpreted Viserys' final words

She goes to Rhaenyra with the hope of saving herself and Helaena. She offers Rhaenyra the city, and offers her Aegon's head

Rhaenyra kisses a woman. She's a girl-kisser!

Corlys comes to terms with the damage he did to his two "bastard" sons

Rhaena potentially finds a dragon of her own

Jacaerys contronts Rhaenyra about her infidelity and about the threat he faces as her heir since it is plain for everyone to see that he is a "bastard." Rhaenyra does not understand his concerns because she has never seen him as anything but her son, she has never considered him or thought of him as a bastard. He voices his frustration with her deciding to let Targaryen bastards ride dragons because he questions his worthiness to be King. He struggles to see the difference between him and the other Targaryen bastards

Tyland makes a deal with the Triarchy and gets them to back the Greens

I know I missed some stuff but, just so you know, things did, in fact, happen this season. It was only 8 episodes.

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride Screenshots Chapters 1 to 6

“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.

She shuddered as he leaned over her suddenly, his hands on both sides of her head resting on the pillow, strands of his long hair brushing her face.

“Is there really no desire for revenge in you? To prove him wrong by rejecting you? Don’t you want him to curse the day he left you?” He asked, looking her straight in the eye.

Prince Aemond gave her one sharp glance before mounting his beautiful brown steed, nodding his head for her to do the same. She therefore climbed with lightness and ease onto the black mare standing just beside him and set off at a gallop after him.

She thought with amusement, feeling the wind in her hair, the front strands of which she had braided back, as he did, that she could easily try to escape with such a well-rested horse at her side, knowing her riding skills.

For the first time, however, she wondered why she should return there?

What kind of life awaited her in Runestone?

He didn’t understand what he was doing there – didn’t understand why he was looking at them from afar like a shadow, why he was watching as his hands wandered over her cheeks and neck, as his lips placed soft, butterfly kisses on her lips.

“Do it slowly,” she said, and he obeyed, not caring too much about his presence, eager to please her and to experience fulfilment himself.

He saw her flinch as his hand travelled to her breasts under the thin material of her gown, her fingers tightening on his wrist.

She bit her lower lip, pacing around her room, suddenly getting an idea that was extremely dangerous.

Her cousin was interested in women – this she knew for sure – and after being humiliated by his brother in front of everyone gathered he would certainly not return to the brothel to his lover, whoever she was.

From what she understood, this woman was older than him, giving him fulfilment not only physically, but also purely childlike.

She knew he was weak, but now she also had the certainty that he was miserable.

They climbed one of the peaks, from which they could see clearly in the distance the lying silhouette of Vhagar, the fields, hills and valleys, but not a trace of the dragon. Her cousin pressed his lips together, frustrated.

He thought this would be easier, and the dragon would come to them on its own, she thought with a sneer, but she dared not provoke him, knowing that they were both tired.

“We must turn back. It will be dark soon. We will start tomorrow before sunrise, moving in the opposite direction.” He ordered and she nodded, following obediently behind him, looking around at the familiar landscapes.

She had an advantage over him here, she thought.

She knew these places, she knew these people.

So why didn’t she feel the need to run away?

They both fell to the ground as a large, dark dragon flew over their heads, landing in a valley not far away, burning several sheep beforehand that had tried to flee from it in terror.

They started to run in that direction, clambering down the stones, stopping only when the dragon’s head turned towards them, concerned.

He looked at her and swallowed hard, watching with some kind of admiration as she moved towards the creature, several times her own size, without any hesitation.

A male dragon the size of Meleys, he thought with satisfaction.

He could fight and make a difference, protecting him and Vhagar.

“Lēkia.” He said, as if he had done something definitive, a quiet moan breaking from her throat as his hand closed over her womanhood. “Older brother.”

“Lēkia.” She moaned and whimpered as his lips pressed against hers in an aggressive, loud, sticky kiss full of their saliva and panting, her palm touching his scarred cheek, drawing a low murmur of delight from his throat.

She touched him.

[k-nayee]

CHAPTER 2. ROUSED

❝Your fascination with me will be your death.❞

Tamed M.List

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ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

Meleys' scarlet wings flared in the sky above Driftmark, casting a shadow that swept across the courtyard below.

The dragon's descent was as graceful as it was dramatic—her massive form dipping slowly to the ground.

Down below Laenor and Laena hurried into the pit the moment the Dragon came into sight.

Awoken to the news of the Lord and Lady sudden departure with no say left a burning curiosity and excitement within their children.

The Velaryon siblings brows lift high when they saw Corlys dismounting first.

Him? On a Dragon?

The Sea Snake staggered slightly with a hand pressed to his head as he muttered under his breath, "Never again."

Laenor couldn't but grin. "Father. Still with us after all that?"

Corlys shot him a half-hearted glare causing Laenor and Laena laugh.

Though the sound quickly faded quickly when they saw Rhaenys descending carefully from Meleys.

There was almost an reverent light in her eyes as she held the bundle close to her chest.

Even Meleys lowered her head, her long snout stretching forward until it hovered beside Rhaenys.

The Dragon's amber eyes blinked slowly as her snout nudged close to the small form with a soft huff.

Laena's gaze was riveted at the scene—unable to tear her eyes from the sight of the Dragon showing such gentleness.

"Mother?" Laena asked hushed, half-formed questions caught on her lips.

But before she could say more Rhaenys tilted the cover back just enough for the young girl to see your face nestled among the folds of cloth.

Laena's breath caught as she took in your golden eyes, blinking up at her with wide innocence.

Laenor, noticing his sister's stunned expression, walked over.

His brows knitted in confusion until he looked down and caught sight of you himself causing his mouth to drop open.

"This," Rhaenys's soft voice broke through with warmth evident in her tone, "is your new sister."

Laenor blinked. "Wait. Did...did you and Mother..." he trailed off as he still at a lost for words.

Corlys let out a deep booming laugh, stepping over to clap his son on the back.

"Afraid your mother and I are well past our prime for something like that." He glanced down at you, his gruff features softening. "But for this little bird, I wouldn't mind clearing the nest one more time."

Laena hadn't taken her eyes off you.

Her gaze was unwavering as she took a hesitant step forward, her eyes flicking between her parents.

With a clear of her throat she asked, "Mother, may I...can I hold her?"  Her voice was quieter than usual—uncharacteristically shy.

Rhaenys smiled with a nod as she gently handed you to Laena.

The young girl's hands trembled slightly as she took you, cradling your tiny form with a mix of awe and nervousness.

You blinked up at her cooing softly and Laena's heart melted at the sound.

In that moment Laena felt a new kind of warmth—a protective tenderness blooming in her chest, something that softened her in a way she'd never felt before.

She marveled at how delicate and small you were nestled against her as though you'd always been meant to be there.

'If this is what being a mother feels like' she thought with a flutter of excitement 'then I can't wait.'

