#she ran the kingdom you inherited

[brainrotcharacters]

Odysseus really pulled "would you still love me if I was a worm" on his wife of +20 years

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

For the jace and baela scene, reader could be a Tyrell or dornish? I saw that you liked them. I want her to be light and sweet and compassionate, but able to hold jace’s character.

When I saw this scene in the leaks, I had to re-write it...and add the cuteness the show did not

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

—

Jacaerys had not been present when Rhaenyra's great plan turned into a carnage. His hatred for the dragonseeds was so strong you fear he would have taken a small pleasure watching them burn. 

A shiver ran down your back at the images. 

You thought it was cruel of the Queen to block the doors when Vermithor blazed fire on the dragonseeds who tried to get inside. But you understood Rhaenyra’s decision. There were other dragons on the island. Wild ones. These people all had a drop of Valyrian blood in them. They could claim one of the wild dragons...and turn on her — as Jacaerys feared. 

By eliminating them, it lessened the chances of someone claiming a wild dragon and using it against her.

After a bearded man named Hugh finally claimed Vermithor, you went looking for your betrothed. He was not outside with Vermax, nor in his chambers. 

Noticing the frown on your brows and your pacing in the corridors, a guard informed you that he saw the prince heading to the library hours ago. You thanked him, and found Jacaerys sitting at a table with a hoard of books around him. He must have come here when he saw the dragonseeds arriving on Dragonstone. 

From your angle, you could see a pout on his lips as he rested his head on his fist. His back was to you, so he didn’t see you come in. 

‘’It does not befit a prince to pout.’’ Your tone was teasing and light, contrasting to his sulking.

‘’I’m not pouting,’’ Jacaerys denied, not moving. 

You took the stack of books from the chair next to his and set it on the table so you could sit on the chair. ‘’What would you call it, then?’’ You raised a brow and poked his pushed out lips.

It usually put his pouting to an end, but his face stayed icy. ‘’I’m reading,’’ he said, turning the page of the book before him. 

‘’While your mother waits?’’ 

He ignored your question, still upset and bitter about the bastard dragonseeds.

A part of you understood Rhaenyra's desire for wanting riders for the two unclaimed dragons. She never thought it would be possible, but Adam of Hull proved to her that the Valyrian blood in bastards was strong enough to claim Seasmoke. Having more dragons on her side will benefit her against the Greens and Vhagar.

But another was aching for Jacaerys. He was made fun of all his childhood for his non-Valyrian features, and these bastards were praised for succeeding in claiming a dragon. 

‘’You’re angry,’’ you stated, rubbing his back in an attempt to sooth him. 

You’ve been comforting him a lot lately, but nothing you knew seemed to work today. 

Jacaerys finally turned to look at you, his eyes hard from his anger. ‘’Aren’t you?’’ 

You released a breath. ‘’I don’t see what good it would do.’’

‘’They are insults to us. To what makes us Targaryen. If any common lout can ride a dragon, then—’’ 

‘’That does not make you common!’’ 

In the year and half you had known Jacaerys, it was striking to you that he had nothing of a common-born. He was raised as royalty, and educated like a prince — an heir. He was well-behaved, silver tongued, and the son of Queen Rhaenyra. He carried her royal blood. 

He glanced at you again, then turned away to stare at the table. ‘’You know what I am…’’ 

‘’I don’t care,’’ you said truly. 

In Dorne, bastards were not looked down upon the way they are in the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. But they did not inherit from their parents the same as their legitimate children. They were acknowledged, cared after, but never allowed to claim a crown or title that had not been given to them. 

‘’You are the crown prince,’’ you continued, ‘’the son of the rightful Queen, and here you are sulking because you believe that if not for the dragon, or the trappings of your station, that you are nothing.’’ You took Jacaerys’ hand in yours, chuckling lightly. ‘’Do you believe you are the first noble heir who was not sired by his noble father? Such is the way of the world, Jace, and in resenting it, you only diminish yourself.’’

Jacaerys leaned his head back on the chair, still pouting. ‘’Easy enough to say. I’ve heard the whispers the whole of my life.’’ You could hear the deep rooted trauma and scars in his voice. 

‘’Then prove to them that you are worthy. Get up and take your place by your mother’s side. You and she had your differences lately, but she’ll never replace you by one of them. No one can replace a mother's first son.’’ 

He was silent for a few moments, staring at the ceiling of the dark library, and took in your words. No one can replace a mother's first son. She had him when she herself was a child. There was no one she loved more than him. 

Jacaerys turned to face you, his eyes softening. Your reassurances made him see reason. He was still upset, but he found comfort in your words. 

He gripped your hand, and pulled you close. Closeness was his way of finding comfort. When you were settled upon his lap, his hands went to your hips, holding you against him. 

Even then, you noticed he was still pouting. You thought the gesture was utterly cute, but you wouldn’t tell him that. 

You gently tilted his head to look at you and leaned down to kiss him. ‘’No more pouting.’’

—

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[girlwiththoughts13]

