#targaryen headcanons | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jacesvelaryons · 6 months ago

Note

Can you write something about Jacaerys velaryon x targaryen wife reader

Where she gives birth to a baby that looks like jace and it bothered alicent but they don't care? :3

Saving Face (Jacaerys Velaryon x Targtower!Reader)

(a/n): i’m sorry this request took over a year but my, what a great idea! i hope you like it

word count: 3.0k

summary: with what was supposed to be a happy moment in the new chapter of your family with jacaerys, only wounds linger when your mother is unhappy with your child's appearance.

warnings: slight angst, family tensions, complicated family relationships, implied incest (the targaryen way), not alicent hightower friendly

request status: OPEN

The joy of his newborn child is nearly eclipsed by the fear that his beloved would be called to face the same humiliation his mother endured upon his birth.

Even in distress, his beautiful wife still looked otherworldly silver hair spun in gold, and with her pale lavender eyes, he would not have that ginger sucker of joy to rob him from this life changing celebration. His relief that his beloved survived the precarious birth, worried about her lithe frame and the prostration it weighed on her during the pregnancy.

His little boy, his beloved son, a fragment of the other half of soul and his own. He is perfect, with his ten little toes and fingers, and he is all his.

Jacaerys is thankful his mother was in the birthing room with him and his wife, breaking protocol (as always) to be with the mother as she went into labour. Without her, he thinks he would’ve been hysterical and lost his mind without her guiding hand and comforting presence in seeing Y/N in distress.

“Where is my mother?” Y/N cradles the babe to her breast, as he suckled in his mother’s warmth and he feels his heart drop to his stomach as her face contorted in disappointment.

The child yearned for nourishment, and the midwives guided the young mother so she could feed the child with her milk.

The Dowager Queen remained unyielding even as her step-daughter arose as Queen, and she was still given some privileges even with her dispute with his mother. The marriage of Jacaerys and Y/N, her youngest daughter, was made as a desperate attempt to patch the two sides together and make peace as his mother sat on the Iron Throne.

Her mother attended the wedding, wearing a dark muted forest green that still appeared obsidian in certain angles, but the flame patterns could not be missed on her gown.

A mockery indeed as if she did not accept his mother’s ascendance to the throne and wanted her small rebellions in forms of cloth, he would not grant her the satisfaction of his reaction, for the sake of the realm and his wife, her daughter. It would be too scandalous to do so.

When his beloved was called abed, all pretense of dignity and calm collapsed underneath him. Whatever confident front he had broke apart as fear consumed him, sweat dripping from his forehead, hands shaking, heart beating wildly as he realized his wife was to cross the barrier between life and death to birth their child.

Seeing Y/N’s clean white robes stained the bed in scarlet as she quickens and the pain increases as the babe nears reminds him of the chills whenever he walks the path from the princess’ chambers to the queen’s, the same path forged in blood when his mother then Princess Rhaenyra, the crown princess and heir to the Throne, had to face the humiliation called upon by her stepmother, now Queen Dowager Alicent.

His blood boils when he sees the auburn former queen walk that path meekly nowadays on her way to see her daughter, as if it was all an act when she had pulled rank and caused so much suffering to his beloved mother. Jacaerys fears his wife, now the Princess of Dragonstone will have to walk those same halls, perform the same walk of shame and mummery with all the courtiers of the Keep to bear witness.

There is no possibility he will allow her to endure the same, he would bring fire and blood to all of Westeros shall she have to face that, yet it brings him relief when he reminds himself that woman is no longer Queen but his mother is, Queen of her own right and first of her name, and yet all the same, that woman is also his mother-in-law, mother to his darling. And grandmother to the child that shares his blood.

Jacaerys never left the side of his wife even when her birth continued onto the hour of the wolf, his hands intertwined with her own, assuring kisses on her temple and cheek and encouraging her when she would cry she wanted to relent. Across from him stood his mother, whose locks resembled her half sister and his wife, an experienced mother who has felt such joy and such sorrow too, with a maternal comfort gained with experience.

He would not allow a woman filled with hate to the brim in her heart to rob him of the joys of fatherhood and the relief of his wife safe and sound after such birth to their babe. Jace felt relief like no other when he began to see the dark haired head of the child crowning, and the guttural, final scream she exerted as the child exited her womb.

Jacaerys comforted and whispered assurances of gratitude and encouragement to his lady wife, that she be reminded how grateful he was of her efforts to grow their family, of her devotion and love for him, and fulfilling her duty with nothing but grace, peppering kisses all over her flushed face.

As he caressed the fine hair of his child much like own while he fed from his mother’s breast, his elated expression dropped as if in a chilling reminder when she asked for her mother. As despicable as that woman was, he could not deny her wishes if it brought her reprieve. Jace smiled and promised her that she would be coming and has been informed of the birth of her new grandchild.

When Y/N was beyond earshot, he approached the young midwife with a hardened gait, grinding through his teeth. “If the Dowager Queen wishes to see the prince, she will make her way here herself. She can walk, can she not?!"

While his wife was preoccupied and in isolation during the last few months of the pregnancy, Jace had made efforts to convince his mother to move the Lady Alicent to the second floor below the palace where the current royal family lived. “To remind her of what she’s done to us and may feel the pain we have endured.” He told Queen Rhaenyra, who was hesitant but accepted afterwards.

Jacaerys marched his way outside the ornate doors where his wife and their babe rested, raising his chin and standing with his chest puffed out, a cold indifferent expression, back straightened and fists clenched white as his wife’s mother made her way up the stairs with difficulty.

In the years since her queenship, the then young queen had begun to develop striking pain all over her body, especially down her spine and legs no matter what the maesters or foreign healers would advise. Jacaerys thought it was fitting for when he would make his mother walk up with him and his newborn siblings, bleeding across the hallways and staircases due to the green queen’s attempt to humiliate them.

Perhaps he is his mother’s son, as diplomatic, gracious, intelligent and cunning as he may be, grudges linger.

He could hear a pin drop as the auburn haired woman nearly stumbled down the final stairs and tripped over her gown, with a few septas rushing over to assist her but he showed no commiseration.

The doors swung open as Alicent limped towards her daughter’s bedside, slightly softening in consolation her daughter was safe in childbirth and the child was kicking like a goat.

“Praise the Mother, my girl.” She brushed her blood-smeared fingers over her silver hair shakily, whispering. He did not miss the glimpse of disappointment when she noticed the dark brown hair of the child, even when the boy had her pale lavender eyes.

Alicent cleared her throat, avoiding the gaze of those around her. “I see that the prince strongly resembles his father.”

Jacaerys’ eyes narrowed in suspicion, instinctively reaching towards the pommel of his Valyrian steel sword. “Is that supposed to be a problem, Dowager?” He stomped forward, hovering above his wife and child.

“Not at all, my prince. He is a handsome boy-”

Queen Rhaenyra noticed the tension beginning to develop and interrupted with a smile. “She means no ill, Jacaerys. Merely an observation.”

“An observation?! She wished to have us named as bastards to replace you as heir with one of her spawns and humiliate you.” He raised his voice, accusatory at his mother’s former adversary, and he could feel Lucerys next to him, pulling him away to calm him.

His wife Y/N, exhausted and delirious from the birth, began to grow pale and overwhelmed from the commotion around her, just as her babe broke out in tears and wailed. The Queen ordered everyone but Jacaerys to exit the room and give the family their space. The door shut with a thunderous thud.

…

Hours later, the midwives finished cleaning up the afterbirth, bathed and cleaned the lady and the child before they both fell asleep in new linen sheets and fed.

Jacaerys never left his young family’s side, despondent he had lost his cool, distressing his family during a vulnerable moment, turning what should have been a celebration into an altercation.

He cringed as he could only imagine what the murmurs and whispers about his behaviour and the events that followed with his wife’s mother would share about him. He had brought this upon himself and his family.

AS Y/N began waking from her first rest since the labours, he turned to her as soon as he could hear her rise from her sheets, reaching for her hands in his.

“I have failed you, wife. I should have protected you but I have only raised in anger over old wounds and created altercations when I should have.” Jacaerys felt his tears brim, cheeks red with ignominy and shame.

Her eyes fluttered awake, still weary from the long delivery but visibly more rested already. She shook her head in understanding with an enervated sigh.

“I understand your relationship with my mother has been tense, for what she had done to Her Grace and your family. But I can assure her she has changed, if she is not with me, she is on the knees at the Sept begging for forgiveness and giving alms-”

“She looked at our son the same way she used to look at me and my brothers as children, when she would use her tongue to call us bastards! I fear she will do the same to you and the boy. What good will alms do if she still wishes to see me and our son six feet under ground for the colour of our hair!?” Jacaerys exclaimed, lips quivering in fear as he felt tears brim in his eyes.

Y/N brought their son closer to her arms, only comforted by the sight of her child and her beloved.

“I will handle her, trust me. She thinks I do not pay attention to these things, but I do.” She reaches her free hand to his, unmoving to not wake the babe and squeezes his larger palms into her own.

Jacaerys sniffles, wiping his tears with his sleeve. “I do not wish to drive you apart from your mother, my love. I only worry about you and our family’s safety, and the throne. That you and our son may not suffer on my behalf.”

Their son had just begun to fall asleep in her arms, and she began bouncing him instinctively, quickly gaining the ropes of what it took to be a good mother. Jacaerys knew she would be nothing like her own mother, eagerly learning from his mother Queen Rhaenyra, speaking with other royal and noble mothers and even listening to wet nurses and nannies on how to rear children best.

“Are you sure you can handle this conversation? Would you like me outside or in the room with you?” He asks with uncertainty, not entirely confident with his wife even with her own mother.

The wife of the heir to the Iron Throne and Princess of Dragonstone nods fiercely. “You forget I am a dragon too. We do not bow to these snakes that suck from their prey.”

…

In the overmorrow on the first day of spring, Y/N had just put her son in his cradle, handcrafted in limestone and marble with seahorses and dragons, lined with sheets of silk with pearls and aquamarines, befitting the future King, and the scion of Houses Targaryen and Velaryon.

She hummed as she watched him sleep, having gone through feeding him herself to the surprise of the wet nurses she had followed through, unlike most royalty. She swore she would leave nursing and care to others if she had no other choice.

Underneath sat the hearth of the magenta and mauve swirled dragon egg surrounded by pieces of coal, emitting whirls of smoke that signified the life alive in those eggs. The egg was special as it was the first from her young ride, a nervous flighty thing who only managed to hatch when she found out she was expecting herself, rarely only having one dragon when most on Dragonstone laid many.

As she hums old Valyrian nursery hymns from the crypts of ancient Valyrian text retrieved from the tombs of the Keep’s libraries, she recognizes the steps of her mother without a glimpse.

In her jade hued robes, Lady Alicent was quaint yet undaunted to remind the court of her former standing as once the queen who ruled these halls. A black veil hid part of her auburn hair that turned to flames in certain lighting.

Her mother grimaces with a smile that does not reach her eyes, but relief is painted all over her being. “You are well, daughter? I presume so is the babe.”

Y/N curtly interrupts her. “The babe is your grandson, my child when I am your flesh and blood, mother. Most importantly, he is the future heir to the throne, second in line to my husband.”

Alicent frantically fidgets with her fingers, tugging at her old emerald rings in consternation.

“Of course, yes. His name, Aemon, is fitting for a future monarch.” She could hear the strain in her mother’s words, laced with lies. All her life she had learned those sealed with malice and deceit.

“You forget yourself, mother. My husband and my children are of the blood of the dragon, as do I. You do not understand the ways of the dragon, in your jealousy of wanting to unseat my sister and put Aegon on the throne. Your attempts to disgrace and dispossess my future husband and his brothers has brought the Stranger hanging over mine and my own son’s head!” Y/N chides in betrayal, voice tinged with disbelief her mother would do such a thing.

“Y/N-”

“I could not believe you, mother, that you still harbour such ill will after many years. My marriage with Jacaerys should have buried whatever disagreements you may have had with Queen Rhaenyra, but you value imbuing hate and division on this house more than choosing the peace and stability of this kingdom!”

“Your husband and your son are unbecoming of what Targaryen princes are supposed to look like-” The Dowager attempted to reason, but was impeded as her daughter held an imposing hand towards her.

“Unbecoming? Have you not glimpsed into a mirror? You are nothing of what a Targaryen queen should be, a mere second son’s daughter who brought nothing of value to the throne, and only sought discord to advance her family. Who replaced the Targaryen tapestries with ones of the Seven in hopes of bringing your radicalism to the rest of the kingdom!”

Guards barge in the doors of the babe’s nursery, their armour and swords clattering loudly in the quiet hall.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Y/N coldly turns away from her mother, even as she frowned the same way she would. “By order of the Princess of Dragonstone with the seal of approval of the Prince of Dragonstone and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,

I order your arrest for treason, and insubordination not only for your past grievances but your efforts to call my son a bastard. You will be stripped of your privileges of Queen Dowager, and turned into a septa who will serve the Seven for all her days.”

The former queen is astonished, struggling among the grips of the soldiers who surround her. “Daughter, you are mistaken, please do not do this to me. For all I have sacrificed for this realm and for your father, you must understand why I am the way I am.” She pleaded on her knees, hands clasped as she cried for mercy.

“No, you have served your ambitions and my late grandsire’s treacherous longing for power and the throne, that you would put the Hightower banners and replace Targaryen customs with the Seven and southern ways, that you would tear the kingdom apart for it. I have given you too many chances, forgiving you and turning the cheek in hopes you have accepted it and at least been happy for me, but I am a fool. I am not as forgiving as my father was to your digressions!”

Y/N paced slowly around her mother, sorrow on her face, but no regret or forgiveness.

“You are lucky I will not be putting you in a cell, because for better or for worse, you are still the mother who birthed me. But you would understand, there is nothing a mother would do to grant protection to her children.”

The princess dazed into the window, grasping onto the rails as she heard her mother being dragged out the halls and stripped of her royal ordinances. She could feel herself biting into her nails nervously after years of no longer doing so.

Jacaerys sauntered carefully, approaching his wife with comfort, rubbing her shoulders and bringing her into his arms, looking down at their son as he slept.

“Was I not too cruel, Jace?” She whimpered, weeping into his arms as she was devastated at whether treating her own kin in such a way was a fatal mistake.

He rests his chin on the top of her head before pressing kisses on her temple. “I understand why this troubles you, wife. As abominable and misguided she was, you still are her blood, her daughter.”

She glimpsed at her son, cooing at him as he quietly sleeps. “As a mother, I want to be nothing like her. My son will never be safe while she is around.”