She barely noticed Laenor shifting beside her, his own curiosity piqued as he reached out. "Alright Laena my turn."

Laena's expression instantly became guarded. She angles herself away from him and draws you closer.

"Not yet," she replied. "I just got to hold her."

Laenor frowned, stepping forward again with hands outstretched. "Come on Laena don't be selfish. She's my sister too."

But she only stepped back, keeping her gaze on you and refusing to hand you over.

Laenor let out a frustrated huff and stomps his foot. With an indignant glare he turns to his parents.

"Mother! Father! Laena won't let me hold her."

Laena rolled her eyes dramatically. "You're five and ten, a grown man in his own right—and yet here you are whining like a child denied a treat."

Laenor's lips curl flushed, irritation flaring as he glares at his sister.

"I am not whining! You're just hogging her," he shot back, his voice rising. "You've had more than enough time."

"Oh have I?" Laena countered, lifting her chin defiantly. "Maybe I'm the only one of us who knows how to handle a babe properly."

Laenor's frustration simmered as his face twisted. "Oh for the love of—I'm the eldest Laena! She should come to me first! Besides, I know how to hold one just fine! Now give her here Laena!"

Once again Laena refuses, keeping you firmly out of reach as she relished in her brother's upset. "Not a chance. You'll have to wait your turn."

By now the two were fully absorbed in their playful bickering, their voices growing louder as they sparred.

Rhaenys and Corlys exchanged a look of exasperation laced with a hint of amusement.

"Appears we won't have to worry about them accepting her after all," Rhaenys murmured softly, her lips twitching in a half-smile.

Corlys gave a dry, slightly sarcastic huff, watching his children's competitive antics over their new sister.

"Yes," he replied dryly, though a spark of love glinted in his eyes. "How wonderful."

═════════════════˚･:*:★☆༓☆★:*:･˚══════════════════

The light filtered softly through the high windows of Driftmark's learning chamber, casting warm beams across the stone floor.

You sat cross-legged at the center of the room, diligently trying to focus on the scrolls in front of you.

The weighty sounds of the maester's voice droned on—seamlessly reciting grammar in High Valyrian with unrelenting precision.

Unfortunately for him your attention wavered as your gaze drifted to the small window.

Across from you Laena listened in feigned patience, her fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on her skirts.

Laenor sat slouched beside her, his cheek resting on one hand, stifling a yawn as he half-heartedly mimicked the maester's phrases.

Though your place had been legitimized by King Viserys himself, your presence had always been kept relatively hidden.

Life on Driftmark continued quietly when you arrived with little of the Realm knowing your presence in the Velaryon family.

There were no grand feasts, no tournaments or public celebrations to announce your adoption; just a quiet and private ceremony with only your family and close retainers present.

A simple meal, a promise, and the warmth of their voices that bound you as theirs.

You could still recall being held in your mother's arms constantly in those early days.

She'd carried you with her wherever she went until you were too big to manage on her hip.

Not to mention how Laenor and Laena would find any excuse to keep you near.

From taking you along shores to (when they were feeling especially daring) sneaking you along on rides with their Dragons.

Corlys often teased Rhaenys of her and the children's behavior—comparing it to a dog with prized bone.

But even if his love for you wasn't as shown or as intense as theirs, it still ran as deep as the sea itself.

 It didn't take long for you to get used to the rhythm of lessons and family life.

And although you hadn't met many people beyond Driftmark's shores, you'd heard whispers of the events unfolding just beyond the castle walls. 

Laena was nearing the day when she'd leave for her marriage to Daemon Targaryen, The Rogue Prince—a man whose name you'd heard countless times yet never met.

And just three years ago Laenor had married King Viserys' daughter Princess Rhaenyra—the Princess of the Realm.

She too was family you'd never laid eyes on, but you couldn't help but picture her as someone bright and bold as Laenor.

Thinking about that made you feel a little better when dealing with the loss of having him move away from Driftmark.

But luckily Laenor visited often, making the long journey from King's Landing whenever he could to tell you stories of his life and marriage.

Even at six you could see there was something different in the way he spoke about his marriage to Rhaenyra.

They didn't seem to share what your parents had—there was no easy affection or lightness in his voice.

So of course it had come as a pleasant surprise when Laenor announced you'd have a little nephew.

The idea of being an aunt was thrilling even if you had yet to meet him.

You would imagine your big brother holding his child with the same mischief in his eyes as when he teased Laena or snuck you sweets from the kitchens.

You were certain his family must be wonderful, just as he was.

"My Lady!"

The sharp call jolts you from your thoughts and you looked up to find three faces staring at you.

Laenor smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement while Laena raised a brow with barely contained humor. 

The maester however was not so entertained. His brow furrowed deeply as he tapped the table with a bony finger.

"If you'd please focus my lady," he said tightly with barely restrained impatience.

You felt your cheeks heat up, but before you could respond, Laenor let out a small laugh.

"Aye she's off somewhere far away, certainly not here in Driftmark. Meanwhile we're trapped here with endless lectures on Valyrian verb conjugations!" He gave an exaggerated groan, earning him a glare from the maester.

"I assure you," he begins sternly, "if you spent as much time on these studies as you have on your Dragons, you might speak the language more fluently than any maester in the Citadel by now."

"Oh but where would the fun be in that?" Laenor teased as he leaned back with an easy smile. He turns to you, smile widening. "And you...drifting off during Valyrian lessons. What would Mother say?"

You grow upset at his teasing. "You're not even supposed to be here!" You snap with a pout, "Go back to your wife and child and leave me be!"

Laenor holds up his hands in surrender as Laena lets out a small laugh.

"She's not wrong brother. Here you are lounging around like moss on the rocky shores—as if you haven't got fleet to manage. Or better yet, another babe to put in your wife's belly?"

Laenor's smile drops at that and he shoots his sister a look before pulling an ugly face, his tongue sticking out at her. "Ha ha very funny. It's not my fault our dearest sister here loves me more. Her heart grows saddened without my presence. What kind of brother would I be if I left her to suffer?"

He lifts his nose at that while Laena's lip curl into a sneer.

"Love you more? Ha! As if!"

Laenor's smirk widened. "So is..."

Before Laena could jump across the table, the maester's voice cut through the squabble.

"Emāt kostilus!" (Will you both please!)

The room stills. He releases a breath once seeing he had their attention and started to speak once more.

"Now, before I was so rudely interrupted," he shoot a glare at your siblings who avoided his gaze, finding the walls and floors much more interesting. "Lady ____, will you please read the sentence on page two?"

You shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his attention and hesitantly reached out for the study book in front of you.

The leather-bound cover felt soft under your fingertips, the texture grounding you slightly.

"Um..." you began, voice uncertain.

No matter how many times you saw the ancient language, the words still looked foreign, their meanings tangled and jumbled in your mind.