The Blackest Green

Aemond Targaryen x F!reader/ Daemon Targaryen x F!reader

Warnings: Incest/ P in V /infidelity/ Age-gap/Minor breeding kink/

Word count: 4k

~~~~~

Aemond Targaryen was an intellectual. The cost of being the object of his elder brother and young nephews jests, was that there was no place he could turn to. With no dragon, no companions, no love, his studies of the histories, his mother tongue and his extensive training with the sword, soothed the ache of his inadequacy.

As well as the shameful lusting of his half-sister Rhaenrya's child. He couldn't recall when he developed these feelings for the girl but he knew he resented himself for it. She was the only one of Rhaenrya's children that inherited valyrian features. Sliver hair that you always wore in a simple braid in order to allow the rest of your locks to flow long down your back, striking violet eyes that looked straight through anyone who gazed into them. You were a mystery to him. He couldn't tell whether you were a bastard or the true born daughter of Laenor, as it seemed Rhaenyra had made you all on her own. However, your beauty went beyond your mother's, it was fact in his mind that no one would ever be able to compare. When you smiled or your eyes met his, his chest burned, his heart attempting to free itself from the confines of his chest and jump into your hands. Regardless, you were the enemy to Aemond and he would not allow himself to fully indulge in these sinful thoughts, your brothers were menaces and although you never participated in his humiliation he had no doubt you were just as savage as the rest of them.

After his eye was taken his hatred grew for Rhaenrya and her bastard children, but as much as he tried, this hatred did not extend to you. To compensate for the immeasurable loss and to eliminate any strife between the families a marriage pact between Aemond and Rhaenrya's daughter was made. Although deep down they all knew that this would not uphold the weight of the growing divide.

You were allowed to journey back to Dragonstone with the rest of your family, only being 10 summers old, it was agreed that you would not wed until you flowered.

That day came at the age of 5 and 10. On the dock leading to your ship, Your mother, the crowned heir stood tall in front of you, looking to you as the great leader you knew she'd be. But you could tell by her misty eyes and the slight tremble in her movements, sending you away to the greens was breaking her heart as it was yours. It was not your desire to leave and be thrown to the wolves who would surely tear you apart for the blood that ran through your veins.

"You must be strong, my girl, you are my heir, the future queen of the seven kingdoms, don't forget that and don't let them forget it either" You nodded hastily as she brought you into a tight embrace. Over her shoulder you locked eyes with your step-father Daemon who had fought very hard to break this betrothal but to no avail. His hand rested on the pommel of Dark sister knuckles white with tension. Daemon had spent these many years on Dragonstone teaching you.. about everything. He said it was to prepare you for the land you would one day rule. He gave you a curt nod which you knew was his way of saying goodbye without all the sentiments. Rhaenrya slowly detached herself from you in a way that let you know she didn't want to. She brought her hand to your check and softly stroked the skin there, staring deeply into your eyes to commit you to memory. There was a very real possibility she would not be seeing you for years to come.

"We won't be there for the ceremony but I'll be in here every step of the way, I promise" She rested her free hand on your heart as a tear slid down your face.

"Goodbye mother"

Being married to the one-eyed prince was not at all the death sentence your brothers had made you to believe it was. It was simply fine. Your arrival to kingslanding was well received and your wedding celebrations were beautiful. No expense was spared for the favorite child of Queen Alicent, no matter how insignificant his station was as a second son. Somewhere along the lines you and Aemond found a way to coexist in peace..in a semblance of care. You would break your fast together, watch him train, ride your dragons and perform your martial duties. Marriage had at last allowed Aemond's heart to open the door to the room that was always meant for you. He knew that you cared for him but it was your love he was after and he had no doubt he'd successfully receive it one day. In the one year you were married your womb did not bare the evidence of his seed, however, he had much fun with the process of conceiving a babe, therefore there were no complaints from him. He instead took this time without children to learn about you as you were. Your favorite color, flower, time of day. You would humor him only when you felt like It; you were greedy with your time and attention, mainly spending that with your grandsire. When he died it broke your heart you had much love for the man and would visit him regularly. But there was an eagerness to ride and alert your mother yourself of her new title of Queen.

One tug at the locked doors of your chamber and you knew what you tried so hard to ignore. Mere hours later Aemond entered your chambers, you wasted no time rushing over to him before he even fully closed the door, grabbing his lapels and pulling him close.

"Tell me what has happened and don't lie to me" Tears were already pressing against the back of your eyes.

"Viserys is dead" Aemond turned into the fearsome man that everyone knew him as, cold and unyielding. "Aegon will be his successor" The moment the words left his lips you released your hold and let out a sharp gasp as if someone had knocked the air from your lungs. "He will be crowned before the masses as his family stands behind him-loyally" You look up at his insinuation that you'd ever support that drunken fool. A scoff escapes you.

"Do you think I will stand behind a usurper? My mother is the rightful Queen and I her heir" Your voice gaining more volume as you spew the proclamations.

He hand reaches out for your arm, pulling you harshly to him "You're my wife, you will stand beside me, without argument" Though you give no further fight, you rip your arm away and turn toward the bed. Aemond lets you go, granting you some reprieve.

Unlike Princess Rhaenys you were not able to escape. Aemond was highly paranoid and had kept you with him at all times. Going as far as moving you into his chambers; Although he was gone for most of the day with you locked within the room with nothing but the walls and your own thoughts as company. Alicent visited you once, attempting to coax you to see things from her point of view. You told her that her and her false king could go fuck themselves.. she never returned.

Night fell and with it came harsh winds that rattled your windows. You regularly added more wood to the hearth to keep yourself warm. It was there you found yourself when Aemond entered the chamber. His steps were erratic and his breaths uneven. "Has anyone been in here?!" Gone was his usually calm and quiet voice replaced with a manic tone. "The door only opens by your hand husband" you answered sarcastically. Your humor vanished at once when he hasty made his way to Maegors tunnels ensuring they were still sealed. You stared into his back remaining seated. "Has something happened?" It was as if he forgot you were there with the way he jumped to you.

He walked quickly and kneeled before you. Hands resting on your hips. "You must know it was not my intention... Vhagar she just.. she wouldn't listen to me anymore..you see" He whispered his eye trained on your stomach. You placed one hand on top of his. "Okay, okay, I hear you, tell me" you were gentle with your voice and touch, understanding this was what he needed from you. Aemond inhaled deeply and finally looked up.

"I killed Lucerys"

The world turned early quiet which then gave way to a ringing so loud it drowned out whatever he was saying. You saw his lips moving fast before your eyes began to blur. His hands beneath yours suddenly burned, so you pulled away from him all together, standing. Your weight was too much for your shaking legs, you made it all of two steps before collapsing, forehead pressed into the ground, mouth beginning to let out pained wails. Your little brother, too kind, too gentle, dead and in such a violent way. Aemond crouched beside you and put his hand on your back wanting nothing more than to comfort his wife. You crawled away from him, screaming all the while. "Get away from me!!"

You made it to your vanity using it as a crutch to lift yourself from the floor. You made quick work of grabbing the small dagger hidden beneath the furniture, the one Daemon had gifted you on your 2 and 10th nameday. You pointed the dagger at him. "I'll kill you". Lunging for Aemond with the intent to kill but no real power behind it. He grabbed your arms and held them high above both of you. "I'm so sorry, my love, stop" Retraining you was no real struggle for him. The dagger dropped to the floor as the fight continued. When he released your hands your palms opened flat against his chest as you pushed him, then again, then a slap across his cheek "Kinslayer" push, slap, "Fight back!" you yelled straining your voice. Wrestling a bit to lower your arms he crushed you into an embrace holding you there as you cried and squirmed. His head rested on the top of your own, whispering apologies.

Since then you scarcely saw Aemond. He avoided you like the plague not wishing to see the anger and hatred in your eyes. You were at abed when your doors were thrown open. You sat up immediately knowing Ameond would never enter your rooms in such a way. The stench of wine and debauchery that was Aegon's signature scent invaded your nostrils. He stumbled his way over to you, calling your name, laughing all the while.

Aegon took a seat at the end of your bed and extended his upper body to you. "Sweet sister, are you not so lonely without your dear husband?"

"What is it that you want Aegon?" In no mood to entertain his idiotic tendencies.

Ever the jester on a mission to embarrass his little brother at every turn, Aegon retold the accounts of his late night adventure in the city. How he went into a brothel and found Aemond curled up in the arms of the madame of the establishment like a new born-babe. It was nice he said how Aemond still found himself with his first woman. It was at times difficult to understand with the crude words and his growing laughter. By the time he was done he had gotten drowsy enough to lay his head down. The soft snores that emitted from his mouth let you know he was down for the night. Aemond the kinslayer, Aemond the unfaithful husband. How much could you take of the shame he forced upon you. With a new determination you knew the fool had left the door unlocked and as Aemond assured the kingsguard there was no way for you to exit, it was unguarded.

Cannibal wouldn't have been tamed into the dragonpit. There was no point attempting to find him there. He wouldn't be to far either, not without his rider. In the long hallways, you pulled your common looking cloak around your self tighter, paying special care to hide your sliver locks. Sending a quick prayer to your gods you pushed open the chamber and it gave way without fuss. Entering you made swift strides to the tunnels in Daemon's old chambers. Once again opening with just a shove.

Somehow you made it to water, a little off from the docks to avoid being seen. When you bring your pointer and middle fingers into your mouth you ready yourself to make it worth it, you let out a loud whistle. There won't be a second chance until people come looking for the source. A beat of silence passes than another. Suddenly you hear the distinct flapping of wings and the wind blowing harsher in your face. Thank the gods cannibal does not let out a roar, as if he's aware of the delicacy of the situation. When he lands at your feet, lightly as he can, you break for his back to climb atop him. Once properly situated he flys high above in the sky, no commands leave your lips but you know where he's taking you, home.

Rhaenrya was restless. The loss of her son and the enslavement of her only daughter. The taking of her throne, her inheritance. The greens had taken so much from her. And yet she still hoped foolishly to avoid war. It was a tiring thing keeping Daemon at bay. He smelled blood. As if he didn't already want Aemond Targaryen's head on a stick for taking you from him, now he has murdered Luke and Rhaenrya was doing nothing about it. He was fully prepared to fly to the red keep and bring you home. It's this same argument he brings to the war room, hovering over the painted table.

"I can go personally. No one will expect my arrival" Daemon is determined facing his new Queen. Jace stands between Baela and Rhaena believing no one to be as affected by your absence than his step-father. "Yes because no one would do something this rash Daemon" Rhaenrya counters. "If we send anyone at all it should not be someone of your high station Prince Daemon" Rhaenys wisely counseled. This meeting was one for those who shared blood, no other lord was present in the room which Rhaenrya was glad of.

"She's the heir to iron throne the longer we wait the faster they''ll kill her" His words were rough to convey the urgency. "Alicent will not kill my daughter" There was still faith in her heart that their friendship during youth held importance to Alicent. "Oh just like she wouldn't take your birthright Rhaenrya? Or kill your son?!" A feign chuckle followed by a huff of bitter words

"Enough! She's my daughter Daemon, Mine and I have decided there's nought to be done for the time being" Rhaenrya commanded the room as now was her right, Rhaenys let the corner of her lip curl forward at the prince's reprimanding. Daemon gives the Queen a cold stare before stomping out of the room.

Rhaenrya sighs while turning to her son walking toward him. "I will bring your sister home, I have not abandoned her, but there are right and wrong paths to go about it and Daemon's way is the wrong one" Jace always thought that all of Daemons 'ways' were the wrong way, he gave a nod to his mother "I know mother, I know"

"DRAGON!!" Knights scurried around the fortress attempting to arrange the scorpion with haste. "Alert the Queen now!"

Grateful that she had not gone to bed after her spat with Daemon, The Queen made her way to the top of the watch towers to oversee the scorpions. They were in position and awaiting her command. Her violet eyes scanned the skies when she spotted the dragon and their rider. A strangled cry escaped her "Stop! It's my daughter!", The knights made quick work to dismantle the weapon "Stand down it's the princess"

Rhaenrya practically ran down the steps. She felt as if her eyes were deceiving her and you'd vanish once again. She stopped a foot away from you as you climbed down your dragon. There was a pause when you hit the sand, taking each other in before you both ran into each others arm. She pressed your head into the top of her breast holding you there, rocking you gently back and forth. "Oh my girl, my sweet girl" She grabbed the sides of your face with both hands looking you all over "Are you hurt?"

"No mother, I'm okay, I'm home" You cried, tears falling.

Rhaenrya and her daughter made their way back into the castle, hand in hand. The queen leading them back to the war room, where she instructed a guard to alert her family to gather. The weight in your chest disappeared when the door gave way and you knew you were in the presence of your true family. Jace spotted you first and stepped forward to wrap you in his arms. He stepped aside to allow your cousins Baela and Rhaena to give you quick embraces followed by "I'm glad you're safe cousin".

Your mother tugged you to her side once again to assure herself you were safe.

A moment passes, all cries and laughs, when the door crashes open. Daemon wordlessly moves forward into the room making a beeline for you. He brings his arms around you when your within reach and stares into the eyes of Rhaenrya over you shoulder while having you in his hold, still upset you had to make your escape all on your own which could have resulted in your death. He turned his head so that his words would only reach your ears.

"Gōntan pōnta renigon ao" Did they touch you? Daemon does not know what he would do if he hears of any wrongdoings brought upon you, his sweet dragon, his purest little girl. "Daor kepus" No uncle.

He steps back and allows you to be swept back into Rhaenryas arms.

It had taken a while to convince your mother that you would be okay in your chambers alone. There was no greater desire than to sleep in the safety of your acestral home and forget the war to come. You sat at your vanity in nothing but your shift combing your hair after a much needed bath. The warmth and weight of a palm fell on your shoulder, you shuddered.

"Kepus" you turned head and he moved his hand to catch your chin and tilt it up. Daemon had never seen such a beautiful sight. A siren if he ever knew one. He was convinced that you had bewitched him. His gentle niece, so eager to learn from her uncle.

"Skorkydoso gōntan ao jiōragon hen, gōntan aōha valzȳrys jikagon ao kesīr?" how did you get out, did your husband send you here? As much as he believed in your strength, he was surprised to see you escape on your own unscathed too. "Daorys iksin jurnegēre, nyke geptot" No one was looking, I left, you shrugged, there really was nothing more to it and It didn't matter now.

You stood to your full height but your uncle towered over you nonetheless. Daemon stared down at you with the same lust he did those few years ago. His hand came up to your shoulder once more this time dragging your sleeve down, freeing one of your breast. he repeated this action to the other, never breaking eye contact as your shift pooled around your feet. His big hand came around your jaw and his thumb stroked your lips softly, barely there. Hand falling down to your neck which he grasped tightly, jealously had a hold on him at the thought of the one-eyed bastard laying his filthy hands on your soft skin. Skin that belonged to him, that was made by him.

You came up on your tip toes in attempt to catch his mouth with yours but he pulled back slightly, a smirk gracing his face. He leans down and you turn your face so his lips meet your cheek which he delivers gentle kisses onto. When you face each other your noses brush together, not being to wait any longer you both press your lips together. His tongue invades your mouth reacquainting himself with your taste. His fingers lace into your moonlight hair, puling you more deeply into him, his other hand falls to your lower back, he lifts you and walks toward your bed where he drops you at the edge of it. You fall back on your elbows and watch as he kneels and brings his hands to the back of your thighs spreading your legs wide for him. He pounces at your center, like a man starved, eyes closing at your sweet essence swirling on his tongue. You throw your head back and let out a quiet moan. Daemon slowly brings one finger to your entrance teasing you before it slips in easily from your wetness and his salvia. He adds another as he sucks at your clit. A shriek rushes out with your building release. Just as you're about to jump off the edge he pulls aways and presses kisses to your skin as he works his way up. From the top of your mound, to your belly, collarbone, neck, jaw, cheek, and when his bulky body that covers yours entirely rests between your legs he smashing his lips on yours once more.

Your fingers rush out to undo his laces of his breeches and the ties on his loose shirt which he shrugs off promptly. Daemon lays atop you bare, his length gliding across your glistening cunt. "Aōha valzȳrys gaomas daor qogralbar ao sȳrī gaomas ziry?" Your husband does not fuck you well does he?

Thoughts of the whore he is coddled by invades your mind. Ever since you were girl you craved a man. You would not find Daemon in the arms of anyone much less a whore play-acting as a babe. No this man above you was all fire and blood in its truest form-and nothing made you more wet than the thought. He taps your cheek "Answer me" switching to common tongue.

"No Kepus, when he laid above me, I'd imagine it was you. I'd remember all the times you were inside me, how good it felt" You pant out. Daemon groaned at your words, pushing inside you. On instinct you wrapped your legs around his waist, letting out a sharp gasp. Long has your shame gone of lying with your mother's husband; Especially when he thrusts hard instantly hitting the spot deep inside you that only he has ever reached. Daemon grunts when he removes himself from your warmth bringing his hands to your waist and flipping you around, dragging your hips up and smoothing a hand down your back, he puts his cock back inside you and begins rutting into you like an animal. You push back against him and he brings one hand around you to furiously rub at you clit. "Uh kepus I'm coming" You cry out. The wave of your orgasm is so intense you feel your cunt clench tightly in an attempt to squeeze him out of you. Daemon stuffs himself back in and chases his own release. "Iksan jāre naejot dīnagon ñuha rūs isse ao" I'm going to put my babe in you. "Everyone can see who you spread your legs open for".

"Yes! Kepus please finish inside me, I want your seed" With that and the tightening of your pussy, Daemon releases with a shout, his cock twitching inside you, seed coating your walls. When he pulls free you feel his seed run down your thighs and onto your fresh sheets.

Daemon moves to lay on his back and pulls you to his side so your head rest across his chest. His hand caresses your arm up and down, it's a nice comfortable silence, and in this moment you can both pretend that it is each other you are married too and there's no threat of war.

"Your soon to become a widow" He promises

"Good"

[eraenaa]

My Knight in Darkened Armor (Royalty AU)

Knight Aemond Targaryen x Princess Reader Tag List

Synopsis: Ser Aemond Targaryen has been tasked to be the sworn protector of a princess who is overly curious about life beyond the castle walls and has bribed him to escort her to the city in exchange for anything he desires. She just did not know that what he desired was her.

Word Count: 4,373

Warnings: Mature, 18+, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, jealousy, possessive

Carnival—your favorite time of the year. The only chance for you to leave the cushioned walls of the keep that your father was intent on keeping you in. Sheltered and stored— protected and preserved. You now marvel at the scene outside. Merriment in every corner, cheers and hollers everywhere your carriage passed. “Stay close to your knight… danger lurks even in the happiest of days,” your father warned. You mindlessly nod as you smile at the outside world that you were rarely given a taste of.

As you stepped out of the wheelhouse, your knight in his ever-dark armor waited for you. His hand led out to escort you toward a tent in the middle of the town square. The performers were ready to entertain you and your King father, as well as the others who merrily celebrated the day. “Enough scowling; it is the most joyous of days,” You said to your knight. Ever since he was assigned to you, he had been overly serious— overly protective. Entirely strict and hard to be rid of, never leaving you out of his sight, not even for a moment. His eye always trailed and followed your every move in case the danger you doubted would occur finally happened. “It is as well the most dangerous of days there is, princess.” He answered stoically. Eye passing through the crowd, searching for any threats. 

“You often speak of danger, but there is clearly none. Try to enjoy yourself… you are still a man who feels under all that armor, yes?” You asked, your gaze flying upwards to the knight who stood by your right. You gazed up at him, searching for his eye through visor. When you locked upon his unique lilac eye, you dare say you saw a hint of mirth in them. 

When the performances began, you lost yourself in the scenes before you. Actors that were so greatly gifted in their talents, for they have managed to sway your mind and made you believe that all the stories they told were true. However, at times, you would hear Aemond scoff his disagreement at a scene. You were glad of his annoyance and disagreement because it meant that he as well, did watch the performance. 

When it was time for your father to name the victorious performers who had the most believable presentation, the king stood, and Aemond, along with another knight, stood behind him in protection—leaving you to be faced with their backs, finally unattended. As all citizens had their gazes planted on their king, you, for the first time in your life, did something you were not supposed to do. You indulged yourself and escaped their almost suffocating hold disguised as protection and safety. You have lived in your kingdom for seven and ten years, but the extent of your knowledge of it was the mere castle walls— you intend to change that matter, and you intend to see the kingdom you were to inherit when the time comes. 

Aemond moved his head behind to look upon you once more, but he felt his stomach pit as the seat meant for you was now empty. The cloak you wore as you exited the wheelhouse was gone as well. Aemond turned to the king who now realized you were now gone. “Find her quickly.” The king gritted, hoping none notice your escape, fearing that his sheltered child would be made a prey by the small folk. “Now!” The king roared, and Aemond quickly ran to his steed and searched for you, the princess.

You walked the streets of your kingdom, your hood covering you from exposure. Everything was almost so unfamiliar to you, but you find your blood spiking in thrill for all the experiences you were yet to discover. You watched as a group gathered, and your curiosity led you to them. You felt your lips twitch as men used pots and mere objects to produce music. Your gaze went towards the young man in the middle, singing a different and new tune that had captured all’s attention and ears, even yours. His hazel eyes scanned the crowds that swayed upon his song. His hand moved to comb his brown locks, and he winked at a group of girls around your age, making them squeal and blush. You watched as others moved and gave them coins, appreciation for the music they performed. 

When their song ended, the group that surrounded them dissolved little by little, and that was when you decided to offer your appreciation as well. Bending down to offer two silver coins, hoping it would serve as motivation for them to continue to perform such a great song. You kept your head low and did not engage with anyone, but still, you were noticed. “Hello,” the young man with a melodious voice greeted. Your eyes moved to look upon him, who gazed at you, trying to make out what you covered under your hood. “Hello,” You said as well, un certain on what to do. “I… I hoped you liked our performance; if you did, we have another one tomorrow night,” he said, still trying to see your face clearly. “I did… it was quite good,” you answered and tried to back away, but a stray dog that passed behind you made you trip and start to lose balance. 

Luckily, the young man before you was quick to take hold of your arm and pull you steady. But in exchange for your balance was your cover, your hood falling back and revealing your face. You feel your cheeks heat as realization comes to the hazel orbs of the young man before you. “Your hi—“ You quickly shook your head and shushed him, “Please, don’t,” You said and raised your hood once more, warily looking around to see if anyone else saw you. “What are you doing here? Your hig—“ The young man whose hold still has not left yours tried to call you upon your title once more, but you gave him a pointed look that made his words die on his tongue, a look of sheepishness coming to his face. 

“What is your name?” You asked, “Jacaerys,” He answered. You smiled and gave a nod, “I wanted to see the city. They rarely let me outside castle walls,” You explained to the stranger; it was not smart of you, but there was something about him. Something warm and a sense of trustworthiness that made you tell him the truth. Jacaerys raised his brow, “You escaped your guards?” He asked, and you slowly nodded. Before either of you could speak again, you heard the furious gallops of a horse. And almost instantly, your body knew who was to approach. You and Jacaerys turned to see your sworn shield cutting through the crowds in search of you. You thought about running, still wanting to see more, but it was too late as you felt the familiar gaze of his lone eye upon you. 

“Remove your hold on the princess, Jacaerys,” You hear him call menacingly. You furrow your brow as to why he already knew the young man’s name. “Un—“ Aemond raised his hand and silenced the boy. Using his other hand to pull you to him. You had no room to argue or plea as you felt Ser Aemond’s hard and rough hold upon your waist, lifting you to mount his steed. You watched as your knight moved closer to Jacaerys, bending down to whisper something in his ear. You watched as the boy’s face grew pale, but you could not voice out your concern or ask if he was well because Aemond moved to mount his horse, sitting behind you and swiftly galloping away. You sat in silence and almost fear as Aemond had his arms around your waist, the two of you riding towards the castle where your father waited with a sermon. 

“Is he angry?” You ask your knight as you neared the castle gates. Hoping he would slow his steed down so you would not be delivered to your punishment so soon. Aemond smirked at your question, taking a deep breath and savoring the smell of you. He let his horse gallop slower, wanting to prolong the time he had you in his arms for a while more. “You escaped during the most crowded day of the year— where all people from the entire kingdom… thieves, murderers, and criminals could go about in plain sight. What do you think, princess?” He asked and kept his smirk as he heard you puff and lean your back to his chest. “You’ll be fine; we both know your father is very lenient when it comes to you,” Aemond tried to console you as he saw the adorable pout on your pink lips. His mind filled with a thought he should never entertain. 