4K notes · View notes

shrimpybbq · 4 months ago

Text

a contended husband is no menace to the kingdom

Aegon being forced to marry his niece instead of Helaena, much to his chagrin. At least Helaena wasn’t a bastard, but now his father wishes to embarrass him more by wedding him to a brown-haired princess and keep him aside. Aegon is so grumpy until he meets the newly-grown Velaryon Princess once more. He underestimated how much of her beauty she got from her mother, and truthfully, she was more comely than he’d expected.

At least he should have something pretty to look at, he thinks.

However, he’s soon shocked by just how much he seems to like the Princess. She’s sweet and kind to him, despite her timid nature. She tries to stay close to him and speak and learn of his interests - only his less than savoury responses seem to leave her crestfallen; something Aegon has found he doesn’t like. He doesn’t like to see the way her smile falls when he is rude to her, or when his mother spares the girl another insult. It’s incredibly unlike Aegon when he first stands up for his betrothed against his mother. He didn’t even stand up for himself and yet he couldn’t take watching the sweet princess curl in on herself anymore.

Aegon and the Princess marry in the great sept, both bride and groom feeling surprisingly pleased with their fate. Aegon has warmed to the girl and begun to feel the impacts of being loved and cared for for once in his life. The Princess has realised that behind the cold and crass exterior of the Prince, he is but a boy wishing to be loved and held.

Rhaenyra comes back for Luke’s petition years later to see her daughter again in person, giggling away with her husband in the throne room. The husband and wife are clinging to each other, the princess dressed in a resplendent gold gown, as they whisper conspiratorially whilst looking around the room. Rhaenyra feels her chest tighten at the small bump protruding from her daughter’s skirt - she had yet to receive a letter announcing this most recent pregnancy. Rhaenyra had wanted to keep her daughter away from the greens at all costs but now looking at her daughter so happy and content, she wonders if maybe her perceptions of Aegon had been incorrect.

(please why couldn’t this man just be happy!)

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #Aegon Targaryen imagine #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x you #Aegon Targaryen fic #Aegon Targaryen fanfic #aegon ii fanfic #Aegon Targaryen ii x reader #house of the dragon headcanon #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon x reader #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

prideprejudce · 6 months ago

Text

I am truly hoping that daeron is the spitting image of alicent. not only will it make complete sense for him to be shipped away from kings landing after his birth because his very appearance goes against otto's usurping propaganda that alicent's kids are "true targaryens" while rhaenyra's are "half breed strong boys" but alicent having to look in the face of the only normal child in the family surrounded by monsters for brothers and an already half gone sister and seeing his face of disgust and fright and it's her face. it's her face staring right back at her

#daeron targaryen #alicent hightower #house of the dragon #hotd spoilers #hotd #house of the dragon spoilers #the subtle horror of it all.....and that he's the only ~normal~ sibling as well as the only one not raised by her #the only one where the poison didn't sink through to......yet #also i headcanon that alicent has horrible post partum dep that got worse after each birth #and by the time daeron came around and they saw his appearance she only gave a half hearted attempt to have him stay #when in truth she was secretly relieved to not have to care for another babe

2K notes · View notes

sophie-looks-at-stuff · 6 months ago

Text

A Wolf in the Dragon's Den

Pairing: Aemond x Stark reader

Summary: The Greens have won The Dance of Dragons, and your family has offered your hand to Prince Aemond as a means of forgiveness for your part in the war. But what shall happen when a wolf meets a dragon in its den?

Warnings: SMUT, mdni 18+, p in v, kind of mean Aemond? but he gets better lol, Aegon being Aegon, use of pet names like Little Wolf or My Dragon, fingering, soft to rough sex, uhhh language for sure haha if I missed anything let me know y'all!! It's also not proof read so forgive any mistakes haha

AN: Well ... sorry this took me so long y'all! I guess my summer classes caught up to me a bit but that's ok cause after long last here it is!! A good old-fashioned Aemond x Stark reader fic. I hope you guys enjoy haha, I'm working on a request next, but let me know if there's anything else y'all wanna see! :)

King’s Landing was a hot, humid, fish-smelling shit hole. The warm temperatures were much too hot for your usual furs, heavy cloaks, and skirts. Even your horses were succumbing to the heat, panting more than usual, the poor things. You could have rode in the carriage, along with your mother and younger siblings. But you preferred horseback, the wind in your hair, and the breeze on your skin. Although, the air here was salty and thick.

Your father and brother, Cregan, rode beside you. “Hells, could it be any hotter,” your father murmured under his breath, sweat beading on his brow.

“Those vapid Targaryen’s couldn’t bear it any other way, something about the ‘dragon’s blood–”

“Careful brother, they could have your head for that–” You chuckled a bit, but you all knew there was truth to the statement. The Dance of Dragons had proved as much, the Greens' force and display of violence was wide and plentiful. “Rash and brash” as your father had put it once. Especially that of your betrothed, Prince Aemond One-eye Targaryen. Or “the one-eyed cunt” as many northerners took to calling him. The betrothal, much to your dismay, had been arranged by your father, in a weak attempt to repair your house's relationship with the monarch.

“Hmph, well if I had my way we wouldn’t even be here at all. Those ‘dragons’ wouldn’t survive a damn minute in the North. Their blood would freeze, and then maybe we’d all be rid of their problems.” Cregan said the word “dragons” with a mocking tone, a scoff in his voice.

“That’s enough, your sister is right boy, they would have your head for that. Or perhaps feed you to one of their dragon’s” And with that, your father put an end to that potentially treasonous conversation. Cregan however, had muttered something under his breath about “told you to stop calling me boy”.

Having had enough of the bickering, you tapped the sides of your horse, trotting ahead by several paces. Your dire wolf, Snowcap, had evidently decided to part temporarily from the group, to hunt or to shade herself you didn’t know. But you couldn’t blame her either way, the journey from the Winterfell to King’s Landing was a long one, and not a particularly comfortable one.

The gates to the Red Keep came into site ahead of you, the streets leading up to it peppered with Gold Cloaks and guards. The people of King’s Landing pay little mind to your small party, too busy with their buying and selling. You had chosen to travel light, there were no copious amounts of banners flying, or any regalia at all really. You would be surrounded by plenty of that kind of thing soon enough.

To say that your greeting was lackluster, would be an understatement. Ser Criston Cole stood beside the Dowager Queen Alicent atop the Red Keep’s stairs. Besides another dozen or so Gold Cloaks, that was what there was. Cregan scoffs in annoyance from beside you, he must have caught up to you somewhere along the way.

“He cannot even come to meet his bride-to-be, what a disrespect, pathetic,” You made a bit of a noise beside him, urging him to keep his mouth shut. You were in the dragon’s den now, who knows who could be listening in? Another glance around the unfamiliar faces does confirm your brother’s statement. Your betrothed was nowhere to be found. Even the training yard remained empty, and from what you’d heard, Prince Aemond could often be found there.

As you dismount your horse, Queen Alicent begins to make her way down the steps, towards you and the rest of your family. Your father and eldest brother move to stand to your left and right. Your mother and younger siblings finally join you, to your left. Your mother gives you a warm smile and a pat on the shoulder as she moves to stand beside your father. You curtsey as the Queen approaches, she takes your hand in hers. Her palms are soft and warm, gentleness radiates from her person.

“My Lady Stark, how nice it is to finally see you arrive. I hope the journey south wasn’t too unpleasant” She gives you a small smile, not as lovely as your mother’s, but kind nonetheless.

“It was alright, long, very long, but alright,” You say, matching her smile. Queen Alicent releases your hand and carries on to greet the rest of your family, Ser Criston following closely behind her. Still no sign of your betrothed, nor his elder brother, the King. Although you supposed he must be occupied with his duties on the Small Council. You know you will hear an earful from your brother later on the matter. Had Creagn been born a Lady, he would indeed circulate most of the gossip around Court.

— — — — —

The Red Keep was massive in comparison to your expectations of its size. The halls appear more like an intricate intertwining of mazes rather than passageways. Your footsteps echo and reverberate off of the stones. Tapestries depicting great moments in Targaryen history line the walls. Lit torches line the halls, the windows, and the arches looking out onto bustling the city below. Servants, guards, and other nobles wondered about, gossiping, rushing to and fro. Ladies, lords, and servants alike whispered to one another as you and your family walked by, being led by Ser Cristin and the Queen.

It was no secret that your brother had sent Northeners and Graybeards to fight in Rhaenyra’s name. “Fight like Northerners they will,” your brother had said once. And they did indeed, the bitter cold and long winters having hardened them into mighty soldiers and fighters. Barbarians, some called them. Your father had handed over the duties of Winterfell to Cregan as he grew older. Your father had hardly left the North in all his years of life, but he had become confused and temperamental in his older age. It had ultimately been Cregan’s choice to join the Blacks, a decision he is now trying to repair. Or it would be more accurate to say you were trying to repair. Since you were a wolf being offered up to the dragons for slaughter. Perhaps the only reason that the Greens hadn’t burned down Winterfell, and your family around with it, is because they know the importance of your family to Westeros. And if the North falls, we all fall, and no one knew the North better than the Starks.

As you continue on your walk through the winding halls of the Red Keep, you finally come to stand before a set of doors. Modest in comparison to some of the others you’ve passed by. Metal filigree winds its way up from the handles like vines, the rest of the door was rather lackluster. Ser Cristin steps forward, dutifully opening the doors for your party.

There in the middle of the small council room, stood your betrothed. After long last you finally laid eyes on your betrothed. Aemond stood proud and tall, his long silver hair pulled back into one thick braid, tied together at the bottom with a strip of black leather. His back was turned towards you, hands clasped behind him. He was dressed in what appeared to be his riding gear, perhaps he had just come back from a flight with Vhagar.

“Aemond, there you are. You missed the arrival of your betrothed,” Alicent chided her son, who could not be less interested in the conversation at hand.

“Mhm,” He hummed, “I was–” He paused thinking, “ –busy”. From beside you, you can hear Cregan scoff a bit. Your mother puts a warning hand against his back, he was never one for formalities. But then again, most Northerners weren’t. The Prince finally turned towards your party. The famous leather eye patch covering the sapphire in his socket. The faint pink lines of his scar peeked out on either end of the patch. He’s beautiful, you think, in a macabre sort of way, but beautiful nonetheless. He looked ethereal standing there, backlight from the evening sun shining through the windows.

His lavender eye rakes itself over your form, as your mother pushes you forward a bit, to better meet his gaze. He lets out another hum, of approval, or disapproval, you cannot tell. A cord of annoyance strikes through you, not having the wherewithal to be subjected to such petty scrutiny.

Alicent places a guiding hand on your waist, walking you forward, closer to the One-eyed Prince. You curtsey once you reach him, the lessons your mother taught you as a girl kicking in and taking over.

“I did not know you Northerners were capable of such manners,” Aemond scoffed as he said this as if he was telling a bad joke. Your teeth grind together, hands clenching into fists in your skirts. Behind you you can hear the scuffle of footsteps, and then a halt. Presumably, your brother acting out again, or perhaps your father this time. Typically, your family wouldn’t care much about appearances, but you were all treading on thin ice, and you knew it.

Rising back up to your full height, which annoyingly still made you have to look up at him, you say: “We are rather steeped in our traditions in the North my Prince. We value honor decency, and the truth of one's word,” You glare at him through your lashes as you say this last bit. If it were not for the threat upon your entire house and bannermen then you would not be here, wolves were not creatures made to bow, even in the face of a dragon.

Surprisingly, Aemond lets out a hardy laugh. You chance a glance over at his mother, she looks to be just as stunned as the rest of you. Silence befalls the room.

“Smart mouth you have, huh, my Lady Stark?” He chuckles some more, then leans closer, intending his next words to only be for you. “Watch your tongue in my court, or I shall have it served to you on a platter at our wedding feast,” and with that, he straightens, and walks away. Yelling something over his shoulder about the training yard, and Ser Cole come with.

“I–” Alicent begins to say, but you cut her off, rather impolitely, “ It’s quite alright Your Grace,” You offer her a smile. You liked Alicent, the poor woman had been through enough as it is, and the arrogance of her son wasn’t any help. “I am just pleased to finally have arrived here at court, and to settle in at my new home,” It was most certainly a half-truth, but there was no need to make tensions rise any higher.

— — — — —

The following next few days were spent quite the same. Your little party with the guidance of Alicent took tours of the Red Keep as well as its many gardens and docks. One afternoon Alicent and Queen Helaena accompanied your mother and yourself down to one of the traveling markets of King’s Landing. It was rather grand, merchants coming from all across Westeros to sell their wares. Helaena had shown you a favorite merchant of hers, a man who made intricate gold and silver jewelry in the shapes of little bugs and small creatures. You had purchased a ring depicting the head of a dire wolf.

Aemond had remained illusive, he only graced everyone with his presence at meals. Choosing to sit far away from you, his brother, the King, talking about who knows what was next to him, but all the while his lavender eye remained fixed on you. It made you squirm a bit, being under his heavy gaze. Overthinking how you raised your fork to your lips, or where you held your cup of wine, on the stem or the rim as you’d always done.

With your wedding on the morrow, your nerves became more frayed than usual. Your mind is plagued with silly thoughts like: Will he think I’m pretty? Will he learn to love me? But as soon as those thoughts enter they are replaced with others such as: Why should I care? He’s been nothing but unpleasant and rude. But the younger, little girl in you still hopes to have a fruitful marriage, one filled with respect and love. Much like that of your mother and father’s. Although you know now that that is an anomaly in this world.

Your night is filled with restless sleep. Your body follows a pattern of waking for an hour and then sleeping for another. The heat of King’s Landing did not aid in this, the covers bunched down by your feet as you tossed and turned. Shortly after the sun had risen, maids had burst into your room, wedding gown in hand. You spent the next couple of hours being dotted upon like the princess you were about to become.

It wasn’t a large service by any means, not that you minded. Something smaller and more intimate was more to your liking. Your father walked you up the long aisle to meet your soon-to-be husband. Aemond stood at the altar in the sept, his house cloak in his hands to drape around your shoulders. The closer you got to him the more you could see his eye attempt to devour your appearance. Surprisingly, he gently held your small hands in his. His fingers and palms were calloused from many hours of training with a sword, and flights upon Vhagar. He was a handsome man you thought, too bad his arrogance made him ugly. Perhaps a bit naively you thought, I can change that. But maybe it was just wishful thinking. Your mind already trying to fix something potentially broken.

Aemond’s lips touched yours, forever sealing your vows to one another. Unlike his hands, they were smooth and soft, and uncharacteristically gentle. He was a good kisser you think, but then again the only other boy you’d kissed was a farm hand back at Winterfell when you were much younger.