You hesitate. "U-um...D-dorys—" (Kong—)

"No," The maester immediately cut you off sharply with narrowed eyes. "That is not correct. Try again."

You felt a flicker of annoyance at his tone before glancing back at the book.

Usually mistakes didn't bother you this much. But today? Each stumble sent a pang of frustration spiraling through you.

"...D-dorys Aegon—" (Kong Aegon—)

"Dārys Aegon," he corrected curtly. "You're not concentrating. Again." (King Aegon)

Every time the maester interrupted you, every snide remark he made, you could feel the heat building inside slowly.

Why did he have to be so cruel? Why did he make you feel so weak? Underserving of your place?

It was unfair the way he spoke to you—the way he dismissed your efforts as if they meant nothing.

Irritation and helplessness welled up within you and you gripped the edges of the book tightly.

The embarrassment was suffocating, but the anger—it was growing, filling every corner of your chest.

*･:*:★༓★:*:･*

The Dragonpit was a place that held you in thrall, a secret world filled with creatures and power that you couldn't resist.

Every chance you got you'd sneak down here, drawn by a fascination that seemed to root itself deeper each day.

The Dragon handlers had long since noticed your presence but never shooed you away—perhaps recognizing the curiosity that seemed ingrained in any child.

Watching them work with the Dragons felt like watching magic in motion; a language of commands and gestures understood only by those who lived their lives alongside these magnificent creatures.

Nero Fyrehand felt the same way.

Hair as dark as a raven's wing curling messily around his ears and eyes as grey as the billowing storms; the boy of eight stood among the handlers with barely contained excitement.

There was an energy about him, a boldness unusual for his age.

He watched with bated breath held as Lady Rhaenys descended from her Dragon's back, the handlers moving in swiftly to help her dismount.

Other approached cautiously, keeping their distance from Meleys as they began the task of removing the riding gear.

His gaze was fixed on Meleys with a reverence that made him seem older than he was.

She was magnificent—a creature straight out of stories.

Her scales were a rich fiery crimson that almost glowed under the sun.

Her vast leathery wings were powerful, the subtle sheen of pink and gold catching whatever light touched them.

The crown-like array of horns gave her an almost regal majestic look.

She was fierce, the warrior queen among Dragons, her slender facial features giving her a sharp dignified appearance.

He admired her more than words could say.

"Nero!" The stern voice broke through the quiet awe of the scene.

At the call of his name, he looks to see the stern face of his father, his eyes—the same dark hue as Nero's—narrowed in disapproval.

"Do not get too close, especially now," his father warned with a tone edged with seriousness. "She is nearing her incubation period. Gods know who knocked her up, but she won't take kindly to anyone approaching."

Nero waved his father off with a huff, his gaze already drifting back to Meleys.

Dragons had always fascinated him—something about their power, their elegance.

And Meleys? She was special.

She was known for her speed, her fierce loyalty to her rider, her prowess in battles past.

She had been one of the swiftest in her prime and he couldn't help but admire her as the warrior she truly was.

A Dragon worthy of the title "The Red Queen."

As his father turned away to speak with another handler, Nero saw his chance.

His father was too busy, distracted by the conversation and the other handlers were focused on Meleys' gear.

The temptation was too strong—he took a step forward, and then another, inching closer to the now resting Dragon.

It was by luck Nero's father had been a Dragon handler, him soon to become one in his own right.

Being allowed in the Dragonpit at all, permitted to watch and learn when he could—and on rare occasions he was even allowed to help with minor tasks.

Today was not one of those days but that didn't stop him. He couldn't let this chance go to waste.

Quietly he moved with the deliberate grace his father had taught him while avoiding the notice of the handlers.

His heart pounded in his chest as excitement flooded his veins.

He marveled at her sheer size and the beauty of her crimson scales, the way her sharp claws curled into the ground.

Learning the ways of Dragons since he could walk; Nero watched their handlers command them and he knew of the honor it took to stand in the shadow of such power.

Surely Meleys wouldn't mind...not if he approached slowly with respect.

But as he took another step something shifted.

Meleys' tail flicked and her nostrils flared. She had caught his scent.

Nero was too enraptured to notice at first—the scales of her side so close now that he could almost reach out and touch them.

Meleys' eyes snapped open: fierce intelligent orbs narrowing into slits as she fixed him with a chilling precision.

A soft ominous rumble escaped her throat, reverberating through the pit like distant thunder.

Her wings twitched, the leathery membrane pulling taut as she rose to her full height, looking down at him with an intensity that froze him in place.

The handlers noticed her change in posture, their heads snapping up as they registered the threat.

"Inkot!" one of them shouted sharp and quick. (Back!)

Nero's father spun around, his eyes widening as he saw how close his son had gotten.

Panic flashed across his face. "Nero!" he yelled, voice cracking. "Move away from her!"

But it was too late. Meleys' territorial instincts had kicked in, her protective nature stirred by the proximity of the boy.

She shifted into a crouch, her wings lifting slightly as every muscle coiled.

The handlers rushed forward shouting commands in High Valyrian frantically. "Iōrās embrot!" "Pilogon!" (Stand dow! Hold!)

Desperate, Nero's father picked up a nearby rock and hurled it at Meleys in hopes of it diverting her attention.

It only enraged her further.

With a furious roar she lashed out—her massive tail sweeping through the air sending handlers off their feet as she backed Nero into a corner.

Her wings flared and she let out another earth-shaking bellow, the sound so deep and powerful it seemed to shake the very walls around them.

The cries of the men and the sharp commands was drowned out by the Red Queen as she prepared to defend what was hers.

|

|

"...D-dorys Aegon ia Targarien—" (Kong Aegon I Targahryen—)

"Incorrect! It is Dārys Aegon iā Targārien Vezof. Your third month of learning and yet you still have not mastered a single pronunciation." (King Aegon I Targaryen the Conqueror)

You bit back a retort and instead trying to focus, but each correction only frayed your nerves further.

You'd never felt this raw emotion before; a simmering anger that made your pulse quicken.

Laena could sense your frustration as your fingers twitched.

She leaned closer to you, her hand brushing yours lightly. "It's alright. Just take a deep breath and take your time..." she whispered gently, her violet eyes full of quiet encouragement.

The maester's gaze snapped toward her, irritation plainly etched across his face.

"Lady Laena, coddling will not help her learn. She must persevere without such interference," he chastised unforgivingly.

Laena's face darkened. "She is but six and has only recently started her studies this year. You cannot expect—"

"Excuses will get one nowhere my lady." He cuts her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Prince Aemond began and excelled even earlier at the age of four. Regardless of her....origins, to waste the grace of the King's legitimization would be nothing short of ungrateful. Simply bearing the Velaryon name does not equate to true nobility."

Laenor's calm façade cracked as he shot a cold glare across the table.

"I suggest," he said tightly, "that you remember who you're speaking to. She is not some common child to be chastised nor a misbehaving servant."

