#she’s kinda there? as the handmaid? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

macheriee · 3 months ago

Text

𝒜pocalypse ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

⌗ everyone knew the boy’s father was lord commander of the city watch, that much was apparent. to your mother he was another insult to the throne, to you he was just the bastard, until he wasn’t.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 tags enemies to lovers, hate-fucking kinda, aunt-nephew incest, targaryen-hightower!reader, TW: dub-con (oc struggles w/ accepting she got the hots for jace) call it horny guilt lmao but the first encounter is very much dubious but she gives in, lust at first sight, domesticity, fingering, pussy-eating, jace is low-key a simp/sub, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, impact play(?), breeding kinks cause it’s HOTD, rough sex, oc is mean asf at first, happy but angsty ending, light to medium angst, pregnancy mention, kinda canon it lowkey follows ssn 2 n some of 1 but not by a lottt (ex. mentioned scenes/flashbacks), oc n jace have been aged up (20), tweaked a few things to make sense so not completely canon, slow-burn ish but then it’s just fast burn lmao, curly-headed!jace 4ever, TW: oc has a panic attack

ᯓᡣ𐭩 word count 10.7k

your lips my lips, apocalypse..

“Bastards,”

You’ve heard the strange term tumble from your mother and grandsire’s lips the day king Viserys brought forth princess Rhaenyra’s children. They each stood mockingly with their dark unruly curls and equally colored eyes, an uncanny resemblance to the city watch commander.

The truth of it was they were no true Velaryon, nor Targaryen—but a Strong. You wondered if Rhaenyra felt shame the way they came out with their plain features, mayhaps not as your mother said the princess was as stubborn as her dragon mount.

From the start Jacaerys was an aggravating little thing to look at as children when you both clung to your mother’s skirts. His eyes were filled with curiosity as were yours before Alicent found herself shielding you from his sight like she was afraid he’d sully you.

It was clear she had zero desire for her children to associate with Rhaenyra’s much to the king’s dismay (but when has father ever cared?) Your mother hardly kept you out of her sight and if it wasn’t her you were accompanied by your siblings, a handmaid, or Cole.

You never lacked in needing “friends” and grew fine without their company as you had Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena. Occasionally you saw Jacaerys and his brother running about like little savages in the halls but you’re pulled away by a Septa just short of crossing paths.

Jacaerys was the one who intrigued you the most. It might have been age but you didn’t understand why it was so bad? What had Jacaerys done for your mother to forbid you from speaking with him? He was a bastard, yes, but what did it exactly have to do with you?

Jace—Jacaerys, wasn’t a threat. You had no throne nor a title of some sorts to claim; there was nothing to your name, so why?

As children during joint lessons there were timid but not so secret glances exchanged. Mostly curiosity but it was something both Cole and your brothers disapproved of, especially Aemond who had come to Helaena’s chambers angry after a lesson in the dragon pits with Aegon and Rhaenyra’s sons.

Eventually they left for Dragonstone, never to be seen again until a day before your tenth name day when you’re called to Driftmark for Lady Laena’s funeral. Why you were called upon such a thing you don’t know, nor care really as you hadn’t known the lady much.

The entire event was a waste—your brother was maimed, the king being the king chose his eldest’s side and the family further divided. Alicent wept and mourned Aemond as Rhaenyra’s bastards would have your brother’s eye. You looked at Jacaerys in anger, resentment, and frustration.

Who was responsible, you don’t care, what angered you was the fact that they paraded their entitlement so freely and shamelessly. Rhaenyra could have outright said she wanted Aemond’s head and your father would still find a way to make excuses for her. (Maybe even give her what she wanted.)

That was the last you ever saw of him before leaving for Kings Landing to resume life without them. You found it much more enjoyable without your half-sister and her family around, in fact you’d rather it stay that way forever.

On occasion you found yourself thinking of your nephew. The memories clung to the walls leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, one in particular haunting:

You and the king stood together atop the balcony watching as Ser Cole trained with the princes—including Rhaenyra’s sons. It was clear Cole favored your brothers evident in the way he praised one side but barked orders (or completely ignored) at the other.

“They’ll make fearsome knights, don’t you think?” Your father turns to you with a gentle smile, his tone warm but distant.

“Possibly, if Aegon ever decides to leave his cups.” You fall into silence shortly after.

You never knew what to say to your father having been so distant and neglected it felt like you didn’t know him at all. You tolerated him at best and affection was out of the question leaving you with nothing, just mere acquaintances.

The king chuckles quietly and his mouth parts to speak with his Hand but Jacaerys interrupts with his angry cry as he charges forward at Aegon. Your lips part in surprise and out of the corner of your eye you see Ser Harwin circling, watching.

Aegon uses the straw dummy to avoid Jacaerys. He’s quick to corner the smaller, kicking Jacaerys down in the process.

“Don’t let him get up.” Cole barks which spurs the commander into action.

You watch in amusement as Cole is beaten to a bloody pulp by the bastard’s father. The king turns with concern, given this was no sight for a lady, “Why don’t you go and see if your mother needs something, perhaps your sister?”

You bow in courtesy, escorted away by your sworn shield but your mother’s apartments aren’t the place you’ll be going, no, you want to watch this mess play out a little longer.

“I wish to see my brothers.” You command softly, already walking towards the training grounds even if your knight was willing or not.

They’re pulling Harwin off when you step foot outside, Jacaerys and his brother huddle close while your older brother in particular looks both amused and bored of the entire ordeal already. No doubt still pissy about being grabbed and promptly scolded by the king (‘Aegon!’) .

“Sister,” Aemond greets once you’ve joined him and Aegon.

“How were your lessons?” You quietly fuss over his messy tunic whilst checking for any bruising or cuts on his face, thankfully none.

Aemond responds in kind with Aegon loudly interrupting but you ignore him and his poor manners. You can’t help the way your eyes flit over him and his brother from across the yard, your gaze scrutinizing and judgemental like your queen mother often wore when she expressed her displeasure.

The little bastard actually rises to the challenge. “Jace!” You turn in time to see him advancing quickly, expression full of anger and accusation.

“Is there something you have to say?” Jacaerys glares.

You look over your shoulder with a cool expression, “I don’t have anything to say, what makes you think that?” It’s agitating having to explain yourself to him of all people.

“Because you look like you have something to say, so say it!” It’s comical the way his cheeks and entire face glow red from anger.

You slowly turned to Jacaerys with folded hands placed politely over your front (as the Septa and your mother taught you), “I was merely talking about how Strong the two of you were out here.”

This immediately draws the attention of Ser Harwin. His face easily betrays his emotions but you simply smile at the commander, “It’s a good thing they have the city watch commander to guide them, isn’t it?”

Challenging little cunt you were, Harwin forces a tight smile, “Indeed, princess.”

He doesn’t get to stay much longer as the guards begin pushing him in the direction of the castle, away from his two Strong boys. You were going to wipe the smug face off that bastard–

Aegon shoves Jacaerys first into the dirt, sending the poor boy flying back as Lucerys panics calling out for him. Lucerys charges with a wooden stick in hand, his face twisted in anger and fear as he swings for Aegon, “Let my brother go!”

You scoff and stick your foot out, tripping the boy as you swiftly place a foot over his back pressing down, “Dohaerās!”

You put more pressure with each passing second he squirmed and cried. “Get off of him!” Jacaerys shoves Aegon off and runs at you, pushing past Aemond knocking him down too in the process.

You turn in time to see a head full of dark curls charging, your father yelling for everyone to put an end to this nonsense. “Or what? You’re going to run to mommy and tell her what I said?”

He stops dead in his tracks when you stalk towards him with a predatory look in your eye, “What’s wrong? Not strong now are you?” You shove him harder, causing him to stumble over the wooden sword, “Better yet, why don’t you call for your father to come save you?”

Harwin stills by the doors and the entire yard grows silent. Jacaerys clenches his fists tightly, “Ser Laenor isn’t here.” He grits.

You lean closer, eyes meeting Ser Harwin’s over Jacaerys’ shoulder, “Is he?”

The ‘Velaryon’ stiffens and you can’t hide your grin, “I was merely joking, relax.” You finish softly pulling away.

Aemond is there holding his elbow out for you to take, the two of you (Aegon included) disappear into the castle passing by the commander. Aemond himself shoots Harwin a look before uttering loud and clear:

“Bastards.” No one corrects him.

You remember the outrage you and your brothers caused with Rhaenyra. She demanded justice—especially towards you after learning you pushed her Luke to the ground and commanded him like an animal. She pushed for a harsh punishment, hell-bent on it.

Alicent, who usually was spoken over by her husband and every other man in her life, for once refused. Your mother made sure of it that no one, not even the king, was to touch or harm you, fiercely defending you against your half-sister.

‘Over words? You wish to have my daughter flogged over an insult?’

Needless to say your mother had the last say after some unsavory words and threats were exchanged in the council room. As Rhaenyra passed you met her eyes briefly before Alicent covered you with her own body.

They left like dogs with their tails tucked between their legs. You, Aegon, and Aemond stood over a balcony watching the ships sail and dragons pass overhead. It was as if they were never there to begin with.

It wasn’t always unpleasant you suppose but with age you slowly begin caring and thinking less and less about those Strong boys.

༺ ──────────── ༻

“There’s to be a petition in court.” Your mother solemnly mumbles from her place by the open windows, she’s in one of her moods again and you wish no part of it. Was it Aegon who went and managed to piss her off for the umpteenth time?

You barely look up from the embroidery you’re working on (it’s a beetle for Helaena who has been feeling blue these days), “A petition for what?”

Alicent turns to you with a melancholic look on her face, she’s smiling but it falls short and her somber mood once again returns. “Nothing of importance my sweetling.” She lifts her skirts to take a seat beside you on the floor, “What are you working on?”

“A beetle, for Helaena.” As you’re showing her the doors to your rooms open and a handmaiden stands by with a soft ‘Prince Aemond, your grace,’

“Mother, y/n.” Aemond greets as he takes a seat in the chair next to you, leg crossed over his other. “For Helaena?” He murmurs, leaning down to get a better look.

You speak amongst quiet whispers while Alicent watches, content to see her two children together. “Mother, the petition does it have anything to do with Rhaenyra and her sons?”

Aemond, who had taken the embroidery to try for himself, stops in his tracks. Alicent feared she wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret, especially not with you two being so perceptive all the time. Her prolonged silence was enough answer anyway.

“Yes,” she finally relents, “Lord Corlys’ younger brother wishes to challenge Lucerys’ claim for Driftwood.”

Her tone is hesitant and careful, she looks at Aemond when she says his name. She’s treading carefully with her third born knowing he was particularly sensitive when he got angry.

“By extension the rest of her I presume?” You reach for a lemon cake mumbling to Aemond (‘Share one with me… I said to split it, not have it all.’—‘I did.’)

With the king bed-ridden nearing death and his first born off at Dragonstone, there was no need to hold your tongue. “Her claim will be questioned, as will her first born and second,” Aemond adds.

“I worry sometimes,” Alicent finally says, silence following, “for you, Helaena, Aegon—the children.” You know exactly what she means to tell.

“I do believe Helaena has been in need of some company. You may leave me, I have Aemond.” You reach for her hands and gently squeeze, “I will catch up with you two, yes?”

Alicent studies your face in worry before settling on brushing a few stray hairs out of your face, “Alright, I will see you.” She lays a gentle kiss over your head and rises to her feet.

Once the doors slam shut you finally release the sigh you’ve held in through the entire conversation with half a mind to ask for a bath to soothe your oncoming headache. “Seems our dear nephews will be arriving on the morrow.” He comments.

“Hm, seems so.” You’re not entirely sure how you feel, are you supposed to feel anything?

Things were different now you suppose, your hatred died down over the years without their insulting presence. You didn’t like them either, merely tolerated the idea of them.

Then there was the great Jacaerys Velaryon, future of the realm and heir to the throne, the same boy who plagued your dreams and memories all these years.

And he was to be here tomorrow, the first since Lady Laena’s funeral (which you had believed to be the last time you would ever have to see him).

“You’re free to speak plainly sister, we’re in private, we don't have to keep pretending.” Aemond mutters, head lolling in your direction as he stares at you.

You tilt your head, “And what would you have me say? That I’m looking forward to their little visit?”

“What excuse will it be this time? I don’t think she can easily sway the people with the evidence right there in plain sight,” he hums.

The more you think about her and her children coming here into your home tainting it all over again—you grow furious.

“Help me up will you? I think I’ll take a bath and meet you with mother.” You hope it will be enough to curb your anger for now.

Aemond holds you upright and levels you with a stare, “Something’s bothering you.”

“Well, yes–”

“Not them.” Aemond replies quietly and for a second you still.

You gently stroke the side of his face, watching as Aemond leans into your touch with a closed eye, “I’m fine,” you murmur, “now go.”

Luckily Aemond’s just as sweet on you and Helaena as he is stubborn and observant. He lets it go (thankfully) and you’re left alone to think about tomorrow. You could easily feign sickness or escape to the Sept (you were due for a prayer anyways) but mother would never let you as much as she would like to—your grandsire’s word evidently still strong over her.

You soak in the boiling hot tub, enjoying the steam delicate scents from the oils you regularly use. “That’s a problem for another day,” you find yourself murmuring to no one in particular as you sink further into the tub, eyes slipping shut.

༺ ──────────── ༻

You had done your best to carry on with your duties the following morning.

Nearly an hour had passed since you sat around staring at your reflection instead of allowing the handmaids to dress you. By this hour you’d be with your mother and Helaena in the gardens. Your absence however prompts the queen to come searching.

“What’s wrong?” Alicent whispers sitting beside you on the bed with worry etched on her brow as she gently moves your hair from your shoulder, “y/n?”

You place your hand over hers, “Braid my hair, like when I was child?” You hold the brush out for her to take.

She has you sit on the floor in front of her, gently combing the hair brush through your soft locks handling each strand of hair with care. The two of you fall into comfortable silence (save for her soft humming). All of your frustrations quickly lift off your shoulders the more you sink into her gentle caring touch.

“The dress is beautiful, when did you have this tailored?” Alicent comments softly, it was no secret to anyone that she saw herself in her youngest daughter—dutiful, composed, a good daughter.

The only difference was you had freedom she never did. While she had been made a child bride by her own father, you remained an unwed maiden at the age of twenty by choice. Alicent didn’t push for proposals and Otto knew better than to try and meddle with you like he had with Aegon and Helaena.

(‘Aemond had it made for me, Helaena has one in blue.’—‘The fabric, I don’t believe we have that around here do we?’) Your doors open and your drunken (maybe hungover) brother comes stumbling gracelessly.

“Well don’t you look darling.” He comments under his breath and saunters over to where you sit, falling flat on his back with his head in your lap.

“Aegon.” Alicent warns as she starts on another braid.

You look down and flick his forehead, “You smell of wine, and you're going to dirty my dress.” Despite the annoyance you still comb your fingers through his hair affectionately.

Aegon snorts unceremoniously, “Is it a crime to visit my sister now? My very beautiful sister—do say, when are you going to choose a husband? You’re past the age, and well nearly every lord in the realm’s been asking for your hand.” He smirks slyly knowing very well the topic of marriage angered the shit out of you.

“Aegon that’s enough, stop pestering your sister.” Alicent sighs heavily.

Your eyes flick over to the wine pitcher in your maid’s hands, the threat clear. A harmless grin forms on his face, one you can’t help but mirror teasingly as the two of you settle in silence as to not disturb your mother with children’s banter. You left that for your niece and nephew to do.

“There,” Alicent shows you through the mirror, “do you like it?”

“I love it, thank you.” You leaned back to lay in her lap.

Normally she would frown at receiving such affections but because it was you she held her tongue, never truly bothered by any of it. She allows it for a little longer before gently patting your shoulder.

“I must go and see to it that preparations for our guests are going well my sweetlings. I will see you in court later.” She departs hastily.

“Have you eaten?” You ask Aegon, who shakes his head as you rise to your feet together, “I haven’t either.”

Rhaenys and her granddaughter are the first to arrive on dragonback, and then your dear half-sister with her entourage of children and Daemon.

‘Ha, so they really did it,’ Lady Laena hadn’t been dead for a week and these two had already frolicked around (the night at Driftmark, you’re sure the two figures on the beach were them).

No one had been there to receive them—you certainly didn’t bother, you doubt any of your siblings would. You’re outside in the yard watching Criston Cole train with Aemond again, your brother much more swifter than the knight in comparison to when he was a child.