Aemond thought you were beautiful, the moment he laid eyes upon his Little Wolf he thought perhaps this union will not be one of suffering and strife. At least she will be pretty to fuck. As his lips touched yours in the sept in front of the Gods, he tasted honey and black tea. You smell like vanilla, spices, and what Aemond assumed fire to smell like. His hand came to fist in your hair, possessively anchoring you to him.

When you part you suck in a breath of air, cheeks red. Such a sultry kiss in front of your family and the Gods caused a rush of embarrassment to course through you. Aemond however, gave you a wicked smirk in response to the color in your cheeks. Still clutching your hand tightly in his, he guides his new bride down and out of the sept, to return to the Red Keep for the evening's festivities.

— — — — —

The great hall was filled with the aroma of cooked meats, potatoes, wine, and the heavy laughter of your party guests. Your mother and father sat with you and your new family at the head table, looking down slightly upon the rest of the partygoers. Where the ceremony may have been smaller, the feast after it was not. Several more houses and bannermen of your brother’s came to celebrate the historic union. Boltons, Lannisters, Freys, Greyjoys, Hightowers, and the like filled the hall. You chose to remain seated beside your new husband, the ever-dutiful wife. You knew and had seen many times how rowdy Northmen could become at such a venue. You preferred to keep your distance, although it was not unusual to find you dancing with your younger siblings back home at Winterfell.

By the looks of it, your brother had loosened up a bit, a tanker of ale clutched in one hand.

The king had joined him and the others closer in age for what looked to be some kind of drinking game. Meanwhile, Aemond’s hand absent-mindedly made its home on your thigh, stroking up and down. The gesture was a stark contrast to his previous words and actions.

“You have barely eaten wife,” He noted as he glanced at you, “You must be well full and ready for what I have planned for you.” The same small smirk crosses his lips once again. Leaving you with a funny feeling in your stomach. But you can’t help the small wave of heat that strikes your core. Your mother once told you that men can become rather possessive of their women, and it can be quite cumbersome most of the time. Restricting one's freedom, constantly wanting you in their presence, she had said to expect this with someone like Aemond. But she mentioned that sometimes, in the confines of your marital chambers, it can be very — riveting to lay with such a man. It wasn’t until now that you began to understand what she had meant.

“I am afraid I have no appetite, my lord husband. My nerves do not allow me to eat it seems,” Aemond’s gaze darkened at the use of the word “husband”. Prince Aemond was not a man who did anything halfway, if he were to do anything, it was to be done fully without exception. A wave of dark possession seeps into his gut. He had already claimed a dragon but now he wishes to claim a wolf too.

From across the hall, his thoughts are abruptly interrupted by his brother's drunken yelling.

“ – the bedding ceremony! Come now little brother it is time for the bedding ceremony,” Aemond’s fists clenched, the hand on your skirts bunching in the fabric. “Will you fuck her like a hound brother? Woof Woof hahaha,” The hall had fallen eerily silent. Aemond’s chair clatters to the ground from the force of his standing. From beside Aegon, you see your brother place his cup of ale on the table, hand reaching for his sword. Your father is already a step ahead of him, hand on the hilt of his dagger. Your mother goes to stand in front of your younger siblings, shielding them. If you had no appetite before you certainly don’t have one now, your hands had gone cold and clammy, your head feeling light at the insults thrown your way. From beside you, Alicent stands, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“That is enough Aegon,” She begins to say.

“Oh come now Mother it was only a jest. Can I not be proud of my little brother?” Alicent opens her mouth to respond but Aemond beats her to it.

“You can take your ‘jests’ down to your whores on the Steer of Silk but you will not speak in such a way in front of my wife, let alone her family.” His voice is dangerously calm, ready to snap, and bubble over into pure rage at any given moment.

“Always so uptight little brother, as if someone has shoved a stick up your ass–” It is your turn to stand now, the feet of your chair scrapping the stone floor beneath you.

“I am quite tired, husband will you escort me back to our chambers?” You look at Aemond, a stern, silent plea evident on your features.

“Certainly wife,” He responds with the same tantalizing calmness. Offering you his hand, which you take, grasping on tighter than perhaps necessary, you both make your way out of the great hall. Leaving the mess that is Aegon behind for someone else to clean up. It was your wedding day after all and you needn’t worry yourself with such matters.

The walk to your marital chambers is quiet and tense. Your hand still firmly grasping Aemond’s, although he now squeezes yours back. The heels of your shoes echo off of the palace walls in an attempt to keep up with Aemond’s long strides. After an eternity of uncertainty at what was to come next, you reach Aemond’s, and now your, chambers. The room is large and furnished quite cozily. A large four-poster bed makes its home in the center back wall of the room. A table of what looks like chess pieces and a map sits by the open windows.

Aemond however reaches for the pitcher of wine on another small side table, pouring a cup for himself and downing it in one go. He pours a second, and a third for you. He offers it to you, you shake your head, afraid you cannot stomach the drink after what had just happened.

“I am sorry–” You break the silence. Aemond raises a hand to silence you.

“It is I who should apologize. My brother is a foul and evil creature who feeds off of the discomfort of others. But never had he dared to do so so boldly before,” He pauses, taking a sip of wine. “I have been absent since you arrived at the Keep and I believe I owe you an explanation,”

You cross your arms over your chest, the air coming in from the harbor seeming chilly now. “Yes I do believe you do,” you say.

Aemond quirks an eyebrow at your sass, a small smile spreading across his lips. “They told me women of the North have sharp tongues and poor manners,” You scoff, his smile widens, “but I must say I’m rather enjoying that thus far.” He moves toward you, one hand still holding his cup of wine, the other reaching up to cup your chin, turning your face to meet his eye.

“I must admit that when I learned that your treacherous brother’s offered your hand to me I was quite – unnerved. I had no desire to marry, let alone marry a traitor,” A cord of anger courses through you, and Aemond notices this. He sets his cup down on the table next to you, the one with the chess pieces. Your eyes follow the movement, better taking in the contents of the table, a war game perhaps, you think.

“I didn’t want to be chained to a dull, meek little pup for the rest of my life,” His now free hand comes to rest on your hip, and his thumb and forefinger move from your chin, to trace the shape of your lips, then your jaw, and down the column of your neck. “But I must say, that you have certainly exceeded my expectations. I shall enjoy breeding you,” His alkaline nose moves to smell your hair, and you inhale a sharp gasp at the vulgarity of his words. You feel him smile into your neck as he continues his ministrations, placing the whisper of a kiss here and there.

“I do not understand you. You show me kindness, even apologizing for the acts of your brother, but then you insult me and my heritage. What is it that you want from me, Prince Aemond Targaryen?” You question him, hoping your voice comes out as steady as you command it. Aemond pulls back laughing, both hands now finding purchase on your hips, he begins to guide you backward towards the bed. The backs of your knees hit the wooden frame.

“Perhaps I wish to see how far I can push you Little Wolf. I enjoy your banter and wish to hear more of it. It pleases me that I’ve been matched to a woman who is not afraid to speak to me in such a way. People so quickly cower and whisper when I am near, it is refreshing to be met head-on.” His blunt statement surprises you, you had not expected such a confession from the Prince.

“Perhaps–” You pause, choosing your next words carefully, “ – perhaps then we can learn to love one another in this marriage.” You almost whisper the last bit, uncertainty in your voice.

“Yes, I think perhaps we can,” Aemond whispers back to you, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. The tension in the air is palpable, maybe he was waiting for you to make the first move. To see how far he could push you as he had said a moment ago. Deciding to test this hypothesis you stand on your tiptoes, slotting your lips against his, just as you did in the sept. A hungry growl leaves Aemond’s throat using his grip on your waist to pull you flush against his chest. He kisses you back with ferocity.

A hand grapes your throat, guiding you down towards the bed, your back hitting the feather mattress. You gasp against Aemond’s lips, swallowing the sound, he continues his assault. His hand against your throat tightened, although not unpleasantly, heat rushing to your core. His lips begin to retrace their path down your jaw and the column of your neck, biting and sucking red marks in their wake.

“Aemond– someone will see–” He parts from you only for a second, looking into your eyes.

“Let them, after all, isn’t that what my imputant brother wanted proof of our coupling? Perhaps it will give him something to pleasure himself to–” The thought makes Aemond’s cock harden impossibly more in his trousers. The fact that he could pleasure his wife to a level that his brother could only imagine, was nearly enough to drive him over the edge.

“Husband that is not reason enough to leave –” You're interrupted by a particularly sharp bite to the collarbone. A moan of pain and pleasure escapes past your lips, spurring your new husband onwards. With a sharp tug, Aemond pulls the bodice of your dress down, exposing your chest to him. He murmurs a simple “beautiful” under his breath before latching onto one of your nipples, sucking and nibbling at the flesh. Your back arches slightly in response, desperate to bring yourself closer to his touch.

As he continues his ministrations he begins to unlace the remainders of your gown, shimmying them down your body, to pool at his feet. You feel his calloused hands roam up and down your body. Sketching your shape into his memory. His fingers knead the flesh of your breasts, your thighs, your ass. Finally, he swipes his fingers between your folds, you emit a soft whine at the contact.

He raises an eyebrow, “I’ve barely even touched you yet Little Wolf, and you're already soaking my fingers. I can’t wait to feel you around my cock–” He trails off, mesmerized as he begins to pump two fingers in and out of your core. Your cheeks flush a deep scarlet at his words. Your hands find purchase in the sheets of your new bed.

“Oh– oh Aemond –” You whisper in between breaths.

“Say it again, say my name again,” It’s almost a plea, begging to hear it again.

“Husband– Aemond– My Dragon –” Aemond harshly withdraws his fingers from you. You nearly scream at the loss of the delicious contact. Discarding the remainder of his clothes, tossing them haphazardly to the side, Aemond grabs you by the ankles pulling you down towards the end of the bed where he stands. You catch site of his cock as he gives it a few tugs in preparation. The tip angry and red, glazed in his arousal for you. Your eyes widen a bit, your mother never prepared you for what might happen should your lord husband be too – big.

Aemond sees your moment of concern, he positions himself over you, cock aligned at your entrance. His hand carresses your cheek, as he says “I shall be gentle, if you ask me to.Give you time to adjust –”

“No,” Your answer surprises the both of you. “I want you, I am not some small flower, I can take what you give me. I want whatever you shall give me Husband.” You lean up to kiss the tip of his nose, as if to reassure him that what you say is true.

“Seven fucking Hells, you are something did you know that?” He rests his forehead agaisnt yours, as he ever so slowly begins to sheath himself inside of you.

You let out a small giggle, whispering back “I know–”

Aemond bottoms out inside of you, his cock fully enclosed by the walls of your cunt. He could die like this, he thinks. Cock sheathed in the cunt of his gorgeous Little Wolf. Your walls squeeze him perfectly, he needs to take a moment to catch his breath. He had fucked women before, whores in the Street of Silk. His brother having dragged him there once, and to seek some kind of perverted comfort there during The Dance. But none of them compared to this moment, none of them –

“Husband, Gods move please,” Aemond is brought out of his thoughts by your pleas, you voice hoarse with want and need.

“With pleasure Little Wolf.” He begins to thrust, moving his hips at a slow and steady pace. It’s for his own sake as much as it is yours. He’s afraid that should he move to fast he won’t be able to carry on for very long. Beneath him your hands clutch the sheets of his bed, your cheeks are flushed the most lovely red, your hair played out in a halo around you on the pillow. If he could burn the image into his mind forever, then he certainly would.

Aemond’s cock stretches you out perfectly, boardering on pain and pleasure, but only for the first moments. His thrusts are steady and calculated, but never the less delicious. The movement causes friction on your clit, sending a wave of pleasure to your core. It’s lovely, you think, but you want more. Moving from their place in the sheets, your hands settle on his hips, urging him to move faster.

“Aemond– more,” His lilac eye flits up to your face, asking for silent reassurance that that is indeed what you want. “For Gods sake Husband, move faster please I–” Not needing to be told twice, Aemond picks up speed. Where his thrusts were slow and sensual, now they are fast and hard. He fucks you like a man starved, as if he was told this is the last woman he will ever lay with. Which in his case, was true, since you were married after all.

Your tits bounce at the force of his movement, your hands that were previously on his hips, begin to rake down his back. Your legs come up to circle his waist, drawing him impossibly closer.

“You like this then, huh, Little Wolf. Treated like my own personal whore, to fuck how I please?” The sounds that fill the room are egregious, skin against skin, moans, whimpers, and screams.

“Louder Little Wolf, howl for me, let the whole Keep hear how I pleasure you so,” Perhaps that same small part of him wanted his brother to hear. As if Aemond had something to prove to him, that he made a better husband, a better lover than Aegon ever will.

“Aemond, Aemond, oh Aemond–” You chant his name like a mantra. His cock hits that sweet spot inside of you, you gasp eyes widening at the feeling.

“Seems I’ve found where you feel pleasure best. Is that right Little Wolf?”

“Yes, Gods Aemond, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna –” Hearing that was all the motivation he needed to pick up his pace even more. To fuck you even harder than before. He grips your hips pulling you closer to him at the end of the bed, from this angle he has full control over your body, and can fuck you as you so desire him to.

The force of his thrusts, and the friction against your clit cause you to see stars behind your eyes. With one last scream of his name, you cum around his cock. Your walls pulling him in, attempting to root him to you. Aemond however, does not let up, chasing afer his own release.

“Just a moment more, my sweet, perfect Little Wolf. I’m going to breed you, and watch you swell with my pups. Wouldn’t you love that huh?” Aemond continues to piston in and out of you, the feeling almost too much, but still just as lovely as before. Nonsensical moans leave your lips, and Aemond laughs at you babbling, although not rudely.

His hips begin to stutter as he nears his end, his heavy balls slapping against your cunt. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” He mutters under his breath as you feel his seed coat your walls. The feeling warm, and full and lovely. Aemond remains seated inside of you as he rests his forehead once more to yours. You kiss his nose again, a new favorite spor perhaps. He offers you a small smile in return.

You both groan as he pulls out. Your cunt perfectly overstimulated and happy. Wordlessly Aemond leaves the bed, and begins to rummage around some drawers in one of the many pieces of furniture in the room. You worry for a brief moment that he will leave, and that he meant none of what he said. But as he brings a damp cloth between your thighs to clean you, your worries wash away. He tosses the rag aside, to be dealt with on the morrow. For now, all he wanted was to lay with his wife in his arms as he drifts off to sleep.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you move to covers to lie beneath them. Aemond pulls you to him, tucking the top of your head under his chin, he kisses your hair. You both think that perhaps this marriage will be fruitful, that over time you will learn to love one another. It seems as if you both are on a lovely start for that though as is.