You stood before your father in his study. Head hung low in shame. He had not said a word yet, simply stewing in his anger, but you already feel tears welling in your eyes. You hear the creek of his chair as he stands, and that is when the first pearl tear escapes your eyes and lands on the floor. You hear your father sigh, “I have yet to say anything why then do you already cry?” He asked and made you lift your gaze. “I’m sorry!” You quickly said. You could not bear it when he was cross with you; just the slight tone of disappointment in his voice and the look in his eyes was enough for you to cry for forgiveness. “I just wanted to learn more about our kingdom— I wanted to see how our people live and what they do.” You reasoned. That was your main goal when you slipped away. You were only distracted by the song Jacaerys and his group performed. 

You looked upon your father, teary-eyed, watching him sigh and shake his head. “You will do no such thing again, do you understand?” He asked sternly, and you quickly nodded your head and left his study when he dismissed you. Outside in the hall, your knight waited for you, ready with a handkerchief to wipe away your tears. “Thank you,” You said quietly, and Aemond gave a nod. His helmet was finally removed, and you could see his straight silver hair gleaming in the evening light. You’ve always been jealous of his hair; you’ve always wanted to run your hands through it, but it was deemed inappropriate, so you never could. 

When he accompanied you to your chambers, you had a question in mind. “How do you know Jacaerys?” You asked and paused in your tracks, looking before the knight who had a forever serious look on his face. He stayed silent for a moment, but you kept your expecting gaze upon him. “He is a very distant relative,” He finally answered, and you gave a nod. “Why did you not say you are acquainted with a performer— a good one at that? I have been looking for entertainment. Perhaps Father could invite him and his group to sing a song of two here,” You mused and watched a scowl start to spread on his face. “It is best not to, princess.” Ser Aemond answered. You frowned at the animosity in his voice. “Why not?” You asked. Aemond clenched his jaw at your questions and intrigue upon his nephew. “Good night princess,” Aemond said as you were now before your chamber door. You frowned as he avoided your question but ultimately sighed and entered your room, knowing he would not answer it.

The following day, as you broke your fast, you found yourself humming the tune you heard the day before. Your mind reminding you of the invitation said that Jacaerys and his group were to perform once more that night. You chewed on your lip as there was a part of you that wanted to watch and escape again. You stared at your knight, who stood still at his post, wondering how to escape him. 

Aemond gulped and urged himself not to waver as he felt your steady gaze upon him. He felt his knees grow weak with each passing moment you kept your brilliant eyes on his frame; he felt himself grow warm by the look of concentration on your pretty face. “Is there something you need, princess?” He finally asked. He watched you blink, plush lips parting before him, indecent thoughts plaguing his mind. “I…” You began. Watching as your sworn shield walked closer to you, his imposing demeanor enveloping you. You quite liked that about him— how petrifying he looked and acted, but with the year he was assigned to you, you saw through the cracks of his cold and hard armor, and it revealed softness and warmth. “Can you come with me to the city t—“ You could not even finish to word out your request as he was quick to shake his head. “No.” He said decisively. Aemond bit his tongue as a dejected look came to your eyes, and your lips formed the unconscious pout you always had when things did not go your way. “Please— I swear I’ll behave. I w—“ Aemond sighed and shook his head once more. “No. If your father ever heard about me sneaking you out of the castle— he will have my head.” He said, but you only disagreed. “He won’t! I swear of it!” You said, but your knight only scoffed and rolled his lone eye in disbelief. 

“Please! I’ll give you whatever you desire if you take me to the city tonight,” You tried to bribe him. Aemond clenched his jaw as your eyes widened, begging him to agree. His mind, as well, did not miss the bribe you clearly uttered without shame. But he was more shameless, for he agreed. He felt his heart stutter as you beamed at him, bouncing in your seat in joy; his eye caught as your ample chest heaved when you did the action. His mind running with thoughts, his body turning alight. Aemond cleared his throat and returned to his post and willed himself to be rid of such disgraceful thoughts.

Aemond swallowed hard as he had his hand clasped around yours. Him guiding you through the crowded streets of your kingdom. “Your hood,” Aemond warned, pulling you closer to him. He reluctantly brought you back to the street, where you watched his nephew perform. He felt enraged over the fact that the only reason you wanted to leave the castle walls and rebelled against your father’s wishes was to see his bastard nephew perform. He placed you and himself behind the crowd. You urged him to go closer, but you were refused. “I have told you we will not engage with anyone.” He sternly warned. 

You did not miss the animosity in his voice once again and how his scowl was deeper. The performance was starting, a folk song made by their group, but your attention was on the knight whose hold now traveled to your waist and held you close and tight to him. “Why are you angry?” You asked. His eye scanned around to see if there was danger. “I am not,” He answered. “You are,” you insisted. Aemond’s jaw clenched as he saw his nephew you spot you two, moving towards the princess in his grasp. You let out a sound surprise as your knight started to drag you through the streets once more, ignoring your call as he made furious steps that you could not quite match. 

“Aemond!” You called, and he finally halted, pulling you towards a dark and narrow alley. “Why did you want to watch him? Why did you want to see Jacaerys again?” He asked furiously. You stared wide eyed as you had never seen such fury in his eye. “I…I,” you stuttered in slight fear. “You were willing to endanger yourself— willing to let your father grow angry with you once more, all for him? All for Jacaerys?” He seethed, and you started to see a familiar yet foreign emotion in him. “Are you jealous?” You dare ask. His face was so close to you that your breathing started to mix, and you could see clearly the scar that ran down the left side of his face. “No,” He said unconvincingly after a moment. You raised your brow, “You were fine escorting me out of the castle walls earlier… but once you learned that  I wanted to watch their performance, you grew irritable… are you jealous, Ser Aemond?” You asked even though you knew the answer. 

Aemond narrowed his eye at the speck of amusement in your orbs. His face threaded closer, and only now did he grow aware of how flushed your bodies were against each other. He felt his eye flash dangerously as he caught you licking your lips as you gazed at him with your innocent eyes. Your plush pink lips parted again, and the thoughts he tried hard to suppress and ignore were now the only thing on his mind. “You owe me something, princess,” He instead said, pushing his body closer to your frame that was backed up on the alley wall. “I have taken you to the city… now you must give me something that I desire.” You swallowed at the deep tone of his voice, at the dark look in his eye, and how he trapped you to your place with arms. “And… and what is that do you desire? Coin? Something valuable and pretty like jewels, perhaps?” You asked. You watched him smirk and lightly shake his head. “Oh… it is very valuable— overly pretty as well, but no, not jewels, princess.” He whispered. You feel your heart stutter, your breathing caught in your throat as his face inched closer. “Then… then what is that you want?” You asked. You watch him smirk, his hold on your waist growing tighter. “You.” You whimper as his lips pressed against yours. His lips were warm, punishing, and soft. 

Aemond wanted to scream at himself— hinder himself, and declare himself mad for doing such actions. To kiss the princess that he had sworn an oath to protect. But as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening your kiss, he could not be bothered by his sensibilities. He could not be bothered by propriety as your lips danced against each other. Clinging and never wanting to part. “Oh, Aemond,” You called as you parted for air, but the knight would only let you take one breath before intertwining your lips again— to be lost in pleasure again. “Tell me you want me too,” Aemond almost begged as he parted your lips again. You gazed up at him, lilac eye hopeful and wanting. “I want you, A—“ You could not finish your sentence as he took hold of your hand again and started to pull you out of the alley. 

Your mind was dazed as you followed him, as you let him take you wherever it was. It took you longer to realize that you were inside castle walls once more, nearing your bed chambers. He turned to you; his wanting eye filled with lust slowly started to be filled with uncertainty, but you shook your head. He had managed to stir something within you, a burn, a coil inside that made you grow crazed. 

You pulled him to your chambers, “I did promise you that I’ll give you what you desired,” You whispered and stood to the tip of your toes to kiss his lips. Your hand searched for his and guided them to undo the laces of your gown. He called upon your name, uncertain as he reluctantly parted your lips, but you shook your head. “I want you.” You said. It was the truth; ever since he was made to be your sworn protector, you could not help but be attracted to him. Him and his handsome scowling face. Him and his cold and rough but gentle touch. Him and his unique platinum hair and alluring lilac eye. 

You heard him groan, and you feared he would leave, but you smirked as he placed his lips against yours once more and started to undo the laces of your dress. “On the bed, now.” He ordered, and you obeyed quickly. You were now only dressed in your shift— sheer and light. You were positive he could see every single trace of your being. 

You sat by the edge of the bed, anticipating what he was to do next. You blushed as he started to remove his clothing. “Have I ever told you how pretty you look when you blush?” He asked, and that only deepened the color in your cheeks, eliciting a chuckle from him. You feel your heartbeat spike as he walks closer to you, your knight now only dressed in his trousers—a prominent bulge in the middle called for your attention. You sighed as he kissed your lips again, his hand coming to take hold of yours, doing the same as you did, guiding your hand to rest upon the dent in his pants. “Do you feel what you do to me, princess?” He asked, his lips moving to kiss your neck, his hand guiding you to stroke his length. You could only let out a small moan in response. 

You took in a harsh breath as Aemond moved you to lie down, anticipation coursing through your veins. “Are you certain?” He asked as his lips hung above yours; you nodded and met his thin lips to be lost in his sweet kisses. You whimper as his hand moves to cup your tit, giving it a firm squeeze, the bud growing taut upon his touch. His other hand stopped guiding yours as it moved to your thigh, him caressing the limb and teasing you with every boring touch. 

“A—Aemond,” You called; you wanted more. He hummed and gazed upon your eyes. His right hand is palming your tit, and his left hand caressing your thigh. “Please,” was all you could say, but it was enough as you watched him sink to his knees. Hands are moving to part your legs, bringing more wetness to your cunt with every action he took. “Oh gods,” Aemond breathed as he was met with your cunt— needy and calling for his touch. He shoved away his hesitancy and fears and did what he knew he should have done long before— claim every single part of you. Ruin you for any man, prince, or king to come. 

You cried out his name as his lips met with your cunt. Licking, sucking, and nibbling the sensitive skin. Bringing pleasure in all he did. “More,” You called, your hands losing themselves in his hair, finally gliding your fingers upon the silky strands. “Aemond, please— I need more,” You pleaded and whined as he ignored your call, simply continuing his torment on your needing bud and his teasing fingers upon your entrance. “Beg harder, princess.” He hummed, smirking at your cunt as you shamelessly did what he said. 

“Please Aemond… I want you— I need you to-to fuck me. Claim my maidenhead; I’m all yours.” Aemond turned rigged upon your words— searing pleasure enveloped him upon your words. He had never heard you so foul, so lewd— so desperate. And it was all for him. You feel your heartbeat stop as he finally moves atop you. You gasped as he ripped away your shift, leaving you bare and perfectly positioned for him to take you. You feel your eyes water as his length, thick and long, starts to break its way through. Aemond closed his eyes tightly at how you felt. You were so tight and warm; the pleasure you provided was almost painful— completely overwhelming him. “Just a little more… you’ll be a good princess and take all of me, yes?” He murmured against your neck, feeling as the tears glide down your eyes. You could only nod and hope the pain would be quick to turn into pleasure. 

“So fucking tight—so pure… all for me to ruin,” He growled as his length was finally fully sheathed inside you, finally feeling every single inch of your body. Your breathing turned labor as he thrust slowly, the pain finally turning to the blinding pleasure you sought. Aemond let out an amused breath as he watched you roll your eyes back in complete pleasure; your bite on your lips was so harsh that Aemond feared you would draw blood. “Does my princess like that, hm? Do you like being fucked like a common whore?” He gritted through his own pleasures. Your moans were answer enough. “Louder— let the entire kingdom hear how your knight pleasures you,” Aemond smirked as you still did what he said; neither cared about being found. In reality, he would prefer it, for it will bind him to you. 

“Aemond— oh gods, I…I,” you could not find your words as you felt your insides painfully coil, wanting something you were not quite certain of. Aemond hummed and moved his thumb to draw circles upon your nubbin, letting the coil grow tighter. You writing against him, desperate for something you have no words for. “Are you to come, my princess? Are you to come by the pleasure of my hands and cock?” Aemond asked and smirked as you lost yourself, as you could only comprehend his pleasurable actions. He let out a groan as you clenched around him, painfully and pleasurably so. Your knight is on the verge of release as well. His rhythmic and savoring trusts turned sloppy and desperate. “Come and scream my name, princess.” He ordered with one long final thrust of his cock and flick of his thumb. You coming undone by his touch. His groans mixed with yours, neither of you weary as his seed filled your cunt. 

He collapsed atop you as both of you came down from the highs of your release. Five words leaving his lips, an oath that he will keep for the rest of his life. “You’re all mine now, princess.” 

[thebadboyfanclub]

You Bled For Them, You Decide Pt.2 (Daemon x Reader)

So a lot of people requested a part two of this and had some requests on what should it be about, the stakes were high so I hope I did not disappoint you. Enjoy!

Part one

(Y/n) was not a fool, she was sure that the second she steps foot in Targaryen ground all eyes would be on her, the mystery woman that managed to tame the rogue prince. She despised that nickname, (y/n)s opinion was that her dear husband had simply leaned towards violence to make up for the pain he had felt, Daemon was a passionate man which meant he loved as deeply as he hated, she knew Daemon would burn the seven kingdoms to ensure that their family is safe, he was a man of honour.

“Do you truly believe a character like prince Daemon has settled?”

“It certainly looks like it, he hasn’t stepped away from her and the children for longer than a minute”

“The children… well at least with this union no one can question their true parentage”

Otto whispered the last part only for his daughter queen Alicent to hear. Everyone was at awe how none of the kids had inherited their mothers features except small details,(y/n) adored the fact that they looked like the father, she was unaware what a big role on their safety that played.

“I believe we must introduce ourselves, would be interesting”

Alicent suggested while her father hummed in agreement, in almost complete unison they began to walk towards the couple that was pre occupied with the king.

“Alicent and Otto, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

Daemon questioned ironically, (y/n)s eyebrow was raised in confusion as she looked up at him for clues about the sudden change on his demeanour.

“Prince Daemon, it’s been so long since we last saw you, you were newly widowed at the time”

“Widowed?”

(Y/n) never pressured Daemon to speak of his past, he revealed what he wished while he laid on her chest and let her to brush his silver hair with her fingers. Daemons eyes squinted at the smart remark Lord Otto had thrown at him, he was looking for a way to cause a problems in his marriage.

“Your lady wife seems oblivious to the fact that you were wed prior”

Alicent noticed, (y/n) tried to keep her composure and patiently wait until they are alone to question her husband. Daemon was ready for war, they were pushing the boundaries in order to get what they want, to destroy what he worked so hard for and he wasn’t going to stand for it.

“I was forced into a marriage for alliance that is correct, (y/n) is my first true match, I thank the Gods for sending her to me every morrow”

Daemon was being genuine, his lady wife had been a miracle, the Gods took pity on him and showed him what it is like to have a reason to come back from battle alive. Daemon took his (y/n)s hand in his to place a kiss on her knuckles, (y/n) smiled even though her mind had stored the new information for another time, it wouldn’t be wise to pick a fight while attending a funeral.

“Such tender words, I am glad you have left your infatuation with princess Rhaenyra behind you”

The sentence that was spoken from the Queens lips made (y/n)s blood ran cold, the woman that she had just been introduced to had an affair with Daemon? It could not be, she was a married woman, the daughter of his own brother, “no that wouldn’t stop him, he is a Targaryen” she thought as her hands started to shake from anger. Thankfully her eldest daughter cut the conversation short before push came to shove and (y/n) showed her temper, the girl was panting while her cheeks were severely blushed from running around, she hadn’t been this blissful in weeks.

“Mother, can me and Aemond go play in the shore?”

“Aemond?!”

Daemon exclaimed, earning a side eye from everyone, if he had it his way his children would never play along side Alicents children, maybe little Heleana would be an exception but that would be it, especially when it came to his precious daughters he hated when they would be boys around them, even worst if they were hightowers.

(Y/n) did not spare a look at her lord husband, she simply tucked away a few strands of hair that seemed to stick on the young girls sweaty forehead and smiled lovingly, Alyssa was in much need of a companion, she loved her siblings but she would always have to take care of them.

“Of course my little deer, better yet I’ll come with you. I would love to meet your new friend Aemond”

-

(Y/n) had managed to discreetly slip away from everyone, she found joy at watching her daughter play carelessly with her new friend, the timid Aemond that barely raised his gaze to (y/n) when introduced, still he ran with Alyssa around the shore as they had both taken their shoes off and splashed in the water.

(y/n) could stay like this together, away from everyone with her family while they enjoyed the simple things life had to offer, it’s what her and Daemon had in common, although she could identify that Daemon had missed his brother, perhaps he missed princess Rhaenyra as well.

“Come along sweetlings, it’s getting dark”

“Mother please just a few more minutes”

“Fine, I will make sure your siblings are sleeping and then I will come back to escort you”

“Thank you lady (y/n)”

Aemond replied with the utmost respect. (Y/n) simply smiled as she turned her back on the children, with the assistance of a kind knight she was guided to the room (y/n), Daemon and little Johanna would occupy for the night, she had already peeked inside the other rooms for her children to find the sleeping peacefully.

To her misfortune she never had great memory when it came to directions, getting lost by turning left instead of right or was it right instead of left? She cursed under her breath for not looking around for clues when she had the chance.

“I need you uncle, I cannot fight them alone”

“You know I would support you if war occurred Rhaenyra”

The voices that reached her ears made her come to a halt, her back found the cold wall to rest so she can listen to her husbands conversation with the princess, she had put on such a brave fight to forget what was said about their affair before (y/n) came to his life, excusing it as a spur of a moment and feelings long forgotten, now there she was hiding in the dark to catch them whispering.

“I do not need you as a soldier Daemon, i want us to bind our blood”

“Rhaenyra”

“Do you love her?”

Tears welled up in (y/n)s eyes, this could not be. He brought to his homeland just to embarrass her? To parade his children and leave (y/n) in the dust? Did she marry such a cruel man? She felt like her heart was going to come out her throat at the sound of those words.

“More than life itself”

“So my love for you meant nothing?”

“You were a child Rhaenyra, we both made mistakes”

“You did not love me?”

“Of course I did”

“My love?”

(Y/n) came out of her hiding spot, she wasn’t going to let the princess sway her husbands words, Daemon had declared his love and the princess did not want to give up, she was toying with (y/n)s wedlock like the life of her and her children including the pain this will cause meant nothing.

Daemon focused on his wife, smiling at the sight of her, Rhaenyra turned to face her as well, Daemon could see that (y/n) heard everything, he identified the fire of fury in her eyes, she appeared with reason.

“Where are the children my dear?”

“Alyssa is playing with Aemond, I will go to collect them now but I have seem to get lost within the castle”

“I shall escort you then, excuse me princess Rhaenyra”

Daemon took (y/n)s hand in his as they left Rhaenyra in shambles, he left her for (y/n), his morals did not buckle at the slightest, not even for Rhaenyra.

As they turned the corner (y/n) took off her polite mask, her hand gripped on to his as she held him back from walking even further, Daemon felt his heart skip a beat at the fact that (y/n) was clearly upset. He did not prepare her correctly for this visit, he should have known that the greens would try to tear them apart.

“A wife? An affair? With your own niece at that”

“All before I met you my love”

“That’s not my point, I looked like a fool in front of everyone. Here I am, your wife that did knew nothing of these acts of yours, we are a union and we appeared weak against the hawks eye”

Daemon had guessed she would be frustrated about the acts, he couldn’t be more wrong. (Y/n) had heard of tales about her husband, his thirst over women, she only cared about how she appeared like their union was fickle, that they were secrets between them.

Daemon let out a breath before he took (y/n) for a hug, she did not respond immediately but gave in to wrapping her arms around him after a moment.

“I apologise my love, I will fix it”

“You better or you will have to start looking for a third wife”

Haste heavy steps pulled them apart from one another, curiosity taking over them as they waited for the person to appear. A knight stood before them, clearly stressed, (y/n)s heart clenched tight.

“The kids”

“Your children are alright however you must follow me”

The couple ran to wherever the knight guided them, (y/n) was the first to burst in the room, Alyssa stood next to her friend Aemond who was getting stitched up in the eye. (Y/n) skipped over to her and instantly started looking for wounds, Daemon took in the room as everyone gathered, Baela and Rhaena crying in their grandmothers arms and Lucerys had a nose bleed as he was also crying.

“I am unharmed mother”

“What happened? I told you to be careful with Aemond”

“It wasn’t my fault, Aemond claimed a dragon so we went for a flight when we got ambushed by the others that claimed Vhagar was meant for Rhaena and I… mother I swear I tried to defend Aemond, it was four against two”

“It’s alright my dear, you did your best”

Alyssa spoke honestly, Jacaerys had restrained her when the others attacked Aemond, everything happened so fast she did not have time to process what to do, she did everything she could to defend Aemond, now he had lost his eye.

(Y/n) hugged her daughter tightly, thanking the Gods for sparing her daughter from harm. Everyone was occupied with blaming one another to notice (y/n) wince from pain, her labour had started, she had been through this multiple times she had knowledge of the pains starting early, it was not the time to focus on that as of yet.

“It was my sons that were attacked and forced to defend themselves, vile accusations were spoke from prince Aemond”

“No he did not”

“Alyssa”

“No mother they attacked him”

“He held a rock”

“After you started beating him and then you took a knife out you meant to kill him”

Alyssa was furious, she had seen everything and was appalled by such hostile behaviour especially within family members. Alyssa had grown into an environment that love and respect was shown to everyone, to be met with such hatred was a new found grown for the young girl, Daemon smirked at her daughter fighting against princess Rhaenyra and cutting her off before she could finish, Alyssa had a backbone stronger than any child her age.

“My king this is the highest of treachery and since the girl wants to take prince Aemonds side I ask both of them to be questioned for their treason”

“my child nor any will be questioned like they are criminals, I would have hoped for a woman of such high rank to have some respect for a child that has been permanently scarred from your own kin”

“Are you accusing me of something lady (y/n)?”

“I am defending what’s right which is what my daughter did as well, you are protecting your own and so will I”

“Enough!”

The king intervened. Daemon tried to bring (y/n) back from her anger by placing a hand on her shoulder, truly he did not want to do it still he worried over how heavily pregnant wife, she should not feel any type of uneasiness at such delicate state.

He was certain (y/n) could stand her ground and defend their family better than anyone, a side of him relished it when (y/n) pushed back at others and protected their children, her fire and quick tongue was his favourite things about her.

“Lady (y/n) is right, princess Alyssa has done nothing wrong”

“She stood against the heir”

“She defended her friend, titles don’t mean shit to our family pri- ow”

She could not hold back any longer, she felt liquid ran against her leg as the pain similar to knife cutting her belly made her lose her cool. Daemon was quick on his feet as (y/n) put her hands on her knees to hold herself up against the pain, daemon wrapped his hands around his wife to help her up, worry written all over his face.

“What is it my love?”

“My labours started”

“Maester-“

“No maesters, take me to my room now”

She interrupted the queen, everyone stood still not knowing what to do next. Alyssa stood next to her mother so she can rub her belly to soothe the pain, she had been present at the birth of her siblings for as long as she remembered, it was almost muscle memory now.

“Lady (y/n) I promise you i am very experienced with delivering babes for the royal-”

“Oh Fuck off will you? I said no fucking maesters, Daemon please hurry or I will push this babe out for your entire family to see”

“As you wish my love”

In one swift motion Daemon swooped (y/n) from her feet to rush her to the privacy of their own room, Alyssa followed quickly with queen Alicent, the Maester and princess Rhaenyra hot on their trail, as they were all amazed by (y/n)s resilience they wanted to witness the woman giving birth on her own, as (y/n) breathed heavy she leaned her head on her husbands shoulder.

“This is going to be a quick one”

(Y/n) could time her pains growing stronger at such short period of time, her babe was rushing to come out to the point (y/n) did not think she would make it to her room.

Fortunately she was wrong, as Daemon kicked the door open to quickly lay (y/n) in the bed Alyssa sat behind her mother to help her sit up while the mothers back laid against her daughters chest. Alyssa admired her mothers strength more than anything, she viewed (y/n) as the strongest person alive and loved that she was allowed to be included to the birth of her siblings, secretly scheming to follow the tradition of a private birth.

“Everyone out”

“The maester should stay in case of any assistance-“

“Daemon I can feel the head”

(Y/n) screamed from the pain, roaring her babe out that did not wait for anyone or anything. The family quickly forgot the presence of outsiders as they supported (y/n) for her birth, (y/n) held her daughter with one hand as Daemon lifted his wives dress to help her with any way he can.

“Almost there (y/n), give it one strong push and you will hold our babe in your arms”

He encouraged her while Alyssa stroked her mothers hair with her free hand. The trio that stood a few meters away were like statues, the queen was deeply moved by the love that lingered in the room and Alicent clenched the charm of the seven that hang from her neck, her children’s birth so strongly connected with the people in the room, the family had a bond that was rare in this world.

Soon enough cries of the babe echoed in the room as everyone in unison let out a breath of relief, (y/n)s lips curved to a triumph smiled as she saw her babe for the first time, Alyssa kissed her mothers forehead as encouragement for a job well done, amazed at the view of another sibling brought to life.

“Praise the mother”