There’s a proud smile on your lips when Aemond emerges victorious, looking your way with a grin. “Come to watch me?” He tilts his head.

“What does it seem like?” You muse softly after seeing that Aemond has garnered attention from other knights and maids, making a spectacle of his sparring in a outstandish way.

“It seems you want to spar with me,” he smirks.

“Daor.”

Aemond snorts, “Fine,” he picks his sword back up and points it to Cole, “again, I wish to win this next round in my sister’s honor.”

A handmaid is quick to bring you a chair, the sound of swords colliding once again filling the yard. Aemond’s eager to prove he’s surpassed Ser Criston and judging by the small crowd forming he’s eating the attention right up. You hear distant murmurs and whispers but pay no mind, it must’ve been the women from court again who didn’t know how to keep their mouths shut.

“Just look at their hair..” One of them says.

Everyone knows, father, just look at them..

“Princess? Are you alright, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” you hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath in shock and anticipation the entire time.

The swords have stopped and everything goes still, Aemond stands with the tip of his blade pointed in your direction—not at you, but behind you. He had that crazed look in his eye again. You share a look and rise from your seat slowly.

“Nephews, have you come to train?” Your brother’s tone is cold with bitter hate.

Jacaerys stands dumbfounded and unable to form a response, you watch his (soft, plump) lips part but not a single sound comes.

“Nephews.” You quietly say with the tiniest of nods, “It’s been long hasn’t it? I take it the trip over was comfortable, was it not?”

Neither Lucerys nor Jacaerys answer at first with the younger curly-headed boy awkwardly muttering his response, very unbefitting of the next Lord of the Tides.

You barely spare him a look as you turn to Jacaerys, “Would you like me to show you your rooms? I’m sure they’ve been prepared already.”

“..We would appreciate it,” he finally replies, his voice no longer squeaky and high—rather low and suave, “seeing as there was no one to properly welcome us earlier.” His snarky response makes your skin crawl and your temper flare, but for appearances you reel yourself in.

“Apologies, nephews—it’s been a rather exhausting day preparing for the guests.” You force a polite smile.

He fixes you with a dark stare, his gaze dropping from your lips and then back up, “Mm.”

“Follow me,” you hum disappearing into the castle with the two Velaryon boys following close.

Neither one of you made an attempt to speak. What was there to talk about, they were practically strangers and you doubted Lucerys would’ve enjoyed recounting the last time the three of you had the pleasure of sharing the same roof. Jacaerys on the other hand must’ve believed you to be a fool if he thought you hadn't noticed him looking.

Annoyance runs hot through your veins as you finally reach the wing where their rooms sat, “I hope everything is to your liking, don’t hesitate to ask if you need something.”

‘Thank you.’ You hear Lucerys mumble but Jacaerys offers nothing but his heavy stare. “I’ll see you later,” your voice is soft and silky but the lingering (wanton) look you give speaks in volumes.

“Later.” You hear him faintly reply once you’re out of earshot, you can’t help the tiny smirk on your lips.

༺ ──────────── ༻

Court was as you expected—boring and another waste.

You stood by sweet Helaena, who was equally bored, listening as the second son of Driftmark cried over being replaced by a child. A bastard no less, you could only imagine the embarrassment he must have went through—or rather going through because it didn’t seem like he’d be getting a rest from it anytime soon.

During his speech you made eye contact a few times with Jacaerys. You don’t know why it felt natural, like gravity pulled your gaze to him over and over. When you would look he was already watching with the same hunger from before.

The whole fiasco ended in total failure because Vaemond’s killed leaving no challenger. You’re not surprised things worked out in Rhaenyra’s favor after your father wobbled his way to the throne and then had to be carried out because he overexerted himself.

Aemond shields both you and Helaena from the dead body lying on the floor, “That’s enough for today, you’re all dismissed. Someone dispose of the body.” Otto barks through the mess caused by Daemon.

You manage to sneak a last look before being ushered out by your mother and brothers. The walk back quiet and awkward, what was there to say?

“That was..something.” Aegon finally breaks the tense silence.

Your mother doesn’t reply and Aemond snorts, “It was another mess that’s what it was.” You murmur loud enough for them to hear, “Like always, they make a spectacle of themselves and father comes to save the day.”

“Should’ve known father would do that.” Aemond adds in, and it’s true.

You already knew the petition against Rhaenyra’s children of all people would be useless. It was as if the king had a sixth sense when it came to Rhaenyra. Funnily, he was sick enough to be bedridden these past years but well enough to come defend his first born one final time.

“Helaena, why don’t we take the children to the gardens? I’m sure we could both use some fresh air.” You find yourself asking, desperate to forget.

You end up spending the afternoon with Helaena in the gardens talking about everything and nothing. It was always a relaxing affair when it came to your sister and her children. You liked lounging around and watching the twins with a lazy eye. It felt nice having this small escape, kept you from ripping your own hair out over the family drama.

You’re in the middle of playing with Jaehaerys when your mother’s sworn shield interrupts, “Forgive me princesses but your mother has sent me to escort you to tonight's dinner with the king, he has requested all his children be present.”

Helaena’s smile fades and your mood is spoiled for the day, of course the king would pull a stunt like this.

“Hel.” You put a tentative hand on her shoulder, relieved she merely relaxes under your touch. The two of you hesitantly part from the children after promising sweets and more playtime.

Everyone’s barely arriving with your seat being between Aemond’s and grandsire. Aemond looks disinterested (as does everyone else) but you try to put up a farce for the dying old man being carried in. It was possibly his last dinner, might as well make it a memorable one you suppose.

No one wants to speak, Aegon’s got his hands cupped in front of him in exasperation like he’s itching to reach for his wine goblet. Helaena is mumbling to herself mostly and Rhaenyra’s other children stare at their plates.

“Father,” all eyes are on you, “forgive me as I know it was your wish for us to dine together but I’m feeling unwell and would like to rest if I may..” You trail off softly placing your hands on the table, ready to flee.

Jacaerys is still looking down at his plate with a deathly tight grip on his fork. The old croak waves his hand dismissively, smiling painfully, “Yes, go on that’s fine.” He offers a gentle nod at most, you don’t think he even remembers your name.

“Thank you, if you’ll excuse me.” You bow politely,

quickly moving for the exit without a spare glance.

You hear another voice but you can’t make out what they said other than the sound of a chair being pushed out. Something was telling you it was your Strong boy and the thought brings a mischievous smirk to your face as you look over at your sworn shield.

“Leave me, I’ll retire to my rooms alone; you’re dismissed.” You calmly begin walking away.

“But Princess—”

“Go Ser, I will be fine.” You leave no room for argument and hear him reluctantly let out a sigh before heading in the opposite direction.

With the guard handled you find your way through the halls humming in high valyrian until you reach your destination: the king’s council room. It’s dimly lit inside by candles, the windows are open with sounds of small folk singing and dancing heard below.

The slightest creak has you looking to the side without turning your head, “Unwell you said, you must like lying a lot..” He trails off in amusement as he plays with an ornament nearby.

“And what have I lied about nephew? Enlighten me.” You reply softly.

There’s no denying the thrill you’re getting out of this, Jacaerys was bold for following you like this, in a room all alone with no guards around. The secrecy excited you because if anyone were to find you two together—oh they’d think the worst.

An unwed maiden and the prince bastard of Dragonstone.

“You’re acting dense on purpose, putting up a farce—tell me does it make you feel better? Your words, actions—they’re insulting. I don’t think for a moment you’ve had a change of heart.” He scowls, stopping short of the king’s chair.

You spin around to face him with your hands behind your back, “Whatever do you mean?” You can’t help but bat your doe eyes.

Jacaerys hesitates for a second, “You know what I mean, do you take me for a fool.” He says low and threatening, ever so guarded with you.

“Hmm, I’m afraid I don’t know and if you’re just going to keep repeating yourself the door is right there.” You enjoy the look of anger on his face and part your lips to speak once more when he stops you with a hand on your forearm.

The touch is hot, scorching even as you feel the rush of arousal and excitement hit you all at once. No one has ever grabbed you this roughly, or been in the same proximity long enough to keep their head (you had your own way of dealing with unwanted advances).

Yet, Jacaerys still has his hand.

The audacity. “Let go you—” You move to slap him but he grabs your wrist just short of connecting to his face.

“You what? Go on, say it,” he eerily whispers as his hot breath fans over your lips.

Your calm demeanor slips and eyes narrow in anger, “You fucking bastard—unhand me right now!” Your yells are muffled when he seals his lips over yours.

You violently flinch backwards, the kiss bruising as you try pushing him off. In response he merely tightens his hold reminding you he was much stronger than the brat he used to be. Where you move he moves and if you take a step back he takes one forward. Jacaerys slips his hand through your hair and tightly grips, yanking you forward to keep you in place whenever you squirm too much for his liking.

You somehow manage to sneak a hand below your skirts for a dagger you kept and without hesitating bring it up intending to puncture his side. He sees and quickly seizes your wrist, squeezing tight as the blade slips and lands with a clank on the ground.

“I can see the way you look at me,” he whispers all breathless and breathy, “and it kills you to know you want a bastard like me doesn’t it—I wonder if you picture the same things I do,” he briefly pauses as his eyes trail over your swollen lips.

He crowds you into the table with a hand dropping to your hip, “It’s only you and I,” his lips connect with your ear trailing downwards, “you don’t have to pretend; all you have to do is let go.”

Your spine involuntarily arches from his electrifying touch with goosebumps erupting all over. You can’t help the soft gasp when he tugs you towards him by the hip. The very large bulge in his slacks presses stubbornly into your pelvis, hot and throbbing.

“Jacaerys we can’t,” you begin quietly.

“We can’t or you won’t?” He questions dismissively like he doesn’t believe you.

Your lips part and a shaky sigh escapes when he begins leaving open mouthed kisses over your collarbone and shoulders. You pray he doesn’t leave any marks to the naked eye as you’d hate to have to explain the marks on top of your request for moon tea.

“I can’t.” You hope he’d reconsider but to your utter horror Jacaerys sucks harshly over the soft skin of your chest where your tits sit perfectly cupped and pushed together in your dress.

You cry out from the surprise and sensitivity as your hands came up to grip his shoulders tightly. He gives your other tit the same treatment before dropping to his knees with the same lustful look in his eye from earlier.

“Tell me you want this as much as I do,” he pleads as if he desperately needed to hear it from your lips.

“I..” Do you really want him as much as he believes you do? The very thought of him defiling and tainting your purity caused a dark swirl of emotions within you—you want all of him.

Jacaerys licks his lips hungrily and pushes up your skirts until he’s settled in front of your soft thighs. His hot breath fans over them as he inches closer until he’s eye level with your moistened, throbbing cunt.

“..Yes,” you find yourself whispering after a few moments.

A pleased rumble leaves him and he closes the distance between him and your aching cunt. The first stroke of his hot tongue over your sticky folds has you keening in pleasure and your eyes rolling shut, head thrown back. You can’t help your lewd moan—all high and breathy.

Jacaerys works his tongue over your throbbing clit in firm strokes, hands greedily feeling every inch of your smooth skin. You choke when he throws one of your thighs over his shoulder, the angle shattering as he gains more access to your soft virginal pussy; ripe for the taking.

His lips part over it and he takes your aching bud into his mouth, vigorously sucking and lapping. “Jacaerys–” You choke out as his fingers tread over your folds dipping in to press against your soppy hole, the digits gliding rather easily aided by your dripping wetness.

His middle finger slips through—poking and prodding—until he breaches and pushes past the resisting barrier. There’s a sharp whine as your cunt flutters, greedily swallowing up his fingers, “Mmn..”

You notice how he gets when he hears you make those filthy little noises, the flick of his tongue sharp and his grip growing just a bit tighter. You can’t help eagerly rolling your hips on his face, shuddering as your bare cunt slides over his hot mouth and the tip of his nose dips between your folds brushing over your clit.

“Oh gods,” you gasp breathlessly, hips baring down faster and your grip on the table getting tighter.

There’s a filthy moan below your skirts, the vibrations against your pussy have you mewling needily. With little strength you manage to smother your cunt over his face again until he decides to stop teasing and seals his mouth over your throbbing clit once again.

You whimper out a garbled version of his name as the pleasure simmers hot in your lower belly. Your release hurdles towards you fast, almost knocking the breath out of you from how intense.

“Fuck Jacaerys..!” You gasp as the coil finally snaps; leaving you with legs spread wide and hips angled down with your clit in his mouth and his fingers curled up inside you.

You’re blinded by the hot white pleasure and the slick dribbling down your thighs (to which he greedily licks it up with loud unabashed slurps and moans). You shakily push his head away from your sore spent pussy, whining when he lands one last lick over your throbbing clit before letting up.

Jacaerys stands before you in a disheveled state with his swollen, glossed over lips. His tunic’s slightly rumpled and hair clearly out of place from being buried under your skirts for so long.

“Jacaerys,” you quietly start but he quickly silences you with another kiss, this one sweeter than the last.

You can’t help your sigh leaning into his touch, he treats you much more delicately than his harsh bruising kisses from before. He handles you like you’re meant to be—gentle, pampering, soft. The sentiment leaves you eager but disappointingly he pulls away and just..leaves? If you hadn’t been so out of breath you’d call out to him.

You lay your hand over your chest shuddering at the cool sensation of drying slick between your thighs. A rational side of you argues it’s for the best things ended before escalating but another wants to seek him out.

“Princess?” You hear one of your ladies in waiting from the other side of the door.

You shove your skirts down and fix your hair in an attempt to look modest. “Princess,” her face relaxes and she approaches you with open arms, “your mother sent me, are you still feeling unwell?”

“I’m fine, I’d like to have a bath now,” you take her arm biting your inner cheek to fight the fierce heat blossoming over them from embarrassment, “you shall speak nothing of this to my mother, yes?”

“Yes, my lady.”

No one comments on your troubled look while they bathed and dressed you. They knew better than to poke at the dragon; especially one that was upset.

You’re dressed in a white dainty dress you’d gotten as a gift from Aegon (though you suspected he had other intentions when he gifted it to you). You’re left sitting prettily over soft comforters and cushions, skin still smelling like rich oils and softer than a fox's fur.

“That will be all, thank you.” You bid your ladies good night and see them out just as your sworn shield takes his place in front of your chambers.

༺ ──────────── ༻

Sleep does not come as quickly as you had hoped. You’ve lost count of the hour, too entranced by the crackling firewood and waves hitting the cliffs. The candles have long died out and the moonlight took its place as your source of lighting.

You were tempted to escape to Helaena’s room using the secret tunnels but your sister could either be with Aegon or asleep. Your mother was out of question as she would chastise you about how unbecoming it is of a lady to be sneaking around during the hour of the owl.

(You’d never hear the end of it you’re afraid.)

As you roll over onto your stomach your breath hitches when the soft material glides against your swollen cunt. You quietly hiss and rub your thighs to ease the tension but it only worsens. Your clit pulses wildly, simmering heat boiling in your belly.

“Fuck.” You mutter rolling onto your back with your knees knocked apart, Jacaerys had really done a number on you.

You swallowed harshly thinking about his thick fingers and how your pussy was stretched to the brim. Your cunt flutters as you gasp softly, gods how you wanted to finish what he started earlier in the council room.

Would he lay you down tenderly and fuck you sweet or would he have you like one of those women from the streets of silk? Like a whore bent over and mounted like a bitch where he’d fuck years of hate and anger into you. Anger for what you had done and said about him and his brothers.

The thought does not bother you in the slightest, rather you’re aroused. You don’t have to pretend; all you have to do is let go..

You set your pride aside and slip into slippers sneaking into the secret tunnels. You walk with haste recalling where every room was after Aegon first showed you and Aemond the tunnels. You stand before his door waiting anxiously after giving three hard knocks.

The tunnel floods with light and Jacaerys stands over you, his own body casting a shadow. You stare up at him with parted lips and a dreamy glaze in your eyes. He doesn’t hesitate to bring you closer until your cheek is pressed against his chest.

“Jace,” your voice is nothing more than a whisper yet the grip you have on his robes says otherwise.

He hauls you into his arms leaving you no time to gasp before he’s pinning you onto the silken sheets. He stares down at you intensely, his grip around your wrists tight and secure. Both arms encase you on either side of your head leaving you to marvel up at the Strong Velaryon boy.

Jacaerys says nothing when he tugs his own tunic and robes off with one hand. Each article of clothing falls one by one onto the ground, the bed creaking in protest under his weight as he comes to kneel over you once again.