“Good night ñuha jorrāeliarzy (my beloved),” Aemond mutters into your hair.

“Sleep well, My Dragon,” you say in response. You both drift off into a peaceful sleep, held comfortably in each other's arms. No one knew what the morrow would bring, let alone a fortnight from now. But you both knew you would see it through together as equals, husband and wife, dragon and wolf.

Tag List:

@helaenaluvr @anukulee @darylandbethfanforever9 @stuckinaf4nfiction

1K notes · View notes

yandereunsolved · 8 months ago

Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Syrax seemed like an innocent hare in comparison to Caraxes.

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

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

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

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

Would you choose Daemon over Viserys?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Were you really missing Daemon's odd behavior?

No, never.

Well, maybe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#hotd #asoiaf #house of the dragon #daemon x reader #hotd daemon #daemon targaryen #prince daemon targaryen #the rogue prince #yandere daemon targaryen #yandere daemon #yandere daemon targaryen x reader #yandere daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x you #daemon x y/n #yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere house of the dragon #yandere house of the dragon x reader

1K notes · View notes

floatyflowers · 9 months ago

Text

Dark Male! Daenerys Targaryen x Baratheon Reader Part Two

Your marriage to the new king of the seven kingdoms came as a surprise to everyone.

Because Daeron is simply, marrying you, a Baratheon who descended from the house who ended the Targaryens Reign.

But with you, he will restore the Targaryen house and glory.

At first, you were frightened by him, but when he introduced you to his dragons, you fell in love with them, and ended up being called the mother of dragons.

Daeron decided to use your love for the beasts and make a cheeky deal with you

"If you call me Lord Husband, I will take you every morning riding"

And that is exactly what you did.

Through the years, you ended up giving birth to three daughters whom your husband adores dearly.

The oldest is Visenya, the middle is Rhaenyra and the youngest is Rhaella.

And no one dares to speak about you not providing the releam with male heirs.

And who dares to do so is considered a traitor who is trying to usurp his oldest daughter's right to the throne.

Your uncle Tyrion is good at snitching on such traitors.

Even if Daeron is possessive and has hints of madness in him, it's better to be his wife then be a captive.

#tw: toxic relationships #reader insert #yandere game of thrones #yandere daenerys targaryen x reader #male daenerys targaryen #daenerys x reader #possessive #headcanon #yandere headcanons

1K notes · View notes

aphroditelovesu · 1 year ago

Text

Yan!Parents Daemon/Rhaenyra Targaryen Headcanons (Platonic)

❝ 🐉 — lady l: Are these headcanons good? I don't know, but I hope you like it!! Forgive me for any mistakes ;) 🩵🤍

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, overprotection, mention of death and murder, unhealthy platonic relationships and messy writing.

❝🐉pairing: platonic yandere!daemyra x gender neutral!reader.

Rhaenyra and Daemon were looking forward to the arrival of their first child. Daemon already had two daughters and Rhaenyra her three precious boys, but they were very eager for the first fruit of their marriage to be born.

The day Rhaenyra gave birth to you was one of the happiest memories of her life. The pain of childbirth was excruciating, but when she could hold you in her arms, it was all worth it.

Daemon actually sobbed when he held you for the first time. You were so small, so innocent and so perfect. He swore to himself that he would do anything to be good to you. You would be loved and adored forever.

They are both extremely overprotective and possessive over you. You are their child, you belong to them, so you should not associate with anyone they do not approve of.

Any friends you may have will be investigated by Daemon and if he finds anything that displeases him, that friend will disappear from your life. He is not objective, if that person's great-grandfather was an bastard, for example, that means they will never be good to you. And you deserve only the best.

Rhaenyra not only agrees with this, but encourages her uncle-husband's actions. You are her baby, the most precious person in her life and she only wants the best for you. She will give you the best, she knows what is good for you. After all, mom always knows best, right?

Your older siblings would also have developed their own obsession with you, encouraged by their parents. It didn't take long for the Velaryon brothers and Daemon's daughters to become completely attached to you.

You were not only your parents' obsession, but also your siblings, meaning you can bet no harm would be done to you. You were spoiled and protected, the apple of everyone's eye in Dragonstone.

Whatever you want, you will have. Rhaenyra and Daemon are completely soft when it comes to disciplining you, just one puppy look and they will forget everything. You are their child, you could do no wrong in their eyes.

Everyone is instructed to spoil and protect you, the servants, the guards and your brothers will do so willingly too.

Daemon is very possessive, he feels entitled to you because you are his child. He will kill anyone who looks, says, or even breathes wrong at you. There's no way he's going to let anything happen to you.

Rhaenyra is more controlled, but she is still a dragon and you should never mess with a dragon's offspring. She loses all her senses, her reason when something happens to you. Even if it's a paper cut, she will go into a frenzy of rage.

Any love interests or suitors will also be dealt with quickly. They won't allow you to get married, no one will ever be good enough for you.

If something were to happen to you, gods be good, for the true fury of the Targaryens would be revealed. They will burn, kill and destroy everything in their path for you. All that matters is you, the war will be forgotten by you.

And when it was just ashes and the smell of blood and death was in the air, they would be satisfied. Daemon and Rhaenyra will go to extremes for you. You are their baby and no one, absolutely no one, can change that.

Daemon and Rhaenyra will not lose anyone else, not their child. And when the war for the Iron Throne begins, you would be locked in and protected the entire time. Your parents love you and would do anything, but they don't know boundaries or privacy. It doesn't matter, after all, they are your parents.

#hotd #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #asoiaf #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #yandere asoiaf #asoiaf x reader #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yan!mom Rhaenyra targaryen #yandere daemon targaryen #yan!dad daemon targaryen #headcanons #yandere headcanons #x reader #yandere platonic #platonic yandere #yandere daemyra #yan!parents daemyra

2K notes · View notes

helaenasmoon · 3 months ago

Text

Being Rhaenyra's Only Daughter and Heir

Yandere House of the Dragon/Bastard! Velaryon! Reader

warnings: yandere content, platonic yandere, romantic yandere, reader is based on my oc naelys velaryon, but is a reader insert for inclusiveness, protective mama nyra, readers father is cole, hubby! aegon, daemon

RHAENYRA, who adores her baby girl! Oh, she would waltz around the Red Keep with her baby in her arms, showing the little Valyrian bundle of joy to anyone who crossed pathes with her. Her daughter, I imagine, would be the product of her time with Ser Cole, and while they no longer were close, and Criston seems to despise Rhaenyra now, she holds nothing but love for her precious daughter. Rhaenyra is very protective of her babies, but moreso of her daughter. Society is cruel to little girls, and she knows this very well. During the Dance, Rhaenyra became increasingly paranoid because her baby was stuck in Kings Landing. Her ultimate fear is losing (Name), and they are separated after the death of Viserys.

DAEMON is (Name)'s stepfather, and while she doesn't seem to like him very well, he holds a great fondness for her, as though she were his own daughter. He isn't very adequate as a father, and he often comes off as annoying and cocky, but he loves (Name) dearly! There is a theory that Daemon and Rhaenyra had Laenor killed so they could be together, and she hears these whispers. (Name) tries to keep a distance between her and Daemon, but he almost pushes himself into her life. As soon as Daemon and Rhaenyra marry, he starts to refer to himself as (Name)'s father, and this makes her upset because she still grieves Laenor.

JACAERYS, LUCERYS, AND LITTLE JOFF love their big sister! She's so wise and beautiful, and she dotes on them all like little ducklings. Jace is only a few years younger than (Name), so he takes on an almost protective role towards his sister. I imagine she's soft-spoken and sweet, much like Aemma was, so Jace feels like he needs to watch over her to make sure that no one corrupts his dear elder sister. Lucerys depends on (Name) for emotional support, as he's rather insecure. Both Lucerys and Joffrey follow her around and look up to (Name). I imagine she'd be especially close with little Joff, as he often clings to her like a suckerfish.

AEGON is (Name)'s husband and father of her children. Viserys marry them to each other in a bleak attempt to mend the differences between Alicent and Rhaenyra. It doesn't work, obviously, but Aegon is absolutely whipped for his wifey. He follows her around like a lost puppy and is willing to do whatever is necessary to keep her at his side. Once the war begins and their first son is murdered, Aegon becomes paranoid and forces his wife into isolation, for her own good, he says. He holds a hard disdain for her mother and tries several times to turn her against Rhaenyra. Aegon really just wants to take his wifey and babies to essos to life peacefully, but he knows he can't.

CRISTON COLE is (Name)'s true father, and despite holding disdain for Rhaenyra, he yearns to be close to his daughter. As a knight, Criston knows that he will never have a wife, nor will he ever become a father to happy children. He knowingly gave all of that away when he said his vows. Alas, Rhaenyra's pride and joy is a living reminder of his shame. She is innocent, sweet, and honorable, everything Criston is not. The pain of having to watch his child being raised by two different men kills Cole, as all he yearns for is to cradle her in his arms like any father would. Once the Dance begins, Criston fights with dedication. The dedication of a father.

the reader is based on my oc Naelys Velaryon from my fic 'prisoner of vows' (≡・x・≡)

masterlist ᡣ𐭩

560 notes · View notes

kjwaikiki · 6 months ago

Text

After so much heartbreak and angst on House of the Dragon (with much more to come). I just want some head canons that make me smile.

Here is one I have been holding on to for a while:

Daemon is an incredibly overprotective father but not for any of his blood kids. He is not worried about Rhaena or Baela, they are Laena’s daughters it is more likely that they choose their love interest and they will most likely call all the shots.

In contrast Daemon is incredibly worried about Jace, Luke, and even Joff. They are all so pretty and charming. They take after Rhaenyra so much, and while he loves Rhaenyra he knows what she got up to when she was young. He also knows that what happened between him and Rhaenyra when she was young is not something he would want happening to his boys. He absolutely doesn’t want some roguish man coming in and kissing his boys in brothels offering to take them as their spouse.

Daemon has never felt more stressed when his family meets Viserys’ Hightower brats and he sees the way they look at his boys. He has multiple heart attacks when he sees the one eyed brat (Aemond) and the drunk lecher (Aegon) make eyes at his sweet stepsons. He very much wants to take Aemond’s other eye for the way he is looking at Luke and punch Aegon in the mouth for the way he is smirking at Jace. He can’t deal with this he is going to lock his stepsons up on Dragonstone until they are 50 or until the Hightower brats die whichever comes first.

Daemon has never felt like such a hypocrite. He swears that Viserys has somehow orchestrated all of this to get back at him for the brothel incident ….. and possibly the wedding incident too. At least Daeron is away in Old Town away from Joffrey……… Until Viserys brings him back to the Red Keel to torture his brother. King Viserys has so few amusements and seeing Daemon slowly go bald from seeing these roguish princes of the realm try to seduce his children is the best gift he has ever received. He can die happy now knowing Daemon’s karma has come at last.

#hotd #hotd headcanon #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #lucerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon #joffrey velaryon #daemon x rhaenyra #viserys targaryen #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #daeron targaryen #lucerys x aemond #aegon x jacaerys #daeron x joffrey #lucemond #jaegon #jacegon

680 notes · View notes

witchthewriter · 5 months ago

Text

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 & 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: oh god this man is doing things to me...

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

ISFJ or ISTJ

Ravenclaw

Lawful Neutral to Neutral Good

Sagittarius Sun, Cancer Moon, Scorpio Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・You're the rider of Silverwing, the glorious, graceful and maternal dragon who watches over you wherever you go.

・When you were young, it was very difficult for your mother because Silverwing would sweep you away and take you to her nest. Making you one of her own.

・You knew about the Hightowers, and how close Alicent & Rhaenyra were. You were very jealous, but weren't the kind of person to bump shoulders just to be included.

・So your best friend was a dragon. And you wouldn't have it any other way.

・Your connection with her is incredibly strong. Almost telepathic at times. She can feel what you feel - like two one soul in two bodies.

・And when you become of marriagable age - she did not like any of the suitors. So she was there, right by your side, huffing and puffing (putting your white cloaks on edge...)

・Just like Rhaenys the Conquorer, you flew further and further with your mount.

・You weren't the sister of Rhaenyra, but of Rhaenys. Your parents were Aemon Targaryen and Jocelyn Baratheon. And they had you when they were very, very old. Your birth was a miracle.

・And your sister, who was many years older, became a mother to you. As your two parents died.

・Your marriage was put forth by Viserys, well, Otto mainly. He knew his daughter would become queen and yet he was still full of ambition.

・Rhaenys saw straight through this. And your sister did everything she could to stop the marriage.

・But Viserys would not be persuaded...

・When you first met Gwayne, your initial opinion was that he was an ass. A pompus, arrogant, rude, ass.

・He had kissed your hand within the first two minutes and let his eyes linger on your own for far too long.

'I hate him already.' You thought and Silverwing snarled in agreement.

・But the dragon did not deter the Hightower man. He simply smirked and bowed his head.

・As time went by, your cemented walls were slowly knocked down one by one by Gwayne.

・But it wasn't until you offered to take him flying that you truly bonded.

・Clinging as tight as he could to you, Silverwing did every trick in the book to make him faint; straight diving and pulling up at the last second, twirling over herself over and over etc.)

・The whole time you were laughing, not just at his reaction but laughing with pure joy. Your fiance feeling what you feel.

・After that Gwayne looked at you with a newly found gratitue. You were true friends.

・But when Rhaenys started to speak to you about what marriage was really like - you didn't want to hear it.

"...my love, he may stray and sometimes you cannot stop it."

The words had hit you like a boulder to the heart. No, you could not endure such a betrayal.

"Sister. If he dares, then Silverwing will have the most royal feast she has ever had."

・But you need not ever worry about Gwayne's attention turning to another. You are all he needs. All he wants.

・He shows it to you through the way he speaks; the charming, soft voice that makes your knees tremble. The ever so gentle brush of his hand against yours.

・It drives you insane.

・And you never, not once in a nillion years, thought you would say this.

・"Gwayne, please. Let's just marry. Now. It needs to be now or I'll explode."

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Forced Proximity

"I'd do anything for you." (Gwayne) x "As you should." (You)

Survives because of pure luck (You) x Is the pure luck (Gwayne)

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Enemies to Lovers

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Let It Happen by The Midnite String Quartet

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point, makes me feel weird if you read it.

・Your first kiss was ... passionate. The hesitation of your lips before one another caused such heat you could not comprehend.