Alicent spoke as she was the first to approach (y/n) who stretched her arms to hold the baby, tears appeared on everyone’s cheeks except the maesters and the only thing you could hear was the cries of a newborn babe, what a magical sound that was to a mothers ears.

“A princess is born to driftmark, Maester let everyone know (y/n) delivered her babe”

Rhaenyra instructed, she internally admitted defeat since there was nothing she could do anymore, watching Daemon so involved in the birth and cry tears of joy as he held the bloody babe in his arms was enough proof of there romance having no chance of reconciliation. Daemon sat next to (y/n)s bed as he observed his wife holding their babe in her arms and their eldest holding her mother in her arms with her eyes full of love.

“Well done my moon, what a gift you blessed me with, another beautiful and heathy daughter”

“Welcome to our family Maegora”

(Y/n) whispered as she held her baby, Alyssa gasped at the choice of the name, Alyssa had suggested it a while back and her father had laughed at the choice and the fear it would install to everyone’s hearts.

Daemon was actually fond of the name, still he had a habit of teasing his children so he just leaned to kiss (y/n)s lips, she was so beautiful after she delivered their children, a glow unlike any other as the light of candles was the only source of light, his devotion to her was as deep as any religious person, his heart only beat because hers did.

“You are radiating my love”

Requests are open!

@slutmeoutsworld @ayamenimthiriel @the-phantom-of-arda @babystudentroadthing @pearlstiare @bxdbxtxh15 @lazypinkpig

[povofjustme]

 The Queen of Death

(2/?)

Fandom: house of the dragon

You read about it many times as a kid

Legends say the island was filled with the strongest and most dangerous warriors

Men and women

The king and Queen throne and crown were made out of there enemy’s

They believe that they are there own ruler, they don’t need the king of king landing telling them what to do

They wear there colors with pride (purple and black)

“The live will walk but the dead will rule”

Mortensen is the family name - the meaning of death

If you were in war with them, just hope you said goodbye to your family

And you could never find them unless they want to be found (they give off Dothraki vibe but without the rape and slavery)

“Who are you?”

You looked around the beach you landed on, your eyes landed on a tall dark longed hair man and your heart stopped when you looked at the man.

“Am y/n Velaryon, I was flying when a storm hit and I seem to land here”

“Velaryon you said” a different voice come out, he seem to be wearing and crown made of bones

“Yes, will half Targaryen… your grace ” y/n

“And the dragon, yours?” Same voice

“Yes, your grace” y/n

“And you survived the storm?” Same voices

“It seem so… your grace”

While you were talking , many people of the kingdom started to come out to see you and your dragon

“ Well my dear, you seem to be the chosen one. I am king Alejandro Mortensen and this my eldest son, Prince Miguel. Please come inside and make yourself at home. You most be cold”

They welcome you in with open arms

Your got to meet King Alejandro family, his wife Queen Mariana, his second Elders princess Sofia and husband youngest prince Antonio

The Queen had got you a room made and had you changed in a more traditional Mortensen clothing.

Princess Sofia and you were the same size so while trying on clothes and got to know each other a little but you still had your guard up

They had asked you to join them for dinner to get to know you better

King Alejandro (bigger version of khal drogo) became king when he was seven and one and meet the queen when he was two and one. They fell in love and he married her

Queen Mariana (looks like Ellaria Sand) come from a small house. She ran away from a marriage that her father tried to force on her. She found herself in the storm as well and landed on this island. The restless history.

Prince Miguel was the one who found you on the beach. You found out he was a year older than you. And was to inherit his father’s. While looking at Miguel, he had this dark look to him. But every time your eyes met his light up a little.

Princess Sofia always had a smile on her face, with much attitude. She seem to be pulled towards you.

And Prince Antonio how to Playboy feel to him. But very open to you about himself. No filter.

“so y/n, what brings you to the island of death?” Antonio

And you couldn’t hold it in any longer , you spent months at Kings Landing, holding in the words in your head, and you only been to this island for less than a few hours, and the pain and emotions were gone

you felt peace here

So you told them everything

To the cheating husband, the best friend’s baby and you going mute

“ I never wanna go back well maybe when I’m stronger but for now I need to find somewhere to call home”y/n

“ you can stay here as long as you need” Miguel

“Really”y/n

“ we need more warriors like you” king

“ l’m not a-“y/n

“ Yes you are and don’t tell yourself that. I see myself in you y/n, we will help you get stronger. Is that right Miguel?” Queen

and since that day, the queen and king has took you as their own

you’ve missed your mom and dad dearly, but you needed a new start for yourself

days turn into weeks, two weeks, turning into into months to months turning into years

and you changed

Miguel told you about the history of the death island. Whoever is to survive the storm, the dead who believes you to be the chosen one.

His father and great grandfather and his great great great grandfather wife all come from the storm. The women came at their weakest point and at the end became the strongest queens

And now you are a warrior and soon to be a wife

Miguel and you fell in love, you’ve never knew you could after Harwin.

It took you a year for you to open about your feelings

He was always good to you, even with the hard look on his face

He will make sure you eat before practice, ask about your day even on his busiest days. And helped you with the wounds that you got from sword fighting

He got on Vermithor good side and always found away to get the dragon some food without flying back in the storms

He taught you everything you know, to hand on hand combat, to fighting with a sword. With him, you became one of the strongest warriors on the island.

He was known to be the most dangerous human on the island. Killed many people and went to war for the first time when he was one and five and lead them to win (Very much Drogo vibe)

And the queen herself molded you, teaching you their language, helping you learn the traditions.

She pushed you and Miguel together with any chance she got, like she said, she sees herself and you and only wanted the best

So after a few years being on the island, you married the heir to the death island.

Now you are known as Princess Y/n Velaryon Mortensen……

Throughout the years, you and Miguel had three children and one on the way 

Your twins boys Jośe and Juan and your baby girl Isabella

You loved your children, only wishing your mother and father could see them

One day, you and Miguel was walking hand-in-hand with your children on the beach, when you saw Vermithor flying away in a hurry 

“Momma, where did Ver go” Jośe asked

“I not sure my love but he always come back” y/n

Vermithor didn’t come back for 2 weeks

A note on the side of his saddle

Leana Velaryon is dead…..



@dramioneforevertilltheend @classicsimpforaaronwarner @ayamenimthiriel @hikaerys

(I hoped you like part two, hold on to your ass bc part 3 in going to be something)

[flowerandblood]

The Impossible Choice (2)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: kissing, angst, sexual tension ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm's End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

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

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

He didn't want to get married. He didn't want ballast in the form of a woman who would require his constant attention, his tenderness and other feelings that he didn't have.

He didn't even hug his own mother, occasionally letting her touch his hand or shoulder; for physical relaxation, a servant or his own hand was enough for him, as a last resort some pretty maid.

He didn't need a wife in his life. Even if he had an heir, he had nothing to leave behind, knowing that he would not be king or inherit Dragonstone.

He knew that without Vhagar he would be nothing, and the thought made him even angrier.

The idea that his drunken brother, wandering around brothels all night was to become king, and that he, a well-read man, experienced in combat, was to watch him destroy the kingdom and their family.

His father and mother, however, insisted that he eventually fly to Storm's End and make the choice, so that the wedding date could be officially set. He had put it off as long as he could, but the time had come and he had to accept that, whether he wanted it or not, one of Lord Baratheon daughters would be his wife.

He decided that he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

When he mounted Vhagar, he prayed for patience, that he would not show his brutality and madness to them even before one of them became his wife.

Vhagar glided through rain and thunder, in the distance he could see the faint outline of Lord Baratheon's stronghold. When he landed on a hill nearby, he was ushered into the great hall by several guards, the whole room lit with torches and large shutters, he heard loud thunder in the distance, shaking the whole castle.

Lord Borros greeted him with a few meaningless sentences that he couldn't concentrate on anyway, his gaze traveled over the faces of his daughters, all of them similarly combed and dressed.

Equally dispassionate, arranged, trained.

He pursed his lips, noticing a frustrating detail that didn't escape his attention.

"I heard, Lord Baratheon, that you couldn't read but I didn't know that you couldn't count either." He said it loudly, coldly, giving him a defiant look, a mischievous smirk on his face that didn't mean that he was pleased at all.

Lord Borros shited restlessly on his lord's throne, swallowing the insult with difficulty, clearly tense, for a moment he didn't know what to say.

“My fifth daughter is too young and inexperienced in the things of life. She wouldn't be…”

"Order to bring her." He commanded, interrupting him mid-sentence, looking around the hall impatiently. Lord Borros motioned to one of the guards, who immediately ran towards the corridor.

He wondered what that might be about.

He didn't believe what the lord was saying, thought that perhaps the girl was defective or disabled and her father wanted to spare her humiliation.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the voice of one of her sisters, the tallest and most mature of them.

He saw her full breasts and looked away at the memory of the whore that Aegon had taken him to when he was only thirteen, riding him and forcing him to knead her enormous assets with his hands.

“Our sister is not prepared for marriage. Please, spare her this humiliation, my prince." She said with an effort for gentleness, a feigned kindness and concern that her own words belied. He stared at her blankly, wondering if she really thought that she was playing her part well.

"Speaking without permission in front of a prince also does not reflect well on your preparation for marriage, my lady." He snarled in such a way that the girl froze, dropping her eyes quickly, all red with humiliation. He looked away from her when he heard loud footsteps and saw her.

He wondered if she was a servant girl or indeed Lord Baratheon's daughter, her large, bright eyes stared at him in horror, dark, wet locks of her hair sticked to her face in such a way that it looked downright endearing. She was breathing rapidly through her mouth, her fleshy, wet lips parted and quivering.

The contrast between her and her sisters struck him, they, standing like statues, dressed in ornate gowns, looked like goods for sale, she, shivering, warm, terrified, was painfully alive, she had a pretty, gentle face and her curves, though not so full and mature, lacked nothing.

Her father's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“This is my youngest daughter, my prince. As I said, I felt that she was not properly prepared to fulfill her responsibilities as your wife." Lord Baratheon said carefully.

He wanted to laugh at the helplessness of his words, the fear that he would take away his hidden treasure.

Apparently there was something about her that made him want to keep her for himself, when he was able to give away his other daughters at the same time.

However, he did not show his amusement, keeping straight face, watching her intensely. He felt surprised that his manhood pulsed in his breeches at the thought of her being unable to look away from him, staring shamelessly straight into his eye.

If she had been his, he would have shown her how to behave around a prince, would explain to her in detail what he expected of her, raise her as he saw fit.

"I will decide that, Lord Baratheon. Wasn't that the deal?” He asked coldly, menacingly, only then looking away from her.

Lord Baratheon shifted restlessly on his throne, desperate, he liked the way he looked, writhing helplessly before him.

He approached the first of the sisters, the one who had dared to speak to him unasked. He grabbed her jaw and kissed her, wanting to see how she tasted like, how her body felt.

He knew that he had no right to do this, but no one could stop him.

No one would dare to oppose him.

The girl sighed softly into his lips, opening her mouth invitingly, shamelessly, he pulled away from her as she wanted to put her tongue in his throat, thinking that she was hopelessly desperate.

The other sister when he kissed her pursed her lips in fear, breathing fast. He released her almost immediately, deciding that he didn't need a woman who would run away from him at the sight of him.

The next two sisters didn't impress him either, pretending that his kiss gave them pleasure, that he was the one that they desired.

He knew it wasn't him they wanted, but their idea of him, his position, his title, they wanted to feel like princesses and be treated as such.

He thought that it was one big misunderstanding.

He turned to their youngest sister and saw that she wasn't looking at him, but at the ceiling.

For some reason, that little detail, that she dared not look at him, ignore him, frustrated him.

He walked over to her and grabbed her cheeks in his hand more brutally than he originally intended, forcing her to look at him.

He saw more than fear in her eyes.

He saw begging.

She begged him not to take her with him.

She begged him not to hurt her.

He felt a pleasant shudder at the thought that she had asked him without words, and he could do what he wanted with that request. He stared at her parted, puffy, pink lips, thinking that he at least wanted to taste her, like a sweet, fresh fruit.

He leaned over her but stopped when he felt her draw in a sharp breath, her whole body quivering, her eyes widening in horror. He ran his thumb across her cheek, wanting her to calm down, to let him do what he wanted.

She looked at him again, softer, more dreamly this time, her soft lips parted sweetly, invitingly. He thought that this is what she might look like lying underneath him and felt his manhood throb painfully once again.

He dug into her lips like a sweet nectar and was delighted to feel that she hadn't pressed her lips, allowing him to enjoy the softness of her fleshy, moist skin.

She smelled of some delicate, feminine, sweet oils, rain and sweat, something primal, exciting. Encouraged, he deepened the kiss, wanting to feel her more, the taste of her saliva spreading across his palate like a fruit flesh.

He shivered as she dared to touch him, her hand pressed against his arm as if she wanted to push him away, yet hold him to her, undecided, he wanted to clamp his free hand in her hair and pull her to him, break her resistance, show her how a prince should be treated.

She was sweet and innocent, untainted, like a blank book that he could fill out as he pleased. He thought that he wanted her eyes, her lips, her hands, her pleas, her tears for himself.

She could give him what he really desired.

He pulled away from her, staring at her flushed, embarrassed face and saw that she looked away from him again.

He decided that when she arrived at King's Landing, this would be where they would start.

That she would never look away when he was standing in front of her.

"Her." He spoke impassively, coldly, decisively.

He felt with satisfaction how a shudder went through her body, how she immediately looked to her father to seek his help and thought, amused, that her father wouldn't help her.

He released her, turning tensely, heading for the main entrance, hearing Lord Baratheon mumble something under his breath, it took all his strength not to laugh in his face.

"I've already made my decision." He spoke loudly, matter-of-factly, as he left the hall.

He made his way to where Vhagar was resting, the storm unleashing around them in earnest, the downpour making him barely able to see anything.

He had not thought flying to Storm's End that he would feel such savage satisfaction returning to King's Landing.

He wanted this girl.

He wanted her for himself.

He wanted her terrified eyes, her untamedness, her softness, her sweetness.

He felt like a finished man, deep down he felt and knew who he was.

A monster inside and out.

All his life he had to take what was due to him by force. He knew that it was the only way − to snatch something from the gods against their will, tip the scales in his favor.

He knew that it would be the same with her, that she will not give him anything from her own free will and everything he would get from her would come from her fear and his superiority, his status, which forced her to submit.

What aroused him the most was knowledge that she wouldn't make this easy for him, that she would fight him, but he would win, he would always win, always his word will be the last, his will will be above hers, every time she will have to humble herself, agree with him, obey him, her husband.

He flew on Vhagar through thunder and rain, sinking into darkness, closing his eye, throwing his head back, soaring into the abyss.

Upon returning to the Red Keep, he informed his mother and father of his choice, but gave them no details.

He wasn't going to explain himself.

He did what he had to do.

When his mother announced to him that a date of their nuptials had been set, he no longer felt the frustration and rage that accompanied him before he chose his future wife and was surprised to find that he was getting impatient now.

He wondered if she was very distressed, did she cry because of him every day, did she think about their wedding night.

He thought of her every evening, as he relieved himself with his hand.

About the fact that he will be able to touch her everywhere.

That her body will belong only to him.

Her every look, sigh, moan.

The thought that she was a maiden made him thirsty even more.

The fact that he will show her everything, that he will open the door for her, the door to the pleasure of her own body − if only she will be obedient and polite.

He squeezed his eye shut at the thought, drifting off into his own fantasy world, involuntarily sliding his hand down to the material of his breeches, untying them.

When his mother informed him that Lady Baratheon would be arriving in King's Landing in a few days, he could barely suppress a smirk of satisfaction from her. The truth was that he was growing impatient, wanting to have her with him now to see what he could do with her.

He wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep his hands to himself until their wedding and thought that nothing bad would have happened if he had taken her sooner.

She was going to be his wife anyway.

On the day of her arrival he had fought hard with himself and with the temptation to welcome her with Ser Criston on the port, however, he gave up on this idea.

He didn't want her to think that he had any kind of affection for her, that she can soften him, change him, put him in order like a dog.

No, he thought, he would never allow that.

He waited in his mother-queen's chamber for her arrival, his heart pounding hard in anticipation.

He wondered would she look even more beautiful in a gown like the one her sisters were wearing, all pale, scared, sweet.

His.

He shuddered and twisted in his chair, crossing his legs as their servant entered the chamber, bowing low, not daring to look at them.

"Your Grace, Lady Baratheon has arrived."

_____

Thank you for such a warm welcome to the first part. 💖

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @diosademuerte @rwdkarla @echos-muses @slainey @letmeloveyouuuu

Others: @dreamymoomin @thedamewithabook @dc-marvel-girl96 @zillahvathek @helaenaluvr @tssf-imagines

[feederheart]

The Greedy Queen.

CW: feederism, ssbbw, fingering

I could hear the ravenous gorging before I even stepped foot inside of the throne room.

The colossal oaken doors creaked open as the two heavy-armored guardsmen permitted my entry. Inside was a massive hallway illuminated by the morning sun shining through multicolored stained glass windows depicting the greatness of Gulosus, the ever-consuming empire. Treasures including armor, weapons, scepters, jewels, gold jewelry, statues, paintings, carvings, pottery, and even a crown once worn by my late uncle were scattered throughout the room either mounted on a pedestal, a stand, or a plaque. At the end of the hallway sat a massive throne decorated with glittering gemstones and shining gold pillaged from all over Gulosus. The throne’s occupant, Queen Aila, sat all six-hundred pounds of her fat, quivering body on said throne as two servants beside her fed her the bounty of the kingdom she inherited from her mother. She greedily reached her fat fingers toward a bowl filled with sweet, sugary fruit grown in the fertile plains to the south and nuts grown in the western valleys as she chewed on a roasted leg from a wild beast that roamed around the northern hills. She then took a swig of wine made from eastern shore grapes to wash it all down before digging into a decadent chocolate cake baked here in the castle; her meal was as well-rounded as she was. Her fat arms swung like pendulums as she reached for more and more food to shovel into her greedy mouth. Her round face, once the famous face that could drive kingdoms to war, had rounded out quite a bit; although her long, auburn hair and beautiful green eyes were still as flawless as ever, her cheeks and double chin jiggled with each bite she took off her food. Her bountiful breasts, massive belly, and juicy fat thighs threatened to rip and tear the tent-like silvery dress that she wore over her body, displaying each and every one of her corpulent curves. As usual, she was adorned in glittering gold jewelry and gem-encrusted trinkets, although it was clear that these had to be made to account for her fat wrists, neck, and ankles. 

I wasn’t here to watch another one of her greedy gorgings; if I were, it wouldn’t be hard to fit it into my schedule seeing as that’s all she does. I was here to deliver her tribute from my homeland, Mons; a vase full of goldbrew. Goldbrew is wine made from golden grapes that can only be grown in Mons. It is said to be the most delicious drink imaginable; at least Queen Aila seemed to think so. 

“OOH!” she squealed happily as soon as she noticed that I had walked in. “Have you brought me my brew?”

“Indeed I have,” I said, bowing before the queen with my arms outstretched.

The two servants ran over and grabbed the gourd before to take it to the queen for her consumption.

“You two, wait!” she exclaimed at the servants. “I want him to serve it to me.”

The two servants bowed and left the throne room.

“Bring it to me,” she demanded, pointing her finger at me and giving me a “come hither” gesture.

I stood up and obliged. Queen Aila’s fluttered her eyes seductively and watched as I brought over her goldbrew. I walked up the steps before her throne and stood right in front of her fat legs, smothered by her giant belly.

“For you, my queen,” I said as I tried to give her the vase.

“Pour it down my throat,” she ordered hungrily. “I want every last drop!”

“As you wish,” I replied.

I reached the vase over her belly and breasts to reach her awaiting mouth. I poured the sweet, succulent liquid down her throat and she gulped it down like a pig; she seemed to have mastered the art of stuffing her mouth without breathing.

I stopped pouring after about twenty seconds to let her take a breath. She moaned in pleasure as she swallowed, savoring the delicious taste of the goldbrew. Her legs seemed to shake ever so slightly and I swore I could see her hips gyrating. This was because goldbrew was easily the most potent aphrodisiac known to man.

I reached to her belly and began to rub it to help her digest her meal as I fed her dessert. With the other hand, I continued to pour the goldbrew down her throat, causing her to moan even louder. I slowly worked my hand down to the bottom of her dress and lifted it up; her juices were building up and running down her leg. I slowly slid my fingers lower and lower until they were between her fat thighs and worked my way between her vagina. I felt her sopping wet womanhood and pleasured her as I fed her the goldbrew, completely losing her in total ecstasy. She moaned and panted as I pushed my fingers deeper and deeper while contorting my arms so that I could do that and feed her the drink. Her fat legs twitched with pleasure and her back arched, pushing her protruding belly our even further. Finally, just as I was running out of goldbrew, she screamed and squirted all over her legs and my hand. Her juices dripped down to the floor as Queen Aila lay there, satisfied and full.

“I’ll fetch those servants and tell them to bring rags,” I said to her.

She was so lost in ecstasy that she did not hear. I simply bowed and turned around, satisfied with what my goldbrew had done to the queen. 

You see, none of the vases I brought contained just goldbrew as my uncle promised many years ago when he surrendered our lands to Gulosus. We couldn’t fight them head-on, so we opted for another path. Our golden grapes contain the aforementioned aphrodisiac that captivated not just Queen Alia’s senses but her mother before her as well. However, another ingredient we added just for them; a special spice that numbs the senses and strokes the appetite, slowly turning the drinker to a fat, hedonistic, and horny pig that would eat and fuck whatever is in front of them. As Queen Aila grew fat, lazy, and stupid by eating and drinking all day, my people were preparing to make their comeback and take Mons back. 

Gulosus will be sitting ducks because their queen is a fat, spoiled, pig of a woman who only cares about where her next fix of goldbrew is coming from. She’s perfect.

[greenqueenhightower]

Hey.

I constantly argue back and forth with TB stans that Jace, Luke and Joffrey aren't legitimised just because Laenor, Corlys and Viserys go along with Rhaenyra’s lie about them being "trueborn". As I'm sure you're aware, in Westeros only a king can legitimise the illegitimate by first declaring their bastardy and then legitimising them afterwards. And TB stans. Just. Don't. Get. It. They also seem to think that the King's word is law in Westeros. They don't understand that this a feudal monarchy where the king and his vassals are reliant upon each other and both must respect the social contract in order for the Westerosi social structures e.g. monarchy to be maintained.

IMO, they fall for the narrative trap of the Targaryen characters. Just because Viserys and Rhaenyra say that the King's word is law doesn't actually make it law. It's only law as long as the king has the ability to enforce it. Therefore, if a king did something insane in the eyes of his noble polity, e.g., try to place his bastards in the line of succession, they'd rebel proving accurately that the King's word is in fact not actually law. Aerys's overthrowing is a great example of this. As is the reign of Daeron II: if his word was law and everyone had to obey him, no one would have joined Daemon Blackfyre's rebellion.

Anyway back to TB stans. I think alot of them don't actually realise how the world works. Even GRRM confirmed the bastardy of Rhaenyra’s 3 son's for goodness sake. Every time they try to deny it using the aforementioned argument it only confuses me. Are they insecure about Rhaenyra having illegitimate children? Is that how far they're para-social relationship with her goes?

They also have another stupid argument that Rhaenyra's kids having her blood means that they can inherit her throne. No no no no no no no no no. THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS TB. If it was Westerosi lords with bastard relatives, it would allow them to inherit. You have to be trueborn. It's unfair but these unfair laws are what keeps Westeros from constant civil war. That's the point of inheritance law in the Seven Kingdoms.

Anyway, sorry about the rant. It's just that sometimes when I argue with certain TB stans they don't seem to understand the laws of the world they're fans of. They will bend over backwards to excuse their faves, not understanding that you are allowed to criticise a character you like (& in their case love). I think Rhaenyra is an interesting character - moreso in the book TBH - I just don't get why so many TB stans willfully refuse to understand the way in which the laws of the world she inhabits work. Any thoughts?

Hi anon, it took me forever to get to your ask but you're right! 💚

Not all TB stans share the same views, and there are people in here with whom you can converse intelligently, but I have also seen the discourse you're referring to, and it is very annoying when the stans don't get it.

You put the Westerosi legitimization process very well. If we consider the greater Middle Ages-inspired world-building context that Westeros is based on, it makes sense why bastardy is a stigmatized social issue. Blood "purity," lineage, and legitimacy are important because they are the only way land and titles are bequeathed and inherited.