Throughout this whole ordeal you’ve held intense eye-contact with him, a challenge you most certainly welcomed as he still possessed those flames of desire and anger from before. With a clenched jaw he brings both your wrists to one hand and reaches below with his free to grasp his hard cock.

You can’t help but look, having to bite down on your tongue to hold in the whine that threatened to escape. The weeping head dripped pearly white seed over your soft mound from where he stroked himself. The pulsing heat between your thighs quickly becoming unbearable.

He lowers his hips until his pelvis is smushed into yours, his hard dripping cock trapped between the two of you pressed into your inner thigh. The contact is scalding with the way it throbs, how you yearn for him to take it and fuck you silly with it.

“Jacaerys,” you quietly choke, voice raspy and thick with want & need.

“This will hurt.” He carefully gauges your reaction for any discomfort or hesitance.

“Show me then, my lord Strong. Claim me as you would if I were yours, your ‘plain’ appearance is not of importance to me sweet nephew,” you purr sweetly, “we share blood of the dragon, you and I..”

You decide he needs one last push.

“Imagine a babe just like us…he wouldn’t look like a bastard, no,” his nose flares and grip tightens, “but everyone will know when they see his strong curls—”

A cry spills from your lips as Jacaerys slams his cock into you, buried to the hilt where his soft balls meet your pert cheeks. The pain burns but it’s laced with pleasure in a bittersweet way, still you can’t help the soft hisses that slip through clenched teeth each time he shifts around.

You struggle to house all of him inside, what he lacks in length he makes up for in girth; fat and thick with swollen pussy lips stretched around him wrapped tight and snug. To your utter surprise however, he’s not upset at your small jab—he looks as if he were actually picturing a child with you.

“And yet you still lie beneath me, speared on a bastard’s cock,” he grunts.

Jacaerys rolls his hips, not giving you any time to adjust, “You’ll bear my children fearing they won’t come out like their father—brown hair,” thrust, “brown eyes,” thrust, “every bit of me.” He whispers low and menacing in your ear, his speed relentless and punishing.

The stinging pleasure worsens and your eyes water, it’s a sort of bone deep pleasure balanced out by the pain that was beginning to dull. You were powerless under the Velaryon Prince as you could only helplessly toss your head back from the sweet pain.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? To have my bastards?” He licks his lips and switches his pace to a more smoother one, still jabbing nonetheless but albeit more calmer.

You grit your teeth in refusal to answer, but he didn’t need your answer as he descended upon your lips hungrily and fucked into you faster. Your moans get swallowed up by both him and the slick accompanying his wet thrusts causing you to burn with embarrassment over your filthy coupling.

Your traitorous gaze drops downwards again, the sight leaving you in breathless awe. He has specks of blood smeared against his skin, his cock faring no better as it’s covered in creamy pink. You experimentally squeeze around him just to watch his mouth drop open in a small ‘o’ shuddering through the pleasure.

“Again,” he groans softly, “fuck, more.” He gasps while desperately grinding into you.

You wrap your shaking thighs around his waist and tug him closer until he’s trapped against you unable to pull out. He huffs and kisses your sweaty skin, his hips tilting to bump and grind into that sensitive spot from before.

“Oh Jacaerys,” your back arches and toes curl.

Throaty little moans spill from his lips over each rhythmic squeeze around his swollen cock. He fucks into that soft sticky heat just listening to the filthy wet sounds your cunt makes. He enjoys the soft thwacks of his balls slapping against your taint, splattering creamy slick over the sheets.

“Oh,” you shudder, peak hitting harder than ever

You feel the warmth and utter bliss/satisfaction when you come down from your high. Dollops of wet slick spill from the sides of your stuffed pussy, a phantom pulsing sensation most likely from the aftermath of your orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m gonna–” He bites back his needy moan, pressing deeply to ensure every drop gets buried in your cunt. It seemed like you were going to pay a visit to the maestar soon for moon tea.

However you were far more concerned about your ability to walk, you could barely even feel the space between your legs much less your cunt and knees.

༺ ──────────── ༻

Peace never really lasts long in the Red Keep, not with the never ending feud between both your families.

From what you heard, shortly after Jacaerys left you the first time he joined dinner again only to find himself punching Aemond while Aegon slammed Lucerys into his plate. Aemond had done it again with his taunts over your nephew’s legitimacy.

Rhaenyra was leaving again after those years gone, which meant Jacaerys would be gone too. You hadn’t voiced your displeasure nor let it show when the boys were seen off to their dragons at the pit. You hid by a column, peeking out watching them saddle up for their journey home.

Jacaerys doesn’t notice you at first but when he does he stops and his gaze softens with pity. “Aunt.” He greets striding over with his arms behind his back.

“Jacaerys.” You greet quietly, refusing to meet his eyes in a stubborn act of defiance.

He tilts your chin up gently and forces you to look, “This doesn’t have to be the end you know,” he brushes a stray hair from your face, “unless you want to stop?”

“I don’t,” you find yourself snapping quicker than he can finish which makes him smile, “you know I don’t. I just don’t see how it’s possible to continue..this, if you’re so far away on Dragonstone.” You mumble and cup his cheek.

Jacaerys leans into your touch with a hum, “I’m a dragon ride away my love,” your cheeks burn at the endearment, “I’ll send ravens if I have to—you don’t need to worry about a single thing.”

You gently peck his lips and sigh, “..If you don't write to me, I will..” You trail in high valyrian whilst squeezing his hand until it pops threateningly. He laughs low and brings your hand up to kiss, instantly quelling your temper.

“I swear it,” he replies, kissing your knuckles once more despite Luke calling out to him in the background, his dragon calling out for him.

You allow a soft smile as you whisper ‘go’, no doubt your mother would be looking for you as well. You watch him leave your side once again only this time you knew he’d be returning sometime soon as the king neared the hour of death.

No one knew of your little letters you exchanged with Jacaerys over the course of weeks. He would send you flowers and other things he’d find around Dragonstone while you sent perfumed handkerchiefs or oil scented letters.

You knew he particularly loved when the paper smelled like you. (You’d be rewarded with vulgar responses.)

‘My beloved, everything reminds me of you and how you might enjoy this if you were here. I’d give anything to have you here by my side dressed in Targaryen colors. I personally think red suits you best my love, don’t you think? I’ll have a dress tailored to fit in all the right places, perhaps we can arrange a slit for easy access? You’d enjoy that wouldn’t you?’

If your mother noticed your odd behavior, she didn’t comment. Alicent knew very well what a lovestruck girl looked like as she had been one herself not too long ago. No one comments on the frequent visits to the dragon pit where you’d disappear for hours on end returning once the moon had risen.

The illusion shatters however when Viserys dies.

Right away your mother and grandsire crown Aegon as king. You should feel indifferent about the throne but you can’t help the ugly feeling you get upon seeing Aegon the conqueror's crown over your brother’s head. He was no king. He was not made to be king.

War was coming. With Aegon usurping Rhaenyra, as if that wasn’t enough, Aemond goes and fucking kills your nephew in some petty child’s game.

You heard the boy sunk into the waters after Vhagar mauled his tinier dragon. When you were flying over you heard Vermax’s loud cries of anguish, no doubt feeling his riders emotions as Jacaerys mourned Lucerys.

Your own dragon cried out in return as you swiftly landed and hopped off, stumbling through the sand as Jacaerys quickened his pace. You meet each other halfway with him falling into your arms, brokenly sobbing.

His loud cries are drowned out by the harsh waves hitting shore and seagulls flying around. At that very moment it’s only you and him standing on that beach wrapped up in each other’s arms. You press a series of kisses against his temple, tightening your hold when you feel him tremble.

“Shh.. sh, my love. I’m here.” You murmur soothingly.

Jacaerys swallows harshly, “He…he killed him,” he croaks out, “he’s gone.” It physically hurts seeing him unable to speak, just choking up over his words like a little boy crying for his mother.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

You hold him until he grows tired of sobbing, resorting to softer sniffles as he cowers in your hold. Jacaerys has a death grip around your waist where his fingers dig into you unknowingly. “I can’t lose you.” He mutters.

You will never forget the haunting look in his eye. Jacaerys had already lost his brother, he would not be losing you either..

༺ ──────────── ༻

..A son for a son they said after the ratcatchers beheaded Jaehaerys in his sleep.

You were up for days unable to process the grief and horror, moreso you felt for Helaena (beautiful Helaena who hadn’t deserved any of this). The way your mother had allowed the death of a child—her own blood—to be handled was despicable.

You saw Otto Hightower for what he was: a power hungry cunt. Your own brothers were strangers to you, Aemond having killed his own nephew in cold blood and Aegon a bloodthirsty idiot who didn’t know what he was doing.

You understand why Viserys favored Rhaenyra now.

“He’s a fool, mother was right to tell him he would be more useful doing nothing,” you sharply reply.

You’re in Jacaerys’ room after a sneaky endeavor in his bed all afternoon, complaining about your stupid brothers. Your lover lays on his side with a hand supporting his head listening attentively with a loving gaze.

“What was it you said that he told Aemond—I can have to make a war?” Jacaerys snorts in amusement brushing his fingers through your hair.

“He’s an idiot. It’s a wonder anyone can actually stand being in the same room as him, if he’s not crying about Aemond making plans behind his back then he’s crying that no one respects him.” You shake your head.

“Hm, my mother still thinks we can avoid war,” he sighs deeply, “if only it were easy, right?” He slides your hand in his, holding it tightly while stroking over your knuckles with his thumb.

You can’t help but squeeze back, “Patience my love, everyone already sees how incompetent Aegon is. He’s already the usurper in their eyes and nobody really listens to him so to speak.”

“Suppose you're right about a few things.” Jacaerys’ gaze drops to your plush lips, still swollen and bitten-raw from his punishing little nips and aggressive kissing.

Your stomach swoops with excitement as a playful grin forms over your lips, “Only a few things?” You lean down to whisper, lips inches away from his.

He smiles lazily and cups your cheeks, “Of course not you know I trust your judgment, my love.” He mumbles soothingly while brushing over your loose curls.

He looks beautiful like this—the sheets hung low around his bare hips and the love bites littered across his shoulders and neck. You’d like to stay forever like this with him, all tangled up and the only sounds being your soft voices and the waves hitting the cliffs by his open window.

“Do you? Or is my prince only saying that because he desires a kiss?”

It’s comical the way Jacaerys lights up like a child faced with a fresh batch of lemon cakes. He eagerly slots his lips over yours and draws your naked body closer to him until his stirring cock is pressed flush against your hip—still coated in wet slick and oils from earlier.

You reach with one hand to tangle it through his soft curls, yanking his head back, “That isn’t an answer my love; does my prince want a kiss or not?” You ask firmer this time.

His eyes hollow darkly as he licks his lips, “May I? Your prince desires it.” He whispers low and breathy. When he says it like that you simply can’t deny as you eagerly press into him.

Jacaerys wraps his arms around your back and hauls you under him pinning you down against the soft sheets. You moan into his mouth reaching below to grasp his heavy cock in your soft palm and squeezing the head.

“Seems he desires more than a kiss,” you husk, tugging at his cock and enjoying the way he chases your touch.

“I want to claim every inch of you until you’re filled with my cum, maybe this time you will catch,” He finishes with a growl in high valyrian.

His cock slides between your sticky folds bumping and slipping against your clit. You angle the tip downward until it catches against your rim with a hitch, “Jace,” you sigh.

You feel every inch until he’s fed your cunt his cock. The stretch is mouthwateringly good, you don’t think you’ll ever find anyone else who could come this close to pleasuring as Jacaerys did. He wastes no time in rocking into you with long forceful thrusts.

“Oh fuck,” you thread your fingers through his hair turning your head away.

Jacaerys messily mouths along your neck and shoulder with muffled groans while desperately covering every inch of your skin with his mouth. You catch him off guard when you wrap your limbs around him and roll the two of you over.

“Lie back my love,” you seductively whisper.

He watches, entranced as you set your hands over his bare chest and push. The delicious weight combined with the heavenly warmth around his cock has his head rearing back and a long moan escaping.

You bite down on your lip taking in his every reaction. From this angle he strikes deep leaving you with a pleasant ache you’d be feeling the coming days. “Oh fuck.” You gasp, hips stuttering in their movements.

Jacaerys gets his hands over your hips and tugs you back down over his lap causing a groan to bubble out of your throat. He uses his newfound grip to bounce you in his lap until a low fopping sound from his thighs smacking into your cheeks fills the room.

Your gasps come out in short stuttered breaths with the occasional ‘mm’ thrown in there. Mid-roll you manage to firmly plant yourself in his lap trapping his fat cock in your wet cunt. You feel it twitching inside, desperate for another release.

Soft ‘ah, ah, ah’s fill the room alongside the sounds of sheets shuffling and seagulls in the distance. You’re lost in the moment basking in sunny rays and hot bubbling pleasure. His grip not once loosening nor slipping.

“Seven hells, you’re going to be the death of me.” He breathlessly groans.

His cock pulses faintly and then you’re being filled with thick spurts of white. He lazily squeezes your soft cheeks, watching with a blissed out expression. While you had yet to reach your own peak, you also didn’t mind just this.

Your hips came to a stop and you found yourself laying over his chest staring out at the orange-pink sky as you mumble, “I love you.”

༺ ──────────── ༻

Helaena hasn’t spoken much about your nephew since the funeral. She says she’s fine but you doubt that’s any true, you supposed she grieved differently. Helaena has always been a special case (in a positive light).

“Aegon left to battle,” you find yourself saying after an hour of silence, “Aemond too.”

Helaena can offer no insight as she kneels before her caged insects, speaking in soft whispers like she usually did, only this time her tone accompanied by her soft hums.

“How is Jaehaera?”

“..Fine.” More humming.

“And what have you embroidered as of lately–”

“You can go,” she softly interrupts, “everything is fine.” You’re stunned, maybe you overstepped and she wasn’t in need of visitors. That was fine, Helaena’s doing fine—

Your sister reaches over to grasp your hands tightly, staring into your eyes, “Everything will be fine. You must leave or else it will be too late,” a pained smile forms over her lips, “you will be one soon, and then two.”

“..what about you?” Your eyes watered, you dread the thought of leaving her here to suffer alone at the hands of Aegon.

Helaena lays a sweet kiss over your head, “There’s a storm coming, it makes flying harder.”

You wipe your tears and shakily nod, embracing her one last time before rushing through the hidden tunnels to your room. In a satchel you threw a few items of importance along with jewelry you doubt you’d need but something in your gut told you otherwise.

It’s easy to slip unnoticed through the tunnels and keep, the city proves much harder. You manage to pass through the small folk using alleys and hidden paths until you’re outside of the dragon pit. None of the dragon keepers question you and simply bring out Melaxes.

She senses your anxiety and begins to whine, “Shh, lykirī.” You’re quick to soothe her by leaning your forehead against her side.

When she calms down you guide her out of the pit, “Soves,” you murmur and Melaxes roars into the sky disappearing into the thick clouds.

You will be one soon, and then two.

Realization dawns: you haven’t bled for two moons now. Your hand immediately comes up to cover the swell of your stomach. Of course, what were you expecting?

You didn’t drink fucking moon tea and Jacaerys never cared to pull off. Your throat tightens up and tears spring to your eyes, “No,” you claw at your collar heaving.

Rook’s Rest. Rook’s Rest. Rook’s Rest. Your eyes widened—Larys Strong had heard talks of Princess Rhaenys and Prince Jacaerys going to battle together..

“Naejot!” You plunge forward until Melaxes zips above the sea, you pray to whatever god listening that Jacaerys is there safe and sound waiting for you.

You leave her not too far from the castle as you run up the hill towards the one place you knew he’d have to be. It’s a miracle no one notices Alicent Hightower’s youngest daughter storming through the halls until you reach Rhaenyra’s council room.

No one’s there.

“Oh fuck..” You whisper with a hand over your stomach, “No, no, no, no.” (There’s a loud ringing in your ear and it won’t stop.)

The tears come before you can even stop them as your vision quickly blurs. There’s something in your throat but it won’t come out no matter how much you heave and gag on your saliva.

“Mmn,” you whimper in discomfort and pain while curling away, refusing to believe Jacaerys was gone. You want your mother.

Your arm shakily shoots out to grab onto the stone for balance, “..please,” it comes out as a wheeze.

“y/n?” Was this a cruel dream? Jacaerys frowns and immediately starts walking to your side, “What’s wrong?”