・You consummated your wedding night. Over and over and over again. Until Gwayne said, "my heart I cannot handle another round. I do not think I can move."

"Oh husband," you said while rolling onto your side. "You are going to have to get used to this. There's fire in my blood after all..."

・His eyebrows rose and his handsome face was covered in amusement.

"Well, wife. I guess I'll have to train harder," and with that he gripped your waist and flung on top of you.

・It is well known that the two of you cannot keep your hands off each other. You always do it when no one is around - but somehow someone always sees.

・But it's very difficult when he whispers in your ear all the things he thinks about. The things he wants you to do to him. Where he wants you to touch him.

・Is this not what married life is about? Being so incredibly obsessed with the other that your whole body hurts whenever they aren't near?

2K notes · View notes

hisfavegirl · 15 days ago

Text

Eternal Flame - Aegon Targaryen x Niece!Reader.

Summary : Your love for Aegon is enough to make you a bridge between the differences of your family, you are also a valuable asset that your family has in this peace.

Aegon Masterlist.

You stood silently in front of your mother’s chambers, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. From within, you could hear the familiar sound of raised voices—your mother, Rhaenyra, and your father, Daemon, locked in yet another argument. It wasn’t the first time, and you doubted it would be the last. Their words were muffled by the thick wooden door, but you didn’t need to strain to know what they were fighting about.

The topic was you.

More specifically, your mother’s decision to marry you to Aegon—a decision you had agreed to without hesitation because, despite everything, you and Aegon loved each other. But your father did not see it that way. To him, it was a betrayal, a dangerous political move that tied you to the Hightowers—a family he had no trust or love for.

“Do you not see what you’ve done?” you heard your father’s voice, sharp and accusing. “Marrying her to him binds her to them, to Alicent, to everything that divides us!”

“She loves him,” your mother’s voice countered, firm and resolute. “And he loves her. I will not stand in the way of their happiness because of your hatred, Daemon.”

There was a pause, heavy and tense, and then your father’s voice cut through again, quieter but no less furious. “It is not hatred—it is survival. Do you think love will matter when war comes? When the Hightowers seek to take everything from us?”

You swallowed hard, your heart aching at his words. You knew your father’s concerns were not without merit. The tension between your family and the Hightowers had long before you're born. But your love for Aegon wasn’t about politics, about alliances or power plays. It was real, and it was yours.

Gathering your courage, you raised your hand and knocked on the door. The voices inside immediately went silent, and a moment later, your mother called out, “Come in.”

You pushed the door open and stepped inside. Both your parents turned to look at you, their expressions tense and conflicted.

“I can hear you from the hallway,” you said softly, meeting their gazes. “And I know what you’re arguing about.”

Rhaenyra’s face softened, guilt flickering in her eyes. “My love, I’m sorry—”

“No,” you interrupted gently but firmly. “You don’t need to apologize. I know why Father is angry, and I understand his reasons. But this is my choice. I love Aegon, and he loves me. That should be enough.”

Daemon’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Love is a fleeting thing, daughter. It cannot protect you from what is to come.”

“And neither can fear,” you replied, your voice steady. “I am not afraid of loving him, just as I am not afraid of standing by my family. I am a Targaryen, and I will not be divided by anyone.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Then, slowly, Rhaenyra stepped forward and placed a hand on your shoulder.

“You are stronger than I ever was,” she said quietly, her voice filled with pride.

Daemon said nothing, but the flicker of approval in his gaze was enough. You knew he would never stop worrying, never stop protecting you in his own way. But for now, at least, the storm had passed.

You strolled through the garden, the soft rustle of leaves and the sweet scent of blooming flowers surrounding you. The tranquility of the moment was soothing, a brief escape from the weight of palace life. Yet, as you rounded a corner, the sound of familiar laughter reached your ears—a voice you knew better than your own.

Aegon.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you turned your head toward the source of the sound. There he was, leaning casually against a tree, his silver hair catching the sunlight like molten silver. He looked at ease, a rare sight for someone so often burdened by expectation and excess.

He hadn’t noticed you yet, lost in conversation with a servant or perhaps just musing aloud. But when his eyes finally met yours, his expression softened, a genuine smile curving his lips.

You couldn’t help but smile back, warmth spreading through you like a gentle flame. Despite everything—the politics, the whispers, the shadows that lingered over your family—he had always had this effect on you. He made the world feel smaller, simpler, as though nothing else mattered when he was near.

“Aegon,” you called softly, stepping closer.

His smile widened as he straightened, his arms opening slightly in an unspoken invitation. “Wandering the gardens alone, my love? Were you looking for me, or have I just been blessed with your presence by chance?”

You laughed quietly, shaking your head. “Perhaps a bit of both.”

Aegon chuckled, the sound rich and full of life. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered, and his gaze held yours with an intensity that made your heart flutter.

“In a garden full of beauty, you are still the most captivating thing here,” he murmured, his tone teasing yet sincere.

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics but couldn’t suppress the blush that crept to your cheeks. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you’re still here,” he quipped, his grin mischievous.

As the two of you stood there, surrounded by the vibrant colors of the garden, the world seemed to fade away. In that moment, it was just the two of you, and nothing else mattered.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting warm golden hues over the garden as you and Aegon shared quiet laughter. His jokes, though often ridiculous, always had a way of lightening your heart. It was moments like these—free from the weight of duty and expectation—that you cherished the most.

Now, the two of you sat beneath the shade of a sprawling tree, the soft grass cushioning your seat. Aegon had decided, in his typical fashion, to make himself comfortable by resting his head in your lap. His silver hair spilled across your dress like threads of moonlight, and he looked up at you with a lazy grin.

“You spoil me, you know,” he said, his voice light with amusement.

“And how exactly do I do that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow but smiling down at him.

“By letting me lie here,” he teased, closing his eyes briefly as if savoring the moment. “By laughing at my jokes, even when they’re terrible. By not scolding me when I steal too many sweets from the kitchens.”

You laughed, gently brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You’re impossible, Aegon.”

“And yet, you love me,” he replied, opening one eye to look at you.

You didn’t answer right away, instead letting your fingers trace absentmindedly through his hair. The truth of his words was unspoken but undeniable. Despite everything—the chaos, the complications—you loved him deeply.

“You’re right,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aegon’s grin softened into something more genuine, and he reached up to take your free hand in his, pressing a kiss to your palm. “I know I don’t deserve it,” he said after a moment, his tone quieter, more serious. “But I’ll do my best to be worthy of it.”

Your heart ached at his vulnerability, and you squeezed his hand gently. “You don’t have to be perfect, Aegon. You just have to be you.”

He closed his eyes again, a content sigh escaping him as he relaxed into your touch. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you beneath the tree, wrapped in a moment of peace and love that felt as though it could last forever.

Your fingers continued to glide through Aegon’s silver hair, occasionally brushing against his cheek. His soft, relaxed expression made you smile—a rare sight from someone so often burdened by the expectations of his title and lineage.

He was calm, even content, as his head rested on your lap. You felt a sense of peace that you had been longing for amidst the chaos of your family’s complicated world. But that peace was shattered when you heard voices nearby.

You turned your head, your heart sinking as you recognized the approaching figures—your mother, Rhaenyra, and Aegon’s mother, Alicent. The two mother walked side by side, their expressions calm but tense. It was clear from their determined strides and hushed conversation that they were coming with a purpose.

Aegon, noticing your distraction, opened his eyes and followed your gaze. His relaxed demeanor shifted slightly, his lips curving into a faint smirk as he muttered, “And here come the dragons.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, though you quickly composed yourself as they approached. When they reached you, Alicent’s gaze flickered between you and Aegon, her expression disapproving but restrained. Rhaenyra, meanwhile, softened slightly when her eyes landed on you, though there was a firmness in her stance that told you this was no casual visit.

“Aegon,” Alicent said, her tone sharp but quiet, “is this how you choose to spend your time? Lounging in the gardens while matters of your marriage remain unresolved?”

Aegon sighed, sitting up but remaining close to you. “Mother,” he replied lazily, “can’t a man enjoy a moment of peace with his wife-to-be?”

“A moment, perhaps,” Rhaenyra interjected, her tone gentler than Alicent’s but no less serious. “But there are matters that must be addressed. The wedding is fast approaching, and there are arrangements to finalize.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Aegon, who rolled his eyes slightly before standing and helping you to your feet. “Very well,” he said, brushing off his tunic. “Let’s discuss this ‘urgent matter’ of a wedding that we’re already committed to.”

Alicent’s lips thinned, clearly unimpressed with his attitude, while Rhaenyra gave you a small, reassuring smile. You felt torn between the two women—your mother’s quiet encouragement and Alicent’s intense scrutiny—but you nodded and stepped forward.

“Shall we sit and discuss everything here in the garden?” you suggested, hoping to keep the conversation calm.

Rhaenyra nodded, gesturing for everyone to settle under the shade of the tree. As Aegon plopped back down beside you, his hand finding yours, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of anxiety. The two most formidable women in your life were about to negotiate the details of your future—a future you hoped would bring peace, not more division.

The four of you sat at the far end of the garden under the shade of a large tree. The servants moved swiftly and quietly, setting down trays of small pastries, fruits, steaming tea, and wine. The atmosphere was pleasant enough, though there was a certain tension lingering in the air.

Alicent was the first to speak, her voice steady and deliberate. “The gown,” she began, glancing at you briefly before shifting her gaze to Rhaenyra. “It must be fitting of her station. The finest Myrish silk, perhaps trimmed with gold or silver. Something elegant, yet modest.”

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow at the word “modest,” a faint smile tugging at her lips. “My daughter will shine on her wedding day,” she replied calmly. “Aegon deserves nothing less than a bride befitting a queen. If silver and gold are what you wish, then so be it. But I will ensure the gown captures her strength as well as her beauty.”

Aegon, lounging casually beside you, took a sip of his wine and murmured, “I think she looks perfect in anything.”

The comment made you smile, though Alicent shot him a quick, disapproving glance. Rhaenyra, on the other hand, seemed faintly amused.

“The gown can be decided later,” Rhaenyra said, waving her hand slightly. “Let us discuss the ceremony. I suggest the Great Sept—though I imagine you, Alicent, may have a different opinion.”

Alicent’s posture stiffened slightly, but she kept her tone measured. “The Great Sept is a fine choice, but the royal wedding of my son and your daughter must also honor the traditions of the Faith. The ceremony should reflect the values of both our houses.”

Aegon sighed dramatically, setting his goblet down. “The Faith, the dragons, the banners… Must we weigh down our wedding with every tradition imaginable?”

“You speak as though tradition is a burden,” Alicent said sharply, her gaze narrowing. “It is what binds us together as a people, Aegon.”

Rhaenyra interjected smoothly, her tone almost playful. “Perhaps we can find a compromise. A traditional ceremony in the Sept, but with elements that honor House Targaryen’s roots. Fire and blood, as they say.”

Alicent hesitated, clearly uneasy with the idea, but she gave a curt nod. “As long as it does not overshadow the sanctity of the Faith, I will agree.”

The conversation continued, moving from the guest list to the feast and even the matter of who would speak during the ceremony. You sat quietly for much of it, feeling like a spectator at times, though Aegon occasionally squeezed your hand under the table, a silent reassurance that you were in this together.

Despite the occasional clash of opinions, both Alicent and Rhaenyra seemed determined to ensure the wedding went smoothly. Their mutual efforts, however reluctant, gave you a glimmer of hope that this union might bring some measure of peace to your fractured family.

Aegon let out a low growl of frustration, setting his goblet down with a sharp clink against the table. His usually laid-back demeanor shifted as he straightened in his seat, his expression a mix of defiance and determination.

“If we are to discuss the ceremony yet again,” he said, his voice steady but carrying an edge of irritation, “then let me make one thing clear: I want our wedding to honor our heritage—Old Valyria. That is our blood, our legacy, and I won’t have it drowned in customs that mean little to us.”

The air grew tense, and Alicent’s eyes widened slightly as she regarded her son. “Aegon,” she began, her tone cautious but firm, “the traditions of Old Valyria are… not aligned with the Faith. Such a ceremony could be seen as—”

“Blasphemy?” Aegon interrupted, his voice rising slightly. “We are Targaryens, Mother. Our house was forged in fire and blood long before we ever set foot in Westeros. Why should we not honor that?”

Rhaenyra’s lips curved into a faint smile, clearly intrigued by Aegon’s rare display of conviction. “I agree with Aegon,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “A union of fire and blood—a traditional Valyrian ceremony—would be fitting for our houses, wouldn’t you say, Alicent?”

Alicent’s hands tightened around her goblet, her lips pressing into a thin line. “The people of the realm will not understand such a ceremony,” she said carefully. “It will sow doubt and unease among those who already question the Targaryen legacy.”

“The people will understand what I tell them to understand,” Aegon retorted, his tone sharp. “I am their prince, am I not?”

You glanced at him, surprised by his sudden assertiveness, but there was a fire in his eyes that you rarely saw. He turned to you then, his expression softening.

“What do you think, my love?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “This is your wedding too. Would you stand with me beneath the fire of our ancestors, as it was always meant to be?”

All eyes turned to you, the weight of the decision suddenly resting on your shoulders. You hesitated, glancing between your mother and Alicent. Rhaenyra’s gaze was steady, encouraging, while Alicent’s held a flicker of concern.

Finally, you looked back at Aegon and nodded. “Yes,” you said softly but firmly. “A Valyrian ceremony. It feels… right.”

Aegon’s face lit up with a rare, genuine smile, and he reached for your hand, squeezing it tightly. “Then it’s decided,” he said, looking back at the two mothers. “Our wedding will honor the blood of the dragon.”

Alicent sighed deeply, clearly displeased but knowing she would not win this argument. Rhaenyra, on the other hand, looked almost triumphant, a glint of pride in her eyes as she raised her goblet.

“To fire and blood,” she said, her voice ringing with finality.

Alicent took a deep breath, her face calm but resolute as she placed her goblet gently on the table. “If this is how it must be,” she began, her voice even, though there was an edge of determination, “then I propose a compromise. You will have your Valyrian ceremony, Aegon. But there will also be a traditional ceremony under the Faith of the Seven. Two ceremonies, as a symbol of unity—between the past and the present, between our heritage and the realm.”

Aegon’s jaw tightened, his expression darkening at the suggestion. “Two ceremonies?” he repeated, his voice tinged with annoyance. “Why should we need to cater to the Faith when this is our wedding?”

“It is not just your wedding, Aegon,” Alicent countered sharply, her gaze unwavering. “You are the Prince. This union is as much about the realm as it is about the two of you. The lords and people will look to this wedding as a reflection of the crown commitment to the Faith.”