The King is the only one who can legitimize his own illegitimate children as heirs, but he can do so for other illegitimate children, regardless of whether these are related to him by blood. King Louis IV, for example, legitimized John II Duke of Brabant's son, Jan Cordeken, after a petition John wrote to him thus enabling him to inherit his father's fortune and found the House of Glymes. From Ancient Egypt, Greece, and Rome to Enlightenment Europe, there are examples of Kings legitimizing not only their children but also the children of their officials, courtiers, and friends. It was seen as granting a favor to them, and when it came to personal matters, a King might choose to legitimize his children when he ran out of heirs, or in the case of Louis XIV, because he could and wanted to.

In other words, Viserys, who knew of but chose to ignore Rhaenyra's sons' (his grandsons') bastardy, had ample time and opportunity to legitimize them but chose to blind himself to the truth instead. What was that about Alicent calling Viserys "weak" in one of the deleted scenes of S1? Well, "weak" isn't the only word I would use to describe him... also irresponsible, foolish, and inadequate.

Nevertheless, the legitimization process in history was seldom favored by the court, the King's vassals, and the people, and caused quite a stir. As you say, the King's law didn't hold up that much ground compared to the law of tradition and at times the Church. The people didn't care if a King legitimized a child by naming them heir... the stigma of being born "illegitimate" wasn't washed off that easily, because bastards were seen as devilish, impure, half-breeds, unnatural hybrids, and so forth. So Viserys choosing to ignore the issue face front was bound to be catastrophic, because no matter how he tried to silence the tongues that wagged by threatening to cut them off, the issue of his grandsons' apparent bastardy remained, and THE REALM would not accept any of them on the Iron Throne, for the same reasons.

And Viserys did nothing about it. He could have confronted Rhaenyra when Jace was born and reminded her of the stark reality of the consequences of what she was doing. Not only did he name Rhaenyra (a woman) as his heir, which alone was controversial and unprecedented, but a woman with three illegitimate children, whose existence never even tried to correct or prevent. Viserys alone weakened Rhaenyra's claim with his lack of foresight and counsel.

If TB uphold the "Viserys loved his grandsons and he accepted them as they were" narrative, they are not only deluded but lack media literacy as well, because Viserys DIDN'T CARE if his grandsons were trueborn or not, or if that would plunge the realm to war, the same way he didn't care that he had named Rhaenyra as his successor when the realm, who was so used to having Kings for centuries, knew he had THREE legitimate sons of his own.

So my two cents on the discourse would basically be that those who don't understand the social and political repercussions of Rhaenyra having bastards, not being counseled as to why this is destructive, left on her own to raise them, and having to cope with the consequences of her actions as she realizes that the father she so loved and admired didn't protect or support her at all, are missing out on a much more interesting character in Rhaenyra and a more complex dynamic with her sons, who she now understands are exceptionally vulnerable and potentially threatening to her cause.

This is a far more intriguing reading than anything TB stans are getting at with their "no criticism" ban on Viserys and Rhaenyra.

[solomons-poison]

Unpredictability

Chevalier Michel x reader

: ̗̀➛ A/N: OK I had to do just a little bit more with the Chev thoughts of having a daughter, connected to my headcanon post here, so just have this little slice of life thing. Papa Chevalier has a very special place in my heart ❤️

: ̗̀➛ Warnings: fem reader, reader is the mother of Chev's daughter and queen of Rhodolite; just some sweet fluff mostly in Chevalier's perspective; Chev is likely OOC for a bit lol; not proofread~

: ̗̀➛ Word count: 2193

Chevalier had a knack for predictions. His perception had always been extraordinary, able to pick up the smallest of clues from his environment and the people around him to know what would happen next. It aided him in his development as a prince, working with his brothers to keep the kingdom running smoothly as his father’s health declined, and it helped him now that he was the king of that same kingdom. He was a monster on the battlefield, strategically taking down enemies with the ease of a beast, and was equally a monster in the courts, always knowing what information was needed where and who to deal with.

When it came to you, however, you were his blind spot.

No amount of strategy and foresight could have prepared him for the way your fates intertwined, or the way you captured his very heart in the palm of your hand. A younger Chevalier would have scoffed at such a notion, that he had the human emotion to even fall in love to begin with when he was most aptly labeled as the "Brutal Beast" by every possible noble in the court. But of course all it took was the wisdom and pure heart of Belle to look deep inside and find the truth. Looking back on the events leading up to the discovery of these feelings, once he met you, he realized it couldn't have gone any other way.

You managed to surprise him at every turn, with your unending love, your wisdom, your thoughtfulness and devotion. That's what made you fit to be his queen, someone that helped him bring out and connect with his human side. The day he married you was something he never could have dreamed of in a hundred years, and even much less so, the tiny babbling bundle you delivered into your lives a year later.

Now he watched as his tiny daughter, three years old and full of toddler mischief, ran through the rose gardens of the palace at alarming speed, eager to see you again after being separated during a diplomatic trip– and she wasn’t the only one that was eager. He could just make out the top of her head, her hair color the exact same as yours and bouncing along as she moved.

That was something he was thankful for, the way his daughter resembled you in so many ways. Her hair color, the shape of her face, even her personality and stubbornness was coming to resemble you too, and he had no doubt the similarities would continue as she grew older. She was also attached to books the same, though honestly he was just as much at fault for that as his queen. However, the one thing that differed was that she had inherited his eyes, a strong clear blue that somehow looked right into your soul.

The little princess was beginning to learn how to use those ice blue eyes to her advantage, much to his amusement. When something didn't go her way, she'd glare at whoever was responsible in no dissimilar way to his own until they cracked from the pressure. It was no end of stress to Sariel or his brothers, realizing there was a little Chev 2.0 in the making. She'd even turned that icy gaze onto him, too, managing to surprise him.

Anyone that looked at her knew immediately whose daughter it was, and something about that sentiment, creating this tiny human so clearly made up of his traits and yours together, warmed him up inside.

Getting lost in his reverie, he quickly lost sight of his small child and hastened his pace. The full bushes made it difficult to keep his eye on her, even with his keen eye and sense of danger, so outside excursions were often accompanied by extra help such as the servants or even Lucien on rare occasion. Thankfully, that wasn’t necessary today as you were the one waiting at the end of their journey through the garden, and the thick foliage made the path clear, leading up to a gazebo.

Just as the image of your face came to mind, he could hear a loud exclamation from up ahead, and turned a corner in time to watch his daughter run into your waiting arms.

“Mama!”

You couldn’t help but grunt from the force with which you were tackled, but your arms wrapped around your daughter as she gripped you tightly.

“Hi, my love! I've missed you,” you said, pulling back to kiss the top of her head. You noticed the missing presence of your husband, glancing around before looking back at your child. “I’m so happy to see you again. Where’s your papa at, can you tell me?”

“Papa is slow,” your daughter mumbled, the excitement of seeing you lost already as she caught sight of the butterflies flitting about from bloom to bloom behind you.

Her wording made you giggle against your better judgment. Your husband could be described as many things, but you were certain the word “slow” was not one of them. But almost as if summoned, his platinum blond head came into view over the bountiful rose bushes, and it was as if all was suddenly right with the world— even if he did have a slight frown on his face.

“Little rabbit, I’ve told you not to run ahead in the gardens,” he sighed, entering the gazebo and patting his daughter’s head roughly. Instantly, her attention turned back to him, two pairs of ocean blue eyes meeting briefly before she looked away.

“‘M sorry, papa, I won’t do it again,” she replied, reaching out to hug his leg, gripping the fabric of his pants with tiny hands. Anyone else that saw this scene would expect the King to be cold and unfeeling in response, but instead he sighed, patting her hair awkwardly without a word.

You watched all this quietly, unable to fight the smile that made its way onto your face. The method of his comforting reminded you much of the early days of your relationship in which he did the same, unsure how to touch you or perhaps even afraid to hurt you. Chevalier may have been called the Brutal Beast for his actions, but he was really more of a beast for the way he was unused to loving human touch.

Over time, he’d eventually grown better and more confident with touching you, a way to express his unending love for you that he couldn’t express with his serious and less-than-romantic words. But it all seemed to revert the moment your daughter was born.

You remembered the very first time he had held her. All his brothers and the palace physician had waited with bated breath, and it was clear in Chevalier’s expression that he had his own reservations about what he was about to do. How could hands used for killing, hands used for exterminating the threats to the kingdom and defending the borders, possibly be suitable for holding that of his small, innocent child? The moment his daughter was placed in his arms, his discomfort was extremely clear –to you, at least– arms frozen stiff in an attempt to be gentle to the tiny creature he'd been entrusted with. But it was this same discomfort and worried reaction that showed you just how much he actually cared about her, and about you, too.

The memory brought a smile to your face, which was met by a strong, familiar poke to the forehead.

“Do not let your head get caught in the clouds, Rabbit,” Chevalier said. His voice was chastising, but the smirk gracing his lips was soft, sweet, making your heart thump.

Chevalier caught sight of one of his brothers out of the corner of his eye, a familiar flop of lilac hair waiting just beyond an ivy-covered arch by the gazebo. It reminded him how, as his daughter grew and came to differentiate his brothers, an unfortunate attachment had grown to a particular somebody. Much to his dismay, his daughter seemed to like her uncle Clavis the most, often shouting his name and using her stubby legs to seek him out when she could, and the feeling was mutual with the resident troublemaker. And Clavis delighted in this fact, often rubbing that in his older brother’s face and using it as an excuse to irritate him at every turn.

But today, Chevalier would use it to his advantage if it meant having you to himself, at least for a little bit. He knelt down to eye level with his child, peering into her familiar ice blue eyes.

“Little rabbit, I want to speak to your mother,” he said. He turned in the direction of his brother, pointing to direct his daughter’s attention in the same direction as well. “Why don’t you go see your uncle Clavis? He’s waiting for you in the gardens.”

His daughter’s eyes widened to a comical size, filled with excitement. Her head whipped around to search, despite Chevalier’s finger pointing the way, but thankfully, Clavis was accompanied by his trusty attendant, Cyran, who popped his head out at the perfect time to catch her attention. His shock of red hair made him look like a human rose, against the background of the gardens.

A shrill shriek filled the air, causing you and Chevalier to wince simultaneously. “Unca Cwavis and Cyan!” Your daughter was still having trouble pronouncing her L’s and R’s, but the men didn't mind. Chevalier watched as his daughter shot forward, “Cyan” quickly bowing to Chevalier in greeting before catching the girl in his arms. As he watched the two leave, he felt an arm slip through his and turned to look at you.

“I’ve missed you too, King Chevalier. I’m so glad to see you look okay,” you said, your relief evident in your smile. “How was everything during the visit? Did everything go alright?”

Chevalier huffed at your questions. “Would I have returned so soon if things did not go well?”

Your face scrunched up for a moment, but you were used to Chevalier’s sass.

“I know, but I’m still allowed to worry about you,” you said, leading Chevalier over to a bench in the gazebo. “The people of Rhodolite know now what a kind King you are, but I can’t say the same about people in other countries. And I know you’re capable of handling many things, but I still don’t want you to get hurt. I’ll always wish for your safety and good health, can’t I wish that for my own husband?”

Chevalier took a moment to look at your face, eyes following the curve of your eyebrows and lips, the shape of your nose and jaw, all features he had long since memorized. Finally, he simply snorted, reaching a hand up to poke your forehead again as a smile made its way onto his lips.

“That is awfully sentimental, and also unnecessary,” he said. “I am not so weak as to be felled so easily. I will always return to my Rabbit in the end, so long as you wish to wait for me.”

Now who’s being sentimental? You didn’t dare say that to his face, although the caution was unnecessary, given the way he was always able to read your thoughts based on your expressions alone. His smile turned teasing, clearly knowing what you were thinking, but he didn’t comment further on it.

“Now, I believe you’re forgetting something,” he said expectantly.

He watched as your head tilted in confusion. The gears were clearly turning in your head to determine what he was waiting for, but it only took a moment for understanding to dawn on your face, your lips curving up into a warm smile.

“Welcome home, Chevalier,” you said, stretching up to place a soft kiss to his cheek.

His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as he returned the kiss to your lips, the taste of home filling his senses. He didn’t speak further, but he didn’t have to. Every ounce of his love was put into his kisses, and you gladly accepted it all.

Neither of you could have ever predicted being here, Chevalier least of all. His life had become a fairy tale on par with the romance books he enjoyed reading but never totally understood. No amount of strict noble education, military strategy, or the annoying words of a certain foolish brother could have told him that a future like this was possible. But as he held you close under cover of the gazebo, happy to finally have you in his arms once again, he realized he was okay with that. You came into his life in a whirlwind of drama and intrigue, turning his expectations around and introducing him to so many unfamiliar things and feelings, like fatherhood, yearning, and love. It wore on him, at times, not being able to see where his future was heading thanks to all the new things he was experiencing by your side. However, so long as it was with you, Chevalier supposed he was okay with a little bit of unpredictability.

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

[mirai-e-jump]

Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger FLT | Pamphlet ft. Main Cast Messages & Takano Minato Interview (pages and translations below, LONG POST)

Publication: mid March 2024

Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger FLT (act.1)

The story of the Royal Sentai ended with the defeat of the Uchu King Dagded Dujardin. That's how it was supposed to go, but…

Soon after, there was alittle incident. Make no mistake, Chikyu is also at risk. But, it's hopelessly stupid and ridiculous, and will definitely cause a big commotion. An inconceivable comedy. We'd be happy if it makes you laugh.

-Synopsis-

The kings have gathered for the "Six Kingdom Summit" to decide who's most suitable for the "face" of the new banknotes, but for some reason, the "story" takes an unexpected turn…..

Hehehehe.

Sakai Taisei (Gira Husty/KuwagataOhger) "I'm going to rule the world!"

The king of Shugoddam, the largest country in Chikyu, and the one where the guardian god resides. He transforms into KuwagataOhger. He grew up in an orphanage in Shugoddam's castle town, but it later turned out that he was the younger brother of the (then) king, Racules. However, his true identity is a life form created by the Uchu King Dagded. His ability to communicate with the Shugods and his immortal body were inherited from Dagded.

"Looking back, say a few words for the character you spent a year playing!" I feel like I've also grown after being moved by Gira's feelings for others!! Thank you Gira Husty!

"Out of all 50 episodes, which one was the most memorable?" It's episode 49! It was cool to see everyone working together to take down Dagded! Don't mess with Racules's little brother! Stuff like that was good!

"Sakai Taisei's "confidential episode" that he can only talk about now!" I was given the OK for a take in episode 48 where my pants zipper was wide open! When I checked, it was well hidden. Thank goodness~💦

"Please show us your enthusiasm for the Final Live Tour!" This will be the culmination of King-Ohger, and it may be the last time we'll be able to meet everyone! Let's enjoy it as much as we can!

"A message to the fans who have supported you over the past year!" Thank you for your support over the past year! The warmth and energy I felt when meeting everyone at these events was truly encouraging! It would make me happy if you continue to love Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger from now on! See you later ^_^

Watanabe Aoto (Yanma Gast/TomboOhger) "I'm on top!"

The king of N'kosopa, the country of technology. He transforms into TomboOhger. N'kosopa's national power, which was once a satellite state of Shugoddam, has been greatly enhanced by technological innovations. Although he himself is a top class engineer, he was originally born in a slum and is considered an "upstart" He's got a bad mouth and says "octomush" and "slack jawed tanuki" on a daily basis.

"Looking back, say a few words for the character you spent a year playing!" Thank you Yanma Gast.

"Out of all 50 episodes, which one was the most memorable?" I have fond memories of episode 2, which was shot on location during the cold season, and was created together with the extras who applied to be in the show.

"Watanabe Aoto's "confidential episode" that he can only talk about now!" Halfway through my nose wouldn't stop running, so I was given multiple "runny nose NG" cuts.

"Please show us your enthusiasm for the Final Live Tour!" With the story that everyone's put together in their minds, we'll beat things down with guts and brains until the very end.

"A message to the fans who have supported you over the past year!" Thank you for your support over the past year. The story ends here, but I'd be happy if you remember us again someday and come visit us here in Chikyu to play. And with that, until we meet again!!

Murakami Erica (Hymeno Ran/KamakiriOhger) "I'll do as I please and follow my own path!"

The queen of Ishabana, the country of fine art and medicine. Having lost her parents in the "Wrath of God," she became king at a young age. She transforms into KamakiriOhger. She loves beautiful and cute things, and will always get what she likes by any means necessary. However, on the other hand, she's also a passionate doctor who has no hesitation in "saving someone's life."

"Looking back, say a few words for the character you spent a year playing!" I'd be happy if many people were "saved" by Hymeno's strength!

"Out of all 50 episodes, which one was the most memorable?" It's episode 28, where the kings swap bodies! In any case, we had fun and I think we saw the depth of each other's roles!

"Murakami Erica's "confidential episode" that she can only talk about now!" I brought my own bento to maintain my health and stay in shape, and yet……the famous tokusatsu "popeye onigiri," I never got to try it!!! (laughs)

"Please show us your enthusiasm for the Final Live Tour!" I'm really looking forward to seeing everyone who supported King-Ohger in all the regions around the country! Let's have lots of fun together 💛

"A message to the fans who have supported you over the past year!" Thank you for your support of King-Ohger over the past year! Even though the broadcast is over, I hope that this production will live on in everyone's hearts. Take care~💛💛💛

Hirakawa Yuzuki (Rita Kaniska/PapillonOhger) "Remain immovable"

The king of Gokkan, the country of ice and snow. They also serve as the Chief Judge of the International Court of Justice, which protects the neutrality of the world. Because of their position, not only do they always keep their facial expressions hidden, they rarely show emotion, but when they're at a loss, they sometimes makes strange noises. They're of few words, and never speak in public about anything unnecessary. The only thing they can make an exception for is their plushie of the animated character "Moffun." They transform into PapillonOhger.

"Looking back, say a few words for the character you spent a year playing!" It was difficult, but it was really fun to perform!

"Out of all 50 episodes, which one was the most memorable?" It's episode 5, "The King of Winter is Coming." It was my first trial scene, and it was a very important part of the story, so I clearly remember being very nervous during filming. It was really embarrassing when I said "death penalty" to Gira in the scene where I should've said "not guilty"……It's a fond memory now (laughs).

"Hirakawa Yuzuki's "confidential episode" that she can only talk about now!" To be honest, I'm not good with early mornings, I'm always in high spirits, but in the morning I'm about 2 beats behind in my reactions…(laughs).

"Please show us your enthusiasm for the Final Live Tour!" I'd like to express my gratitude to everyone who's supported King-Ohger!! Definitely look forward to it :) I'm also looking forward to meeting everyone! I also want to eat lots of tasty food~! (laughs).

"A message to the fans who have supported you over the past year!" To everyone who's supported Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger over the past year, thank you so much. Everyone's messages of support and the power you gave me at these events kept me going until the end. I'd be very happy if this production remains in everyone's hearts even after the broadcast is over. King-Ohger is the best!! Thank you!!!

Kaku So (Kaguragi Dybowski/HachiOhger) "By any means necessary!"

The lord of Toufu, the country of agriculture. He transforms into HachiOhger. He's always humble and polite in tone, but the theatrics of his words and actions tend to stick out, so he's what you'd call a "trickster." He's "two faced" and will lie with ease in order to achieve his goals, but he's also willing to take the initiative to sweat and dirty his hands by "tainting them pitch black" in order to protect the lives of his people.

"Looking back, say a few words for the character you spent a year playing!" You're so cool Kaguragi! Just like you, I'll live big so that I can protect what's important to me!

"Out of all 50 episodes, which one was the most memorable?" It's episode 37!! Interacting with the former lord Iroki was fun to perform, and it was cool as Kaguragi too!!

"Kaku So's "confidential episode" that he can only talk about now!" Around the time the script was being finished, I avoided doing muscle training because I figured Kaguragi would be more of a brainy character, but then I thought a powerful character would be more interesting, and so I enjoyed my muscle training life.

"Please show us your enthusiasm for the Final Live Tour!" At last, the final stage! We'll all do our best to bring out the charm of King-Ohger without fail. Please enjoy it until the very last moment!

"A message to the fans who have supported you over the past year!" Thank you very much for your support so far. Without everyone's warm support, I wouldn't have been able to make it through this past year at full power! There's no doubt, King-Ohger has become an irreplaceable and important work in my life! I hope this production will remain in everyone's hearts for a long time!

Ikeda Masashi (Jeramie Brasieri/Spider Kumonos) "I rule over all and decide the fate of the world."

A man born between his father, the sixth hero that saved mankind 2,000 years ago, and his mother Nephila, a Bugnarak. His real name is Jeramie Idmonarak Ne Brasieri. He transforms into Spider Kumonos. As a "storyteller," he has long passed down the history of Chikyu, but finally realized his purpose when he showed up to stop the war between humans and Bugnarak.

"Looking back, say a few words for the character you spent a year playing!" I'm happy that I encountered Jeramie, and that he was loved and accepted.

"Out of all 50 episodes, which one was the most memorable?" The first six person Royal Arms transformation. It's the best part about Sentai heroes, and I remember getting goosebumps the moment I saw the image of those six.

"Ikeda Masashi's "confidential episode" that he can only talk about now!" I spilled coffee on my pure white costume.

"Please show us your enthusiasm for the Final Live Tour!" We'll do our best to make it enjoyable for everyone.

"A message to the fans who have supported you over the past year!" King-Ohger wouldn't have been possible without everyone who has supported us. Thank you for all the love! May it continue to remain in everyone's memories. Thank you for the past year!!

Yano Masato (Racules Husty/OhkuwagataOhger) "May the blessings of the Shugod's be upon these warriors!"

The former king of Shugoddam. He inherited the throne from his father, Causus Husty. He believed that it wouldn't be easy to protect Chikyu from the threat of the Uchu King Dagded, and while acting like a selfish and reckless tyrant himself, his intent was to earn Dagded's trust and patiently wait for his chance to prevail. He transforms into OhkuwagataOhger. He joins forces with the Royal Sentai in the final battle.

"Looking back, say a few words for the character you spent a year playing!" I'm happy that I was able to play Racules!

"Out of all 50 episodes, which one was the most memorable?" For me, I have memories from every episode, including the ones I didn't appear in, but I'll never forget (the performance of) Sakai-kun fighting during filming of the first episode.

"Yano Masato's "confidential episode" that he can only talk about now!" Starting from the second chapter, my body had gotten so big that my costume became abit too tight (laughs).

"Please show us your enthusiasm for the Final Live Tour!" We'll do our very best to entertain everyone!

"A message to the fans who have supported you over the past year!" King-Ohger was really deep, huh? ^_^ I was very happy to be involved in this production! I think I made it through this past year due to everyone's support. From now on, it would make me happy if it continues to live on in everyone's hearts forever!

Friends of the King-Ohgers

Shugoddam Douga: He was the retainer and right hand man for Racules, and was in charge of Shugoddam's "military" affairs. Although he tried to find employment in the other countries, he eventually returned to Shugoddam and became the retainer to the new king, Gira. His personality is always serious. Kogane & Boone: A young girl and boy who love Gira, and who lived with Gira in an orphanage in Shugoddam's castle town. Goroge: In a way, he's a prominent figure, who for better or for worse, is someone who expresses his honest thoughts through words and actions when a major incident occurs.

N'kosopa Shiokara: Yanma's retainer who has deep respect for him. Originally a criminal in an organization that circulated counterfeit money in N'kosopa, he was reformed after meeting Yanma. He took on a supportive position for Yanma, who believes that technology can change the future. Akka, Usuba & Mayuta: These three are citizens of N'kosopa, who along with Shiokara, were once involved in the circulation of counterfeit money. After meeting Yanma, they were reformed like Shiokara. Their relationship with Shiokara hasn't changed since then.

Ishabana Sebastian: Hymeno's retainer. He's actually 25 years old, but when he became Hymeno's butler, he was given special makeup to give him an older appearance, and his name was changed from his real name, Romane Dearborn. Originally, he was the heir to a ducal family that has existed in Ishabana for 1,000 years. Elegance Moun: The chief physician of Ishabana. As her name suggests, she has an elegant appearance, but shows no compromise in her work (medical care), and acts with a strong will and sound judgment. Hymeno also places deep trust in her. Cleo Urbanus: The head maid who serves Hymeno…..which she is, but she has great physical strength and is also good at martial arts. In order to save Hymeno and the others, she once confronted a group of Sanagim and fought them off. In the final battle, she fought bravely alongside Kuroda and the others.

Gokkan Morphonia: Rita's retainer. She's a lazy person, and would rather not work if she can help it, but she does her job well. She's also the person who best understands the pain of loneliness that Rita carries. As a "child of criminals," she has mixed feelings about her position as a candidate to succeed Rita.

Toufu Kuroda: Kaguragi's retainer. Because of his position, he's usually quiet, but when he speaks, he has a smooth voice. His appearance is that of a so called "Kuroko," but the cloth that covers his face has a smile drawn on it. There are other Kuroko's who work at Takitate Castle, but Kuroda is thought to be their leader. Suzume Dybowski: Kaguragi's younger sister whom he dotes on. She calls him "big brother." She was in poor health as a child. She lived in Shugoddam as a "hostage" for the reconstruction of Toufu, but when she realized Racules's "objective," she chose to live as his willing accomplice.