He’s met with your lips and a tight crushing grip when you bury your fingers through his hair. You fiercely smother him in a desperate kiss which draws out a hiss from him when you bite his bottom lip.

“..We have to leave,” you mumble.

“Leave?” He frowns, “What do you mean?”

“Jacaerys, please trust me—we need to go,” you desperately plead.

Jacaerys shakes his head, “y/n you’re not making sense right now, leave where? And what of my mother? What of Baela, Rhaena, Joffrey? What of my duty as heir to the throne? You say it as if it’s so simple.”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“Why won’t you just tell me?!” He slams his hand over the table.

“I’m expecting a child,” you choke up, “and I don’t want my baby to die, Jacaerys. I want our baby to live.” You cry softly.

Jacaerys goes eerily still, silently watching you weep all you’ve held in until now. His eyes cast downward over the Targaryen pin on his tunic, glistening under the light shining proudly as a reminder of where he came from.

He says nothing and reaches up to unpin the dragon sigil resting over his shoulder. He reaches over to silently do the same with your own before neatly placing both over the table, releasing his sharp breath.

There’s no other way around this regardless if you stayed or not your child was in danger simply by living and breathing. The Greens would come after you, maybe Aemond would be the one to kill you or perhaps even Daemon. Your child would be dead either way as the king made it obvious how he felt about bastard children.

Jacaerys turns to you with a gentle but pained smile, and in that moment you knew what he chose. Your lip curls sadly and with an outstretched hand you accept him. He squeezes tightly like he’s afraid you’ll vanish into thin air.

“I love you.” He whispers, pressing his forehead to yours, his hand manages to sneak between the two of you to press into your stomach where your child would soon grow.

Neither one of you says anything while Jacaerys packs what he plans to take. He writes to Rhaenyra and leaves the letter in plain sight over his desk. It’s quiet but comforting as he leads you to Melaxes and Vermax.

When she finds the letter Rhaenyra weeps. She can’t find it in her to be upset with him and while yes you had been another insolent brat as a child; you were still her half-sister who was now carrying her grandchild.

“If we fly out now we might catch up to them.” Daemon seethes as he paces back and forth before the queen, “This is just absurd, has the boy officially gone mad? A Hightower cunt no less.” He scoffs.

“Leave them, they’ve made their choice and we will make ours.” Rhaenyra shoots a pointed look at anyone who dares protest. She knows she’s vulnerable now that she’s lost two heirs.

..and if she hears the small folk speaking of two dragon riders traveling across the narrow sea, months later after reclaiming Kings Landing; she turns a blind eye and prays.

+ translations:

dohaerās (serve)

daor (no)

lykirī (be calm)

soves (fly)

naejot (forward)

#hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys smut #hotd smut #house of the dragon

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desireangel · 3 months ago

Text

Dark Cherry [2] | Aemond Targaryen

Part Two

Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader and also some Aemond x some random girly pop ;o

Word Count: (I'm... sorry?) 7.1k

Warnings: smut - mdni 18+!!! UNEDITED!! infidelity, kinda angsty? second-hand smut? power struggle both in bed and out, reader is a cheeky voyeur, oral (f receiving), thigh riding, degradation, Aemond is a fucking asshole but he's sexy, talk of masturbation. as always, let me know if I have missed anything!

Author's note: Entirely unedited because here I am posting this at 2:30AM having just finished writing this bad boy even though I have to be up for work at 7:30. yay :/. Anyways, thank you all so much for the love on this series so far! I'm thinking there could potentially be some more to come. Reader ain't done with her revenge so soon. I will reblog with the taglist tomorrow! or today I guess--after I've had some sleep! I would also love to hear your thoughts!! So pls hmu in my inbox to chat abt things xoxo kisses!!!! <3

Masterlist!

Part One

Distancing yourself from Aemond was not a difficult task. You’d barely see much of him aside from the meals you shared and your occasional stroll through the gardens anyway. It still felt odd, knowing that you were avoiding him when only days ago you had been grasping at whatever crumb of his attention you could reach.

His existence was ghostly. Always talked about but never seen and it made it remarkably easy to ignore him. You spent most days between your chambers and Helaena’s, idly passing time with embroidery and small talk. But you were distracted - your mind foggy and your usual grace and poise replaced by clumsiness and a constant flustered jumpiness.

It was always on your mind. Always.

Your mind was a problem of its own and as soon as you lay down amongst your sheets for a night of sleep, it took you back to the memory of your name lewdly falling from Aemond’s lips. As days had passed, you could have convinced yourself it was a hallucination - an odd dream of some sort.

And while it had become muscle memory for your hand to find your soaked sex at the midnight hour, the scene of your alluring husband in the throes of pleasure bringing you to a quick peak, the first two nights had been marred with silent tears of humiliation, hurt, betrayal–jealousy and anger.

Maybe it was for the best that you had not seen the face of the whore in his private chambers. If you had any idea of who she was, you would have had half a mind to have sought her out and suffocated her yourself.

You had to remind yourself that if she were, in fact, a whore then you could hardly let yourself seriously consider choking a woman out for simply doing her job.

Frustration was an understatement. No matter how hard you tried, there was nothing that you could do which would calm the mix of emotions inside you. You considered declaring Aemond’s infidelity at dinner–or even at the small feast that was held two nights ago. But it wouldn’t be enough and it was too early to show your hand.

If you had come out and made it known to all at Court, nothing would happen. At all.

Most husbands take on whores and mistresses. And despite the pain and hurt of it that the wives suffer, it’s simply accepted as the way things are. Men are innately animals and so they must fuck like it too. So nobody would bat an eyelid at Aemond. Instead, you knew that they’d turn it on you in one way or another.

On the sixth day, you were surprised when Ser Tunsley knocked on your door to announce your husband’s presence. When Aemond took a seat at the small table where you usually shared your breakfast, he barely spared you more than an inquisitive look before telling your handmaid to bring your breakfasts promptly.

Aemond leaned back, letting his legs rest comfortable but still maintained his effortlessly flawless posture. He reached for the book that lay forgotten on the side-table, holding it open with one hand and his other arm stretching over the back of the seat beside him, where you sat all tense and surprised. A barely-there frown crossed your face at the foreign gesture and you willed yourself not to think much of it.

You would have fumbled to snatch the book from his hands, if this had been a week earlier. But it wasn’t, and with a curious and conniving sense of calm, you let him read the first page of a story riddled with obscenity and romance. The first couple chapters were perfectly appropriate.

The prince looked at you with a gentle tilt of his head, unmoving aside from . “You have been withdrawn.”

Silence. You were sitting beside him, unable to meet his eye as you usually would, scoffing so softly at his words that he almost mistook it for a cough.

Aemond, who was far more observant of you than he knew you believed him to be, found that he was bothered by it. Whether it was because of the loss of the devotion that he had always seen in your doe-eyed gaze, or the flippant shift in your attitude, he did not want to know.

“Have I done something that has bothered you, dear wife?” His eye returned to the book and moved from one side of the page to the other as he read.

Aemond clearly did not see you watching them on that night. The fact that you had faced no repercussions for sneaking up on him and eavesdropping on such a moment was enough confirmation of that.

But Aemond’s presence re-ignited the red hot resentment you had for his actions and the hurt that you felt because of him. How any man could seek out the company of his wife for the first time in a week, sit beside her and pretend so shamelessly as if he cared for the repercussions of his own vile actions was beyond you.

Nonetheless, you forced a polite smile onto your lips and turned slightly to face him better. You let his question linger in the air between you as the maid returned, placing a plate of cheeses, fruits and an assortment of breads on the table in front of you.

Thanking her, you reached to pour yourself a cup of the sweet vanilla and rose tea that had become your favourite part of your mornings in the Keep. When you answered his question, it was purposefully less than what Aemond was seeking.

“I have been ill, lord husband,” you murmured. When you rested against the back of the seat, you tensed at the feeling of Aemond’s arm grazing your shoulder. You had forgotten it was there.

Your reaction to his proximity and while you had initially been shy around him–not so much since you had started your little performance–, you never flinched away from his touch.

Aemond placed the book down beside him and hummed in thought. He reached over you, to take a piece of fresh bread for his plate and to put some fruit on your plate, his chest pressing against your shoulder and his hair brushing past your nose.

If you had moved, just an inch, your lips would be against the milky skin of his throat. Despite your disdain for your husband, you could hear the thrum of your heartbeat in your ears and stopped yourself from dragging your fingers through his hair and tracing your lips across his jaw.

There was an unfamiliar sense of purpose behind what he was doing. It dawned on you that he knew what he was doing. The bread was already on his plate but the son of a bitch placed the fruits piece by piece on your plate, his movements lazy.

He smelled like lavender, leather and dragon smoke. Like an intoxicating drug that overwhelmed your mind until piety and sin were indiscernible. It was far too easy for you to see Aemond as more godly than just a mere man, to feel the need to worship him in the most sinful ways you could imagine.

No man in any realms was as strong, as beautiful, as terrifying, as educated as the prince who breathed fire onto your skin. And he was your prince.

A drop in your stomach was the least of your problems when the image of Aemond enjoying another woman’s passion invaded your thoughts. You wondered if his scent drove her just as mad as it made you and you had the urge to drive a knife through Aemond’s hand for you knew he’d have let her indulge in him.

But when he looked at you, his violet eye a mask of indifference yet still failing to hide something that you couldn’t for the life of you put into words, you hated that your desire for him burned just as strong as your rage.

Aemond’s eye met yours, humming in thought as he brought a cherry to his lips and glancing down at your own. He took a bite out of it first and then brought it to your mouth, dragging the open side across your bottom lip. The soft fruit dripped delicately onto your chin and left a stain on your perfect lips. The sight of you with reddened lips, gazing up at him with blown out pupils, shining with an uncorrupted devotion and a pure desire sent his blood rushing.

The cherry was sweet and chilled, a stark contrast to the darkened, heated want that Aemond watched you with. And again, you had an urge to ignore everything and take what it was that you had been hoping Aemond would give you. You obediently took the cherry into your mouth, holding his gaze, chewing the flesh of the fruit and rolling the pip on your tongue.

When you looked hard enough into Aemond’s eye, you could see the reflection of yourself morph into a reflection of the unnamed woman and you turned from him, turning away to drop the pip of the cherry onto a napkin.

Aemond’s hand fell softly to rest on your knee and he only moved back a nudge. You refused to meet his eye but you could feel his warm breath on your cheek as he spoke, his voice slightly strained yet still calm and smooth. “I’ll send for a maester.”

“Thank you,” you pushed the words out of your mouth and nodded towards the food. “You should eat your breakfast, my prince.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow as you rolled your eyes at him and slid back into his previous posture, sitting against the backrest of his own seat. An infuriating grin played on his lips. “Don’t worry about my breakfast. Why did you roll your eyes at me?”

You rolled your eyes again. “As if I cannot call for a maester myself.”

It crossed your mind that you could have told him right now of what you had seen. And the urge to scream at him became so strong you almost did.

But what would come of it? Not enough. Aemond would only offer you an apology if you were lucky and carry on as if nothing was amiss. Because that is just how it is for husbands–they could cheat and lie all they please to no consequence. And you wanted him to regret the moment he chose to disrespect you.

You wanted him to suffer for it. To feel as insulted, as embarrassed and as inferior as you have.

So he would suffer. But you had to be patient if you were to make it hurt.

A thought crossed your mind as Aemond said something you didn’t quite hear, with that unbothered expression he had mastered years ago.

He didn’t linger long after that. You ate your breakfast in silence, while Aemond, much to your distaste, finished the first chapter of your book. And when he finally left, he took it with him, giving you a knowing smirk as he tucked it under his arm.

One punch. Surely, you would be entitled to that.

Initially, the idea of seducing Jason Lannister was a gruesome one. But upon hearing of his prolonged and unbusy presence at King’s Landing, you recognised an opportunity as it presented itself to you. Simply because of pride and ego, there were few men who enjoyed the idea of his wife turning to another man for what they could not provide.

Alas, if there was any part of Aemond that made him weak, it was his pride and his arrogance.

And so here you were, enjoying your afternoon tea with the Lannister twin, listening to stories of his life at Casterly Rock. You made sure the house staff had known of Lannister’s presence and that the Kingsguard were well aware of the pot of tea you shared in the Courtyard. Easily within sight of where you knew Aemond was training with Ser Cole and some other men you had no interest in knowing.

For the past thirty minutes, you could feel him watching you. But when you lifted your head to look, pretending to the man across from you that you were interested in watching your husband train, Aemond would turn away. Yet he finally seemed to have finally had enough and you could see him walking over from behind Jason, his shoulders stiffer than usual with a sour expression.

“This tea,” you covered your mouth gently, letting out the remnants of a laugh that had been pulled from you. If you were being honest, Jason Lannister was turning out to be surprisingly fun company and the smile you had expected to fake ended up being real. Not bothering to look at Aemond, who was much closer now, you held your teacup towards the Lord Lannister with a pretty, sultry smile. “It is incredible–I’ve loved it so much, t’is the only tea I will drink. Have a taste of mine, I insist.”

With a look of blatant excitement, Jason leaned into where you held the cup, fingers grazing yours as he held the cup but never took it out of your hold and took a sip. It was slightly awkward, the way his eyes held onto yours, but you brightened your smile nonetheless.

Aemond visibly inhaled a sharp breath and cleared his throat, covering the both of you in a dark shade. The prince was looming over Lannister, who never looked away from you even as you peeled your eyes away from him with exaggerated difficulty to meet Aemond’s eye. You dropped your smile so slightly that only Aemond could notice.

There was a tense, awkward silence that lingered. Lannister’s head tilted ever so slightly and a wave of annoyance ran through you at the cocky tilt of his head regardless of the fact that it was exactly what you needed him to do. The two men stared at each other, Aemond’s typical dark repose and Lannister’s challenging chagrin at the disruption.

“How nice of you to join us, my prince,” you beamed. “Lord Lannister has been sharing this pot of tea with me. It’s lovely to enjoy some company for once.”

You took pleasure in the way he squared his shoulders at your remark. Lannister snickered but was quick to cover it up with a cough at Aemond’s narrowed eye.

“Yes, I’m sure it is,” Aemond’s voice was sharp. “I happen to have some time on my hands before I take Vhagar to flight, lady wife. Perhaps you would care to join me for a stroll through the gardens?”

Aemond was behind you in a blink, tugging your chair back gently into himself and holding a hand out to help you stand. The air around you became soft lavender and leather and something very Aemond. And despite the slight flutter of your eyelids, you straightened and held strong.

Weakness would get you nowhere. You were out here for a reason and no matter how strong the pull was, your lust to hurt him back was much stronger.

You shook your head gently, looking at Jason who seemed to stiffen under the prince’s eye. “What kind of host would I be if I were to abandon Lord Lannister? Considering it was I who invited him to tea. We can enjoy the gardens another time, my prince.”

The fire in Aemond’s eye rivalled Vhagar’s. It gave you a sense of satisfaction that was much unlike yourself and you wondered how he’d burn with rage if you decided to take Jason to your bed. You’d lose everything you had to your name but you knew it would not be difficult to convince yourself that it’d be worth it.

Jason Lannister was no fool. He understood the wrath of the Targaryen prince but he knew that you would never be subjected to the extent of it. As much as Prince Aemond pretended he did not care, the Lords and counsellors of the Red Keep knew that he had his weaknesses. At the end of the day, Aemond would not dishonour himself by tarnishing the image of his pious, kind wife who was loved by all.

Lannister also had his doubts about you. Again, he was no fool to fall for whatever game you were playing. An honourable, devoted Lady such as yourself would never actually be so easy to adulterate. Whatever it was, Jason was not against indulging himself in some fun here and there.

But he did prefer to keep his limbs and so he shook his head gently and stood from his seat.

“You have my thanks,” he took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles. A bold move from a man who could so strongly feel the Prince’s pointed glare. Jason turned and bowed his head gently towards Aemond. “But I fear I have some business to attend to, so do not stay back on my regard. It was lovely to sit with you, my Lady.”

Aemond scoffed loudly as the Lord took his leave. He waited for you to take his hand to help you out of your seat before dropping it to your waist.

“My prince-”

“If you are so starved of company, dear wife,” he drawled, looking straight ahead with a tightened jaw as he led you in the direction of the gardens. It was a habit now, whenever Aemond had you on his arm, to walk that route. Not surprising seeing how it was the only place where you two would see each other apart from your chambers. “I would expect you to call upon me rather than some toady Lord who would certainly misjudge your intentions. I am your husband, am I not?”