The maester was unperturbed. His thin lips pressed together. "Perhaps if you spent less time interrupting her lessons, my lord, she might be able to concentrate."

Your hands trembled as a pressure in your chest grew with every word exchanged.

The maester's voice, the arguments around you, the frustration—everything blurred together till the point of pushing you to the edge.

"If she cannot learn the basics how will she—"

"SHUT UP!" 

Words tumbled out like a crack of thunder as you slam your hands down on the table.

The room went deathly silent.

The weight of your outburst hanging thickly in the air; the maester's mouth opened in shock and even Laena and Laenor froze wide-eyed and stunned.

You barely noticed—a surge of heat washed through you and your vision blurred, flashing with molten gold.

As if in perfect response, a thunderous roar ripped through the air, the sound of Meleys's bellowing fury reverberating across the castle grounds.

The sheer force of it sent a shiver through the room, rattling books and casting ripples across the surface of the ink pots on the table.

It was as if her anger mirrored your own—a wild rage that knew no boundaries.

You whipped your head toward the window and without thinking leapt from your seat to see what was happening.

Laenor and Laena scrambled after you with concern flickering over their faces.

Your eyes found the Dragonpit in the distance as smoke and dust curled through the air.

Down below the bright red shape of Meyles loomed large. Her tail thrashing and wings half-spread; her massive form nearing a corner of the pit where handlers shouted commands in panicked High Valyrian.

Laena took in the scene causing a look of dawning horror cross her face.

"Oh gods," she whispered, "the boy...he's too close. He doesn't stand a chance."

Her hand moved to cover your eyes but you couldn't look away.

Just as Laena reached down to shield you, her hand brushed only air.

She blinked in shock, glancing down, and then turned in alarm as she caught sight of your skirts disappearing through the doorway.

"____!"

|

|

Nero pressed himself against the stone wall of the pit as his crying form trembled before Meleys.

His breath came in short gasps as fear finally took hold.

He looked up; her mouth open slightly to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth, her throat glowing brighter as the heat of impending fire radiated from her.

"FATHER!" Nero cries, barely able to process anything but the looming fire-breathing shadow above him. "FATHER PLEASE!"

The boy's shrieks echoed through the pit as he calls out for his father who tries out in vain and shouts commands.

Every handler's shout was ignored; Meleys was deaf to them all—her blazing gaze fixed solely on the intruder who had dared come too close.

Just as the first flicker of fire threatened to spill from her ma—

"Meleys! Lykirī!" (Calm!)

A high-pitched command pierced the air in flawless High Valyrian—carrying a tone one would expect only from a dragon's rider.

Every worker in the pit froze, their heads turning toward the source of the voice.

You stood at the entrance to the Dragonpit as Meleys' blazing gaze snapped away from the boy and locked onto you. 

She froze, her mighty head tilting slightly as you approached.

The handlers stared stunned as you walked forward to meet the Dragon halfway.

She watched you intently with narrowing eyes once you stood before her.

There was no fear in your eyes, only a strange sense of calm as if approaching an old friend.

For a heartbeat there was only silence; her body taut with tension, her nostrils still glowing red.

But then, in an almost reverent movement, she lowered herself to the ground, folding her wings and lying down.

Throat ceasing its fiery glow as she settled, her tail relaxed from its aggressive coil.

Her massive head sank onto her outstretched claws—and with a low rumbling sigh, the last wisps of smoke drifted from her nostrils.

A little ways behind her you spot the boy still cowering against the wall with tear-filled eyes.

Reaching out, you rest a small gentle hand on her snout, your fingers tracing a soothing path along her warm scales.

"There there," whispered softly, your voice barely above a murmur. "You're just tired and cranky that's all..."

Meleys responded with a low deep croon that sent a soft vibration through the stone floor.

She nudged her head into your hand, exhaling a warm breath that tousled your hair as she let out a contented rumble.

Seeing the Dragoness satiated, Nero's father takes his chance to hurry over to his son, grabbing the child into his arms and holding him tight.

But the young boy barely noticed—his still trembling frame taking in the sight of you and Meleys with an indescribable look as he's taken away to safety.

Just then, hurried footsteps echoed as Rhaenys, Corlys, Laenor, and Laena came running into the pit with shaken and tense faces.

They had braced themselves for carnage—a scorched child or a battle-scarred Meleys beyond control.

But instead they came upon a scene none of them could have anticipated.

There you were, standing before the legendary Red Queen, who lay placidly at your feet.

You stroked her snout with a touch as natural as if you'd done it a hundred times while Meleys purred under your hand like a contented cat.

Corlys' jaw tightened while Rhaenys stood frozen in disbelief; their gazes flickered between you and her Dragon.

Meanwhile Laenor and Laena could only exchanged stunned glances, not daring to move or speak.

At that moment you look up upon noticing your family's arrival and beam at them.

"Hi!" you chirped with a toothy grin, your gap-toothed smile radiating innocence.

The sight of your childish joy, so out of place in the scene of soot and smoke, seemed to shock them even further.

Laenor's expression was of confusion as Laena's eyes moved between you and Meleys still struggling to find the right words.

Rhaenys took a hesitant step forward.

"What did you..." she breathes out barely audibly, almost as if she were afraid that speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile peace that had settled in the pit.

Meleys released a contented sigh before her head nudged your side. You laughed and pat her snout again.

"She was just angry," you say simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"You...you saved him. That little boy," Laena whispers as she watches you with wonder. "How?"

You could only give a shrug. "I don't know."

Rhaenys exchanged a glance with Corlys. There was pride mingled with awe, her lips curving into the faintest of smiles.

Laenor, finally breaking free of his shock, lets out a small huff. "Of course. Only you little sister."

At that you give another smile and quickly go back to coddling the fire-breathing beast.

[sylvancastor]

Writing out my preferred way the battle at Rook's Rest should have gone because why not.

The beginning mostly stays the same. Criston signals for Aemond and Vhagar, but Sunfyre arrives first. Aemond sees him fly overhead and is pissed, but he doesn't wait to follow him into battle because he's not an idiot and as much as he wants the crown, he's aware of the intensity of the blow losing Aegon would be to their cause.

Still, Vhagar is slow and has to launch herself off the ground, so Aegon gets their first and has an initial fight with Meleys but Vhagar's quick arrival keeps Sunfyre's injuries from being quite so intense. The two of them attack Meleys side by side, but due to her speed and Rhaenys's expertise, she manages to keep evading them with fairly light damage.

Meleys takes off high into the clouds and Aemond and Aegon follow her. No one can see them from below. Aegon urges Sunfyre to engage directly with Meleys and the two dragons become locked together. Instead of intervening this time, Aemond simply watches as Sunfyre is injured and Aegon cries out for his help. Aemond only watches.