Earth Empire Bugnarak An evil kingdom ruled by Desnarak VIII. After the overthrow of Desnarak VIII, it was reborn as the "Inbetween Land Bugnarak." Although it was once destroyed by the Uchu King Dagded, efforts to rebuild were continued in secret with Jeramie at the forefront.

Desnarak VIII: Ruler of the Bugnarak. Possessing the characteristics of an earthworm, he obtains nutrients from the soil and transforms them into his own energy. He met his end after being betrayed by Prime Minister Kamejim, but emerged from the Land of Death in the final battle. He worked together with the Royal Sentai and sent Kamejim to the Land of the Dead. Kamejim: Although he was the Prime Minister who served Desnarak VIII, he was actually the mastermind behind the battle between humans and Bugnarak, and was "Kamejim of Vanity" of the Uchu Five Jesters, who infiltrated Chikyu under the orders of Dagded. After that, he resumed his activities as Kamejim Unka. Daigorg: General of the Bugnarak who possesses the characteristics of a horned dung beetle. A hero to the Bugnarak, he contributed greatly to the unification of the underground world. He was revived through the technology of Shugoddam, but was defeated in a fierce battle with King Caucasuskabuto. Gerojim: A monster possessing the characteristics of a mayfly. By applying light refraction, he can mimic the appearance of a human. After being saved by Jeramie, he became loyal to him, and soon after was active as Jeramie's retainer, who had become the king of the "Inbetween Land Bugnarak."

Uchu Five Jesters A group of aliens led by the Uchu King Dagded. Up until now, they've led different species on numerous planets to conflict and destruction. With their sights set on Chikyu as their next target, they first attacked the Inbetween Land Bugnarak, and then launched a full scale attack to destroy all living beings on Chikyu.

Dagded Dujardin: The creator of all insect life forms. He has an invulnerable body that's immune to all attacks, and because of this, he always has time to speak and act in a way that belittles his opponents. For him, the destruction of other life forms is merely a form of "tidying up." Goma Rosalia: One of the Uchu Five Jesters known as "Goma of Suspicion." He possesses the characteristics of a longhorn beetle. He has the ability to swap any concept, from human minds to matter, and has swapped the bodies of the kings of six kingdoms. He unexpectedly died in battle after being brainwashed by Hilbill. Hilbil Leech: One of the Uchu Five Jesters known as "Hilbill of Enticement." She brainwashed the king's retainers and citizens, turning the human race on Chikyu into mobs. Finally, she brainwashed (it's implied) herself to become a giant in order to corner the King-Ohgers, but was ultimately defeated. Minongan Moth: One of the Uchu Five Jesters known as "Minongan of Concealment." Just as he looks, he's a "power fighter," with high offensive and defensive power. Angered by the defeat of Hilbil, he challenged the Royal Sentai to a battle in order to give him what he craved, but was defeated by the combined power of Kaguragi and Rita's "King's Proof." Grodie Leucodium: One of the Uchu Five Jesters known as "Grodie of Tranquility" He's the one responsible for causing the "Wrath of God." In order to defeat this "living corpse," the Royal Sentai implemented a strategy to bring him back to life. Grodie tried to bring upon the "Wrath of God" again, but was dealt the final blow.

"Thank you for your support over the past year"

Main Screenwriter Takano Minato Interview

"By the time this article is published, Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger's broadcast will have already finished airing. At this point (at the time of this interview), the writing process of the script may still be fresh in your mind, but how do you feel after writing a year long drama series?"

Takano: I'm clumsy by nature, so all I've been thinking about for the past year was "King-Ohger." I was just concentrating on the production. It's not an exaggeration to say that I was risking my life. That's why I feel so much attachment to it. In reality, I had to immediately start working on "King-Ohger VS Donbrothers" right after I finished the script for the final episode, so I didn't feel a sense of freedom (laughs), but I did feel a sense of accomplishment that I had made it to the end.

"So far, you've participated in the Kamen Rider series as one offs, but King-Ohger was the first time you participated in the Super Sentai series. Furthermore, it was the position of Main Writer……"

Takano: Toei's Producer Omori Takahito, who I worked with on "Kamen Rider Ex-Aid" and "Kamen Rider Zero-One," called me through his office, where I remember immediately saying, "I'll do it!" (laughs). For me, the most significant thing I had done before King-Ohger was the hour long drama "Shinhannin Flag," which ran for two quarters (half a year). That production was an original project for TV, it wasn't an adaptation, and one hour a month for half a year is about the same as 30 minutes a month over one year, right? I think I was lucky in terms of timing, as I was able to build such a track record.

"There were many challenging factors to the production of King-Ohger."

Takano: The first thing Omori-san told me was the concept of the project, "Everyone is part of the Royal Sentai. Furthermore, all of them are the strongest." Then, a switch was flipped and I thought, "Interesting!" We decided to have a brainstorming session, and on that day, I had created and submitted a complete set of ideas for the worldview of King-Ohger, the image for each country, character settings, and the overall series structure. At that point, I had already included the story surrounding the Uchu King and Racules. Looking back, it was like I had put everything I liked and had accumulated since childhood into it. For the main characters, with the exception of Gira, everything I wrote at the time went almost unchanged.

"What do you mean when you say accumulated?"

Takano: In the household I grew up in, TV and video games were prohibited when I was young, but because of my parents work, I was surrounded by children's literature, picture books, and the shonen manga that my father loved. I grew up devouring a variety of stories, so I was lucky to come across a project that allowed me to make use of that. I think that's why I was able to make it through the past year even though it was my first challenge in the Super Sentai series.

"You've created a magnificent worldview, but how did you feel when you first saw the completed footage?"

Takano: I was surprised. This was the first time for Toei to introduce virtual production in full, so I started writing the script early on, but then Omori-san told me, "You've written so much, but it may be impossible (to visualize it as imagined)." Here too I was like, "Well, you may be right……" And to be honest, I was also worried about how it would turn out. Over time, I wondered if he would eventually say something like, "We can't do this anymore, so let's stop." But, then I saw the footage, and those worries were blown away. Rather, I thought this would allow me to further expand my image. The CG assets (background materials) from each country were also excellent, which further increased my motivation.

"We were told by Director Kamihoriuchi Kazuya, who was the Main Director of the show, that the more Takano-san pushes himself, the better the script gets."

Takano: (laughs). He'd say things like……"Takamina, you only start scratching your head when you're getting serious." When I'm worried, I seem to scratch unconsciously. I think the first time I became numb to that person (Director Kamihoriuchi) was when we were finalizing the script for episodes 1 and 2, and there was a moment when the meeting stalled. At such times, because of my position, the Screenwriter often plays the role of communicator or someone who summarizes everyone's opinions, but when I tried to do so, he firmly said, "No, let's just think about making it interesting right now." That attitude had remained constant throughout. He's very particular about "creating interesting productions." When it comes to scripts, I stick to every last line until the very last minute before the submission deadline. Instead of motivating me, he just lets me write it until the end. It wasn't an easy task, but I could feel that it had become more interesting as I was revising it, and the Director was able to add the finishing touches to make it even better. I think that his uncompromising attitude had a great impact on the production. Just once, I'd like to see the Director make a movie with a budget of atleast 10 billion. I think he could make something amazing.

"Takano-san also visited the filming set as much as possible."

Takano: I myself used to have a theater company, and I just love the current state of creative production. I would look at the set with a feeling of respect, but it was also beyond my imagination. No one ever really talks about it, but everyone's passionate about it, they're all passionate about making something as "interesting as possible." Everything was so ingenious down to the finest detail, that it makes you think, "They'd really go this far?" So, no matter which episode you watch, it's already multiple times more interesting than the draft of the script. It was truly a rewarding job as a Screenwriter. It's not exactly Jeramie, but I included some "between the lines" in the script to think about. There was never a time when I thought, "This is wrong!" when looking at the footage created by those on set. It was more like, "Eh? You picked up on this here too?" I thought they were an amazing team, and I was again reminded of the beauty of "working together to create a work of art." I'll never forget the many warm words of encouragement I received from the staff on site.

"What do you think of the cast? Despite the large number of characters that appeared, we think that all of them became very lovable."

Takano: They were wonderful. What can be said in general is that everyone loved and nurtured their roles above all else. This is true not only for the main six, but also for Racules's Yano-san, and for everyone else who played a part as the retainers……It's all thanks to the cast that the roles expanded beyond what I originally had in mind. I used to do theater, so by getting to know them, I wanted to write scripts that brought out the best in the people performing them. So, when I went to the set, I actively talked to the cast. To give an example, when I asked Watanabe Aoto-kun, who plays Yanma, "Do you have any stories you want to do?," he said, "I've got alot" and he offered lots of ideas. Among them was a story about Yanma giving up everything for Shiokara, and I thought, "That might be good!" I expanded on it and wrote episode 35, "Don't Cry Slack Jawed Tanuki." Another thing was Rita's Hirakawa Yuzuki-chan, who said she wanted to "show her face," so I thought I'd write something with that.

"The enemy was changed from the Earth Empire Bugnarak in the first half, to the Uchu Five Jesters in the second half."

Takano: I also love villains, and even when I watch "Batman," I get emotionally invested with the Joker, so I was very particular about the evil setting. As for the Uchu King Dagded, I wanted him to be absolutely evil, so I decided not to explore any positive aspects of him. The Bugnarak arc was calculated backward from the Uchu Five Jesters arc, but I didn't want it to be a predictable development, so I put alot of thought into the order in which the monsters (Kaijim) would appear. It makes sense that Iragajim (episode 22) and Zarigajim (episode 24) appear at the end of the Bugnarak arc. Since Iragajim can steal Shugod Souls from the Shugods, which Bugnarak need to become gigantic, it was necessary to have him. And since Zarigajim was sent for the plan to destroy Chikyu, his appearance was timed that way. After that, there's the Uchu Five Jesters arc, and once again, all my favorite voice actors were cast (laughs), so I didn't want them to say anything meaningless, even if it was just one line of dialogue…..I was really happy because my favorite elements were included here as well (laughs).

"Please tell us how the final episode was created."

Takano: One climax was the story of Racules (episodes 42 and 43). There has always been some debate about how to conclude Racules, and one possible direction was to have him die, but if he died, he would become a hero. I felt that Racules, as a criminal, needed to pay for his past crimes, which is why it took the form you've all seen. In the following episodes, I again thought, "I'm not sure what I should write," but I decided to work on what I hadn't written yet by that point, and carefully complete them one by one. And so, episode 45 was about Kaguragi and Rita. I originally conceived Kaguragi and Rita as paired characters, but I wanted to rework that part of the story and include the issue of successors, which is inevitable in a story about kings. Then, episode 46 was about Hymeno and Jeramie. While also telling the story of their parents, I dealt with the issue of "life," as it's something those two have in common. Then, episode 47 is the reckoning of the "Wrath of God." The remaining three scripts were episode 48 to the final episode, which of course will be the story of defeating Dagded, but when it came time to decide what to do after that, Director Kamihoriuchi said, "Let's bring out everyone."

"Especially around episodes 49 and 50 (the final episode), the "Characters" section of the script was amazing."

Takano: The last three scripts were written as a way of "giving back" to various people. Even if it was just one word, I tried to write dialogue that would make all the cast members think, "I'm really glad to have been apart of this production." I felt the same way about the viewers, and I wanted to make them feel happy and enjoy watching King-Ohger all the way through to the end. It felt like I was writing a letter of gratitude to all of them.

"Being in charge of a one year drama series for the first time, especially a Sunday morning children's program, was there anything that you were careful about or anything you noticed?"

Takano: Since I don't have a family yet, I did some research with family members I know, but it seems that in reality, it's not easy to have the whole family sitting calmly in front of the TV the whole time during Sunday mornings. However, on the other hand, Toei's Super Sentai series and Kamen Rider series are among the few programs today that are mainly for children, but are also watched by their parents, so the idea was to create something that would be "interesting" to all audiences. So, of course I worked really hard on the aspect of it being a serial drama, but I also tried to include elements that could be enjoyed even if you watch only that episode during the weekly broadcasts. It was difficult to find a balance between it being worth watching as a serial drama and being interesting as a stand alone drama. The range of what I want to show is infinite, but that doesn't mean I should settle for the greatest common denominator, and I wanted to deliver something that was by no means mediocre. That's something I've always been aware of.

"Especially in the second half, we feel that this goal became more apparent. Dagded and the Five Jesters are so unique……(laughs). Normally, when a strong enemy appears, the story tends to go in a more serious and dark direction, but because the main enemy is a guy like that, the visuals of the strategies that are carried out can become funny. We're sure it would be easier to adjust the overall "taste" though."

Takano: I thought it was important to make a topic of conversation in that way, such as "the episode where the characters swap bodies" or, "the episode when the kings become children." No matter how exciting the main story may be, it's difficult to attract new viewers if it becomes contained, right? In recent years, I often see headlines like, "XX and XX have finally teamed up, and XX has been activated!" in online news articles, but for those who haven't seen it yet, It's just a bunch of words they don't understand (laughs). Instead, for example, using words like "trial by combat" or chosing a generic expression such as "sibling confrontation"……I was also particular about that. Then, as I mentioned earlier, there's the awareness of the target audience, which is family. Depending on their age, some children will enjoy different parts from their parents, so I was hoping that they would atleast find a character that they liked or that they could empathize with. If such a character exists, it's a reason to continue watching the show. I thought about this too, but I don't think it would have worked without the efforts of each of the cast members. For example, Douga-san was in a position where it was difficult to make him seem human, but I was inspired by Morioka Yutaka-san's performance, and later ended up writing the story about him looking for a job (laughs). Really, if I talk about each of these things one by one there is no end to it, and I feel that King-Ohger was a production that everyone worked on with a positive and pure passion.

"And finally, the story that'll be performed at the Final Live Tour is also written by Takano-san. We heard that the actual writing is still in the works….."

Takano: Since it's a stage play, It feels abit like I've returned home (laughs). However, since then, I've had the opportunity to write many scripts for movies and TV dramas and gained alot of experience, so I'd like to write what I can write because of who I am now, and what I write is because I'm in the world of King-Ohger. One thing I intentionally avoided in the TV series is that because they're kings, I basically didn't let them make choices like doing something in exchange for their lives. However, now that the kings have bonded with each other, I wonder if such a story is possible. Also, since it's a special stage performance, I'm thinking of ways to involve the audience as well. I hope that visitors who come to the venue will also become residents of "Chikyu" and participate in the story……Some completely different ideas are being thrown around, so I don't know what will happen yet (laughs), but I'll do my best to make sure you enjoy the stage version of King-Ohger as well!

Staff Comments on episodes Main Writer Takano, Producer Kuji Producer Omori, Assistant Producer Takahashi Main Director Kamihoriuchi

Episode 1 Racules's favorite Takano-san's comment: Gira's a character who uses villainous language. I was really worried at whether he'd be liked or not. And then, what Director Kamihoriuchi and Sakai-kun created was that 30 seconds of silence. I was sure that it would be an impactful moment. I could feel the care and passion of all the people involved from every corner of the picture, and I was shaking with happiness knowing that I was going to work with such wonderful people on this production for a year.

Episode 2 Yanma's favorite

Episode 3 Takano-san's comment: A beautiful and glittering princess, and a strong and noble queen. Cute and cool coexisting. There was no need to give up on either. She won't flatter anyone. Still, she wants to protect and be protected, love and be loved. She'll make it all happen. Living selfishly. The character of Hymeno-sama was also the "prayer" for the girls who watched the show.

Episode 5 Rita's favorite Takano-san's comment: It was an unexpected challenge to put judgment in a children's program, but I remember how relieved I felt when we received the positive response. It was also a pleasant miscalculation to find that Rita-sama stuck with adults who have gone through the hardships of society.

Episode 10 Takano-san's comment: I really wrote this with the intention of it being the final episode. I wrote the opening remarks for Legend King-Ohgers descent first, and then wrote everything backwards from there. Thankfully, the response I received was good, but at the same time, I was cursed to go all out on writing opening remarks each time.

Episode 12 Takano-san's comment: It was reeeeeeally tough! Jeramie was difficult! We were all trying to figure out what to and what not to do, but Director Kamihoriuchi turned it all around in the end, and we ended up with the best Jeramie and story! We had to revise the entire script, which I had written up to about 20 episodes at that point, but it was alright!

Kuji-san's comment: The composition, dialogue, action and music…it's a good feeling to feel the bold yet subtle professionalism in every scene. Even reading between the lines was enjoyable, and I become excited no matter how many times I watch it.

Episode 14 Jeramie's favorite

Episode 19 Takano-san's comment: When the relentless and coldhearted Producer Omori said to me, "I want the words Ohsama Sentai to have significance," a "Huh?" flew out of my lips. It took me a whole day to get to the point where I could read "kotozama" (strange) as "kotosama." As a result, I'm really glad I went through all that trouble.

Episode 26 Takano-san's comment: I've loved villains since I was a kid. The true value of a villain is at the end of their life. I loved Desnarak-sama so much that I cried while writing it. It made me really happy when Producer Omori, who shows almost no emotion said, "I cried when I read your script."

Episode 27 Takano-san's comment: Even though it had been decided from the beginning that Dagded would appear, to the viewers, it was the sudden appearance of an unknown character. Furthermore, I had been begging with "Ishida Akira-san will work best," so when it really happened, I wrote the story as if I was put my life on the line. Thanks to the overwhelming visuals and great work done by Director Kamihoriuchi and the CG team, this was an appropriate opening for the new chapter.

Episode 29 Omori-san's comment: With the start of the second chapter, I think the arrangement of this episode, after the completely serious episode 27, and episode 28, which ignored everything and was comical, was actually key for the second half of the series. The unique coolness of Jeramie and his bond with the other kings was shown through a perfect balance of script and direction.

Episode 30 Hymeno's favorite

Episode 32-33 Omori-san's comment: I won't hide it, Ryusei-san was the first one to be given the OK for his appearance. These episodes were made possible because he was already scheduled to appear in the V-Cinext, so I think that's why everyone else also appeared.

Episode 33 Kuji-san's comment: The power of the Great and Mighty Lizards (Kyoryugers), whose bravery has increased over the past 10 years was amazing, but I realized that the charm of the kings is brought out even more when there are strong characters next to them. In any case, it was an extravagant episode.

Episode 35 Takano-san's comment: Aoto-kun said to me, "I want to do a story where I have to give up everything to protect just one person, Shiokara!" This episode was made possible thanks to Chiwata-kun's efforts to develop his character of Shiokara on set and his increasing popularity. I thought this was the best part of working together to create a long story. The last scene made me cry so much that it took me a while to write it.

Episode 37 Kaguragi's favorite Takano-san's comment: It's under the pretense of…a surprise performance by a married couple, but it was a profound human drama, and a dialogue heavy one. Honestly speaking, I thought it is insane to attempt through acting. It wouldn't have been possible if Kaku-san wasn't Kaguragi. I think this is one of those episodes that pushed the limits of morning tokusatsu programs for children.

Episode 38 Takano-san's comment: "I want to do something silly" is what I used to say when writing King-Ohger. It was also a phrase to keep my sanity in check, because if I was too serious, I'd lose sight of its essence as a children's show. This was the culmination of that. The argument of, "Why idols?" was one of the most serious topics that Producer Omori and Director Kamihoriuchi had ever had. Being silly must be taken seriously.

Episode 39 Takahashi-san's comment: The high level action was something that only King-Ohger can create. I think the action scene against Goma was an unprecedented challenge for a Japanese live action drama. I rewatched the 1 minute and 10 seconds of action countless times.

Episode 40 Omori-san's comment: This is the episode where we find out that Gira was born from the Uchu King. You may not have noticed it much, but even when depicting heavier themes, I made it a rule to "always end with a victory or them standing." Even if there's a wall, kings are the ones who always stand up.

Episode 41 Takahashi-san's comment: This is the episode where Racules shows his "real face" for the first time. The line from Racules became the subtitle of the episode. It's not an exaggeration to say that 40 episodes had been accumulated for this single line, so it was the ultimate "catharsis" for me when I heard it. Yano-san's performance was also wonderful.

Episode 42 Takano-san's comment: Although the truth about Racules had been decided before I wrote the first episode, the most important thing I kept thinking about was how to reveal it. I was on a walk while I was thinking about episode 8, when it came to me and I cried. I was absolutely determined that I would not die until I wrote this episode.

Episode 49 Gira's favorite Kamihoriuchi's comment: This is the "culmination" episode of King-Ohger, where the staff and cast were giving it their all.

Episode 50 Takano-san's comment: Episodes 48-50, those three episodes were written as a long final episode. It's a conclusion that couldn't have been written without a buildup, so I wrote this as a gift of gratitude to the cast, staff and viewers. I worked on the manuscript with Producer Omori and Director Kamihoriuchi until morning, and the selfie I took with the big smile on my face while shouting, "I did it!" is my treasure.

Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger: Ancient Alphabetical Reference Table

[lacroixqueen]

embers and earth ch. 1 (zuko x jin angst)

Summary: jin finds out "lee" is actually firelord zuko, the new leader of the fire nation. angst and mental breakdown ensues

Word Count: 1.2k

Pairing: zuko x jin

Tags: angst, jealousy, yearning, prince x peasant

Author's Note: this was inspired by fan art but I for the life of me cannot find the artist's name just if you are out there just know you inspired this fic so thank u :v

Jin was absolutely furious the day that she found out. 

She remembered being over the moon the night before when the Earth King announced that the Hundred Year War was finally over. That the fire nation inherited a new leader who would forge peace between all four nations at long last. She recalled sleeping a little bit more deeply that night. A sigh of relief. A breath of fresh air. 

She even had a pep in her step when she ambled into the main marketplace of the Lower Ring in the morning. For the first time in her life, she didn’t need to worry about her safety. She remembered having to escape with her family when fire nation soldiers attacked her village when she was only a little girl. The fear in her father’s eyes. Her mother holding her tight and telling her not to make a sound when she cried. 

But today was a new day. A fresh start. 

She was picking out the ripest cabbage in the stall when she noticed a couple of Dai Li agents putting up posters around the square. She swore to herself she saw a glimpse of a face that looked all too familiar for comfort. She almost didn’t want it to be true. Because if it was, it would confirm too many questions she would stay up asking herself over and over again. 

A small crowd was already beginning to form around one of the posters. She eventually elbowed her way through and made it to the very front. And there it was. 

Firelord Zuko. Future of the Fire Nation. Forging an era of peace. 

Except it wasn’t “Zuko”, or whoever that was. It was Lee. The boy with the scar from the tea shop. She reached out reluctantly, as if she touched the poster he would come walking off the page. She placed the tips of her fingertips over the purple scar that ran across his triumphant face. 

But it’s not possible. Lee said he was of the Earth Kingdom. A traveling circus, was it? Now that she thinks of it, it did sound a little bit too barbaric to be real. But none of that mattered. 

She was fascinated by him. She hung onto his every word. Even though it’s not like he had much to say in the first place. 

After their date, she remembered how excited she was to see him again. She planned out an entire day with him in her mind, replaying the scenarios in her dreams like she was the director of a play. She recalled feeling a bit ridiculous about it, like some giddy fangirl. But she didn’t care. She had never wanted anything more in her life. 

But surprise quickly melted into confusion, which devolved into anger. 

How could he? she thought to herself, trying to piece together the puzzle but it still didn’t make any sense. 

The last time she tried to reach out to him, she burst through the doors of the tea shop, wearing her heart on her sleeve and ready to confess her undying love to him, without so much of a care in the world. But he was gone. In the blink of an eye, tossed away into the wind. 

“Where did he go?” she asked one of the workers, almost dissociated from reality. 

“To the Upper Ring,” he replied, sweeping some dust out of a corner. “His uncle got a job offer to run his own tea business. The Jasmine Dragon, was it? Yeah something like that.”

She felt her own blood run cold. She would only ever occasionally venture up to the Middle Ring, but Upper? She wouldn’t stand a chance. She would be ushered out as quickly as she came in. Not to mention she had no idea where this new store was even located. 

She was inconsolable for several days, of course, but in the back of her mind she knew she couldn’t cry forever. Because time heals all wounds, as her mother would say. 

And she eventually moved on, even though there was always longing within her that she could never quite shake. An ache that pulsated every time she remembered that she would most likely never see him again. 

Her thoughts were beginning to spiral at a rate of a million miles per second. Was he lying to her that entire time? Was that what he meant when he said “it’s complicated”? 

She paused, her entire body frozen. 

Was that how he lit up the lanterns at Firelight Fountain?

She couldn’t even process what was happening, but next thing she knew, she had already scrunched up that stupid poster, much to the crowd’s bickering and dismay, and shred it all up into several pieces. 