The thought of keeping a list of the times he spoke as if he were faithful crossed your mind for barely a second. Aemond was infuriating.

You offered him half of a smile and pulled him back slightly as you came to a stop. “You are. But your mind is never with me and I am well aware your time is far more precious to you than I am.”

If Aemond’s composure was not so ingrained into his existence, he may have spluttered and gawked at you. Instead, he barely frowned.

There was little he could do about the unemotional, unkind man that he had become perceived as. Aemond understood that it was his own actions that meant people viewed him as little less than a monster. And truly, it was how he tried to be perceived.

So why did it disturb Aemond that his own wife thought him so uncaring? He knew he had only himself to blame for it.

“I am afraid a stroll in the gardens will have to wait,” you continued in his silence. Being alone with Aemond was not how you intended to spend the afternoon. The risk that you’d lose your composure and tell him all that you had seen of him was still high. “I am still feeling fairly unwell. It may be better for me to rest in my chambers with a book.”

Aemond knew that you were retracting into yourself, pulling away from him where you would have been at his beck and call only a week ago. He hummed. “Tomorrow then.”

And with that, Aemond escorted you to your chambers in silence. It was hardly two hours that you had spent in the Courtyard with Lord Lannister but it had been tiring nonetheless. The peace and quiet that came with your reprieve from the man that had set your nerves into a frenzy just at the knowledge of his presence while you pressed at his patience was welcome.

A few hours passed slowly in your own company. Dinner was brought to your room at your request. The mere thought of sitting beside your husband and putting on a display for his family exhausted you.

The sounds of footsteps and conversation outside your door pulled your attention from the embroidery you had forced yourself to practise. Your chambers were fairly secluded compared to the rest and so it wasn’t often that anyone wandered this area. Expecting the Queen or your husband to be the source of the noise, you were hastily at the door, a sudden flush of anxiety shooting straight to your gut.

You waited barely five seconds for Ser Tunsley to knock on your door but your impatience pushed you to step out first. There was nobody there. You could see Ser Tunsley stalking away from the direction of the private chambers. You didn’t question it, assuming he was probably stepping away for a brief break, given that his position hadn’t been replaced.

Footsteps. Again.

Curiously turning your head in the direction of the sound, you saw a flash of brunette hair and a dark grey dress. Fuck.

It was impossible not to recognise her. Even as she walked away from you and clearly in the direction of Prince Aemond’s chambers, you knew who she was.

So with one final glance back into your room you followed her, thankful that you were barefoot so that your own footsteps couldn’t be heard. Even though your body was running hot with a mixture of heartache and rage, there was an icy stiffness that had spread from the back of your neck to your shoulders as you rounded a single corner after her and helplessly watched her enter Aemond’s chambers.

You held back tears. She had left the door open. Again. It did little to ease the knot in your throat when you realised that while she may be good enough for Aemond with her mouth, she was not the smartest.

Unable to move, you stood planted in that one spot a few feet away for what must have been ten minutes before you heard the same shuffling and muffled voices. You could hear her more clearly this time and it took you another two minutes to build the courage to see, once again, how Aemond dishonoured you.

If the circumstances were different, it may have been one of the sexiest sights you had ever laid your eyes upon. But it struck you in a way you couldn’t have expected and it took all of your willpower to stay standing.

But what else had you expected?

This time, the woman was sprawled out, her head hanging off of the bed and if her eyes weren’t screwed shut in bliss then she would have been looking directly at you. Her left hand gripped the sheets and the other was tangled amongst Aemond’s silver hair, her thighs on either side of his head.

Gods, you had never known anything like it.

Aemond was devouring her like he had been starved of her for weeks (you knew he hadn’t), the obscene sounds of his mouth against her sex striking you with distress. He held her down as she writhed against him, a strong, clothed arm keeping her in place at her waist.

You had hardly been watching them for thirty seconds and you didn’t even have time to consider turning around and walking away to save yourself the misery.

Because Aemond’s eye opened and he gazed straight through his lashes, lifting his head so he was looking directly at you. A piercing violet eye accompanied by a glimmering sapphire that watched you dangerously, as if he had seen you standing there the entire time and this was all entertaining to him.

For what may well have been the tenth time that night, you couldn’t move. You stood at the door, chest heaving and jaw slack as you felt a tightness in your throat. How could you feel so powerless in a game you managed to believe you had the upperhand in?

Aemond still held your eyes with his own, pulling away from the whore he was toying with, and fucking smirked.

Like things were going exactly how he had planned.

Red. And a loud gasp and then panic and a flash of arousal and all of a sudden you were running back to your chambers, falling to your knees over your empty bathtub and dry heaving. It was all too much.

The shock, the fear, the jealousy, the fear.

And it dawned on you as you tried desperately to catch your breath. Ignoring your arousal–you cursed your body for reacting faster than your mind once again–panic continued to flood your veins like an ice-cold burn.

Aemond had definitely seen you watching. But had he known all along?

It made no sense. Did he see you that night when he moaned your name instead of that damned woman’s?

You couldn’t even be sure how long Aemond had stared at you from his spot, his attention diverted entirely from the nameless woman, who whined and stirred incessantly at his distraction, to you. Caught like a thief in the act, wide-eyed and dazed.

Aemond knew. And he must have known the entire time. With the way he looked directly to you, as if he were waiting for you. As if Aemond knew exactly where you stood the first night. As if he had finally caught you in his trap.

He wanted you to see.

Aemond had already bested you at your own game with even more cleverness than you. Before you had even started to play.

Sleep did not come easy that night.

You were dressed and ready far earlier than usual the next morning. Even though you dreaded the worst - that Aemond had convened to have you punished for watching as you had, you let your scheme motivate you to take back the control you had lost. If you had ever had it in the first place.

The dress you wore was hardly decent and it left you bare from your chest up, a wide slit running through the skirts. It was a deep green that had a shine to it and clung to your skin, making it clear that you had foregone your smallclothes for the day.

For the sake of decency within the hallway, and because you detested the idea of either of the Cloaks at your doors seeing your attire, you donned a heavy cloak over top. It was Aemond’s; he had left it behind after breakfast once.

Aemond was still asleep when you had talked your way past the guard at his door and pushed through the doors to his chambers. You stood at the foot of his bed, tracing the place where that woman lay with your eyes. Quietly, you dropped the cloak to the floor.

It was your first time in Aemond’s private chambers. And would things have been different, you would have taken the time to observe all the things that made this space his. Instead, your eyes scanned every centimetre of every part of his chambers for any trace of that wretched woman.

There was none. Not a single strand of hair.

You sat at the edge of his plush bed, taking a moment to get your head straight before you stood and walked around to the side of the bed where he lay. The scent of him was overwhelming as you stood above him.

“Well,” Aemond barely moved aside from his lips as he spoke. His eye remained shut. “Look who finally figured it out. Why are you here?”

You let out a drawn out sigh, shivering gently. “I would like to talk.”

Aemond sat up lazily and you noticed he was naked save for the sheet that covered his lap. From the way he was sitting, you stood in between his legs and his head was slightly tilted as he looked at you over the swell of your breasts. His hands found a resting place on your hips and you were hyper-aware of his touch, which felt heavier than boulders and hotter than lava.

He looked at you as if he were ready to devour you. As if Aemond were a man starved of air and you were his only chance at breathing.

The prince let out a hum. “Dressed like this?”

“Since you seem to prefer a whore over your own wife, I figured I would dress akin to one,” you kept your voice stern and stepped further into him so that his chin almost had to rest in the valley of your breasts if he wished to keep his gaze on yours. “If this is what it will take to have your attention.”

Not once did Aemond’s heated stare falter. “I think you are well aware of where my attention lies. What with your childish attempts at seduction.”

“I did not think you cared to take note.”

“Oh, I noticed,” Aemond said, dragging a finger up and down the side of your waist. He enjoyed the soft feel of the fabric and the way your nipples perked through the dress at his touch had him resisting a primal urge to bite. His patience had been astounding thus far but it was wearing thin. “I would have expected that kind of behaviour from a common whore, not a lady such as yourself. You are a princess, after all.”

Trying your best not to squirm under his touch, you held firm in your hardened gaze. “You seem to enjoy whores.”

“I do not.”

You scoffed. “So you have been fucking her just to spite me? Or have you fallen in love?”

“Such filthy language from such a well behaved girl,” he mused. Aemond’s cursed smirk had you holding back from both cutting him and kissing him. “I never would have guessed that my wife is so full of surprises. It seems I do not know you as well as I believed.”

“Answer my question, Aemond.”

“I never fucked her properly, since you insist–”

“As if it makes a difference whether you fucked her cunt or her mouth,” you spat. He was maddening. “You are my husband. I should be the only woman you have in your bed.”

The grip on your hips tightened almost painfully before he brought one hand up to caress your jaw. Aemond didn’t hide the longing he felt, pulling you closer and admiring every inch of your skin tenderly. “If only you had been good and asked me nicely for what you need. Instead of acting like a desperate slut every time we were in the same space. Things could have been so much easier for you, my love.”

Aemond had always spoken to you with respect. And yet here he was, speaking to you as if he already knew exactly what sent your cunt wild with need. He harshly held your chin, forcing you to look up at the roof as he straightened, pressing his nose into the crevice of your neck. The tickle of his hot breath on your skin made you gasp and you felt the velvet of his lips smirking against your throat.

“The whole time,” you panted, bringing your hands to his shoulders and digging your nails into his skin. “You knew. It was-”

“Hm. It was for you.” Aemond let his teeth graze against the dip of your jaw.

There was a fire alight on your skin. You could barely make sense of his words but you forced yourself to hold it together. “You are insane.”

“I was only playing the game that you started,” Aemond chuckled. “Only, I have played it far better than you. Perhaps we are lucky that you did not present more of a challenge, considering I was not above taking her on your bed instead.”

Fuck that. You despised him and loved him and lusted for him all at the same time.

The control you had was slight to begin with but whatever little there was, it was slipping through your fingers. You threaded your fingers through Aemond’s hair–which was silkier than you had expected–and pulled him away from your neck.

When you saw the hunger for you in his eye, the slight pink flush of his cheeks, a warm flood of invigorating energy made it’s way through your veins. You fought the urge to run your hands down his shoulders, his chest, his bicep–any part of him you could reach.

You swallowed thickly. “You should have. I need only one more reason to cut her.”

“I shall have her hanged if that is what you wish.”

For a moment, you thought you might scratch the smug expression off of Aemond’s face. You groaned, pursing your lips at his indifference and squeezing your thighs together at the passion in his eye. “Fuck you, Aemond.”

“I’m going to give you another chance. Ask me nicely to fuck you until all those doubts you have are replaced by the empty space I will fill your pretty little head with,” He pulled at your hips, so that there was no empty space between you, your torso flush to his chest. Aemond felt deathly tense yet strangely relaxed at the feel of you gasping against him. “And we can put an end to this contest. I do regret that I have left you, my wife, unsatisfied but I want you begging first.”

You watched him closely, challenged him with your gaze. There was no chance you would beg and let him win. The air between you was charged with energy, hissing and stinging. It became heavy and despite the way both of you were breathing so heavily, chests rising and falling dramatically, you couldn’t get enough oxygen to fill your lungs.

The thickness in the air only became heavier as you gripped his wrists, and moved slowly so that you straddled his right thigh. Aemond fisted the thin fabric of your dress and when you lightly pressed your leg against the hardness at his crotch, you felt his steady breath against your lips which lingered above his own. The skirts of your dress rode up to your hips.

Lavender, leather and him.

“You want me to ask you nicely, my prince?” You purred, relishing in the way Aemond’s jaw clenched when he felt your bare cunt press against his thigh. It sends a wave of pleasure straight through your body. “You want me to beg you to tear this dress off of me? To fuck me until I can no longer think of any word other than your name? To make me yours properly? Beg you to fuck me how you should have every night since our wedding?”

Aemond’s hands were grasping at the flesh all over your body, pulling at the fabric of your pathetic excuse of a gown until it ripped. There was a weight on his chest that only grew at the sight of your perfect skin through the torn fabric, your nipples slipping into his view.

His voice was low and guttural. “The final chance. Be good and beg.”

“If you wish for me to be good,” you whispered into his ear, moving hastily to grip the back of his neck with one hand and the other holding his chin tightly as he had held yours minutes ago. He let out a strained sound through his teeth as you shifted against his cock, pretending to get comfortable. “You should not have indulged in that whore.”

Aemond scowled at you. And he could have thrown you off of him but his hands continued to scorch the skin on your hips.

You realised you had never been so close to Aemond as you pressed a trail of tender kisses to his jaw. You were infinitely closer to him than all the times you had held onto him while walking the gardes or while he had bedded you with feigned disinterest. And you were aching with want and desire just as he was, your wetness seeping onto Aemond’s thigh.

It was nothing in comparison to the rage that you had pent up. With a gasp you ground down on the strong muscle of his thigh, eyes fluttering at the sensation. Holding back a moan, you rested your forehead against Aemond’s and rocked your hips against him.

You tightened your legs, well aware that Aemond could overpower you and have you under him in seconds. He was allowing you to have your moment and you pulled your hand from his jaw only for it to stay tightly locked as his fingers dug into your hips.

There would be bruises left on your skin for weeks but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, almost groaning out loud when Aemond took control of your movements, pushing and pulling your hips so that your clit rubbed against him perfectly. “Prince Aemond Targaryen. You think you can just do as you like and that there would be no consequences. That I would come crawling back to you so easily?”

A moan slipped from your lips when Aemond shifted his leg. You knew you were getting carried away, that the power you had over him was getting to your head but fuck. It didn’t matter.

You dropped your hand to where Aemond’s cock pressed against one of your thighs, touching him gently over the sheet that covered him. It still surprised you just how perfectly big Aemond was, thick and hard in your palm. And then you held him firmly, rocking your weeping cunt against his thigh even harder when he groaned. It sent shock after shock straight through your core.

“Did you think I would be on my knees for you so easily just like she was?” You spat, whining at the pleasure that was incomparable to the way you had been touching yourself. Aemond hissed as you slid your hand up and then back down so slowly. “After those shows you put on for me, there is not a chance.”

Countermoves. Aemond was good at them, even when struggling to even out his breath and regain his composure. “Tell me, which part did you enjoy the most? Was it when I fucked my seed into her throat? Or when was calling your name?”

You gripped the back of his neck so hard, pushing your soaked pussy harder onto his leg. “Do not-”

Aemond hummed, his grip tightening painfully on your hips as he moved his leg in motion against you. He smirked when you shuddered, caressing your cheek with his nose as he spoke lowly into your ear once again. “I think I know. It was last night, when I had her on my tongue and thought only of how perfect your desperate little cunt would taste instead.”

“Aemond,” you couldn’t help but moan as he rolled your hips deliciously on his thigh. He let out a small, deep laugh at the way you trembled in his hands but you could hear that he was losing himself just as much as you were. “Gods.”

“I wish to know, princess. How many times have you touched yourself since that night, wishing you were in her place?”

You sucked in a breath, rutting against Aemond violently and he only pulled you in harder when you refused to answer his questions. Another moan. “Be quiet, Aemond.”

“Hm,” Aemond nipped at your earlobe. “Do you really want me to stop talking? You know that I can feel how wet it makes your perfect cunt. Desperate little slut.”

Whining and cursing him under your breath, you let yourself really look at him. Aemond’s sapphire eye shone under the early morning light that spilled in from the windows, his eye dark with lust and his jaw clenching as he watched you fall apart on his lap.

Hips buckling as he continued to pull you back and forth on his thigh, spreading your wetness on the soft expanse of his skin, your legs failed to hold your weight and you had clearly resigned to letting Aemond take control of your pleasure.

You were right at the edge and just as you started to ride out your orgasm, Aemond spoke.

“If you do not beg me,” he threatened. “I shall stop.”

“Gods, no–do not sto-”

Aemond held you still in response and no matter how you writhed against his grip, you couldn’t move. He was keeping you at the tipping point, smirking at the way you were gasping for air and squirming on his lap. But he was in no calmer state himself and you could tell his resolve was about to shatter.

“Stand up. I want you on the bed,” He demanded. And when you didn’t move, he let go of your hip to lay a stiff smack to your backside. “Now.”

“No.”

It was almost too easy and you snatched his wrist before he could return it to your hip, moving your hips and rubbing yourself against his leg again now that he only had one hand to try and control you.