We can see the anger in his eyes. It would be so easy to allow Meleys to kill Aegon and Sunfyre. He could say he did his best, but that Aegon refused to battle carefully. He would be honored after he died and Aemond would become king. Aegon doesn't notice the inaction, too focused on saving Sunfyre and himself. In a desperate move, Aegon unclips one of his restraints to grab the dagger at his side and drives it into Meleys's eye as Rhaenys screams in shock and fury.

Meleys wails and lets go of Sunfyre, dropping out of view. Aegon is triumphant and turns to his brother with a smile. Aemond isn't smiling. We watch as he follows Meleys's descent and decides he's safe for now. He returns his attention to Aegon. It would be so easy to do the deed himself and blame Meleys. He contemplates it only for a split second, but Aegon's face goes from smiling to horror. We think he's understood what Aemond plans to do, but in fact, his eyes are fixed on a sight behind him. Meleys has darted up from behind, mouth open and poised to burn Aemond in his saddle.

Aegon doesn't hesitate. He urges Sunfyre forward and as Meleys breathes out a wall of fire, he throws himself and Sunfyre in front of it to protect Aemond from the blast. Before Aemond can react, Meleys sinks her claws into Sunfyre's chest and pulls him out of sight.

Aemond pursues, but it's too late. Meleys has bit into Sunfyre's wing and Aegon can barely stay in the saddle with his one remaining restraint. Meleys rips her head back breaking off part of Sunfyre's wing and the king and his dragon fall through the air, landing in the forest.

Similarly to the show, Aemond is able to defeat Rhaenys and Meleys on his own after Aegon's fall.

Later on, we learn the only reason Aegon was able to survive was the one remaining restraint held him to the saddle but allowed him to slide off to the side enough to evade some of the dragonfire. He's still burned and in pain. He sacrificed himself for his brother and Aemond can't betray him now. Not when he owes his brother a life debt, not when he's seen how deeply Aegon loves him. He becomes Prince Regent and reconciles himself to forever protecting his brother from this point forward.

[bl00dlight]

Since we've seen the leaks already, what do you think this, and the season as a whole, says about Aemond's character? I really don't want to see him as a villain or someone who's inherently bad, I don't want to think of him as someone who doesn't care about other people besides himself; but some of those comments I see from other people are a little discouraging. What do you think of it/of him?

This is an ask I've thought ALOT about.

I think ultimately- yes Aemond is a villain. But I don't think he is INHERENTLY bad. Unfortunately alot of people online legitmately have no ability to properly analyse characters. That's not saying I'M the best at it, but I've noticed how Aemond's arc has gone over most people's heads. Which is partially the writers fault.

So - basically, yes Aemond is villainous, but he wasn't born that way. He is essentially the product of his environment, I'm gonna break this down into the leaks and his overall arc so far.

This is going to be alot. Buckle in.

LEAKS -

I'm hoping there are more scenes between Helaena and Aemond to give context to their reltionship. But personally, there is SO MUCH between them which, feels like it's gone unexplored and is coming to a head very suddenly?

First of all, Aemonds actions in Helaena's chambers is the result of two things

SCENE 1) Fear, he is terrified about the fact the Blacks have a FUCK load of dragons now. Aemond has just been confronted with the very possible reality, he may indeed be fucked. He's spent his entire life building this shield mentally and physically - Vhagar is apart of that shield. As far as he was aware, nothing could touch him, no one could stop him and so far - he's been right. The whole reason why the Blacks haven't bothered using their Dragons to attack King's Landing is the fact that Vhagar would fucking destroy them.

Blacks

Greens.

And THEN once Daemon fucks off and Rhaneys dies?

So... basically so far? Yea, Aemond was unstoppable. He was riding ALLLLL of this ego, pride, power he had suddenly been given - everything that he wanted? He finally feels respected, above fear, and most of all in control. Now I've been saying for ages Aemond is a Valyrian supremacist despite many people disagreeing. But I was right (thanks Ewan) - so compounded with the fact he thinks he is basically Targaryen Jesus. He is this scorned boy, who rose from the ashes and is taking charge. He thinks himself the embodiment of Targaryen supremacy, ultimate power without weakness.

You gotta remember he is a character driven by ego, driven by rising above fear, he doesn't ever want to feel like he did as a kid, ever again. Which is why he tries to kill Aegon? Aegon put him in a position where suddenly Aemond was right back in that place. So he reacted with the ONLY thing he KNOWS works, the only way he knows he can remind people, remind AEGON, that he is not weak, he is not dangerous- and most importantly; HE is important and won't be overlooked. And what is that? Violence.

But once he sees the Dragonseeds? He feels that fear again, the most fear he is probably ever felt. And he is suddenly faced with something that he has been avoiding his entire life; the idea that he might be fallible, that he might lose. Because it's one thing taking on a set of small dragons, who as we saw with Meleys - who was the SECOND LARGEST dragon they had - basically you can't do shit if Vhagar is after you. And on top of that, Rhaneyra is the Queen - so she is unlikely to fight. So who does that leave excluding Daemon? Jace and Baela, who ride dragons around the size of Arrax. And both of them are far less proficient at riding than Aemond.

But now? From Aemond's perspective?, once the Blacks get those Dragonseeds, the war looks like this;

Basically? Aemond is on his own. And now he is facing two VERY large dragons - one being FUCKING VERMITHOR.

So all that power Aemond once has is gone in an instant. And on top of that? Aemond who has thought himself above everyone else because he is a Targaryen, that he is SUCH a Targaryen he managed to claim VHAGAR (QUEEN VISENYA'S WAR DRAGON MIND YOU???) when he was like 12/13?

And now? Now he sees a bunch of common folk bastards on dragons. On large, old - TARGARYEN dragons who are sacred. They are literally viewed as Gods. Imagine how big of an ego blow that is for him? He has just learnt that holy fuck.... maybe I'm not as special as I think I am. But he hides that through bigotry, by claiming its an abomination of their heritage.

So when we see Aemond approach and grab Helaena - it's not done because he has no care for her, in fact his dialogue is about that very idea. He is terrified, hurt and desperate. Technically? He is right, Helaena rides a fairly large dragon. He NEEDS her. He has no other option but to try and force her? Without it they are fucked big time. And so what does he do? But Helaena DENIES HIM. She reinforces what he feels is his powerlessness, so what does he do? Resort to violence.

If you listen to what he says to Alicent, it proves he does care for Helaena. But he is so angry that Alicent has put them all in this position of weakness, that basically started this war with Rhaenyra and now? Won't even back up her own children out of fear. Aemond doesn't want Helaena to be weak, because he knows that will get her killed. He literally says it

"How am I going to protect her if she can't protect herself?"

He means that, because now there is a possibility Aemond might die. And then what? Who will protect Helaena if not herself?

People forget Aemond is deeply dysfunctional, I think it completely makes sense for him to impulsively hurt Helaena. Because his intention isn't to abuse her - it's done out of fear.