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the exchange. “Aegon is right, Alicent,” she said smoothly, the title slipping from her lips with faint sarcasm. “This is their day. Why weigh it down with obligations to the Faith?”

Alicent’s gaze flicked to Rhaenyra, her calm demeanor barely concealing her irritation. “Because the Faith holds great power in this realm, Rhaenyra. Alienating them by favoring Valyrian customs alone would be foolish.”

Aegon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to ward off a headache. Then he turned to you, his expression softening. “What do you think?” he asked, his tone gentler now. “Do you truly want two ceremonies?”

You hesitated, glancing between your husband-to-be, your mother, and Alicent. The weight of expectation pressed down on you, but you knew your decision could shape not just your wedding day but the fragile peace between these two powerful women.

“I think…” you began carefully, your voice steady but thoughtful. “If having two ceremonies will ease the tensions and unite both sides, then so be it. We can honor both our Valyrian heritage and the Faith of the Seven.”

Aegon’s brows furrowed, a trace of disappointment crossing his face, but he said nothing. Rhaenyra’s expression grew thoughtful, her lips pressing together in a thin line, while Alicent gave a small, satisfied nod.

“Then it is settled,” Alicent said firmly. “The first ceremony will take place under the Faith of the Seven, in the Great Sept. The second will be the Valyrian ceremony you both desire. A compromise.”

Aegon leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the armrest. “A compromise,” he repeated with a hint of sarcasm. He turned to you, his lips curving into a faint smile. “As long as you’re happy, I’ll endure it.”

Your heart warmed at his words, and you reached out to take his hand, squeezing it gently. Though the path ahead seemed complicated, you knew that with Aegon by your side, you could face whatever challenges came your way.

The discussion about your wedding had finally come to an end, though traces of tension still lingered in the air. You stood, smoothing your dress as you exchanged a final glance with Aegon, his reassuring smile giving you a small sense of comfort. Your mother gestured for you to follow her, and together, you began walking toward her private solar.

The corridors of the Red Keep were quiet, save for the soft echo of your footsteps. Rhaenyra glanced at you occasionally, her expression thoughtful. She finally broke the silence as you neared the solar.

“You handled yourself well back there,” she said, her tone both proud and encouraging. “Navigating between Alicent and Aegon is no small feat. You showed strength and wisdom.”

“Thank you, Mother,” you replied, though a part of you felt the weight of the decisions that had been made.

When you entered her solar, the warm glow of the fireplace illuminated the familiar space. Your father, Daemon, was seated near the hearth, his ever-present smirk hinting at his mood. Your brothers, Jace and Luke, were standing nearby, their postures casual yet attentive.

Daemon’s sharp eyes flicked to you as you entered. “So,” he began, his voice low and edged with curiosity, “has the Queen finally finished her sermon about the Faith?”

“Father,” Jace murmured with a faint laugh, though his expression was still serious.

Rhaenyra shot her husband a warning look before addressing him. “The matter has been resolved. There will be two ceremonies—one for the Faith, and one for Old Valyria.”

Daemon’s smirk widened as he leaned back in his chair. “Two ceremonies? How… diplomatic of you.” His gaze shifted to you, his tone softening slightly. “And what do you think of all this, daughter?”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I think it’s the best way to honor both our traditions and keep the peace.”

Daemon’s expression darkened slightly, but he nodded. “Aegon is lucky you are the one keeping the peace for him. Without you, he’d likely stumble his way into chaos.”

Jace stepped forward, his brow furrowed. “Do you trust him?” he asked, concern evident in his voice. “Aegon, I mean.”

You looked at your brother, sensing his worry. “I do,” you said firmly, though the question lingered in your mind. “He has flaws, but I believe we understand each other.”

Luke grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “Let’s hope he doesn’t drink too much before either ceremony.”

Daemon chuckled at that, but Rhaenyra silenced him with a sharp look. “Enough,” she said firmly. “This is an important moment for our house. We must remain united.”

Her words carried weight, and you nodded, feeling a sense of purpose despite the challenges ahead. With your family’s support, you felt ready to face whatever lay before you.

The conversation shifted, the clinking of silverware and soft murmurs of your family creating a quiet hum in the room. Your mother’s gaze, which had often flickered to your younger brother, now settled on you, her expression contemplative. For a moment, she said nothing, merely observing you with an unreadable look.

Then, breaking the silence, Rhaenyra’s voice was soft but clear. “You know, after your wedding… I think you will be the one to carry on our house’s legacy,” she said, her gaze steady as she met your eyes. “Perhaps soon, you’ll give me a grandchild.”

Her words were gentle but direct, and they landed on you like a heavy weight. You felt a warmth rise to your cheeks, the thought of children so soon after marriage feeling overwhelming, yet somehow inevitable. The idea of becoming a mother was something you had imagined, but now that it was spoken aloud, it felt like the future was suddenly pressing in on you.

You flushed, unable to form an immediate response, unsure of how to handle the sudden shift in the conversation. Your mind raced with the thought of what marriage and the responsibility it would bring meant for you, for Aegon, and for your family.

But before you could gather your thoughts, the sound of Daemon’s voice cut through the moment. He had been sipping his wine, but the mention of grandchildren clearly took him by surprise. He sputtered slightly, quickly coughing and sitting up straighter in his chair, trying to regain composure. “Seven hells, Rhaenyra,” he said, his voice filled with a mix of disbelief and mild horror, “I do not want my daughter to be… used for such purposes so soon.”

His words hung in the air, a stark contrast to the warmth of the earlier conversation. Rhaenyra’s expression softened slightly, but there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes, as if she had expected such a reaction.

“You misunderstand, Daemon,” she said with a smile, but her voice was firm. “It’s natural, of course. Aegon will take care of her as his wife, and they will fulfill their duties. A grandchild would be a blessing, not something to fear.”

Daemon gave a dismissive grunt but did not argue further, though his disapproval was evident. His intense gaze shifted back to you, and there was a rare softness in his eyes. “Just… be careful, daughter,” he muttered, his voice a little more gravelly now. “Marriage is not all it seems. The world does not turn easily for women.”

You nodded slowly, feeling the weight of both your parents’ concerns. Your mother’s desire for grandchildren and your father’s protective instincts blended into something that left you feeling uncertain about your own desires. You were caught between these expectations and the life you were about to begin with Aegon—an uncertain future where love, responsibility, and family would collide.

For a brief moment, you found yourself lost in thought, the heavy gaze of both your parents weighing on you. You wondered what the future would truly hold, and if you were truly ready for it.

The day of your wedding finally arrived, and the preparations seemed endless. Your chambers were filled with the soft rustle of silk and the quiet murmurs of your mother’s attendants as they adjusted the delicate wedding gown that clung to your frame. The fabric was exquisite, crafted from the finest silk in Westeros, its ivory hue shimmering under the warm glow of the room’s candles.

You stood before the tall mirror, staring at your reflection. The gown hugged your figure perfectly, its intricate embroidery glinting like stars scattered across the heavens. You tilted your head slightly, taking in every detail—the flowing train, the delicate lace sleeves, and the silver-threaded accents that reflected your Targaryen heritage.

Your mother, Rhaenyra, stood behind you, her hands gently smoothing the fabric over your shoulders. Her eyes, filled with a rare softness, met yours in the mirror. “You look perfect,” she said quietly, her voice steady but filled with pride. “You carry our legacy with grace, my daughter. This day will mark the beginning of a new chapter for you.”

Before you could respond, the door to your chambers opened. The sudden sound drew your attention, and you turned to see Alicent standing in the doorway. Her green dress, elegant yet simple, contrasted sharply against the pale tones of your gown. Her expression was carefully composed, though there was a flicker of something—perhaps nostalgia or longing—in her eyes as she looked at you.

“You’ll be a vision,” Alicent said, stepping further into the room. “The Realm will marvel at you."

Her words, though kind, carried a weight that was hard to ignore. You felt the tension between your mother and Alicent rise, subtle but palpable, as they exchanged brief glances. Alicent’s gaze then softened as it shifted to you, and she took a step closer.

“You remind me of myself on my wedding day,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost wistful. “So full of hope and dreams for the future.”

Your mother, standing protectively by your side, raised her chin slightly. “My daughter is stronger than you think,” she said evenly, her tone calm but firm. “She will make her own way, just as I have.”

Alicent’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing more, choosing instead to step closer to examine the embroidery on your gown. “It’s a beautiful piece,” she remarked, her voice neutral once more. “It suits you.”

You nodded politely, feeling the subtle clash between the two women like a current in the air. Yet, in that moment, all you could focus on was the weight of the gown, the weight of their expectations, and the life that awaited you after this day.

As the attendants continued their careful adjustments to your gown, the door to your chambers opened once more. This time, it was your father, Daemon, who entered. His presence was commanding as always, though his expression was unusually soft. His violet eyes swept over you, taking in the sight of you in your wedding dress.

For a moment, he said nothing, simply standing there, his gaze lingering. Then, he stepped closer, his lips curling into a faint, bittersweet smile. “My little girl,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, but filled with emotion. “You’ve grown into a beautiful woman… and now, you’re about to marry.”

His words caught you off guard, and your heart tightened at the emotion behind them. Daemon was rarely one to openly express his feelings, but now, there was no mistaking the pride—and the melancholy—in his tone.

He approached slowly, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders as he looked at you in the mirror. “It feels like just yesterday you were running around the Red Keep, challenging everyone with your fiery spirit,” he continued, his voice laced with a touch of wistfulness. “And now… you stand here, ready to step into a new chapter of your life.”

You turned slightly to face him, the weight of his words settling in your chest. “Father…” you began, your voice soft.

Daemon shook his head gently, as if to stop you from saying anything that might break the fragile moment. “You’ll make a formidable wife,” he said, his tone shifting slightly, a hint of his usual confidence returning. “And gods help Aegon if he doesn’t realize how lucky he is to have you.”

Behind you, your mother, Rhaenyra, watched the exchange with a quiet smile, though there was a glimmer of emotion in her eyes. Even Alicent, standing nearby, seemed to sense the gravity of the moment, her hands clasped before her as she watched father and daughter.

Daemon leaned down slightly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’ll always be my little girl,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with affection. “No matter how much the world changes.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away, nodding as you met his gaze. “Thank you, Father,” you said quietly.

He straightened, his usual composure returning, and he stepped back with a small, approving nod. “Now,” he said, his tone lighter, “let’s ensure the Realm remembers this wedding for years to come.”

His words brought a faint smile to your lips, and you turned back to the mirror, feeling a mix of emotions—love, pride, and the bittersweet realization that your life was about to change forever.

The final touches had been made. The maids carefully adjusted the veil cascading over your hair, ensuring every detail was perfect. The soft fabric framed your face beautifully, the delicate embroidery glinting faintly in the sunlight streaming through the window.

You took a steadying breath as you turned to the door. Standing there, waiting patiently, was your father, Daemon. His silver hair gleamed, and his expression was a mix of pride and bittersweet emotion.

As you stepped toward him, he took a moment to look at you, his violet eyes sweeping over your appearance. A rare, genuine smile curved his lips. “You look radiant,” he said quietly, his voice filled with warmth.

“Thank you, Father,” you replied softly, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

Daemon extended his arm to you, and you slipped your hand into the crook of his elbow. His grip was reassuring, grounding you as you began the walk toward the front courtyard where the carriage awaited.

The sun was bright in the clear sky as you emerged into the open air, the sounds of the castle bustling with preparations. The ornate carriage stood ready, its silver and black accents bearing the unmistakable marks of House Targaryen. The dragons emblazoned on its side seemed to gleam in the sunlight.

Daemon paused before helping you into the carriage, his hand lingering on yours. “This is the beginning of a new chapter,” he said, his voice lower now, meant just for you. “But remember, no matter what lies ahead, you are a Targaryen. You are my daughter. And you are strong.”

His words filled you with a sense of purpose, and you nodded, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “I won’t forget, Father.”

He smiled once more, helping you step into the carriage before following to take his seat beside you. The horses snorted, their hooves clattering against the cobblestones as the driver signaled for the procession to begin.

As the carriage began to roll toward the Great Sept, you felt the weight of the moment settle upon you. This was your wedding day, the day you would pledge yourself to Aegon in the sight of the Seven—and the beginning of a future you had long awaited.

The carriage came to a gentle stop, and the door was opened by one of the attendants. Your father stepped out first, his regal posture commanding attention as always. He turned to you, extending his hand to help you descend. His grip was firm yet tender as he steadied you.

The Great Sept loomed ahead, its grand arches and towering spires radiating sanctity and significance. The air was thick with the murmur of gathered nobles and the faint scent of incense.

Daemon tucked your hand securely into the crook of his arm, guiding you toward the altar. The grand doors of the Sept swung open, revealing the interior bathed in golden light from the towering stained glass windows. The faint melody of a harp accompanied your steps as you began your walk down the aisle.

Your heart raced as your gaze met Aegon’s. He stood at the altar, dressed in his finest, the golden crown of the Targaryens resting on his head. His expression was uncharacteristically solemn, though his eyes softened as they found yours.

The walk felt both eternal and fleeting, each step bringing you closer to him, to your future. When you reached the altar, Daemon paused, turning to face you fully.

With a rare gentleness, he lifted the veil from your face, letting it fall back over your shoulders. His violet eyes, so similar to your own, searched your face for a moment, and then he smiled—a small, genuine smile filled with pride and love.

Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering just a moment. “You’ll always be my little girl,” he murmured, his voice barely audible but carrying the weight of his emotion.

He stepped back, placing your hand in Aegon’s. His touch lingered for a brief moment, a silent reminder that no matter what, he would always be there for you.

Daemon gave Aegon a pointed look, a silent but clear warning: take care of her. Then, with a nod, he stepped aside, leaving you standing beside your soon-to-be husband as the ceremony began.

The Septon’s voice echoed through the grand hall, steady and solemn, as he began reciting the sacred vows of the Seven. The gathered lords and ladies fell silent, their gazes fixed on you and Aegon as the moment unfolded.

You stood across from Aegon, your hands joined as the Septon laid a length of braided ribbon across them, symbolizing the binding of your lives. The golden light streaming through the stained glass illuminated his face, softening the usual sharpness of his features.

As the Septon’s voice continued, you lifted your eyes to meet Aegon’s. His violet gaze held yours, filled with an unspoken mix of emotions—nervousness, tenderness, and something that resembled quiet determination.

The world seemed to fade away, the grandeur of the Sept and the weight of the audience blurring into the background. In that moment, it was just the two of you, bound by the vows you were about to take.