Tears were beginning to bud at the bottoms of her eyes. So that’s it. He was a firebender this entire time. But why lie about it? Why keep something so important from her, when he knew how much the fire nation had hurt her family.

Why was she acting like some sort of dramatic schoolgirl? It’s not like they were officially together or anything. It was just one silly date. Why did it mean so much to her anyway?

She walked briskly home, attempting, but failing horribly to conceal her tearstained face.

She opened the door to her modest home, without even bothering to close it gently, and stormed up the stairs to her bedroom. 

“Jin, were you able to get the vegetables I needed?” her mother called from the kitchen but she wasn’t even able to muster up a response. 

She flung herself onto the cot splayed out in the middle of the floor, grabbing her pillow and holding it close to her chest. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid, she kept telling herself. Why did she care so much anyway? It doesn’t even matter. None of it. 

Lee or Zuko, what difference did it make? 

He was still going to be a million worlds apart. Whether that was the Jasmine Dragon in the Upper Ring or the palace in the Fire Nation. 

She could weep and yearn for her entire life, and then what? He would just descend into the dilapidated shacks of the Lower Ring and sweep her off her feet? She knew the chance of that happening was zero to none. So why hope? Why cling onto this tiny shred of faith that had no meaning otherwise?

She played with the thought a little bit, after all, she was a hopeless romantic at heart. But the fantasy dissipated as quickly as it formed. 

It’s best to forget any of this ever happened, she decided for herself after an entire afternoon of contemplation. There’s no use in staying in the past. Besides, he probably never thinks of her these days. He’s busy running his own country, and creating a new era for the world. 

After all, why would some Earth Kingdom peasant ever cross the firelord’s mind?

[evans23]

RICKMAS 2024 - DAY 14 - DECEPTIVE KINDNESS [C1]

Pairing : Elliott Marston x OC

Summary : She tried to escape her arranged marriage, but she found herself trapped with Elliott. Can she trust him ?

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Arranged marriage. Some rude words. Racism. Racism towards aborigines. Tell me if I forgot anything.

A/N : I didn't proofread because I'm so, so, so behind and my brain is just like "Woman ! I'm tired !"

Also read on AO3 - Wattpad

When you were told you were getting married to Armand de Mont-Alban, you ran away. You never would have believed your father would offer your hand to another without asking you. You had always been his little princess, the one he let everything go. But apparently, not this time. You had some tantrum, threatened to throw yourself into the sea, but your father wouldn't listen. On the contrary, he had threatened to lock you in your room until the wedding day if you continued to make him go gray.

So, without hesitation, and with the discreet but kind help of your mother, you had fled Sidney. Your mother had given you the money she had saved up for years to help you join your uncle, his brother, in the Outback.

You had taken your business with you, the bare necessities, and you had joined the stagecoach that would take you to Adelaide. From there, another stagecoach would take you to Alice Springs. And finally, your cousin's husband would help you reach your uncle's house in the north.

At least, that was the plan, because once you arrived in Alice Springs, you learned that your cousin and her husband had left town for Katherine almost a month ago. The letter announcing it must have gotten lost, but whatever the case, you found yourself spending more than you had planned to be able to sleep. You had hesitated to leave again. The town needed waitresses and although you were not used to manual labor, anything was good to escape. Except that your father would come to get you there, you were sure of it and here, no one would protect you.

So, after talking to a merchant and giving him the rest of your money, you had managed to find yourself in a cart full of pigs to reach the town where your uncle lived. But honestly, pigs were worth much more than your fiancé.

Armand was a cold man. He came from a rich family, richer than yours, who had made their fortune in sheep's wool, then later in breeding prestigious horses. His father was a governor and his mother came from a long line of French aristocrats. If his mother was mannered, she was also very pleasant although she often lacked judgment about her son and even more so on the question of the aborigines.

His father was a rather pleasant man, always with a joke and everything seemed to interest him. But Armand... Armand had inherited a hot-tempered character, amplified by the fact that as a child, his mother had never refused him anything. And when he couldn't get obedience with a snap of his fingers, he used his hands.

After days and days of a hellish journey, you had finally arrived at your uncle's. The initial surprise he had when he saw you, all disheveled, your beautiful clothes rumpled and smelling of manure, evaporated to give way to a dull anger when you explained to him the reasons for your presence.

"Uncle, maybe you could have the marriage annulled. You are influential," you begged him, tears in your eyes.

Your uncle was probably one of the richest men in northern Australia. First thanks to his work, later thanks to the inheritance from his parents. Your poor mother had not been able to have anything of this inheritance and all the estates, jewels and bank account that was in the United Kingdom had returned to your uncle. A good sport, he had shared them with your mother and you too at the same time. But today, for the first time, you saw in this wealth a power that could help you get out of this arranged marriage that you did not want.

"I'm going to go to Sydney, see your father and this Mont-Alban. The father might be able to be convinced to abandon this union."

"Am I going to have to stay here alone ?" you asked him without even trying to hide your apprehension.

"No. I have a partner who is also a good friend. I'll explain the situation to him and I'm sure he'll let you stay with him while I'm gone. He's a cattle rancher who has influence here in the region. You'll be safe with him. But, [Y/N], please avoid being too quick-witted with him and above all, don't tell him your opinions on the aborigines. He's..."

"I get it," you grumbled, rolling your eyes.

"He's really smart, but his opinion on the aboriginal issue..."

"Is biased because despite his great intelligence, he's a bit of an idiot ?" you answered seriously.

"Yes, well, avoid the question with him, please."

You agreed without adding anything, already knowing that you were going to hate him. But it wasn't like you had a better solution, so you couldn't be ungrateful.

Your uncle had had no trouble getting Elliott to agree to you being under his protection. A nice, well-filled envelope and the promise that he would be given priority for the sale of his cattle had been enough. Elliott was his friend, but he was aa skilled negotiator and your uncle respected that.

"This is my niece," he said as he helped you off the cart."

"This is my niece, [Y/N]," your uncle introduced you.

"Mr. Marston, I'm delighted," you said politely.

Elliott snickered and you did your best not to make a scathing remark at him. In his eyes, you were indeed a well-bred little rich girl who had never known a single minute of work. And he was right. But he was wrong when he thought you must be a little prig used to ordering and getting things done.

"No sir here, sir, that was my father. I'm Elliott," he finally said before taking the suitcase that your uncle had just taken off the cart. "I'll show you to your room."

Elliott's imposing stature, mixed with his dark eyes and that mustache that gave him the air of a man of high society, impressed you right away. He made you nervous, but there was no way he would realize it.

You walked through the house which was beautiful, clearly demonstrating the man's wealth, even if it was far from the opulence of your own home. However, you did not mark the servant. Or rather the slave. An aboriginal. You clenched your fists, but true to your promise, you said nothing.

"Here is your room. It is the coolest in the house, even if it will be stifling most of the time. If you need a bath, Kunkurra is here for that."

He put your suitcase on the floor and left without another word. You settled in comfortably, thanking Kunkurra who seemed surprised but said nothing. Deep down, you hoped that this cohabitation would go well. After all, your uncle trusted this Elliott.

You couldn't be more wrong. You couldn't stand him. Elliott. He got on your nerves. He was arrogant, full of himself and racist. He didn't share any of your values ​​and when he twirled his gun between his fingers like an Appalachian cowboy, you imagined him shooting himself in the foot and it amused you immensely.

You tried to eat before he finished his work so as not to have to share his table and you avoided being in the same room as him as much as possible. In truth, you spent most of your time reading and sometimes helping Kunkurra. 

The slave had been surprised the first time you helped him with the dishes, but he hadn't said anything. You weren't like the other people on the estate. He liked you.

That night, however, you couldn't avoid Elliott who had caught you talking to his horse. He had been touched by this gentleness that wasn't apparent but seemed to be your true nature. He had then asked you if you would have dinner with him and you hadn't dared to say no.

All evening, he had asked you questions that were more than just polite. They were too specific. It was a little too much about your family's money too.

"Being a well-born girl, life must have been easier," he remarked as he cut his steak.

"It probably was. Until now," you replied without looking up from your own plate.

"You always got what you wanted, right ? It must be a change for you to play servant alongside Kunkurra. Washing plates is probably not something you did often at your parents' house."

You blushed slightly at his last sentence. You didn't know he had noticed you helping his slave.

"Indeed, I have rarely washed dishes in my life. But I have never desired an arranged marriage."

"With a rich man. Enough to have even more servants and to ensure you never break a nail."

"At least our servants are paid !" you spat, suddenly raising your head.

Elliott, for the first time since you arrived, saw something other than melancholy in your eyes. There was a fire under there, a bright fire that was ready to burn all of Australia.

"You men are all the same," you finally said, "to believe that obedience is better than happiness."

"I never said that," Elliott replied more quietly than he expected, "and don't be so quick to judge all men based on the ones you've known so far. This fiancé may not be so terrible after all."

"The first time he met me, he called me a 'mare to tame' but also that he would be happy to do it. Judge for yourself, Elliott."

After that, a heavy silence ensued and when you had finished your plate, it was without shame that you helped Kunkurra clean up the kitchen.

After that evening, you no longer avoided Elliott. You stood up to him, answered him back in kind and you weren't afraid to challenge him. And he liked it. No one had ever dared to speak to him the way you did, much less a woman, but you, you weren't afraid to speak your mind. You were different from the cocky little Lady he had imagined. In fact, you were even interesting. Sometimes.

Knock, knock, knock.

...

Knock, knock, knock.

...

Knock, knock, knock.

The door flew open, revealing a shirtless Elliott and for a moment, you couldn't take your eyes off his muscular torso. A scar on his stomach slightly intrigued you, but when his baritone voice started growling at you, you quickly came to your senses.

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, WOMAN, IT'S..." he turned to glance at the clock on his dresser, "it's one in the morning!"

"There's something out there," you said quietly.

A noise had woken you up and trembling but determined you had gone to knock on Elliott's bedroom door.

"Maybe one of the men needed to pee," he replied, suppressing a yawn.

"It wasn't a man peeing," you replied a little frustrated that he didn't take you seriously.

"We're in Australia, my dear. We're surrounded by wild animals. They exist here, far from your nice houses in the city," he said without hiding his exasperation.

"What if it wasn't an animal?" you insisted, not reassured.

He sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes before finally returning to his room in a theatrical gesture to come out a second later with his gun.

"You never do anything without it?" you asked following him.

"My dear, if it's a thief, you'll be glad I took my gun."

He crossed the living room with you on his heels. Your hand was almost touching his bare back, you were so afraid of being left alone. When he opened the front door, he made a gesture to you to keep quiet. You nodded while continuing to follow him on tiptoe.

Arriving on the porch of the house, he fired once in the air, making you jump. It was then that an animal on which the moon made its light dance, making its red fur shine a little more, ran away at full speed.

"A dingo," Elliott said, taking your arm to lead you into the house. "And now that we're awake, how about some tea?"

Without waiting for your answer, he set to work. You refrained from telling him that you were surprised that he was able to do something domestic without his slave. Instead, you thanked him in a low whisper.

"Thanks for not laughing."

"Oh, believe me, that was hard," he replied with a small smirk.

You each sat down in an armchair, but Elliott didn't miss your gaze that often lingered on his bookshelf.

"You can borrow some if you want."

"Thanks," you replied a little surprised, "I like books. They don't lie."

Elliott stood up with the grace of a feline and pulled out a large volume that hadn't been read in a long time to hand it to him.

"This one is full of lies. A story of adventure in the wild west."

"If this story allows you to escape for a moment and forget about reality, then it's not a lie," you replied as you took the book.

Elliott looked at you, really looked at you for the first time. And for the first time, he began to doubt what he had set out to do.

"Mr. [Y/S],

Your brother-in-law has asked me to watch over your daughter while he attempts to cancel this marriage you have arranged for her.

You and I, I am sure, are pragmatic men. I understand the importance of this union to your family.

I will protect your daughter as I promised, until you come to collect her to offer her to her fiancé.

As a man of the world, I am sure you understand that a service, especially one as great as watching over your most precious possession, cannot go unrewarded.

I would very much like to expand my business with Sidney and the surrounding towns and I am certain that you and I, Mr. [Y/S] could help each other.

In the meantime, please accept the assurance of my highest regards.

Kind Regards,

Elliott Marston."

"Do you remember London ?" Elliott asked you as you helped him feed the horses.

"No. I was four when we left, my whole life is in Australia," you answered with a hint of nostalgia.

You and Elliott were talking more and more. In fact, you would almost dare to call him a friend. He was witty and he listened to your opinion. You often argued about the Aboriginal cause, but one night he surprised you by questioning your fierce need to defend them without prejudice or mockery.

"Why does your father force you to marry this man if you are his little pet as you say ?"

"For the sake of propriety. We are always a bit English, no matter where we are, aren't we?"

Elliott shrugged his shoulders

"My father was Irish. But my parents died when I was very young..."

That's when he explained to you. Everything. And you understood why he harboured such hatred towards the Aborigines. You didn't excuse him for what he did to them in return, but you thought that maybe all was not lost for this man. He could be fixed. He could learn. He could become better.

"My father always kept the values ​​of the United Kingdom. He was strict when I was a child, but always fair and loving. My mother, she... well, I guess she always behaved like a good wife," you explained, stroking Elliott's stallion.

"Everything you refuse to be, right ?" he questioned without contempt.

"We are capable of being more than an obedient wife, Elliott. We can learn, we can do the same things as men. We are no less intelligent than you, and my friend Cassandra would be as capable as some of your men here. But there are very few men who are willing to see our values ​​beyond tradition."

Elliott said nothing because he knew he thought like your father. Yet he found himself noticing your subtlety, your intelligence, but also your resilience and the way you had of hiding your vulnerability under a facade of calm and restraint.

And he was starting to blame himself. He thought about that letter he had written just after you arrived with the intention of posting it as soon as he went to town to buy food. But he was no longer so sure he wanted to do it.

If only. If only he had hidden it better. If only you hadn't been snooping around after your bath while he was making you dinner, proud to introduce you to one of his specialties. If only he had burned that letter as soon as he understood what that tightness in his chest meant when he saw you.

Then, maybe you would have never known that his kindness had been, at least at first, just a deceptive kindness.

[mearpsdyke]

if you let me (i'll fall)

It’s no secret that Jinx is un-marriageable. She used to have suitors asking for her hand when she became of age, but soon they ran away once they met the rambunctious princess who liked to fabricate bombs with whatever she had at hand and behaved like a peasant instead of the meek, polite and calm way princesses are supposed to be. Silco had nearly gone bald plucking the hairs out of his head, trying to find a match for Jinx across all the kingdoms they harbored amicable relationships with.

“At this point you’ll never get married,” he had lamented.

“That sounds good to me,” she cheered instead.

Which is why she was more shocked than offended when her fathers broke the news of her engagement; she had deemed herself a lost cause already, being content with her future as a spinster and the possibility of inheriting the throne.

Ekko stumbles with his words, just like when he was a kid, and furrows his brow. “I’m not being forced to marry you,” he says, slowly. Jinx somehow doesn’t believe that. “I’m—I actually told my dad to ask yours for your hand.”

It’s Jinx’s turn to blush, with her pale cheeks becoming a furious red, almost pink like her sister’s hair.

“Oh,” Jinx says dumbly, then: “Why?” She scrunches up her whole face.

read on ao3.

part of the arranged marriage au series.

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Seventeen

Rating: Explicit

Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

No tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

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Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen

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Author's Note: We've got Rhaenyra POV! We've got Aemond POV! We've got a surprise in the end! Thank you for all the support and patience. You're all getting this chapter early since I'm out of town for the weekend! Enjoy!

PLEASE PLEASE subscribe to the series page or my author page so you get updates when we start the next story! You're not going to want to miss it. (And follow @emkald-fic on tumblr if you read here!)

All my love to @vampire-exgirlfriend for her love and support and holding my hand through this chapter that just kept kicking my fucking ass. If you need more Aemond content, you must read, They Say I killed You (Haunt Me Then)! Now complete! (epilogue going up soon!)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - Parrying the Daggers Thrown At Us

Rhaenyra receives a letter. Aemond cannot find peace until he gets a taste of it.

Grandfather is still ill, much like we saw him last but he prefers his wheel chaired more oft than not…

Things have been tense, understandably so, but Queen Alicent has been cordial and has made sure we are comfortable and have what we need… 

Aegon and Aemond keep their distance, perhaps so they can glare all the better…

I do not know how to make amends for what happened… 

…and they say Aemond is taken by his pains at times, darkening his room as his head aches from his wound… 

I should make amends, it is right… 

What do you think I should do?...

Heleana has been the warmest… 

…we danced together at the feast and she was quite happy to do so. It is nice spending time with her…

Aegon is happy around Lady Abrogail and she laughs freely with him. He is not like how he used to be as much with her… 

I think Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin would be pleased to see how well she is treated…

Many houses were represented at Aegon’s nameday… 

Most seemed to wonder if Aegon would have been named heir and displace you but none came to pass… 

…they will inherit Harrenhal. I can see the wisdom in it as Luke will have Driftmark one day, but I think of Joffrey and Aegitsos and my uncles who do not have lands and holds to occupy them…

I love you much, Muñus, I hope you are well and that I will see you soon…

Rhaenyra ran her fingers over her son’s careful script, her mouth twitching in fondness amidst her worry of her zēapos. His letter was long, too much for a raven’s wings and she started from the beginning once she had read it through once. Twice. Her ribs ached as if Jace had been carved out of her to go on this journey and she shook her head, trying to let the feeling flit away on the breeze. Her eldest had a temper, much as she did in her youth, much as his father had, in the ways that drew her in. Time stole away much, and her own bouts of temper had cooled with each broken toy, each yelling fight, each ‘he pulled my hair!’ and ‘He pushed me and won’t share!’

The sounds of swords clanged in the yard and her gaze flitted from her son’s letter - pages crinkled in her grasp - to the courtyard below where Daemon was testing the new recruits to the Dragonstone guard. His silver hair was twisted back from his face in braids as he preferred, something about war and mindset and always be prepared.

He called something towards Joff and Aegitsos as the knight before him panted, having been bested against her husband.

Baela had not written, that much she knew, though Jace had said that she had found a friend in Helaena after a tense standoff. Rhaenyra had found the mention of it surprising, for her little sister, in the times she’d been around her, had been a quiet thing, eyes large in her face, gaze flitting to everyone and no one.

Helaena has been the warmest…

Helaena was not yet married. The match with Aegon had never come to pass.

The invitation lay on the table before her next to the plate of lemon cake she liked for her morning meal on days such as this.

The wedding of Prince Aegon of House Targaryen and Lady Abrogail Strong of Harrenhal…

In five moons, the spectacle would be held in the Riverlands. In five moons, the realm would look upon her brother once more, peacocked and pulled out, as Daemon sneered, by Otto Hightower to show him off as a contender, to put pressure on her father to change his mind. Her father had nearly twenty years to change his mind and still, he had not. Not even in her absence, cowardly as it sometimes felt to retreat and lick her wounds, had her father’s support of the claim and her family seemed to waver. Try as the Hightowers might to scream and spread slanders that would call for bloodshed, her father still would not be swayed. It was the sense of satisfaction that she had felt when he came to her defense in that shadowed hall those years ago, the heated of curl in it that no matter what, there could be no question as to his choice.

He had chosen her.

Even as the feeling waned over time to give over to those moments where she doubted, all the times he had failed to reign his wife in with her abuses and vitriol, the words her son had sent her bolstered her.

I think Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin would be pleased…

Harwin’s little sister, big blue eyes and red curls bound in braids, peeking curiously over the edge of Lucerys’ cradle next to Jace because ‘She asked if she could see the baby and give him this,’ Harwin had said, as the little girl presented her attempts at embroidering a little dragon on a pillow. Little Abrogail, half Harwin’s, half Alicent’s. She had tried to bring the girl to Dragonstone with them. Would she not be happier away from the court politics with her brother and the quiet? Lord Lyonel had given her a surprised, then hard look, and Rhaenyra had felt chastened in a way her own father had never been able to evoke within her.

“I will keep my daughter with me, and should I send her away, it will be back to her home, at Harrenhal, with her brother.”

Grief washed through her like the crashing of the waves on the rocky shore below and she felt her own jagged edges inside of her. Lyonel Strong had been the best of them, putting the realm first, always by her side at every council meeting she attended, encouraging her, even as his face grew graver with each brunette curled boy she bore.

Violet eyes swept across the parchment again. A servant in the camp had tried to attack the girl, Jace said. Crept into her tent, assuming she would have been alone. Inquiries were being made, but as far as anyone could see, the man had just been a baseborn servant - blending in like no other. Rhaenyra pursed her lips and looked down at the training yard once more, fingers drumming along the stone ledge of the terrace.

She wondered how wrapped around Lady Abrogail’s finger her half-brother might be… and how opportune this moment was.

Alicent’s eldest was marrying and taking a seat in the Riverlands. It was not the bold choice that Rhaenyra had thought would happen. Surely one of the many Lannister girls, or one of the Baratheons - a great house who would be invested in their own daughter becoming queen would have made more sense.

Harrenhal, for the wealth and lands that it had, did not command armies the way the Stormlands did. It did not have endless coffers the way Casterly Rock boasted of. It was a moody fortress on the edge of the God’s Eye, surrounded by lush farmland and woods that were dark and deep and felt that you were somewhere fanciful, somewhere that didn’t hold dragons nor thrones, nothing except for a warm hand wrapped around her own.

The clashing and screaming of steel in the yard below pulled Rhaenyra from her thoughts, and away from the path of her sorrows and regrets. Turning her back to the sight below, she reached for her own parchment and quill, pushing aside the letter from Lord Celtigar.

Lady Abrogail… Good tidings on news of your approaching nuptials…

Aemond pursed his lips, his gaze rising from the book before him, a study on the Conqueror’s approach to the first Dornish war,to squint across the barrel room near the top of the tower that held the library in the Holdfast. He drummed his fingers upon the scarred wooden table, a fingertip running along the crescent burn from the time Abby had accidentally knocked over a candle while they were reading about Harren the Black.

He exhaled slowly, the way the Braavosi manuals advised and looked back at his book.

It had been weeks since his brother’s festivities, and the chill of the end of the growing season had crept in. It was not cold by northern standards, but the air cooled, the rains rolled in for the next several months, and angry storms fell over them  from the Narrow Sea, their winds piercing and frightening, as if they were dragons themselves in the winds that the Storm God rode, threatening to tear apart the Red Keep brick by brick.

Helaena’s nameday had passed with quiet fanfare, the lingering lords of the realm who had not left parading their sons in front of his maiden sister. As if any of them were worthy of a dragonrider, someone as clever and kind as Helaena.

It had been complicated over the past weeks since the talk in the garden, and Aemond still wasn’t entirely sure how he felt. What had been most surprising had been the strange sense of release when his sister let him go, leaving him to sit in the rain before Visenya’s statue, her words ringing in his ears. 

‘I would burn Dorne for you… but I do not want to leave behind a world of ash and bone.’

How desperate Helaena had looked, angry and frightened and full of hope as she begged not to have a husband, but a brother back. ‘How else am I supposed to protect her?' he had wondered. How else could he offer his sister protection and security if it wasn’t to marry her, to tie her to him so that she would never have to fear, never have to doubt her acceptance and those who loved her?

Aegon had not wanted to marry her. She was weird, he’d sneered. How miserable Helaena would be, how miserable they both would have been. Aemond had done the right thing. He’d stepped up, he had gotten Mother and The Tower to break the betrothal. Even if they had not promised him and Helaena to one another, that was alright, it would simply be a matter of time.

He had Vhagar. There could be no further doubt that he was truly a Valyrian. There could be no more doubt as to his place in the world. All that was left was his sister.

Guilt gnawed deep in his stomach, shame twisting around his throat when the thought filtered through. Helaena was not a bauble he needed to collect to prove something. Collecting her was not protecting her. Collecting her was not about her, but for him, and it was this knowledge that he had thought about constantly.

His sister deserved more than being a broodmare, to be a pawn in the games. The forced distance the last few weeks had given him, after Helaena pushed him from the proverbial nest, had left him unsettled and snappish.

The loud thud of a book hitting the stone floor reverberated through the room. A heavy tome, judging from the heft of the sound, followed by a soft giggling, a deeper snickering sound chasing after it before they muffled and fell quiet.

He knew, with the utmost certainty, why it had fallen quiet.