In the same way, Daemon doesn't grab Rhaenyra's neck to hurt her - it's done because he feels powerless. Parallels. None of this is to JUSTIFY their actions, violence against women is violence against women. But, people are forgetting that both Daemon and Aemond are men who feel weak, fragile, unloved - and the only way they've been taught to get what they want is through violence.

I'm hoping we get some scenes before this one with Helaemond, because it's clear Helaena doesn't fear Aemond when he comes in. She seems quite comfortable and casual telling him she is going to bed. It's not until he makes his demand do we see her retaliate. And again? To Aemond it doesn't fucking matter anymore if Helaena doesn't want to kill anyone, because if she doesn't help - they'll all die. It's a matter of life or death at this point. And that ALSO triggers Aemond big time, because if he can die? That means he is infallible. He is desperate and now the only person whom seemingly understood him to some degree, is turning away.

SCENE 2) Now on the balcony we see everything I just said, manifest itself. He approaches her, gently and he says this (let's break it down)

We share the same blood you and I.

This is not just about the fact they are siblings - this is about the fact they are dragonriders. 'The Blood of the Dragon' - it's interesting because Aemond doesn't view all his relatives in that way. He certainly doesn't view his brother or his nephews like that. Not from the way he speaks about them. As if they are below him. But not to Helaena. To him, she is the same as him - which is a recurring theme with the Targaryens, they don't view themselves as humans in the same way other Houses do. They view themselves as literally part dragon. It's a deep, ancestral connection that only THEY share, only THEY can understand.

And he wants her to know that, despite what he did - he didn't do it to harm her, but because of his blood - the same blood in her. He is sort of appealing to her understanding what drives him, it's absolutely a piss poor excuse to hurt her but basically he is saying "We are the same, you know why I did what I did. You know what my drive is, what my purpose is. You know I'm not a monster like Alicent thinks I am"

Which leads us to -

I know you wish no harm to anyone. But in a time like this? When the good of the realm depends on us?

So here he declares he knows she doesn't want to hurt others and that he doesn't want to make her do that. It's manipulative- he is basically trying to persuade her into thinking it's for the good of realm. That he wants her to fight to save herself and others. That at the moment, yea the Greens are fucked.

Basically he needs her. He needs her more than ever.

Our mother is not a dragonrider. She cannot understand that you and I have a truer call to heed.

But HERE, here is where it gets interesting and he plays his hand. Right now, Alicent and everyone else around them think he is a fucken bull blown monster. And he is desperately trying to connect with his sister - the one person who he knows hasn't seen him in that light. That's why she asks him if it was worth the price?

She has time and time again assumed the good in Aemond. And we can see that from the little moments, when she strokes his arm in the dragonpit, when she claps for him when he makes the speech at the dinner. We even know that Helaena feels safe/ feels that Aemond has good in him because Phia has literally stated that, Helaena probably feels safer with Aemond, more seen and understand. That they share an affinity.

And the two of them are also the ones who have been the MOST dutiful, they both have committed their lives to their mother. They share a greater cause.

And so Aemond? Who has felt so deeply isolated ESPECIALLY IN SEASON 2, is going to his sister, fully bare in his vunerablity, and saying "No one understands us. Alicent is a Targaryen, she doesn't get the blood we share or our desires. She doesn't get why have a destiny that is greater.)

And it's SPECIFIC, he is saying YOU AND I. He means it, that he legitmately believes he and Helaena share this destiny. In fact? We saw it when she was a kid? When he defended Helaena from Aegon, his defence was that she is their sister and going to be a Targaryen Queen who keeps their line pure.

Aemond is basically saying, "You're my equal and I need you beside me so we can take what is ours."

Come with me? To Harrenhal? We will lay waste to Daemon and his army, let our enemies see that we will answer outrage, with outrage.

Again, reinforcing what I just said. It's important to note he begins to tear up here, that he is completely vunerable before her. He feels alone, weak, and misunderstood. So he is going to her, sort of like a child goes to their mother for comfort/help. He wants her to turn around and validate him, to make him feel strong and righteous. He wants her to make HIM feel better, so even though he probably does feel guilty and remorse for hurting her. He can't express that in any other manner other than asking for her to help him. Because he doesn't know how to help other people.

This whole speech is very reminiscent, and what I ASSUME is a parallel to when Rhaenyra asks Daemon to join her against the Greens/marry her.

I need you, Uncle. I cannot face the Greens alone. Let us bind our blood...But you and I, are made of fire. We have always been meant to burn together.

It's a vunerable moment, and again it touches on the same ideas Aemonds does to Helaena. The idea that there are enemies who are undeserving of the crown, and that Rhaenyra needs DAEMON NOT just because she loves him - but because they share this deep understanding of one another. They are equals. They share the same blood and therefore it's destined that they do this together.

So? Yes. Aemond does legitmately care for Helaena- even if there is manipulation involved, he isn't manipulating her anymore than Rhaenyra did to Daemon.

It's real for Aemond, he truly believes this - and he is desperate enough to be this vunerable. We see him try to grab her arm and then pull away. There is a level of intimacy between them, or at least intimacy HE feels.

And so when she rejects his plea, when she ASSUMES THE WORST, assumes that he would burn her - its basically telling Aemond that she doesn't understand him. She isn't the same.

And we literally see Aemond begin to tear up even more. Because now he feels even more misunderstood and isolated. So again? He goes into his defences - into the only thing he knows how to do - violence.

But he doesn't hurt her. He threatens her, very softly by the way? It's not a real threat, it's another desperate power move to force her into submitting. Because he is rapidly feeling all that power, all that strength slip away from him. And now he knows that he will die and Aegon will be King again.

And instead of rectifying that his ambition will be the death of him, he tries to silence her.

Now it's hard to separate Targaryenism from the sexual/romantic element. So I mean, the people online who are really pushing the idea that Helaemond is toxic and Aemond is innately evil is really misinterpreting what's actually going on.

First of all, Helaemond was always toxic, this is GRRM's work - name one couple which isn't toxic. Even Corlys and Rhaenys were toxic let's be REALLLLL.

Second of all, sometimes... just sometimes abusive people such as Aemond - are not innately evil. Sometimes they are victims themselves who have internalised that trauma and enact abuse onto others. That doesn't justify his actions, but it gives context into actually understanding how a character like him devolves into genocide. How he goes from the boy from s1 to the man who is basically a Targaryen fascist.

And as for Helaena? Well, she isn't exactly well adjusted. And she is entirely a victim 1000%, but in that scene - we see her shut down. Instead of trying to appeal to Aemond in a way which might subdue him, she basically says every single thing which she knows will make it worse. And yea, Helaena knows it will make things worse. She too is enacting cycles of a different kind of abuse. Which is disconnection, neglect. Why? Because she has experienced the same trauma as Alicent.