Aemond’s leg was slick and your clit was sliding deliciously across his skin. Fingernails dug into the flesh of your hips and you could feel Aemond’s frustration as he yanked his hand out of yours. But you blindly grasped at it again, shockwaves of white hot pleasure striking you suddenly as you came undone, your forehead falling forward to rest on Aemond’s as you let out a loud, drawn out moan.

You shook through your orgasm, holding Aemond tightly. His cock throbbed against your thigh and you almost felt bad.

“You should understand, my prince, if you continue to bring that whore to your bed then I am not above bringing another man to mine.” You struggled to catch your breath and your legs were still trembling as you stood, stepping away to pick up the coat you had dropped to the floor.

Aemond glowered at you, his glare strong enough to have made you crumble before him were you not so high on adrenaline.

“You would not dare,” he all but growled.

“Have I not surprised you enough already, Lord Husband?”

Aemond stood, the sheet falling to the floor, entirely naked and stiff against his stomach as he watched you don his coat. The anger in his voice only served to spur you on. “You will not leave. You would not dare to leave.”

“I am a princess, after all,” you looked at him over your shoulder, lip caught between your teeth at the sight of him bare, hard and infuriated. There was disbelief written all over his expression. “You will need to work much harder than that if you want me to give in.”

There was something new in the way Aemond looked at you. As if he was impressed. Admiring you, even through his frustration. And without giving yourself the chance for second thoughts, you walked right out Aemond’s chambers with a triumphant smile.

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meraki-sunset · 5 months ago

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Dumb little thing i had to get out of my sistem after seeing the felt again after years, even if it was for just one panel.

I'm asuming The Felt is working for Jane under the logic of "well she defeated the previous guy in charge, she's in charge now" Kinda like how for Lord English, the condesce took the handmaid's place after killing her and it was established that (this was an idea that never got to be implemented by the author) whoever killed her was to take her place and so on.

So, maybe if Jane dies they'll work for whoever killed her? Or maybe by then they'll just grab a spaceship, and leave the moon once and for all. Maybe crash on EarthC and do crime, who knows

#HBC #homestuck beyond canon #homestuck2 #the felt #crowbar 07 #itchy 01 #keeping this bozzos alive is a full time job for this guy

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hughiecampbelle · 3 months ago

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The Boys Preference: Being An Assassin Who Joins The team

A/N: I'M OBSESSED WITH THIS IDEA :D I have so many ideas attached to it, so many posts brewing, so I really hope you like it!!! I kinda think of it similar to Red Room from MCU and also the Aunts from The Handmaid's Tale, if that makes any sense lol. Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Butcher likes you. He sees the emotion you evoke from the rest of the team and he thinks you're a perfect fit. You're not sure what to think of him. If he was one of your siblings, he wouldn't have lasted long. Selfish, arrogant, self-righteous. That's the kind of thing that got you punished, that got you killed. Beneath it though, to a degree, you can tell he really cares for everyone. It might be twisted and warped and at this point unrecognizable, but it was there. He enjoys hearing about your kills, especially when it was Supes. You weren't just good at what you did, you were the best. You were creative, too. Imaginative. He brags to you about killing Translucent, how they did it. You're not terribly impressed, but for his benefit you put on a show. You're a little weird, but he likes that. You're except in some areas (like going undercover) and mediocre in others (like figuring out how to befriend Hughie). He doesn't judge what you've done. It's just how you were raised. He tries to do a background check on you, but there's nothing. The name your mentors gave you wasn't the one your parents, if there even were parents, gave you. You were a blank slate. It was both riveting and terribly dangerous.

Hughie has the most questions. He can see just from your appearance, all the scars on your face and neck, all the ones he can't see, that you've been to hell and back. You hold yourself rigid, tight. Even when you seem relaxed you aren't. You're constantly looking for the nearest exit or weapon, scanning every room you walk into. It spooks him a little. He lets his imagination get the better of him, something he knows he shouldn't do, but just can't help it. You like Hughie instantly. And not just because he's too awkward and frail to get in a proper punch, too soft to ever truly hurt you. He seems sweet, naive, like he needs protecting. He reminds you of the kids in the program who didn't make it. You protected them, too. Or, at least tried to. You're as friendly as you let yourself, taking an interest in whatever he's doing, becoming his shadow. Everyone takes notice, but he doesn't seem to mind. He likes your company. The rest of the team hopes you'll open up to him, tell him what you won't tell everyone else, but he refuses to pry. If you talk, that's great. If not, oh well. If you want to hang out by his side, that works too.

Annie has nothing against you, but you definitely keep your distance, especially at first. You've killed more than enough Supes to prove your competency, more than you can name. You're not sure what they tell each other, but you imagine it similar to the system you grew up with: word spread quickly, you all felt it when one of your own were killed. There was an alliance that went unsaid. If you could avenge your fallen siblings, you would. If she found out who you killed, how many, would she come after you? Eventually you learn they're not all connected like that, that Annie's on your side. Still, you kind of see her as the embodiment of everything you're not. She's sweet, caring, and honest. You've been lying all your life, you can't tell what's real and what isn't. Hughie likes her, loves her, so that definitely helps in developing your relationship. Annie knows about your past, what little you share of it, but she doesn't judge. Maybe, at a time, she would have, but after being part of The Boys so long, that kind of thing kind of loses its shock power. You did what you had to, what you were trained to. Weren't you all guilty of a version of that?

M.M., similar to his initial feelings about Kimiko, isn't too fond of you. He doesn't mean to judge as harshly as he does, but just by the looks of you, you mean trouble. Hughie tries to talk to him, but he just can't get past your quirks. You're so naive about certain things (what music you like to listen to, shows you've never seen, how to form normal friendships, what jokes are funny) and so knowledgeable about other things (the fastest way to bleed out a man, how to make a murder look like a suicide, the amount of languages you were taught to better go after your targets). It just doesn't sit right with him. Knowing this, sensing this, you keep your distance, knowing not to further upset him similar to how your mentors were. Be invisible to him, them. It isn't until you give him sound advice for protecting Monique and Janine, something he never would have thought of, does he reconsider his feelings. He's still not a big fan, but he can see why you belong on the team, why your skills are beneficial, even if some of the stuff you say so lightly gives him the heebie jeebies, like the time you reminisced about killing someone with just a wooden spoon.

Frenchie doesn't really see you as an assassin. They've all killed people, it didn't seem like such a big deal. He doesn't love the idea of you being around Kimiko. She's made a life for herself beyond what she's gone through. It feels like you're still learning how to be without it. Without your mentors, your siblings. He knows there's no one better to give you a chance than him, so he's very open, inviting. You talk to him exclusively in French. You tell him small parts of your past, and he's grateful for that. In return, he tells you about his own childhood. When he shares the scars from his father, you tell him about the ones on your face and neck, how you deserved them for disobedience. He doesn't tell anyone else, knowing it was only meant for him to hear. You even speak affectionately about your mentors, the ones who were kind and only hurt you when you needed it. He wasn't shocked, at least not outwardly, not wanting you to feel strange or odd. Because you don't speak French with an accent, it's hard for him to decipher where you're from. All over, you say, and though you know it's a non-answer, it's the truth. You've been all over the world. You just happened to end up in New York.

Kimiko becomes your friend immediately. Though you gravitate towards Hughie because he's sweet, you like Kimiko because you can tell you're very similar. She doesn't have to say anything, you just know. You recognize the signs. The rest of the team doesn't think it's a great idea, you are alone with her, namely Frenchie. When you aren't cold and standoffish, you're far too casual about what you've done, pointing to old movies with famous Supes back in the day or old politicians, reminiscing how you killed them, made it look like a suicide. Or you talk about growing up, how you were punished for crying even when your friends were killed, pointing out the scars they left. She's not upset by it, she's glad you're talking about it. It makes her upbringing feel normal. You learn sign language quickly, another language you can add to your list, telling her more than anyone else. In return you listen to her, whatever she wants to share, grateful for someone who doesn't look at you like a monster or a freak. You like listening to her go on about Frenchie, her feelings for him. It's a piece of childhood you never got to take part in. It's nice.

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fan-fantasies · 1 year ago

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Do You Jest?

A/N: surprise!! I’ve been feeling really down lately so I figured maybe writing might help. This kinda sucks and sounded better in my head but oh well. Enjoy!

Pairing: Aemond x fem!reader

Warnings: Aegon being a shit, salacious language, making out and mild breeding kink if you squint, heavy use of wife and husband

Summary: you’ve known the royal family for most of your life, but never would you have guessed Aemond’s reaction to your own betrothal.

Part Two

“You’re drooling again, brother,” Aegon chuckled. Aemond shot him a dirty look before turning his attention back to you.

“Don’t you have some handmaid to go fondle?” The prince scoffed.

“Maybe later. I’d much rather join you in ogling our lady.”

“She most certainly is not your lady and I was not ogling!”

Aemond was becoming more annoyed with his older brother by the minute. He couldn’t help it if his eye was drawn to you- your brilliant dress dazzling under candlelight as you stood on the edge of the dance floor.

A few suitors had asked for a dance but you declined each one, feigning an upset stomach preventing you from twirling about.

“You know her betrothal is being announced in a few days,” Aegon whispered. Aemond’s eye widened at his brother’s words.

“To whom is she betrothed?”

“How should I know?” Aegon scoffed. “Some fortunate bastard that will be between her thighs night after night-“

Aemond grabbed Aegon by his collar and pulled him closer.

“Do not speak of her that way ever again,” he growled. Aegon grinned at him before pulling his hand from his shirt.

The elder brother got up from the table and made his way over to you as Aemond watched in panic. He could see Aegon whispering something to you and your eyes flicker over to where he was seated. You nodded and said something back before heading in his direction.

Aemond thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

He had known you since you were both children, your family being close acquaintances with his own. You wouldn’t say you were friends- Aemond always being too shy to approach you, but he had watched from afar as you grew into an amazing young woman.

He often found himself having sinful thoughts about you, unable to focus on anything else when you were around.

You were everything he wished for in a woman; kind, intelligent, beautiful, and gentle. You cared for his family as if they were your own and he was eternally grateful for that. Others often found it easy to judge them, but you never did.

He had secretly hoped that his mother might betroth you to him at some point but when Aegon told him your betrothal was to be announced, all hopes of that disappeared.

“My prince, I was told you wished to speak to me?” You asked, appearing in front of him. He could see Aegon snickering behind you.

“No, I didn’t want to speak with you,” he said without thinking, his tone harsher than he intended.

“Oh…I’m sorry for bothering you then,” your eyes dropped to the floor and Aemond felt horrible. He didn’t mean to come across so rude; this is why he kept his distance from you. He would get so nervous that he always said the wrong thing.

“No! I mean, I didn’t request to speak with you but I should like to- speak with you, that is. You are never a bother, lady,” he rushed out.

“It’s quite alright, Prince Aemond. I see now that Aegon was jesting with me. Please, excuse me,” you mumbled before rushing off. He watched as you left the great hall completely and he wished nothing more than to follow you. But first, he needed to do something about Aegon.

Before he could leave the table, his mother called his name.

“Aemond, there is something I wish to speak to you about,” Alicent said softly.

“I’m not in the mood, mother,” he sighed. He looked around for Aegon, but found him nowhere.

“It is quite important.”

“Tomorrow, then. We shall break fast together and we can discuss it,” he said before bowing and excusing himself. His mother sighed as she watched her son stalk from the party.

Aemond wandered the halls until he stopped in his tracks. He saw a figure on the balcony facing away from him but he easily recognized your dress. He wasn’t sure if he should approach you or not, but he wanted to make up for earlier.

“My lady, please excuse this disturbance,” he said, slowly coming up behind you.

You didn’t turn to face him or even acknowledge he was there.

“I would like to apologize for earlier. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“T’is Aegon who has offended me, my prince. For jesting that you wished to speak to me, for getting my hopes up,” you said quietly.

“I shall deal with him once I can find him, I promise you,” Aemond nearly snarled. He hates that Aegon has upset you, but even more so that he somehow contributed to it.

“Please don’t, I do hate it when you two fight,” you sighed.

“As you wish, lady. Just know you needn’t an excuse to come speak to me. It is never a bother to be in your presence.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, my prince,” you bowed slightly and Aemond’s heart sank a little.

“Please, just call me Aemond,” he begged. “Should you not find that too inappropriate. We’ve known each other so long, I hardly think titles are necessary.”

“Titles are everything these days,” you sighed. Aemond had a feeling he knew what you were talking about and his breath caught in his throat.

“Ah, yes. I’ve heard the news. I do wish you every happiness,” he said through gritted teeth. You finally turned to look at him.

“You do?”

“Of course. That is the least you deserve.”

“And what is it that you think I deserve?” You asked. Aemond was hesitant to answer. He didn’t want to reveal his true feeling, both for you and about your betrothal.

“You deserve kindness, loyalty, and honesty. You deserve someone who loves you and only you. Someone handsome and brave,” he trailed off while looking at his hands entwined before him.

“I’ve often found you to be all of those things,” you told him. His eye shot up to your face, only to find you looking at him curiously.

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“Are you, too, jesting with me, my prince?” You asked, becoming irritated.

“I would never, sweet girl. I just don’t know why you’d grace me with such kind words.”

“Should I not be kind to my husband to be? I do not wish for a stale, loveless marriage. So if that is where we are headed please just tell me now,” you pleaded. Aemond found no hint of deceit in your face and he allowed himself for a moment to feel a sliver of hope.

“My lady, who are you betrothed to?”

“You really don’t know?” You asked.

“I need to hear you say it,” he whispered.

“Aemond, we are to be married,” you said, reaching out to touch his hands. You hesitated slightly but before you could pull back he grabbed your hand and pulled you close to him.

“We are to be married?” He asked incredulously.

“Yes, my prince,” you finally smiled at him and he swore he had never been graced with the sight of anything more beautiful.

“Not your prince, your husband,” he said before crashing his lips to yours. You were stunned to say the least, not knowing Aemond harbored such feelings for you.

He held your body flush to his and the rest of the world melted away as he deepened the kiss.

He pulled away but you chased him, reconnecting your lips once again. He chuckled and indulged you once more before breaking the kiss.

“How inappropriate of you, my sweet wife,” he smirked.

“You started it!” You gasped playfully. “You know, I feared that you were disappointed when you heard of our betrothal. When Aegon told me you wished to speak to me I hoped for a moment that maybe you were okay with it. But then you dismissed the idea of speaking to me so easily I knew the idea of marrying me would only repulse you more- but now I’m not so sure.”

“I swear to you I didn’t know. I believe my mother wished to tell me at the banquet but after Aegon’s little joke and how I feared I wounded you, I wouldn’t hear her. Aegon knows how I feel for you and he knows how nervous I am around you which he used to his advantage.”

“You have no need to be nervous around me, it is I who has always been nervous around you. You’re so handsome and intimidating, I feared gaining your affection to be nearly impossible,” you sighed.

“Fear no more, wife. My affections have always been yours and they will always be yours alone.”

“You keep calling me ‘wife’ yet I am only just barely your betrothed,” you chuckled. His gaze darkened and he leaned in to kiss you again.

“The title matters not to me; I am yours and you are mine,” he promised before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

His hands grasped at your ass beneath your gown and your legs grew weak.

“Aemond…” you whimpered.

“Keep that up and I won’t be able to wait until our wedding night to fuck my seed into you,” he growled in your ear.

“Do not tease me, husband,” you whined.

“That’s what you think teasing is, little wife?” He chuckled. “You have no idea what lies ahead then.”

Part Two

#aemond targaryen #Aemond x reader #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell fanfic #house of the dragon #Aemond Targaryen fluff #Aemond fluff #Aemond smut

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themotherofhorses · 2 years ago

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pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

summary: ...aemond realizes he’s fallen in love with his handmaid five months later as he stands outside his bedchamber.

warnings: explicit language. aemond's kinda horny but mainly a lovesick dude. steamy makeout session towards the end??

notes: welcome back to another short episode of "aemond targaryen being a total fucking simp for his handmaid bc vic is too damn obsessed with this pairing."

his handmaid's tales | main masterlist

Aemond realizes he’s fallen in love with his handmaid five months later as he stands outside his bedchamber.

Through the doors comes your soft voice from the inside, feminine and melodious, absolutely beautiful to him. It’s muffled by the thick walls, but he can hear the verse you sing to yourself. I loved a maid as fair as summer, he chants along in his head, with sunlight in her hair...