Ever since the betrothal, the grip on his best friend had been slipping. Oh, him and Abrogail were an unlikely pair, but few appreciated books and history as his cousin did. While digging in the dirt and helping Helaena catalog her collection had been fulfilling, there was something joyous in being able to have someone who understood the quiet and sanctity of the library, and who loved books and reading and learning as he did. Lyonel Strong had always indulged his questions when was young - far more enthralling than Mellos and Orwyle were, and he had fostered that curiosity in his daughter.

‘All she’s going to care about is making babies with Aegon!’ Helaena had cried, frustrated and angry when they’d been alone after the fight in the brothel. 

There was a soft cry, and Aemond scowled at his book before his chair scraped across the stone floor and he strode purposefully towards the source of the sound. The histories of the Riverlands were there - not just observational books, but the census, the trade information, things used by the small council’s not-quite-so-small army of clerks and counters and lawmakers. The section of the library that Abby had frequented since the announcement and that he had helped her with.

“Not here,” came the whispered whine, laced with laughter. Aemond rolled his eye as he turned the corner of the aisle. It was shadowed somewhat this far down, The strategically polished silver angled to bounce the light around so as not to pose a fire risk among the precious books, although the day was gray and cloudy and the light reflected was that of a lamp. Abby was pressed against the bookshelves, the blue and silver brocade of her skirts rucked up with her stockings on display, her legs at present, wrapped around his stupid brother’s waist. One arm was stretched out to grab onto the bookshelf behind her, and the fallen book that had been in its place was still on the ground. Aegon’s face was buried into her chest, or maybe her throat? 

He was half-blind, after all, sometimes details could be mercifully missed. Or ignored.

“This,” Aemond said, his voice even and dripping with every ounce of annoyance and betrayal he felt, “is the library, not a brothel.”

Aemond’s fists clenched at the disrespect both of them displayed to a place they knew  was important to him. At the announcement of his presence, Abby squeaked, Aegon’s arms tightening around her as she scrambled to lower herself without sending them both toppling. He held his arms folded behind his back, his hand scraping along his elbow as the pair of them got themselves in order and he shook his head when Aegon looked at him, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth. Abby had turned to straighten her gown.

“Are you really going to act like this?” Aegon said, for it was barely a question. “We weren’t in front of you and your book. You were the one seeking us out.”

“Because you both weren’t as quiet as you thought you were,” Aemond snapped. “It was distracting.”

A lazy smirk crossed across his brother’s flushed face and he wanted to punch him square in his stupid nose. Let him kiss his future wife with his face bashed in. “Well, my lady is distracting-.” There was a soft sound as Abby smacked Aegon’s shoulder, cutting him off with an exaggerated ow, the flinch was nowhere near the violent response that inhabited his brother when it was their mother doing the hitting. She peered around Aegon’s shoulder, her mouth just as swollen, her cheeks just as flushed and her features apologetic.

“We’re sorry, Aemond. Things just got out of hand. I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t you apologize,” Aegon interrupted her this time, a fierce look on his face. 

“No, actually,” Aemond cut in, taking a step forward, using the few inches he now had on his brother to straighten his shoulders. “She’s right. Thank you, Abby, for apologizing. Are you upset that she has to apologize for you, since your self-awareness is worse than a billy goat ramming his head into things?”

Aegon’s mouth gaped in offense, his flush deepening. There was a bruise along his neck that was going to be difficult to hide. The glib nature of his eldest brother was a trial at the best of times, but this? “You know this isn’t your place to run about as you please. Shall I just unlock my doors, let you roll around in my sheets and over my personal things while you’re at it?”

“It’s the fucking library, Aemond. It doesn’t belong to you-”

Abby let out a startled cry as Aemond’s fist shot out, but as much as he would love to punch his brother, he shoved him instead, feeling the crackling of frustration, the rumble of Vhagar in his chest.  “Because it’s all yours, is that it? You mewling fucking kitten. This isn’t just my library, it’s hers too, but you don’t fucking care about anything that means something to anyone else if it gets in the way of what your limp cock wants.”

“Aemond, truly, we’re sorry - Aegon, no!” Abby’s voice was lost in Aegon’s growl as his brother came back with another shove, sending him back a few steps. Aemond laughed, a hint of a sound like the thin scrape of wind whistling through a crack. Yes, yes let the idiot push him around. Let him continue to pull his friend away from him, from him and Helaena both. His gaze darted briefly to the redhead, blue eyes wide as she pressed herself back against the shelves, before meeting his brother’s lighter gaze.

“You are a glib fucking fool, Aegon,” Aemond said lowly, his mouth curling as he readied for a fight, needing to expend the burn of flame inside of him. “I don’t care what the pair of you do, I’ll say nothing should Mother hear of it, but-” he stepped forward and shoved Aegon hard into the bookstack. The ancient wood creaked and groaned, but the stacks were bolted to the floor to prevent them from topping. A few books fell from the force of Aegon’s frame smacking into it. “Stay the hell out of my library.”

He did not look over his shoulder, even as Abby called his name, apology rife in her tone. He strode through the halls, calling for his horse to be saddled while he went to angrily pull on his riding leathers. The left side of his temple ached as it was wont to do when his face was full of tension. Helaena would make him tea, protect him in the quiet, but that was not meant to be today. The last he saw, his sister was in the gardens with Jacaerys. 

How he ached to wring the stupid bastard’s neck.

How bright he seemed to make Helaena laugh.

How betrayed Aemond felt by it all.

Why hadn’t Helaena said anything? Why hadn’t she told him that she didn’t want to be married? Why had she just let him wander around like a puppy and now left the fool?

‘But hadn’t she told you?’ a little voice drifted through Aemond’s mind and he paused in the lacing of his leathers. Had she not told him by pursuing that fool Warren Fossoway, and the time that he had spied her kissing him - for he had seen Helaena push the squire behind the carved dragon pillar by the gardens. 

‘But she would let me kiss her, she would kiss me, and she’d touch me and I her and-’ The flurry of thoughts ached as he pulled on his boots.

It would not hurt as much if it was anyone but Jacaerys.

The ride to the beach beneath the shadow of the Red Keep was a blur. The rock outcropping of Aegon’s High Hill was a craggy, sheer thing, but the beach below was one that Vhagar enjoyed sunning herself, a guard dog laying at the foot of the bed in a way. Her head lifted as Aemond approached, lowing in greeting and shaking sand from her scales. The tension in Aemond’s chest began to ease at the sight of her, and he approached, patting a gloved hand along her scarred neck, scratching along a vicious scar she must have received in Dorne. There were no words exchanged, not the way Aegon chattered with Sunfyre. Aemond’s bond with Vhagar was one of feeling, of such deep understanding that no words needed to spill from him. In no time, he scaled her great bulk and yelled out the command to fly, which his dragon responded with her own, what he assumed was excited, call in return.

Vhagar landed on the cliffs on the western side of Massey’s Hook, the bay below dotted with smaller fishing boats this far out from King’s Landing and away from the bustle of the capital. Rage and grief, anger and fear were a tempest in his gut and he rankled at the call of Moondancer as his cousin circled above them.

If Baela wanted this fight, then he would meet her, unflinching. Let her see what dragons were made of. They did not all reside on Dragonstone.

“Laodijes peldios!” Baela howled at him, her voice a sharp shout on the breeze, her face twisted and ugly with fury, fists at her side as she readied herself to hit him should he get within reach.

Aemond glared at her, the distance between them shrunk now to an arm length. Vhagar was a great shadow behind him and he could feel the sulfuric heat of her breath as she exhaled buffeting at his back. Moondancer was a little ways away, shrieking fearfully and Aemond could not tell if the dragon reflected her rider’s mood, or her fear of Vhagar.

“You’re a fucking fool. Daemon Targaryen is your father, your mother a Velaryon, and you still don’t realize that a dragon cannot be stolen.”

“You had no fucking right!” Baela snarled. “Vhagar was for Rhaena to claim-”

“If Vhagar had not wanted me, she would have eaten me and you damn well know it.” Aemond cut her off, watching her jaw click shut with a curl of satisfaction. “Vhagar chose me, not your sister. What? You want to kill me to give her another chance at claiming her? Is that what you’re here? To finish the job that you all started?”

“Why would my mother’s dragon choose you?” Balea cried, and this time, there was a choked quality to her rage. Aemond’s eye widened slightly and he leaned back from her, a curl of uncertainty that he despised. His words had been harsh, full of the anger that he had felt simmering these past years. Aemond shrugged it off. He had earned his harshness in this. He’d been the one attacked, the band of them setting upon him simply because he chose to claim his right as a Valyrian prince.

‘Why would my mother’s dragon choose you?’

Aemond ran his tongue over his teeth and leaned back on his foot, watching Baela gasp for air amidst her choking sobs, and turn from him to look out to the bay, towards Driftmark and High Tide.

He remembered his mother’s cries, her rage, her such careful and elegant control snapping as her voice cracked in the silence of the Hall of Nine.

“He’s your son, Viserys.”

“Why did Moondancer choose you?” Aemond asked. “Why did Moondancer choose you, and my egg never hatched?” Baela did not look at him but he could see the way her shoulders tensed. “Why didn’t you go find the guards? Why did you come, thinking a thief had stolen a dragon and Jacaerys brought his blade? Why did they give me a pig, pretending they had found me a dragon as they both had their own? Why did they do nothing but terrorize me with that fact for our childhoods?” 

Aegon had done it too, gone in on the fun, drunk on being the eldest. It had lessened considerably in the wake of Rhaenyra leaving the capital, even if his brother sought other ways to tease him - he’d never again mentioned his lack of dragon.

Aegon had come to him in his sick bed, his curls shorn, red eyed and puffy faced, tears on his cheeks, had knelt at his bedside and vowed to him. 

“We protect our own and I did not protect you. I do not care if you’ve claimed Vhagar, for I was not there for you when you needed me. It will never happen again. I will protect you. I will be by your side.”

Aemond had sometimes wondered how much of the words were his brother’s own, but he had known, with certainty, that the feelings were genuine. His brother was an idiot, and they butted heads, but his brother loved him in his own way, and for as angry as Aegon could make him, he loved him too. In his own way. 

He might admit that on his deathbed, unlike Aegon, who would only need to be in the depths of his cups and into the sad and tearful mourning edge.

“What do you know, Baela?” Aemond said, his voice even, coldness creeping along the edges. “Of fighting and scraping for everything that is owed to you?” He forcefully bit his tongue, copper exploding in his mouth as he broke skin, to keep from pressing further at the loss of her birth right to Driftmark for Rhaenyra’s folly.

“A prince has to scrape for all that is owed to him.” It was rhetorical, biting, and Aemond snorted, taking a step forward, his own gaze looking out at the water.

“You may have been an idiot child, but don’t play me for a fool.” It was impossible not to see how little Viserys thought of his second family, and he had seen it plainly on Jacaerys’ face, the surprise in witnessing it. “I’m sure your father relishes every word you send to him. His little spy.”

Baela’s lip curled in a snarl and she stalked closer. Aemond stayed where he was, watching her with a narrowed eye as Vhagar let out a low growl behind him. She did not move, did not lift her head, but her nostrils flared and Aemond felt the heat of her breath swirl around him. Baela’s eyes widened, and she paused, the indigo of them shining with tears. 

He turned his head slightly to look at Vhagar. “Ȳgha iksi,” he reassured her, feeling Vhagar’s displeasure seeping through him, her warning and the remembered rage from those years ago when she could not protect him or take away his pain. He reached for her snout, pressing his hand to the scar above her left nostril, rubbing against it. He turned his back to his cousin and brought his other hand up, feeling the anger hot as coals, hot as dragonfire in his chest. Vhagar was full of tension. He could feel it. Would she feel that way if it wasn’t him? If she was not so worried for him, would she recognize the girl behind him as the child that Laena Velaryon surely brought to her, as Aemond would have brought his own child? Had his grandfather, Baelon, brought his sons to this dragon before them?

The silence filled the air around them, the wind thick with tension. Aemond pressed his forehead to Vhagar, took strength from her, squeezed his eye shut and ignored the pain that lanced through his head and pulsed behind his scar.

The sob behind him was soft, and Moondancer’s cry was mournful.

“He’s your son, Viserys.”

“I did not mean to tarnish your mother’s memory,” Aemond finally spoke, his voice carrying as he looked, blind side towards Baela. “It was not done to hurt you, or to take something from you. It was… It was my only chance. And it’s something I don’t think you’ll ever be able to understand. I am… I am sorry about the loss of your mother. I did not have the opportunity to give you my condolences then, but I can give them to you now.”

The sound Baela made was strangled. Aemond turned to look at her. Baela was stiff beneath her red and black riding leathers, the metal rings in her hair tinkling as the wind tugged at her braids. He recalled the mourning child she had been sitting by her twin and Jace, the vicious yell she’d let out when she punched him in the nose that night, the howls and scream of pain. He felt Vhagar twitch and groan beneath his touch, another warning and he hushed her again, stroking her snout. He watched her gaze go towards Moondancer, who was crying fitfully, grounded still, her aquamarine wings more green against the lush grass of the clifftop.

“Do you want to pet her?”

Baela stared at him, the hostile lines to her face instantly slacking in surprise. “Skoro syt?” Her voice was small and wary, even as her eyes were wide with grief.

“My condolences,” Aemond repeated, and he found the words genuine. It was not Baela, nor her sister, or even his bastard nephews that rankled him. Oh, he wanted his revenge, He wanted what was due, but more of the blame lay with his eldest sister and their father. Of that, Aemond was secure in. He would gladly feed them both to Vhagar, to take an eye as payment for his mother.

His cousin shifted on her booted feet before whatever compelled her brought her forward. Aemond shifted, beckoning her to take her place by his side as he murmured words to Vhagar. Baela had taken her glove off, her slim, tanned hand reaching tentatively up before resting along the scar on Vhagar’s nostril.

They stood there for how long, Aemond was not sure, quietly beside one another as Baela grieved for the mother at the bottom of the Narrow Sea, and his own grief at what was taken from him.

“Do not mourn me, mother…”

‘But mourn the boy dead on Driftmark.’

It was not lightness or peace that settled over Aemond when he and his cousin parted later. He was not certain how much time had passed, only that after she had sobbed, they sat there in a strange, companionable silence eating hunks of bread and cheese and apple that Baela cut with a wicked blade. She did not give him thanks, she did not say anything, but Aemond took the offering of shared food as her own gesture of whatever truce was settled between them. The exchanged curt nods before parting, Baela northeast and away from the city to what Aemond assumed was High Tide and her grandmother and twin, while he circled back towards the city.

Aemond was not certain of the feeling he held except that it felt like he had scratched something out on a list, or deposited a burden that he was trying to carry with all his other, more cumbersome burdens. It was a closed door. That was enough for Aemond, and there was a part of him that wanted to march to his sisters and tell them that he had made nice, to have Abby’s warm smile proud with him, and Helaena’s little clap and promptly being the receiver of her latest mountain spider that Uncle Rodrik had brought her.

Instead, after entering the inner courtyard of the Red Keep and handing off his horse to one of the stablehands, he made his way to the gardens and to his own preferred solitude when the library - so recently desecrated - was not an option. No, Aemond needed air, he needed the statue of Visenya to look down upon him. There, where Helaena had snipped the strings and released him from the vow he had made, the goal that held him that was more about him than it truly was about her. 

Where his sister had set him free, and he loved her all the more for it.

The problem, he found, upon striding down the paved path and through the dripping ivy, was that his garden was not, in fact, as empty as he hoped. Wylla Karstark was kneeled in front of a bush of hyacinths, carefully cutting the purple blooms and placing them in a basket beside her. She was clad in a dove gray dress, the black fabric of her kirtle beneath poking out through slashes along her shoulders and puffed at her elbows. Her fox features were pinched in concentration and Aemond watched her for a moment, silent as she had clearly not heard his approach.

Wylla Karstark was an unknown. She was pretty enough, with a long nose and sharp jaw, gray eyes that flashed when she was annoyed, which was the majority of the time. She had a rather frustrating talent of being able to look down at him even as she had to arch her neck, for she was as petite as Abby was. Their joint misfortune, just like Aegon’s. She was also well read, their conversation at the feast turning from a mutual annoyance to discussing the book of poetry that he had seen her reading, which itself had turned into a rather long and in depth conversation on the Valyrian poet, Praxilla, whose work had survived by the grace of her living the life of leisure in Lys when the Doom happened. Wylla and his elder brother unknowingly shared a fondness for drinking songs penned by the scribe, although Aemond was smart enough to know he shouldn’t bring that up.

Not until he needed to.

“It is polite to speak when coming upon someone, Your Grace,” Wylla’s northern burr was arch as she focused on her task. “I would curtsy, but you can see I’m already on my knees.”

Aemond’s cheeks flushed at the turn of her words, and he was not certain if she understood how they could be taken. He decided that she didn’t, for she did not turn to look at him, seemingly unbothered. All for the best, he supposed, for Aemond did not think he could meet her gaze should she be facing him.

“Why are you cutting my flowers?”

“Your flowers, Your Grace?” Wylla laughed, a sharp, lilting sort of sound and he wondered if that’s what she sounded like when she sang. Did she sing? He had not asked her. “These flowers belong to Queen Visenya, for it is her garden, is it not?”

“It is my garden,” he pushed back, frowning at the back of her head, the mass of thick, twisted black braids kept in place with a woven, pearl hair net with wicked looking, pearl tipped hair pins to keep the heaviness of it in place. He flexed his hands, wiping them on his riding leathers as he approached. There were other flowers in her basket, like wisteria and some of the roses from the main garden. He sat, bending his one leg to rest an arm on while the other reached in.

Up close, he could see the red flush to her pale cheeks. He did not recall them looking so red when he saw her the day before, outside of the bit of sun all the girls had gotten during the sun.

Her smack was quick, the sound of flesh stinging flesh loud and he immediately pulled back with a hiss and a glare. “How dare-”

“Those aren’t for you,” Wylla said forcefully, the gray eyes of her bright in her face as she finally looked at him. “They’re for Lady Abrogail.”

Aemond had killed a man for the fox-faced woman before him without hesitation, and the knowledge of it settled in him still, generally buried over the past few weeks because he had no idea what to do about it. They’d been attacked in the night, and Wylla Karstark had shoved a knife between the man’s ribs without hesitation. So tall, Wylla Karstark seemed, so loud, filling up the spaces she was in without holding herself back, that he had so often forgotten how small she was.

Until she was there, in front of him, those gray eyes like the storm ridden ocean.

Aemond held her gaze, reaching back into the basket to pluck one of the deep purple, nearly blue anemones that she had gathered, twirling it idly between his long fingers before reaching up to tuck it behind her ear. Wylla was still beside him, her red painted mouth parted slightly, so he could see the flash of her white teeth behind it. Her cheeks deepend in their red to match the paint on her lips and Aemon hummed. 

Abby had been understandably shaken. Knowing her as long as he did, even with the smiles affixed to her face, he knew the signs as intimately as he understood Helaena’s or Aegon’s, or his own mother’s. Wylla Karstark was a mystery. She had been quiet, from what he had seen, but the wedding preparations had taken up much time with the girls, as well as her brother finally leaving the capital earlier that week.

He clenched his jaw, a muscle ticking, before he met her gaze. “Are you alright?”

Her inhale was loud. It trembled and she pressed her red lips together, her throat bobbing with a swallow and looked back at the flowers but did not move to cut anymore. Aemond did not push her, but only waited.

“Yes? No? Strangely yes,” she finally whispered. “I think that’s what bothers me more.”

“That bastard came in with intent to harm,” Aemond said. “If you didn’t kill him, someone else would have. You were incredibly brave.” None knew  where he’d come from. The assailant had been clad in the same red garb as the rest of the servants. A baseborn man. Waters or Storm, Aemond couldn’t remember, much like he had no memory of the man’s face before he stared down at it, red and wheezing before he killed him.

“At least it wasn’t Aegon,” Wylla whispered, her eyes wide, drawing his attention back to her. “What would have that turned into - him sneaking in for them to slobber all over each other. Me thinking he was an attacker and-”

The snort of laughter that escaped Aemond at the idea of it all could not be held back. He bent his head, gasping for air as his shoulders shook and it was only a moment before Wylla’s own peel of laughter joined his. It had been some weeks since he’d laughed, in the wake of what happened at the hunt drying up what little humor he’d indulged in. There was an infectious quality to Wylla Karstark’s amusement that he found comforting. Aemond looked at her, her face flushed from her laughter, and he leaned in, kissing her.

The laughter abruptly stopped, her mouth soft against his, still from her clear surprise. She tasted like oranges. Abby must have indulged in the sweet and sour orange cakes they had at the feast. Wylla did not respond, but she didn’t move away either and Aemond took that as acceptance, and he lifted his hand to cup her cheek, thumb swiping softly against the apple of it. Kisses with Helaena had been different - always expected, always ready, with her initiating many of them. The one time he’d kissed Abby, when they were little and Jace had dared him to, did not count. The both of them had made faces, vowing to never do it again. 

Kissing Wylla, though? He never wanted to stop, especially not when she reached up, the clippers making a soft thump along the grass to wrap around the end of the braid slung over his shoulder. She tugged it gently and Aemond broke away, blinking and gasping. “What?” he asked. “Should I have not done that?”

“Oh, you should have,” she reassured him, breathless and red faced. She licked her lips and looked at her fingers still wound around his braid, toying with the leather tie. “I was just reminded of something someone told me once.”

He cocked his head, mouth pursed. “What was it?”

The smile that cut across Wylla’s face was amused, the scar along the top of her lip giving a mischievous bend to her small, red mouth. “It was about how dragons purr when you pull their hair.”

Whatever thought started to coalesce about her late night conversation with his sisters was pushed right out when her lips found his.

I would love to hear your thoughts! Even if it's just a keyboard smash! Reblog to spread a story around so others may find it! I would love to hear your theories! What did you love? What are you looking forward to? Happy to have you here as always <3

[Next Chapter]

[deathmetalunicorn1]

If it's okay can I please ask for a yandere Poseidon with kianna

But where they're relationship but she leaves Without a Trace

And he can't find her and ends up thinking she is dead but years later he sees her again and Ragnarok but with a teenage boy that looks

exactly like him and acts like him and later on he finds out she was pregnant with his child but thought he wouldn't want her anymore

And so that is why she left Without a Trace

And he ends up meeting his son that she named Yui after her deceased sister and finds that his son loves his mother very much and is very protective of his mother and does not trust the sea tyrant

-He could only look down at his shaking hands, rage and anguish filling him as he couldn’t find you. It was like you had just vanished.

-Poseidon could recall how you had been acting a little odd the past week, asking him cryptic questions that didn’t make any sense, and he remembers brushing you off when you seemed more emotional than normal.

-How he wished he could take every instance back, how he wished he could worship you the way you deserved to be; he regretted how he treated you.

-His guards were swarming his kingdom, searching high and low for you, and with each passing day that you were not found, Poseidon grew more and more enraged at himself, feeling responsible for your disappearance.

-It was years later, almost 20, and Poseidon still looked for you, sending out patrols that had the sole purpose of finding you to return you home to him. He was a shell of himself without you, looking ragged and bitter at the world. He couldn’t bare the thought of looking at someone else who wasn’t you.

-Each day he had to ask himself why you left, did you not love him anymore? Was it something he did or said? Why did you leave?

-The day a guard ran in, saying they had found you, Poseidon had power sprinted out of his palace, rushing after the guard, even bypassing him, so he could hold you in his arms again.

-You had returned, knowing you needed to face Poseidon one day, but thankfully, your darling son, who was a mirror image of his father, was right there with you, fully prepared to protect you if need be.

-Your son was a ray of light in your life, but a mama’s boy, as he adored you and wouldn’t hesitate to throw hands to keep you safe, something he inherited from his father.

-When Poseidon skidded to a halt, looking haggard, seeing you there, looking as beautiful as the day he lost you, with a young man standing beside you, who looked exactly like him.

-Like lightning struck him, your cryptic questions all seemed to make sense- you had been pregnant and you were asking him, in a roundabout way, if he would be okay with a child, but with him brushing you off, you took it as he didn’t want a baby and you refused to give your child up, so you ran.

-Poseidon approached you as you looked concerned, seeing how terrible he looked, the bags under his eyes, how skinny he looked as you cupped his cheeks. His hands lifted to cover your own as his eyes closed, his shoulders relaxing as he sighed deeply, feeling relief for the first time in years.

-Seeing your husband in this state made you realize how much he loved you, realizing that he looked for you for all these years, not knowing that you were down on earth, raising your son, alone.

-Yui glared slightly, pushing Poseidon off you before hugging you, “Hands off my mama!” You chuckled softly, reaching up to pat his head softly, “Yui, this is your father, Poseidon.”

-Poseidon wanted to get to know his son, but the sharp look in his child’s eyes was full of nothing but distrust, as he remembers many nights where you were crying, missing Poseidon, “So? I’ve never met him before, and he made you cry!”

-You were a bit frazzled, seeing Poseidon’s desire to make up for lost years but Yui’s anger and resentment at his father for all that has happened.

-It took a while, as well as a very long, in-depth discussion, that both you and Poseidon should have communicated things better, you should have told Poseidon that you were pregnant, and Poseidon should have listened to you and paid more attention that you were upset.

-You agreed to come home, and Yui followed, but that started a new issue, as both Yui and Poseidon where fighting over you, arguing who loved you more and who gets to hug you first.

-You had to wonder what things would have been like if you had told Poseidon straight out, if you didn’t run away, and if Yui grew up with his father around.

-Perhaps time will heal things, but it might be a while as you watched the two locked up, trying to wrestle each other down, acting childish.