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger..." your voices carried the weight of conviction and devotion.

"I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days," Aegon vowed, his voice filled with unwavering commitment.

"I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days," your voice echoed. your voices intertwined, your souls merging in that sacred space.

The ribbon was removed as the Septon pronounced the union blessed by the Seven. Aegon’s smile was small but genuine as he leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss to your lips to seal the vows.

The hall erupted into applause and cheers, but all you could hear was the soft echo of your heartbeat as you looked into his eyes, knowing this was the start of your shared journey.

The grand hall of the Red Keep was alive with music, laughter, and the clinking of goblets. The celebration of your marriage was in full swing, the lords and ladies of Westeros gathered to honor the union. The throne room had been transformed, the usual solemnity replaced with joy and grandeur.

You sat beside Aegon at the high table, your hand resting lightly on his arm. He leaned closer occasionally, his voice low as he murmured words only meant for you. You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips, though your attention was soon pulled away when your father, Daemon, stood from his seat.

His sharp, commanding presence drew the attention of the room. He stepped forward, his violet eyes locking onto you. A faint smirk played on his lips as he extended his hand toward you.

“Come, my daughter,” Daemon said, his voice smooth and confident, “Let us show them how a Targaryen dances.”

The room fell silent for a brief moment, anticipation crackling in the air. You glanced at Aegon, who gave you a small nod, and then you took your father’s hand. He helped you rise, leading you toward the center of the hall where the musicians struck up a lively tune.

Daemon’s hand settled on your waist as the two of you began to move, your steps graceful and in perfect sync with his. The rhythm of the music swirled around you, the eyes of the court watching in awe.

“You look radiant tonight,” Daemon said softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Thank you, Father,” you replied, a touch of warmth in your tone.

As the music picked up, Daemon twirled you effortlessly, the hem of your gown sweeping across the polished floor. The crowd clapped in time with the music, their cheers rising as you moved with an elegance befitting a Targaryen princess.

When the dance came to an end, Daemon bowed to you with exaggerated flourish, drawing laughter from the crowd. You curtsied in return, your cheeks flushed from the exhilaration.

Daemon led you back to Aegon, placing your hand in his. “Your turn, boy,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes before retreating to the sidelines.

Aegon stood and took your hand, pulling you close as the music shifted to a softer melody. He leaned down, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “Shall we show them how it’s really done?”

With a smile, you nodded, letting him lead you onto the floor, the crowd parting to give you both space. Together, you danced, the bond between you growing with every step.

The music swirled around you, the rhythm pulsing through your body as Aegon led you across the floor. The eyes of the court were upon you, but in that moment, it felt as though the rest of the world had faded away. All that existed was you and him, dancing in perfect harmony. His smile, his eyes—there was a lightness in his gaze that made your heart flutter with every glance.

Aegon leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered playful words, his breath warm against your skin. Each whisper sent a thrill down your spine, and you couldn’t help but smile at the intimacy of the moment. The laughter from his jokes echoed softly in your mind as the music seemed to slow, the final notes drawing nearer.

As the music reached its peak, Aegon twirled you, the fabric of your gown swirling around you as he spun you gracefully. The world seemed to blur for a moment, the movement so fluid, so natural, until he pulled you back into his arms with a gentle yet firm grip. Your heart raced as his hands settled on your waist, and in that moment, the entire room seemed to hold its breath.

Aegon looked at you with a softness that contrasted the strength in his stance. The distance between you closed, and without a word, he kissed you—slow and deep, a kiss that carried the weight of the vows you had just made, of the journey ahead of you. The kiss lingered for a moment, soft yet filled with a promise of everything to come.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, the room erupted into applause, the cheers mingling with the fading notes of the music. But all you could hear, all you could feel, was Aegon’s presence, his touch, the steady beat of your hearts in sync.

The night was still young, and you knew that this was only the beginning.

As the music continued to fade, a loud voice rang out from one of the guests, calling for a bedding ceremony to be held. The declaration echoed through the hall, a moment of awkward silence hanging in the air. The traditional custom was infamous for its brazen display of intimacy, something that, under the wrong circumstances, could become a source of embarrassment rather than celebration.

Your heart sank at the mention of it, but before you could react, Daemon, stood tall and imposing, his voice cutting through the room. “That will not be happening,” he said, his tone firm and resolute, a hint of annoyance lacing his words. “My daughter is not an animal to be put on display for your amusement.”

There was a tense moment of stillness as the room waited for the next move. Aegon, standing beside you, immediately took your hand with a reassuring squeeze, his voice calm but equally firm. “I agree with Daemon,” he said, his eyes scanning the crowd, filled with a quiet, dangerous intensity. “The bedding ceremony is a disgrace, and it has no place at our wedding. You will not demand it here.”

The crowd fell silent, the tension palpable. It was clear that both Daemon and Aegon stood united in rejecting the idea, their authority and influence silencing any further protests. Aegon’s hand tightened around yours, the bond between you both growing stronger in the face of such a ridiculous demand.

Your father glanced at you, a silent gesture of protection in his eyes, and then turned to the rest of the guests with a final, imperious look. “The night is to celebrate their union, not to satisfy your vulgar curiosities,” he declared. The room, now aware of the boundaries being set, fell into a respectful quiet, some guests murmuring but ultimately understanding the stance.

The tension began to dissipate, and the focus shifted back to you and Aegon, your hands still joined. The weight of the moment lifted as you stood there together, united not just in vows, but also in defiance of the petty customs that had no place in your lives.

Aegon leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “Let them gossip,” he whispered with a grin. “We have each other, and that’s all that matters.”

The evening air was cool as you and Aegon walked back to your chambers, the sounds of the celebration fading behind you. You could still feel the warmth of the dance and the weight of the guests’ gaze, but now, with the room finally quiet, you could let the tension slip away.

As you entered your chamber, the door closing softly behind you, the two of you exchanged a glance. The weight of the upcoming journey to Dragonstone loomed, but there was a strange sense of peace now that the night’s events had passed. The quiet was a welcome respite before the next steps, before the second ceremony, which would take place with the traditions of Old Valyria, a world away from the pomp and ceremony you’d just endured.

Aegon moved to the window, looking out toward the horizon where the sun would soon set, casting the sky in hues of orange and pink. He turned to you, his gaze softer now, the earlier intensity replaced with something quieter. “I know you’ve had enough for today,” he said, his voice low, “But I think we both need to rest before we face what comes next.”

You nodded, your tired eyes meeting his. The day had been full of emotion, and there was something calming about being in this space, just the two of you. You moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. Aegon joined you, his presence always warm and grounding.

For a moment, you both sat in silence, the peaceful stillness of your shared space allowing the chaos of the day to slowly fade away. The wedding on Dragonstone would be different, more intimate, yet filled with its own expectations. You would both face that challenge together, but for now, you could simply be.

Aegon reached out to gently take your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “After Dragonstone,” he murmured, “We will make this marriage our own. All the traditions, the customs… they won’t define us. Only what we choose to build together will.”

You squeezed his hand in return, a quiet agreement passing between you both. There would be more ceremonies, more battles with tradition, but what mattered most was the life you would create together—united by your love, not the expectations of others.

With a soft sigh, you leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling the weight of the day finally begin to lift. The journey ahead was uncertain, but as long as you had Aegon by your side, you knew you could face whatever came next. And for now, that was enough.

The sea breeze carried the scent of salt and freedom as the ship gently docked at Dragonstone. The journey had felt swift, perhaps because your mind had been preoccupied with the thought of the second ceremony—the one that truly mattered to both you and Aegon. His hand remained firmly in yours as you stepped off the ship, the volcanic island’s jagged cliffs and ancient castle rising before you.

Aegon’s grip tightened slightly, a silent reassurance as you descended the gangplank. The two of you exchanged a brief smile, the bond between you strong and unspoken. Alicent was already waiting, her expression calm but watchful, while your mother, Rhaenyra, stood with a regal air beside her. The contrast between the two women was stark, but for once, they seemed united in purpose: ensuring the ceremony later that evening would be perfect.

“Come,” Rhaenyra said with a small smile, motioning for you to follow. “There is much to do before the sun sets.”

Alicent nodded, stepping forward. “We’ll have you ready in time,” she added, her tone softer than usual, though her hands betrayed her tension as they clasped tightly before her.

You glanced back at Aegon as your mother and Alicent ushered you toward the castle, his reassuring smile lingering even as the distance between you grew. The ancient halls of Dragonstone felt almost alive, the walls whispering secrets of the Targaryen legacy. It was fitting, you thought, that the Valyrian ceremony would take place here, surrounded by the echoes of your ancestors.

Inside the castle, you were taken to a chamber overlooking the sea. The sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting golden hues over the intricate gown that awaited you. The fabric shimmered like dragon scales, the traditional marital robes of Valyria which is a pale white with red dyed edges. The deep red of House Targaryen woven into the design. It was a stark contrast to the Seven Kingdoms’ traditional wedding attire but felt infinitely more like home.

As the maids began to help you prepare, your mother stood by, her gaze soft yet proud. “This is how it should be,” she said, her voice carrying a sense of finality. “A union bound not just by words, but by blood, fire, and history.”

Alicent, standing beside her, added, “It may not be my tradition, but I see its beauty. And I see how much this means to both of you.”

You nodded, your heart swelling with anticipation. This ceremony wasn’t just for tradition—it was for you and Aegon, a chance to start your lives together in a way that truly reflected who you were. As the preparations continued, the sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs below seemed to echo your growing excitement.

The sun dipped lower in the sky, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before you stood with Aegon again, this time to pledge yourselves to each other in the ancient Valyrian way.

The cool wind of Dragonstone whipped around you as you stood on the edge of the cliff, the sea roaring below, a testament to the raw, untamed power of this sacred place. The setting sun cast hues of gold and crimson across the sky, mirroring the colors of House Targaryen, as you faced Aegon. His violet eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of reverence and love, a stark contrast to the usual playful smirk he wore.

Daemon, ever the keeper of tradition, had brought a septon who was well-versed in the ancient rites of Old Valyria. The man stood between you and Aegon, his presence almost dwarfed by the magnitude of the ceremony about to unfold. Around you, your family bore witness, their faces solemn and proud. Rhaenyra stood with Alicent, an unspoken truce in their shared pride. Your father’s piercing gaze watched every movement, while your siblings looked on, their expressions ranging from awe to curiosity.

The septon began to chant in High Valyrian, the ancient words flowing like a song. He held a chalice of Valyrian steel, filled with dragonbone ash and seawater, symbols of your shared heritage and the unbreakable bond you were about to forge.

Aegon stepped closer, his hand reaching for yours, steady and unwavering. The septon handed you both small daggers, their blades gleaming in the fading light. “With blood, we bind,” he intoned, his voice carrying over the waves.

You felt the weight of the dagger in your hand as you pressed the blade against your palm, mirroring Aegon. A sharp sting, and then the warmth of blood pooled in your hand. Aegon extended his hand to you, his blood mingling with yours as you clasped hands, sealing your union in the way of your ancestors.

The septon’s chant grew louder, his words resonating with the power of the old ways. “Fire and blood unite, unbroken by time, unyielding as stone.”

Aegon leaned in, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, “From this moment, you are mine, as I am yours. Always.”

The flames from nearby torches danced in his eyes, and you could feel the truth in his words, the promise that bound you to him in body, mind, and soul.

The septon poured the ash and seawater mixture over your joined hands, finalizing the ritual. “May the blood of the dragon burn bright and eternal,” he declared, his voice a proclamation to the gods and the world.

As the ceremony concluded, Aegon cupped your face with his free hand, pulling you into a kiss that felt as fiery and unyielding as the bond you had just forged. The cheers of your family echoed around you, but in that moment, there was only the two of you, standing united against the world.

A year had passed since your union with Aegon, and the days had grown into a steady rhythm of love and understanding. The tension that once lingered in the air had dissolved, replaced by a calm happiness that surrounded you both like a warm embrace.

As you stood before the mirror in your chambers, your hand instinctively rested on your growing belly. The sight filled you with a sense of pride and anticipation. This was the fruit of your love, a child born not just of duty but of genuine affection. You smiled softly, feeling the faint flutter of movement beneath your hand, a gentle reminder that the little life inside you was almost ready to meet the world.

Behind you, Aegon approached, his reflection appearing in the mirror as he stepped closer. His hands slid around your waist, resting protectively over yours on your belly. “You look radiant,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe and adoration.

You turned your head slightly to meet his gaze, your smile widening. “And you look nervous,” you teased lightly, though you could see the excitement in his eyes.

“I am,” he admitted with a soft chuckle, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “But I’m also ready. I’ve been ready since the day you told me.”

The memory brought warmth to your chest. You had been hesitant to share the news at first, unsure of how he would react. But the way he had embraced you, his joy uncontainable, had reassured you in ways words never could.

Aegon gently turned you to face him, his hands still cradling your growing belly. “You’ve given me more than I could ever ask for,” he said softly. “This child, this family… You’ve made me better, stronger.”

You placed a hand on his cheek, your thumb brushing against his skin. “And you’ve given me a home, Aegon. A place where I belong, with you.”

The moment was interrupted by a knock at the door. One of the maids entered cautiously, bowing her head. “The Queen and Princess Rhaenyra have arrived to see you, Your Graces.”

You exchanged a glance with Aegon before nodding. “Let them in,” you said, your tone warm.

As the two women entered, Alicent’s expression softened at the sight of you, her eyes lingering on your belly. Rhaenyra, too, smiled, her gaze filled with a mixture of pride and nostalgia.

“It won’t be long now,” Alicent said gently, stepping closer. “How are you feeling?”

“Eager,” you admitted, glancing at Aegon. “We both are.”

Rhaenyra chuckled softly. “The waiting is always the hardest part. But trust me, it’s worth it.”

As the four of you spoke, the weight of history and tradition seemed to fade into the background. In its place was a shared hope for the future, a future shaped by love, family, and the new life soon to join your world.

The warm sun bathed the gardens in golden light as you strolled alongside your mothers, Rhaenyra and Alicent. The cool breeze brought the scent of blooming flowers, a welcome reprieve from the walls of the Red Keep. Your hand rested lightly on your rounded belly, a small smile gracing your lips as you relished the freedom of walking on your own—something you had fought hard to reclaim.

Aegon walked just a step behind you, his protective gaze following your every move. Ever since the announcement of your pregnancy, he had taken it upon himself to ensure your safety at all costs. It was endearing, but at times, overwhelming. Your father, Daemon, had been no better, his fierce protectiveness rivaling even Aegon’s. Between the two of them, you had scarcely been allowed to lift a finger, let alone take a step without someone hovering nearby.