He sneaks a peek inside the room. You sit on the settee, crossed at the knee like a highborn lady, with an eyepatch in one hand and a thread and needle in the other. Aemond recognizes that one eyepatch at first glance. The sight tugs at his heartstrings. It was a favorite of his, a rare gift from his father on his thirteenth nameday. Viserys had his name embroidered along the inside in pretty cursive.

Aemond One-Eye.

Viserys’s smile was as brilliant and big as the blue summer sea. My boy…three-and-ten. How you’ve grown so fast before my very eyes.

But the eyepatch grew too small for him as the years passed, and he hid it away, never wishing to see it again. His father now was nothing more than a half-decaying corpse still sitting the throne in pure mulishness, who hadn’t muttered his second son’s name in two long years. He doesn’t know how you found it, nor does he feel any slight bit of bother.

“I loved a maid as red as autumn, with sunset in her hair,” you hum next, turning the eyepatch around to thread the loop. Your feet are bare, pretty hair tousled, and the servant’s robe does little to veil your blinding beauty. His gaze focuses on your face. Your lips look pink and plump- ripe for him to kiss and bite and swallow in all the endless kisses he yearns to give you, and your eyes twinkle as bright as the midday sunlight.

I love a maiden as beautiful as all the seasons.

“I love a maiden as white as winter, with moonglow in her hair-”

He strolls into his bedchamber, striking you off guard, your singing breaking off abruptly. “My prince!” you exclaim, bolting up to slip your feet back into your shoes. “Oh, my sincerest apologies, my prince. I was told you would be gone for the better part of the day.” Amid your babbling, you drop the needle and thread onto the floor, “is there anything you need from me?”

He wanted to laugh.

“I had no notion that you had such a…lovely voice,” Aemond instead tells you, lacing his hands together behind his back. The compliment widens your eyes, and he hears how your breath hitches in your throat. You resemble a fairytale maiden, doe-eyed and flustered at the sight of her wooer. “I’m very sorry, my prince….”

“Do you sing a lot?”

You bite your lip, and it causes his cock to stir within his pants. No, no, stop that at once, he wishes to say aloud. Only I should be allowed to bite your luscious lips like that. All mine. “My mother sang to me as a little girl,” you admit, braving a faint smile up at him. “Sometimes, when I’m missing her, I sing. Perhaps it sounds a bit silly…but it makes me feel as if she is in the room with me.”

Aemond hums, nodding his head. He then looks down at the eyepatch within your hands, raising an eyebrow. “Pray tell where you found my old eyepatch. I swore I hid it well all those years ago…” and he hopes you catch the thin amusement in his tone.

“Oh…” you fall silent, unsure what to say next. “I was tidying up your desk and bookcase, my prince…I opened a drawer, I believe it was the second to last one to the left of the desk, and I found it there….” you glance at the eyepatch, running a finger over the black cloth patch, “-I thought, perhaps, it would be a nice surprise if I extended the straps so that you could wear it once again. It is very pretty!”

You hold it out for him to take. “Would you like to try it on? Just for me to check if I need to loosen it up some more.”

Aemond stiffens. “Perhaps later,” he says, a bit sullenly. “I do not like to take off my patch when others are still around. I’ve found that my missing eye is quite the…dreadful sight to many.” He clenches his jaw so tight he wonders if his teeth might shatter. But you just shake your head.

“My prince, believe me when I say that no such thing would ever terrify me.” Aemond could hear his brother snigger in the back of his mind, and he shifted uneasily. “I’m your handmaid. Please trust every word I tell you.” He remembers the cool night under the stars when he claimed Vhagar for himself, gazing out into the darkened sand dunes where she slept. Your smile is the warmth he needed.

He tilts his head, searching for any sign of deceit amongst your features. Gods, but you’re too damn beautiful for your own good, he thinks as he sighs and slides the patch from off his face.

Do not dare mock me…flinch…or run away…

But you just stare up at him, studying the dark sapphire he’s stuffed inside his missing socket. The skin stretched around it is rather uneven and tender and pinkish, and his healed scar cuts through his eyebrow. “May I, my prince?” you ask. He nods, and you gently trace the scar with your fingertip, up and down. Your touch is soft, and delicate, sending a shiver up his spine.

“You did not deserve this, believe me when I say that,” you whisper, and he feels your hot breath, “—you were just a boy….”

Gods be good, no one has ever told Aemond those words before. He does not know what to say, remaining silent and still.

Then, without warning, you stand on your tippy toes to kiss his cheek, your eyes shutting as your soft lips press against his skin.

I love a maiden as beautiful as all the seasons.

“You are still handsome and strong and worthy, my prince,” you mumble, stroking his cheek, a smile flickering across your pink…plump…luscious lips and Aemond…

…Aemond pulls you flush against his chest, swathing an arm tight around your waist as the other tangles his fingers through your hair, his mouth slamming down on yours in a heavy and wet kiss that leaves your knees buckling beneath you. Kiss her. Take her. Make her yours. Your arms fly up to his neck as you sink into his grasp.

“She is yours. Your handmaid. Everything she does next is at your own will and mercy…but do treat her well, Aemond…it is through kindheartedness that you receive devotion.”

And he lays a kiss on your lips, and another, and another…and with them all, Aemond swears himself a man obsessed and blinded by love. He knows he will not survive this miserable, torturous life without you by his side. You, his precious handmaid- his maiden as beautiful as all the seasons.

By the time he lets you go, you’re breathless and dizzy and as giddy as a young girl. He gives you only a few more seconds before he kisses you again, flinging you onto his bed. “My prince…!” you cry out, bouncing as he begins to chuckle, swallowing the rest of your words in his mouth. “Oh, this is improper,” you gasp, toes curling as he pulls at your bottom lip, “it’s so….gods, it’s so wrong…I need to…I need…”

“Shhh,” he answers, kissing your nose and chin, and temple before your lips again. “You don’t leave this room unless I dismiss you, remember?”

tag list: @aemondsblog @dc-marvel-girl96 @neobanguniverse @missalycat21 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @padfooteyes @alexizodd @kravitzwhore

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond drabble #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #handmaid!reader #hotd aemond #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸

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lexirosewrites · 3 days ago

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Kinda sorta sleeping beauty AU

When Eddie tries to ask around the town for more details no one knows much more abt the long abandoned keep, only tht the dagger hasn't rusted or been removed & tht getting into the keep has proven impossible. Eddie thinks his search for more details is useless till the heir of the Wheeler family pulls him aside following dinner. She says tht she might know more details than others, and so Eddie let's her talk after they've hidden away in a room where they won't b disturbed.

A!Nancy Wheeler has an ancestor, Nancine Wheeler, who had worked closely w the lord of the keep. Nancine had been clever & quick w learning so she had been appointed as an aid to the lord. Her ancestor had kept a journal & Nancy had found it gathering dust in a dark corner of their small library.

She was able to learn tht the lord & lady had one heir, a son & omega, born beautiful in a way tht was talked abt amongst the nobles of all the land. The lady soon faded after giving birth, & the lord buried his wife while carrying his infant son in his arms. The lord trusted Nancine to oversee things as he grieved for a customary 4 months but the lord was keeping a secret she was never privy to.

Every full moon while the town slept the lord would take a seldom used row boat out to the middle of the lake. After 10 years every full moon the heir was kept within his rooms till sunrise. Till one month the lord fell ill, he was unable to go to the lake, he was unable to give the order tht his son b kept to his rooms, & so for the first time the heirs rooms were left unguarded during a full moon. Nancine wrote tht the heir was not in his rooms the next morning & tht his handmaid was missing too & when a frantic search was sent out he wasn't found till nearly dusk, standing at the lake's edge staring out to the empty water. The handmaid was never found, not even a body.

When Nancy concludes her tale there Eddie asks to know more, but Nancy tells him tht is all her ancestor wrote tht isnt already known by the town. Eddie asks for the name of the nobles, Nancy shows him the journal she'd found, to reveal tht places where the names of the family should b r as blank as if nothing had ever been written there. He wonders out loud what could've been happening at the island in the middle of the lake, but Nancy goes pale before gripping his shoulders. She explained there wasn't an island in the lake in the whole of the journals contents, not till Nancy reached the final page & found a question scribbled into the margins, asking why the island had appeared through the heavy fog of mid summer.

That night as he drifted to sleep Eddie wondered abt the new facts Nancy had told him, abt Robin who was clearly not human at least not anymore, & abt the island tht apparently hadn't existed till 100 years ago.

Again he dreams, he is not at the water's edge, he's in the row boat gliding across the water without him needing to row, when the boat hits the shore of the island Eddie stares into the dark shadows of the clustered trees. He stares as fog rolls from the trees as if the island itself is producing such a phenomenon. Then Eddie sees a bright color move among the branches, it is a bird. A bright orange breast flashes as the bird flies further into the trees. He hears it sing & he takes a breath before he is stepping out of the boat onto the island. Eddie enters the treeline, and immediately there is a shadow moving between the trees making a noise he's never heard all his life. When the shadow is charging at him after Eddie continues to try to follow the bird he spins to face it determined to live & learn what is going on. He feels a now familiar weight & doesn't look at his hand as he swings the silver dagger at the same time as the creature reached its claws back to slash him. Eddie wakes up.

He spends the entirety of the next day sitting upon a large boulder tht allowed him a view of the island. An island Eddie is realizing tht has never been without a thick fog shrouding it since he arrived. Even as it is a perfectly sunny day in the midst of summer.

Children of the town find him since he is sitting near where they like to swim after completing all of their chores. Among them is the middle child of the Wheelers, Michael. When Eddie asks them abt the island they all say no one goes there not even fishing boats, bc ppl who tried to go to the island to find the treasures always came back not able to remember tht they'd left at all.

Tht night Eddie finds himself in another dream. The beast of the trees is dead behind him as he treks away from the shore, he thinks he can see the beginning of a maze of hedges ahead of him but then he hears the echoes of a voice singing. The breeze shifts & he smells apples. His chest begins to radiat warmth to the rest of his body, he hadn't noticed how cold he was, as he followed the scent through the maze, somehow knowing it'd lead him to the voice. Then he sees it, a clearing at the center of the hedges bathed in moonlight. Sitting upon a stone bed is a man humming a song, even in the blue tones of a full moon Eddie can tell his skin is golden as sunlight, & the breeze brings him another whiff of scent like baked apples stuffed w walnuts & honey. He steps into the clearing, and the man looks up at him. Eddie wakes up w visions of hazel eyes twinkling like stars live in them, & the scent of apple lingering in his nose.

That day he wanders the town, wanders till day turns to dusk & as the town begins settling for the night he is walking to the doors of the keep. He is grasping the silver dagger in his hand, & pulling it out as if the door was merely butter. The sun is fading & Eddie only has a vague idea of what it is he's abt to try to do.

Eddie walks along the shore. The full moonhis only source of light. He always makes sure he will b able to get back to town, but he had to dismiss the boats of the fishermen as they were all too big. Then he hears the clunk of wood floating against stone. Eddie finds a familiar row boat floating in the shallows tied to a branch hanging from above. As he approaches to peer inside the boat perhaps to find the oars, a voice suddenly speaks somewhere above him, startling him into falling into the boat. When he turns Robin stands on the branch above w the rope in her hand.

"Will you be the one to wake him?"

[Part 2 of 3]

‼️‼️‼️

***links to come later because tumblr is acting up and won’t let me add hyperlinks right now***

(link to part one)

(link to part three when it’s posted)

#slick sunday #steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #steve x eddie #a/b/o #omegaverse #my asks

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pinkydevil16 · 4 months ago

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hello, I hope your day is going well. I was wondering if you could do (if you haven’t already) Aegon II’s reaction to his sister-wife falling gravely ill after giving birth?? A little dark, but idk I’m kinda into dark themes and how they’d play out. Thank you!!

so i began writing this and then when i went to upload it my phone crashed and deleted it all so i'm sorry this is a bit shorter than i normally write but i almost cried when it happened

Aegon stumbled into the room, his breath stunk of alcohol and his slurred speech wasn't out of the ordinary as he flopped into a seat and looked at his mother. Alicent held the babe in her arms, a healthy baby boy, the first son out of the three children Y/n had birthed and the heir to the iron throne.

"A boy! A son, what a miraculous day." Aegon cheered as he picked up a cup of wine, thrusting his arm in the air as the wine spilt over onto his hands and trousers before he finished the cup and slammed it down. His drunken joy drowned out by the sudden scream, handmaids rushing in and out of the next room, hands covered in blood as they carried pales of water and bloodies bed cloths. Aegon looked at his mother as she gave him what could only be described as motherly disgust, her eyes dropping back to the babe in her arms as she rocked him as he cried out for his mother. Aegon forced himself up, stumbling into the bedchamber where Y/n, his sister and wife laid. Her bottom half covered in blood as Maester's demanded the handmaids retrieve more cloth. Aegon stared at Y/n as she weakly breathed in and out, her body pale and lifeless as a thin coat of sweat covered her body, falling next to the bed suddenly he held her hand. Her fingers twitched as her cold skin made contact with his warmth, her eyes fluttering open to look at Aegon as she gave him a small smile and whispered his name. Aegon could feel his body grow cold as he shouted out demands to save his wife, his own mind not taking in his words as he turned and caressed her face. Her whole body seeming to fall limp as maester's tried to come to a solution, the door opened slowly as Alicent entered. Her eyes fell in Y/n with a heartbroken look as she handed the babe to a handmaid and talked to the maesters. Aegon looked at his mother once before his attention was back on Y/n as she wheezed and coughed, her ribcage sounding almost empty as handmaids rushed to her side as they cleaned the blood from the corner of her lips.

"Aegon. Y/n must rest." Aegon was pulled from the ground as maester's approached with milk of the poppy, assisting her to drink before the doors closed and Aegon slumped against the guards arms.

It had been three days since Y/n had given birth, she had made no improvements as Aegon sat beside her for the third day in a row, the babe in his arms as he told her about their son and daughters. Y/n could not move her hand nor open her eyes as a handmaid came and collected the young prince. Aegon took Y/n's hand and pleaded with her to awaken, to just look at him once more, to see her son but nothing worked. He had demanded the greatest maester's in the realm to be brought to the kingdom, but all had the same answer, one which Aegon refused to listen to

On the fifth day Aegon awoke the same as he had previous days, Y/n's hand in his as he barely opened his eyes and stared at her, but this time he could not see the rise and fall of her chest. Could not see the parting of her lips or the slight colour to her skin, instead she lay completely still, lips parted and chapped, eyes closed and skin sunken in. He could feel the cold skin against his own as he held her hand, could feel how her body seemed to have frozen as he sat up and cried out her name. Maester's walking in slowly as Alicent entered behind them, watching as her son seemed to descend into madness demanding they bring his wife back, his eyes red raw and dark circles around them as he held Y/n's hand tight. The maester's explained they could do nothing before leaving as Alicent insisted, leaving her with her son as he cried and screamed out for Y/n, her body paralysed as she stared at her daughter's body.

She had done what was merciful, she had done what was right. She kept repeating it to herself as Sunfyre burnt Y/n's body, her two granddaughter's clutching her hands without their father present. She hadn't let Y/n suffer any longer, she had done what was right for her daughter. She had to believe it, or else she would fall into a depression like Aegon. She had to believe Y/n needed the poison to be free, that she would not be herself again, just as the maester's had said.

#aegon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #house targaryen #Sad

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bamsywrites · 1 year ago

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Guilt Part Two

Summary: Tyrion worries. You have a baby.

Ships: future Tyrion x Reader, past Tywin x Reader

Tags: depictions of child birth, babies, probably ooc, fluffy, a lil bit of angst. not my best writing.

Notes: it's been forever, I know, I apologize. This is just a short fluffy piece. Let me know if you'd like to see more from this story or if you'd like to read what reader and Tywins relationship was like (spoiler warning: it's complex as fuck and reader did kinda sorta like him a little bit despite what she says). Like I said in the first one, this story has been in my maladaptive daydreams for forever and I love getting the story down. As always I'm open to criticism as long as it's helpful and constructive.

Part 1

Tyrion paced.

He'd been pacing so long he swore there would be indents of his feet on the stone floor of the halls. Hours have passed, day turned to night and still he paced. The torches had long since burnt out, nothing but the moon and stars coming through windows illuminated the stone now. The night was silent besides the muffled sounds coming from the closed door that Tyrion continued to pace in front of. He desperately tried to hear what was going on behind those doors. But all he heard was muffled chaos.

Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Turn.