Helaena is kind, she is caring but she doesn't have the tools to attempt to manage someone like Aemond. So she turns away from him. She reinforces his greatest fears, because to her? It doesn't matter. Nothing is really real. She is able to disconnect and stop caring because she knows the outcome, she knows it's meaningless so she doesn't even try. She knows that the Greens don't matter and their line dies out. So, why bother trying to soothe Aemond if for all she knows, their fate is sealed.

But to Aemond? He doesn't have the insight of the end. To him its all happening right now, it all matters and he is scared and alone. He is trying to reach out to his sister, who isn't there anymore. And he doesn't fully understand Helaena knows everything. He doesn't understand that Helaena is basically so traumatised by her own life and what she has seen- that she dosent care.

To him, she is hurting him, she is abandoning him.

Remember that these characters are like 18-20 max. They are not developmentally mature. And they are traumatised.

So as for Aemond's arc?

I think it all makes sense. However the writers have done a piss poor job this season of ACTUALLY exploring this properly. I've gone through it in previous posts how I think the writers should've handled Aemond early on in this season to build up to this. But basically, all the ingredients are there, they just haven't put them in right to get the proper pay-off. So it all feels very rushed and very sudden. And it would've been 10000x more impactful if instead of mindless Alicole scenes and Harrenhal hallucinations - and yea the brothel scenes the way they were done... ehhhhh they could've done better at establishing that.

But anyway, what we should've gotten is scenes between the Green siblings/family - that show thr dynamic which has set Aemond over the edge.

And we should have seen Aemond and Helaena earlier on which is the catalyst to him going full psycho - when finally even she turns away from him.

[florisbaratheons]

Frankly, the stars of the episode were Olivia, Tom, Fabien, and Eve.

Olivia's performance in the scene with Aegon, she really made me believe that Alicent absolutely hated her child. Olivia killed it. And Tom reaction to her words and her emotions. The way his forehead crinkled up when he realized that his mother hates him. Absolutely devestating.

Fabien did an incredible job bringing to life Criston's horror at what was unfolding and how he was the cause of it. And then Criston finding a broken and mutilated Aegon, the face acting he did. I could feel the devastation coming off the screen. You know Criston is going to blame himself for that, and it's going to take him a while to put the pieces together that Aemond, the kid he raised, tried to murder his own brother.

And Eve...damn. I was sobbing when Rhaenys and Meleys looked at each other for the last time. Even tho Rhaenys' death was pure cartoon, Eve's amazing performances saved it. She gave her all for her final ride.

[starogeorgina]

Children of the dragon

Warnings: Incest

Pairing: Aegon ii Targaryen × Targ oc

1.08

“I’ve simply come as a messenger. Aegon will bend the knee to his rightful queen.”

“A trick!” Daemons hisses while pointing the tip of his sword, dark sister, to your throat. “My brother was slain, and now your usurper cunt of a king has sent you here in some ploy. Why else would you come?”

The moment Dallax landed on the beach at Dragonstone, you were surrounded by knights. In truth, you thought it was a miracle your dragon didn’t live up to this reputation as a man eater and bathe all of those who threatened you in fire before devouring them. It was most likely the presence of Meleys that kept your own dragon in check. The knights escorted you and your two daughters, who clung to you tightly inside the castle, to be brought to your furious uncle.

“To show where our loyalties lie.” Still holding Alina’s hand, you push her behind you protectively while Alyssa buries her face into your side, scared. Daemon watches these actions carefully. He slowly lowers his weapon, his eyes fixated on your young girls. You clear your throat, relieved that he had no intentions of hurting them. “We put our support behind the rightful heir to the throne, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

“I assume you have your own reasons for abandoning the greens.” He eyes you suspiciously, obviously not believing you came for genuine reasons. He looks you up and down once more and asks, “Where is Prince Aeron?”

A pain aches in your chest at the mention of your son, remembering how you sobbed uncontrollably in the dragon pit as Aegon straps your daughters in. It was only with his persuasion that you agreed to leave without him, knowing that you had no other choice. Before you could answer, Princess Rhaenys appeared with a hint of smugness on her face. “Yes, the young prince did look rather ill when I saw him during your brother's coronation.”

With your heart hammering on your chest, your eyes well with tears. “Aeron was there?”

The older woman nods and says, “I must admit I was surprised. When Meleys burst through the dragonpit, interrupting the wrongful coronation of your brother, your husband only sought to protect himself, while Aegon snatched your son from his grandmother's arms and screamed at Ser Criston to take him somewhere safe. The young prince is very lucky to have an uncle who is so protective of him.”

Daemon raises his brows at the comment. You both knew what she was alluding to. The fear you felt before was quickly turning to anger, and Dallax sensed it as well. Letting out a loud screech before breathing fire into the air, causing Daemon to raise his sword once more.

“You had the opportunity to kill half our knights when you landed, weakening our army. Why didn’t you take it?” Daemon snaps.

“I’ve already told you, I’m here to put mine and Aegon’s support behind the rightful queen.” You hold his glare. “I’d like to speak to my sister; I will explain everything to her directly.”

“My wife is unviable at the moment.”

“I’ll wait.”

Rhaenys gives the prince a knowing look, then continues for him. “The stress of your father's death and the crown being stolen from her has sent Rhaenyra into labor.”

Oh. You didn’t know what to say. Rhaenyra's baby wouldn’t possibly be able to survive being born so early. Your silence seems to offend the prince more. He storms towards a number of his knights and hisses at them before disappearing into the castle's archway. The knights, in turn, snatch your daughters from you, causing you to kick and scream, trying your best to fight them off. “Daemon! Daemon! Please, no, not my babies! Please don’t!”

Alyssa and Alina’s cries fill your ears until you’re pulled far enough in the opposite direction that you no longer hear them.

—

Pacing back and forth inside a small room with no window, you hold the sleeves of your dress to your face, breathing heavily while trying to compose yourself. Princess Rhaenys told you through the door that no harm would come to your daughters, but her words did little to calm any fears you had for their safety.

You had been branded a traitor, which terrified you. Your sister could have you beheaded or burned alive, meaning she’d take the life of your unborn baby. Although you didn’t believe Rhaenyra to be a kinslayer, the grief of losing a child could drive her to madness.

There would be no turning back for you if you were in her position.

Suddenly feeling breathless, you sit down on the small bed. Your baby was kicking up a storm, causing sharp pains in your bladder. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on happy memories.

You were enjoying a variety of different fruits for breakfast in the garden when Aeron tugged on the bottom of your gown, gaining your attention. “Uncle promised to teach me how to hold a sword properly,” your son informed you. “Then he’s going to take me riding on Sunfyre!”

“Did he now?” You ask, beaming at Aegon, who just shrugs, clearly amused by Aeron’s excitement.