He strained his ears once again to hear. Muffled pained moans. The sound of cups and bowls being moved. People were talking, frantic, but he couldn't make out what was being said. Damned those walls, damned his painfully average hearing, damned it all.

Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Turn.

He'd tried to gather information where he could, a few handmaidens had left the room in the hours that he'd been there to fetch water or medicine or... whatever, he wasn't sure because they wouldn't answer his questions. Not so much as a nod or a head shake. Damn those women too, he thought.

Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Turn.

You'd been in labor since early that morning, he'd been woken by the news that your baby was coming, and he'd been outside the door since. It shouldn't take this long? Should it? This was an area of women's anatomy that he has little experience with and it infuriated him. The not knowing, the sounds of your screams, the anxiety, the worry, the guilt.

Step. Step. Step - Stop.

"Agh! Fuck!" Tyrion yelled, throwing his flask full of wine at the wall as hard as he could. He watched it clatter to floor, wine splattering the floor and the wall.

He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to tune the world out, tried to focus on getting himself together and not allowing his thoughts to go too far. His fingers bitter themselves in his hair, his forehead pressed against his knees. Worry and guilt consumed all of him. You were the only person he had here, that babe was his brother. You were smart and kind and strong. You were good and all that came from you was good. Trysta, Nataria - they were good. The world couldn't lose you.

He couldn't lose you. He couldn't lose you. He couldn't lose you. He couldn't lose you. He couldn't lose you.

There was a new sound from behind the closed door. A cry.

A baby cry.

Tyrion wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, but his ass was numb as he stood and waited for word of how you were doing. How the baby was doing. Just a word.

A young handmaid emerged from the room, "She's doing well, m'lord. Tired but she's doing well." But her voice sounded almost pitiful, it worried him for a moment until he heard the sound of your tired voice from inside the room.

"Tell him to come in."

You sounded exhausted but he could hear the smile in your voice.

Thank the gods.

Tyrion had never felt such a wave of relief in his life as when he entered the room and saw you with your babe swaddled to your chest. Your face was pale and you were covered with sweat, your hair sticking to your face and skin slick. Your lips looked chapped but they smiled down at the bundle in your arms. His heart jumped at the sight of your smile. Even now, he thought you looked beautiful.

You were the first to speak, "A baby boy. I haven't thought of a name quite yet," you never took your eyes off the baby in your arms. "He is beautiful though, come look at him. He's perfect."

Tyrion approached and his breath hitched in his throat as he saw the baby asleep in your arms.

"A dwarf?"

His voice was quiet as he looked at the sleeping baby. He was shocked. The baby was his brother after all, it would make sense he supposed but he was more shocked at how you were looking at the baby. You had no disgust. No contempt. You had love radiating from your features as you looked at your son.

"I...I am sorry," he apologized- for what he did not know. He felt that's what he's supposed to do.

Your eyes shot up to him and your gaze turned stern.

"No, your self pity is not going to taint my son'" your voice was harsh and firm "There is nothing to be sorry for. He's perfect the way he is, just as are you, and I will not have you think there is something wrong with my son simply because you falsely believe there is something wrong with you," you turned your gaze to the bundle in your arms. "I would burn all of the Seven Kingdoms to the ground for him, just as I would my daughters. Oh, how I wish they could be here to meet him. "

Tyrion stood in awe for a moment. In that moment you were awe inspiring, with your body exhausted and covered in sweat, your eyes telling the story of how your body was spent of all energy but still bright and smiling at at your son. You were gentle, loving with your baby on your chest but the fire in your eyes never died. You managed to put him in his place while making him feel more worthy than he ever had.

"Come," your voice broke him out of his trance, "Hold him." You held the sleeping baby for him to hold.

"I have no where to sit, my lady." He feared that if he touched the babe, if he held him, that Tyrion would taint him or ruin him in some way.

"Nonsense," you moved motioning to the spot on your bed right next you. He must have shown his hesitance on his face because before he could object your voice cut him off.

"I just spent an entire day painfully and excruciatingly pushing this child out of my womb. I do not give a fuck about what is proper or improper."

"Yes, my lady." He couldn't stop the smile that stretched upon his face. He'd never heard you say such things but he suspected you were right.

The blankets rustled as Tyrion sat next to you and made himself comfortable. "Of all the reasons I've found myself in a beautiful woman's bed, I cannot say this has been one of them."

You smiled softly as you sat the sleeping babe in his arms.

"They're always so peaceful right after birth," you say softly. "Its the next day that's the hardest. Tonight he will sleep and I will rest and tomorrow he must come to terms that this world is colder than the one he was used to."

Tyrion looked down at the babe, his brother, and smiled softly. He had already tufts of Lannister hair on his head and he looked so peaceful. His fingers traced the babes face gently. "My father is rather good at making adorable babies I must say."

"I would like to think that it is me making the adorable babes and not Tywin."

"You? I was more so talking about me than the babe."

You laughed out loud, it was exhausted but it still made Tyrions heart skip a beat.

"Speaking of him, you must give this babe a name. You can't just refer to him as the babe or him for ever."

You sighed, your head falling to rest on his shoulder. "I do not think I have it in me to name him today."

Silence filled the room for a few minutes as the three of you sat there. Tyrion fully enjoying the weight of your head on his shoulder and sleeping babe in his lap. It wasn't until he noticed your breathing change that he realized you had fallen asleep. To know you felt safe enough, felt relaxed enough to sleep on him made his heart race.

"I will not let the harshness of this world take you from me." Tyrions voice was quiet and soft, he didn't know if he was speaking to you or your child or to both but he meant everyword.

#tyrion lannister x reader #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #tywin lannister x reader #game of thrones imagine #tywin x reader #mobile post #mine

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katsu-curry835 · 10 months ago

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Why Bisexual Jon Snow Could Work /srs

Jon Snow is bisexual and here's why.

Aight, I'm aware the queer rep in asoiaf is pretty eh for the most part. Sweets is cool, and Loras and Renly have a nice implied relationship but Dany and Cersei having gay sex scenes felt way more fetishized than actually meaningful representation, especially since neither character considers a romance with a woman. Because of this, I'm gonna say that while I think this could be a valid direction to take the story, I'm like 50% sure that GRRM won't write it. Then again, it's been so long between books that times have literally changed and FnB seemed to have a ton of queer relationships so who knows.

Ok, ok, so I've laundered my argument; we all know why we're really here. Jon Snow could be bisexual and that could be really important for the story. Why?

First and most obvious is that it's another parallel with Dany. Jon and Dany have had storylines that directly mirror each other, especially in books 3 and 5. Dany is confirmed bisexual by the narrative, since she has regular sex with her handmaiden Irri, although because of her position of power over her, she tries to limit them. And, as already mentioned, she never gets to be romantically attracted to a woman. Maybe that's coming in future novels, who knows, but all that to say Dany and Jon mirroring each other on the bi front is not inconceivable, especially when you consider that there is already evidence for Jon being bi.

I'm sure most of you deep into this discourse(?) have probably predicted that I'm going to talk about Satin. And if this story does go in the 'Irri' direction, Satin is definitely the candidate for Jon's male love interest. He's a former prostitute from Oldtown, which mirrors another of Dany's handmaids (Doreah I think) and he's Jon's steward, like Irri is to Dany. Other characters also seem to think that Satin has kinda slept his way up the ranks to being Jon's steward, confirming at least that this idea is in GRRM's head. I wanna take a look at a few scenes and see how they could imply a future relationship between Jon and Satin. Take a look at this fight scene between Jaime and Brienne (I promise this is relevant.)

"'Give me the sword, Kingslayer.'

'Oh I will.' He sprang to his feet and drove at her, the longsword alive in his hands. Brienne jumped back, parrying, but he followed, pressing the attack. No sooner did she turn one cut than the next was upon her. The swords kissed and sprang apart and kissed again. Jaime's blood was singing...

...The dance went on. He pinned her against an oak, cursed as she slipped away, followed her through a shallow brook half choked with fallen leaves. Steel rang, steel sang, steel screamed and sparked and scraped, and the woman was grunting like a sow at every crash, yet somehow he could not reach her."

To me this scene has always read as implicitly foreshadowing Brienne and Jaime's future romance. Words like "kissed" or "grunted" or "pinned her against a tree" feel implicitly romantic/sexual, even the way the scene is described as a "dance." Jaime even says at a later point "Might I have this dance my lady" to mock her. Of course there is plenty more in the story as a whole that foreshadows Brienne and Jaime having a relationship, but I use this as an example because I want to point out how GRRM sometimes writes a fight scene as romantic and sexual foreshadowing, or at least that can be how some scenes are interpreted. Now I want to look at the scene where Jon trains Satin.

"It's too heavy," the Oldtown boy complained.

"It's as heavy as it needs to be to stop a sword," Jon said. "Now get it up." He stepped forward, slashing. Satin jerked the shield up in time to catch the sword on its rim, and swung his own blade at Jon's ribs. "Good," Jon said, when he felt the impact on his own shield. "That was good. But you need to put your body into it. Get your weight behind the steel and you'll do more damage than with arm strength alone. Come, try it again, drive at me, but keep the shield up or I'll ring your head like a bell . . ."

This scene reads similarly to me. Words like "jerked," "rim," "get it up," even the one word sentence "Come," can read as sexual foreshadowing in a similar way to Jaime and Brienne if you are given context that Jon and Satin do end up together. In particular, "ring your head like a bell" reminds me of a scene where Gendry gets approached by a girl but rejects her advances.

"I'm named Bella," the girl told Gendry. "For the battle. I bet I could ring your bell, too. You want to?"

I would be remised if I didn't mention that Jon calls Satin pretty three times in the chapter where he's supposed to be engaged in a battle with the wildlings. Like yeah, that's a bit weird, why are you thinking about that now Jon. Or I could mention the fact that he described Satin’s voice swearing his words as being like song and that he could smell the fresh sweet oils Satin rubbed into his beard. Jon… buddy you got something you wanna say? I’m joking of course: you don't have to be queer to recognize another man's beauty. What I think puts this into perspective is if you compare this to how he describes Val, someone who it's generally agreed upon that he takes an interest in.

Here's a quote where Jon describes Satin:

"The boy claimed to be eighteen, older than Jon, but he was green as summer grass for all that. Satin, they called him, even in the wool and mail and boiled leather of the Night's Watch; the name he'd gotten in the brothel where he'd been born and raised. He was pretty as a girl with his dark eyes, soft skin, and raven's ringlets. Half a year at Castle Black had toughened up his hands, however, and Noye said he was passable with a crossbow."

Now here's Val:

"Val stood on the tower roof, gazing up at the Wall. Stannis kept her closely penned in rooms above his own, but he did allow her to walk the battlements for exercise. She looks lonely, Jon thought. Lonely, and lovely. Ygritte had been pretty in her own way, with her red hair kissed by fire, but it was her smile that made her face come alive. Val did not need to smile; she would have turned men's heads in any court in the wide world."

I mean, the fact that "pretty" is a word used to describe both Ygritte and Satin is a connection that I shouldn't need to point out the significance of, but I digress. If you actually compare these quotes, both look like neutral descriptions of someone's appearance in isolation, however in context, you have to ask why the author shows you this stuff. Why does Jon comment on how good looking both of these characters are so often? It doesn't seem like there would be any other purpose to these, again, repeated descriptions of both Val and Satin other than to highlight that the fact that Jon finds both of them attractive is important.

Again, none of this proves anything outright. I mention this because this is the sort of thing where if you reread the books with this lens, suddenly more things start to jump out at you, and it can read like obvious foreshadowing you missed. Like when Catelyn sees her reflection in some armor and comments on how "drowned" she looks. It doesn't mean too much on a first read, but when you know what happens to her, it's some clever foreshadowing.

Another big reason I think Jon getting with Satin might be important is that you can see it as a pivotal part of Jon's character arc, specifically Jon's sexual awakening storyline. When Jon first has sex with Ygritte, she's the one who initiates the interaction. In fact she has been doing that the whole time he's had her hostage, teasing him with advances and mocking him for his inexperience. In the famous cave scene, Jon's thoughts are how he wants to bang her, but also about how it would be in conflict with his vows. That's the main reason he never has sex with her until she incites it on her own; it's not because he doesn't want to. It's because he thinks it would violate the words he swore at the weirwood.

So Ygritte begins this part of his arc, and Jon discovers that he likes having sex, how original. But he still feels reservations about it, during the act and afterwards. After all, his people resent him for being able to openly take a woman to bed with him, while they have to go to Mole's Town to dig if they want to get any action at all.

My view on this is that the story is heading in a sex-positive direction with respect to Jon. There’s plenty of theming about this “why is it a sin if it feels so good” etc etc. The books are full to the brim of people feeling needlessly guilty about having casual sex, Jon especially. Where I think this is headed, therefore, is probably something like a wildling understanding of sex; Jon has to view sex as Ygritte did, because that was always the healthiest way for him to go about it. Except this time, to complete his arc, he is going to need to take the initiative himself and embrace his desires like Ygritte did. Her teasing him for not doing this was trying to get him to come out of his shell. It would feel strange to me if this went nowhere. Jon needs a future romantic/sexual partner so that he can feel no qualms with taking the initiative with them. How he learns to do that is up to George but suffice it to say, however uncertain I maybe that this partner will be Satin, a future romance is in the cards for Lord Snow.

So Jon's in a bit of a bind here from a meta perspective. If we want him to complete his sexual awakening storyline, he's going to have to take the initiative himself with a partner without feeling any inhibitions. But he can't do that if he's still a brother of the Night's Watch because of the aforementioned conflict with his vows. But he's not going to stop being a crow, his vows are important to him. So how do we reconcile the fact that Jon's character arc about his sexuality needs to be resolved, but he also needs to keep to his words? Simple: make his next partner male so it doesn't violate anything.

I've actually thought this could work as a plot point for anyone either in the Night's Watch or the Kingsguard. One of these men surely has to consider at some point the obvious loophole of "so I can't bed a woman, but what about a man?" and how that affects their honor or whatever. It just slots kinda nicely into Jon's storyline here. Another reason it really works is that Jon is looking to socially progress the Night’s Watch: unity with the wildlings, defending Satin from homophobia etc. Him realising the obvious flaw of the vows for not considering that men can be romantically involved through his own experiences as a bi guy can help him begin to dismantle the outdated nature of the customs. He’s framed as this sort of reformer, and being a queer bastard (who is also probably the lost heir to the Targaryen dynasty) makes this thematically poignant. He’s an outcast, but also a king.

Of course, he’s always been an outcast, being queer would just help add to that. And this is just one way of writing this arc; I’m not married to this take on this basis alone.

I can so imagine a scene where Jon is having sex with Satin and the lit hearth is positioned behind Satin's head from Jon's POV and it looks like Satin's been 'kissed by fire.' Also, Jon considering how Ygritte would feel about him doing this and coming to that conclusion that she would be proud seems like a great way to end a chapter about the two hooking up because Jon's arc would be basically resolved.

This final part is something that I feel should not be left merely implied: Jon being canonically bisexual would be great representation. This is one of the most beloved and famous heroes in all of fantasy, hell, in all of modern fiction. Making him queer would be a really important step forward for queer rep that should not be underestimated. Verity Ritchie (VerilyBitchie on yt) did an excellent video essay on bisexuality in reality tv, a point from which I'm going to paraphrase: it's really hard to effectively depict bisexuals because any confirmed relationship with another character would look like they 'picked a side.' But in order to continually show someone's openness to sexual attraction to two or more genders, you risk going to far the other way, falling into the bisexual sex demon stereotype. This is a really difficult needle to thread, and is why we have characters like Nick Nelson constantly having to remind us that they're bi, rather than having us just assume they could be. Put simply, we need better bi representation, especially with men and Jon Snow is excellent casting for the role. His relationship to Ygritte is constantly referenced throughout the narration as something he treasures and misses, so there would be no doubt that he was not 'gay the whole time.' But, if the Satin story goes ahead, there can be no doubt he's not queer either. Literature is a great place to put bi characters, I think, since an internal monologue can remind you of past relationships with other characters of different genders and how they mean something to the character in question, but never undermining the integrity of the current relationship.

Me personally, I'd be buzzing for Jon Snow to be confirmed as bi. Really interested to see people's thoughts on this.

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #jon snow #satin flowers #ygritte #val #bisexual #jon snow x satin flowers #jon snow x ygritte #bisexual jon snow #jon snow is bi 2024 i will die on this hill /j #please george a crumb of queer rep #brain worms

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