It warmed your heart to see how much effort Aegon made with your children, and it eased the guilt you felt about having an affair. Aemond believed Aeron was his son and never once offered to take him riding on Vhagar. At this point, you’d probably refuse if he did want to take him. You smile brightly as the wet nurse appears, holding both of your daughters in her arms. You stand immediately to help take the weight off by taking Alina into your arms.

“Hi, sleepy girl,” you coo gently, kissing the top of her head. “Did they feed well?”

The wet nurse nods and says, “They both took plenty of milk, princess.”

She seems slightly taken aback when Aegon approaches her with his arms outstretched, indicating he wants to take the baby from her arms. She hands him Alyssa, whose small face has scrunched up in anger from being woken by the movements.

“Thank you. See to it that the cook gives you a good, clear wine to drink along with a hot meal.”

The wet nurse agrees, then excuses herself, addressing yourself, your brother, and your mother, whose facial expression had been sour the entire time. Since the rumors of the relationship between you and your brother began to resurface, she has been watching you like a hawk. Of course she knew the truth; your mother was no fool and probably knew it would happen before it did. That was why she tried to keep you and Aegon apart.

Your mother lets out a huff, saying, “I’ll hold her so you can finish eating.”

“We won’t be going anywhere unless you finish all your breakfast; dragon riders can’t fly on an empty stomach; otherwise, it makes them sick,” Aegon says in a more authoritative tone.

Aeron starts to finish his breakfast, and your mother smiles at Alina softly before shaking her head. Despite your mother's judgements, you enjoyed moments like this, watching your mother stares lovingly at her granddaughter while Aegon fusses over his daughter and son.

Fresh tears roll down your cheeks as you think of your family, silently praying you'll get to see them again.

—

It was nightfall before Prince Daemon arrived to talk to you, bringing food and water with him. He sits them down on a small table next to the bed before scoffing, “You’ll be happy to know your children are fine.”

Thank the gods. Your eyes well up with relief. You desperately wanted to ask to see them, but you knew he would refuse. You hold the cup of water in your hand but hesitate to drink it when you notice your uncle watching you so intensely.

He rolls his eyes and says, “If I wanted to kill you, I'd just do it. I wouldn’t go through the effort of poisoning you; I’d just slit your throat or feed you to Caraxes.”

“Good to know,” you say before gulping a mouthful down. “How is Rhaenyra?”

His face falls, silently answering the question you were too afraid to ask. The baby hadn’t survived.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s your usurper cunt of a king and venomous mother's fault that we lost our daughter. I intend to make them burn for what they have done.”

Before you can choke down your words, you snap in your lover’s defense, “You know nothing of what transpired since my father's death. Aegon has no desire to sit on the throne, but he couldn’t refuse-” Daemon lets out a chuckle before pretending to inspect his nails, obviously uninterested in what you have to say, which only fuels the fire building inside you. Enraged, you stormed towards him, only stopping when he was close enough to feel your breath on his face. “My children would have been slaughtered like pigs if he had not followed our mother's orders.”

Daemon’s glare causes you to take a step back; his fingers grip tightly to the hilt of his sword, dark sister. His jaw clenches. “What?”

“My mother got to Aeron before I did; she was planning on locking me up as well; she knew Aegon would leave with me. We had always said that when the time came, we would fly to Dragonstone and bend the knee to Rhaenyra. We’ve always known what our mothers and grandsire’s intentions were but tried to deny them, refusing to accept the fates we have chosen for ourselves.”

The demon’s hand falls to his side. “If we accept you into our home, how do we know you won’t switch sides? Scurry back off to the keep and tell the greens everything you’ve learned.”

The simple question makes you feel as if the air has been knocked from your lungs. You sit back down as your hand rubs at your bump, feeling the baby's feet kick as you do. “My own mother took my firstborn, Aeron, my only son, as a hostage to keep my brother from leaving.” Your eyes sting as tears spill down your face. “Aeron, Alina, and Alyssa have all been fathered by Aegon. She knows this, and she knows what will happen when Aemond finds out. Aegon sitting on the throne was the only way she wouldn’t say anything.”

“So the plan was to come here with the hopes we’d help you? A dangerous gamble to take.”

“Yes, so I’m begging for your help, uncle, yours and Rhaenyras.” It irritates you to see a slight smugness on your uncle's face. He was hurting greatly on the inside, but it wasn’t an excuse to take pleasure in how desperate you were. “When it comes to it, both Dallax and Sunfyre will fight for the blacks.”

His eyes twitched with curiosity. “Why would we need to fight if Aegon bends the knee?”

“Do you seriously think my mother, grandsire, and all those lords who don’t want a woman on the throne will just accept Aegon bending the knee to Rhaenyra? They want a male heir on the throne.”

He looks down at the ground, confused for a moment, before his eyes suddenly shoot back up with a look of realization on his face. “They will want Aemond to wear a crown.”

When your tears stop, you let out a dark chuckle. “On my wedding night, my mother said to me, ‘You poor clueless girl. Aemond would continue to fight for his family with you by his side, but Aegon? He would give it all up if he thought that’s what you wanted.’ She always knew this was a possibility, but still she pushed for my brother to be a usurper.”

“How long does the pretender intend to wear my wife’s crown?”

You ignore his insult and answer his question, “Soon as my son’s fever is down and Aegon is able to get him alone. He will send me a raven beforehand to let me know if he’s coming directly here or elsewhere first.”

“Why wouldn’t he come right here and bend the knee?”

“The moment they leave the keep, Aemond will likely figure it out. He is unpredictable. Aemond might chase after him, and Sunfyre is no match against a war-hardened dragon.”

Without saying anything else, Daemon turns to leave, keeping the door open. “I suppose you’ll want to see your girls, unless you’d rather stay here.”

Rolling your eyes, you get to your feet.

Before you leave the room, Daemon stops you with his arm and says, “You best hope Aegon writes to you soon.”

—

The next day, Aegon sent you a raven from an unknown location; he had fled during the night on the back of Sunfyre.

Ser Criston was tasked with spying on him, and he was pretty sure he saw him entering the dragon pit carrying Aeron, but the knight knew better than to go among the dragons if he wanted to live. No doubt he immediately reported this to your mother, who would have informed Aemond, but what version she gave him was anyone’s guess.

All of this meant that the blacks would need to act fast; if a vengeful Aemond sat on the throne, it would be an all-out war.

[fictonrantsworld]

What i like about this is that while alicent is staring down at meleys, if youll look closer, she kind of comforts aegon by patting his arm then kinda just pushes him back so she is in front. Aegon also putting his arm back as if moving blackfyre away so it wont hurt alicent, but it can also be interpreted as him putting his arm in front of his sibilings and then he kinda realizes that theyre a bit far away. Then otto facing off meleys like i aint of afraid, aemond also being like his grandfather.

Then u kinda see how, right after alicent gets infront of him, aegon kinda tries to move forward (for like a sec), but alicent moves again infront of him.