It had taken both Rhaenyra and Alicent to intervene on your behalf, convincing the men to allow you some independence. “She is carrying a child, not a dragon egg,” Rhaenyra had remarked with a smirk, while Alicent’s soothing words had managed to calm their protests.

“You see, I’m perfectly fine,” you said over your shoulder to Aegon, your tone teasing. “No need to hover.”

Aegon huffed, crossing his arms but unable to hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “You say that now, but if anything happens—”

“Nothing will happen,” Alicent interjected gently, placing a hand on Aegon’s arm. “Let her enjoy this moment. She deserves it.”

Rhaenyra chuckled softly, her arm looping through yours as she guided you toward a shaded bench beneath a sprawling tree. “You’ve been walking for all of five minutes, and he’s already ready to carry you back inside,” she teased, earning a glare from Aegon.

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Besides, it’s not as though I’m running laps around the courtyard.”

As you settled onto the bench, Aegon took a seat beside you, his hand instinctively finding yours. Despite his overprotectiveness, you couldn’t deny the comfort his presence brought.

“I just want you to be safe,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“And I will be,” you reassured him, leaning your head against his shoulder. “But you have to let me breathe, Aegon. I’m not as fragile as you think.”

Rhaenyra and Alicent exchanged a knowing glance, their smiles soft. As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. For the first time in weeks, you were surrounded by the people who mattered most, their love and support enveloping you like a warm embrace.

The sound of your father’s voice calling your name startled you, drawing your attention toward him as he strode purposefully into the garden. His sharp eyes immediately fixed on you, narrowing as they took in your relaxed posture on the bench.

“Why are you out of your chambers?” Daemon asked, his tone a mix of exasperation and concern. His hand rested on the hilt of Dark Sister, as though he expected danger to leap out of the bushes at any moment.

You sighed deeply, feeling the weight of his protectiveness settle heavily over you once again. Turning your gaze to your mother, Rhaenyra, you silently pleaded with her to step in. She met your eyes with an amused smirk, clearly enjoying your predicament, but eventually, she relented.

“Daemon,” Rhaenyra began, her voice calm yet firm, “she’s perfectly fine. The maesters have assured us that walking is good for her and the child. Let her breathe, for the gods’ sake.”

Daemon’s lips thinned as he looked between the two of you. “I don’t trust maesters or their assurances,” he muttered. “She’s carrying my grandchild, and I won’t risk anything happening to either of them.”

Alicent, ever the diplomat, stepped forward with a soft smile. “Daemon, she’s surrounded by her family and has been careful. Surely, you can see there’s no harm in her enjoying the fresh air for a short while?”

Daemon huffed, crossing his arms but not arguing further. Instead, he turned his attention back to you. “If you feel even the slightest discomfort, you’re to return to your chambers immediately,” he said sternly.

You smiled at his concern, even if it was overbearing. “Yes, Father,” you replied, your tone laced with gentle amusement. “But I promise, I’m fine.”

Aegon, who had remained quiet until now, chuckled softly. “You see, my prince, your daughter is as stubborn as you are. There’s no point in arguing with her.”

Daemon shot him a pointed look but said nothing, instead walking over to place a protective hand on your shoulder. “I only want you safe,” he murmured, his voice softening.

“I know,” you replied, reaching up to squeeze his hand. “And I appreciate it more than you know.”

With that, the tension eased, and the conversation shifted once more, leaving you to enjoy the moment surrounded by those who cared for you deeply—even if they did have a tendency to hover.

As Daemon and Aegon engaged in conversation a few steps away, their tones alternating between casual remarks and the occasional chuckle, your mothers turned their attention fully to you.

Rhaenyra, seated beside you, gently ran her fingers through your hair, her touch soothing. “You’ve always been so strong,” she murmured, a soft smile gracing her lips. “Even now, you handle everything with such grace. I’m proud of you.”

You glanced up at her, warmth blooming in your chest. “Thank you, Mother,” you said softly. “It’s not always easy, but having all of you here makes it better.”

Meanwhile, Alicent busied herself with selecting a small plate of fruit from the table nearby. She handed it to you, her eyes filled with motherly concern. “You must eat, dear. The baby needs nourishment, and so do you,” she said, her voice gentle yet firm.

You accepted the plate with a grateful nod, plucking a piece of sweet melon and taking a bite. “Thank you, Mother,” you said with a smile.

Alicent returned your smile, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “You’re glowing,” she said softly. “This child will be blessed with so much love, I’m sure of it.”

Rhaenyra chuckled lightly, still running her fingers through your hair. “Blessed and spoiled, no doubt,” she teased, her gaze flickering toward Daemon and Aegon. “With those two vying for the title of most protective, this child will have an army of guardians.”

You laughed, nodding in agreement. “It’s already starting,” you said, glancing toward your husband and father.

As if sensing your gaze, Aegon turned his head, flashing you a smile that made your heart flutter. Daemon, too, glanced your way, his expression softening for a brief moment before he resumed his conversation with Aegon.

Surrounded by the love and care of your family, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. Though they could be overbearing at times, their presence was a constant reminder of how deeply they cared for you—and for the life growing within you.

Rhaenyra’s fingers stilled in your hair for a moment as she looked at you, her violet eyes filled with a deep, maternal pride. “You know,” she began softly, her voice steady and filled with emotion, “you’re the one who holds this family together. You’re our bridge, the reason we’ve found peace after so much strife.”

You blinked, caught off guard by her words. “Mother, I’m not sure that’s true…” you murmured, glancing down at your hands resting on your rounded belly.

Rhaenyra leaned closer, cupping your cheek with a hand warm and reassuring. “It is true,” she said firmly. “Without you, this would still be a house divided. You’ve brought us together, made us see what’s most important—family. You are the heart of this house.”

Alicent, seated nearby, nodded in agreement, her green eyes glistening. “She’s right,” Alicent said softly. “You’ve done what I thought was impossible. You’ve made us see past old wounds and find a way forward. And for that, I will always be grateful.”

Your chest tightened with emotion as their words sank in. You glanced toward Daemon and Aegon, who were deep in conversation, their differences seemingly forgotten in the shared joy of the life you were bringing into the world.

“I never set out to do that,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just… wanted us to be a family.”

“And that’s exactly why it worked,” Rhaenyra said, her voice filled with warmth. “You remind us of what truly matters. You’ve shown us all that love and unity are stronger than any quarrel.”

Alicent placed a hand on your shoulder, her touch light yet filled with affection. “This child will be the symbol of that unity,” she said. “Born of love, surrounded by a family who, despite everything, has come together for you—for all of us.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but they weren’t from sadness. They were from the overwhelming gratitude and pride you felt to be part of something bigger, to know that, in your own way, you had helped mend the rifts that had once torn your family apart.

The golden hues of the setting sun were fading, replaced by the soft glow of torches lining the corridors of the Red Keep. The cool breeze of the evening whispered through the open windows as you walked alongside Aegon, your mothers following close behind.

Viserys’s summons had been clear—he wanted the family to dine together every night, starting from the day of your marriage. It was his way of fostering unity and ensuring the bonds between you all grew stronger.

When you arrived at his private solar, the door was opened by a servant, revealing a cozy and intimate dining space. The table was already set with a feast of roasted meats, fresh bread, and rich wines, the scents wafting invitingly through the room.

Seated at the table were Aemond and Helaena, both turning their heads as you entered. Aemond’s sharp gaze lingered on you briefly before shifting to Aegon, while Helaena offered you a warm smile, her ever-gentle demeanor bringing a sense of calm to the room.

At the head of the table sat Viserys himself, his frailty apparent in his thin frame and tired eyes, but his expression held a warmth reserved only for his family. “Ah, there you are,” he said, his voice rasping yet full of affection. “Come, sit. Let us enjoy this evening together.”

Aegon guided you to your seat beside him, pulling the chair out for you before settling in. Alicent and Rhaenyra took their places on either side of the table, their shared glances a quiet acknowledgment of the fragile peace between them.

As the servants poured wine and began to serve the meal, Viserys’s gaze swept over everyone, a glimmer of satisfaction lighting his weary face. “It brings me joy to see all of you here,” he said, his tone earnest. “This family has endured much, but tonight, let us set aside the past and simply enjoy one another’s company.”

You felt Aegon’s hand brush against yours under the table, a subtle gesture of reassurance. You glanced at him, and he smiled, his usual mischief replaced by something softer, more genuine.

As the evening unfolded, the conversation shifted from light banter to shared stories, laughter occasionally echoing through the room. For a moment, it felt as though the tensions that often loomed over the Targaryen family had dissipated, replaced by a fragile yet comforting sense of unity.

The sharp pangs in your abdomen stirred you from sleep, leaving you breathless for a moment. You instinctively placed a hand on your swollen belly, trying to calm the ache that radiated from within. The room was dimly lit by the faint glow of the moon, its light filtering through the window. Aegon lay beside you, his breathing deep and even, completely unaware of your discomfort.

You glanced toward the window, noting the darkness outside; dawn was still far off. Carefully, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, your bare feet touching the cool stone floor. Each movement was deliberate and quiet as you didn’t want to disturb Aegon.

Once you were standing, you exhaled slowly, pressing a hand against your lower back to ease the tension there. The pain wasn’t constant, but it came in waves, enough to make you restless. You paced the length of your chamber, hoping the movement would help.

As you walked, your mind raced. Was this it? Was the baby coming early? Or was it simply the usual discomfort of pregnancy? You weren’t sure, but you wanted to be certain before raising any alarm.

Leaning against the edge of a chair, you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, counting each inhale and exhale. The pain subsided briefly, giving you a moment of relief, but it returned shortly after, sharper this time.

A soft groan escaped your lips, and you stifled it quickly, glancing toward Aegon to ensure he hadn’t woken. His form remained unmoving under the covers, his face peaceful in sleep. You hesitated, wondering if you should wake him or call for the midwives, but the thought of disturbing him unnecessarily held you back.

You clutched the armrest tightly, bracing yourself as another wave of pain hit. Something told you that tonight was going to be a long one.

The night had felt endless, your pacing a desperate attempt to endure the relentless waves of pain that coursed through you. Your breaths came in shallow gasps, and the weight of exhaustion pressed heavily upon you. Sweat dampened your hair, clinging to your skin as you continued to walk, unable to find relief.

As the first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, illuminating the room in a soft glow, you heard the faint rustle of movement from behind. Turning slightly, you saw Aegon stir, his sleepy eyes blinking against the light.

When his gaze landed on you—your disheveled appearance, the sweat on your brow, and the way you clutched your belly—concern instantly replaced the grogginess in his expression.

“Love,” he called out, his voice rough with sleep but heavy with worry. “What’s wrong?”

You paused, gripping the back of a chair to steady yourself, and tried to offer him a reassuring smile, though it faltered under the strain of another sharp pain. “It’s… nothing,” you managed to say between breaths, though the lie was thin.

Aegon was already out of bed, his worry growing as he closed the distance between you. His hands gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing away the strands of damp hair clinging to your forehead. “This isn’t nothing,” he said firmly, his voice laced with panic. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I didn’t want to—” you began, but another wave of pain cut you off, forcing you to clutch his arm for support.

“That’s it,” Aegon declared, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We’re calling the maester. Now.”

Before you could protest, Aegon was already moving, shouting orders to the guards outside the door. His protective nature had fully taken over, and for once, you were grateful for his assertiveness. As you sank into the nearest chair, your heart pounded not only from the pain but also from the realization that the moment you had been waiting for was finally here.

The door to your chamber burst open, and the maester entered first, followed closely by several midwives carrying linens and basins. Behind them, your mothers, Alicent and Rhaenyra, hurried in with expressions of alarm and worry etched across their faces. Their hair was slightly disheveled, and their gowns bore the telltale signs of haste, as though they had barely managed to dress before rushing to your side.

Aegon stepped aside to give them space but remained close, his hand gripping yours tightly as the maester approached. Rhaenyra’s gaze darted to you, taking in your pale face and the way you clutched your belly. She knelt beside you instantly, brushing damp strands of hair from your forehead.

“My dear,” Rhaenyra murmured softly, her voice trembling with emotion. “You should have sent for us sooner. How long have you been enduring this pain?”

Alicent was not far behind, her sharp eyes scanning the room before settling on you. “You’ll be fine,” she said, though her voice carried a mix of reassurance and command, as if willing you to stay strong. “The maester and midwives are here now.”

The maester stepped forward, bowing his head respectfully before addressing you. “Princess, may I examine you?”

You nodded weakly, leaning back as the midwives helped you into a more comfortable position. Rhaenyra held one of your hands, her face pale but composed, while Alicent stood at your other side, her hand resting gently on your shoulder for support.

Aegon hovered nearby, his jaw tight and his eyes fixed on you. “Is she going to be alright?” he demanded, his voice taut with worry.

The maester glanced at Aegon briefly before focusing on his task. “The labor has begun, Your Grace. It’s progressing steadily, though it may take some time.”

Hearing those words, the tension in the room grew. Rhaenyra tightened her grip on your hand, and Alicent exchanged a glance with Aegon. Both women, despite their differences, seemed united in their concern for you.

“You’re strong,” Rhaenyra whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “You’ll get through this, my sweet girl.”

Alicent added, her tone firm, “We’re here. You’re not alone.”

The labor had only just begun, but with your husband and both your mothers at your side, you felt a spark of courage amid the pain.

The door creaked open, and all eyes turned to see your father, Daemon, standing in the doorway. His usual composed and commanding demeanor was absent; instead, his face betrayed something you had never seen before—fear.

He stepped into the room slowly, his sharp eyes scanning the scene. The sight of you, pale and sweating, gripping your belly in pain, seemed to unnerve him in a way no battlefield ever could. For a moment, he hesitated, as though unsure whether to approach, before his gaze softened, and he took a step closer.

“Sweetling,” he said, his voice unusually quiet, almost tentative.

The room fell silent save for your labored breaths. Even Alicent and Rhaenyra glanced at each other, their rivalry momentarily forgotten in the presence of his uncharacteristic vulnerability.

Daemon knelt beside you, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out to brush the sweat-dampened hair from your face. “Why didn’t anyone wake me sooner?” he asked, his voice strained, barely masking the panic underneath.

You managed a faint smile despite the pain. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Worry me?” he repeated, his tone a mix of disbelief and frustration. “You’re my child. How could I not be worried?” His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat to steady himself.

Aegon stood nearby, watching the exchange closely. He seemed surprised by the raw emotion in Daemon’s voice, as if he, too, had never seen this side of him.

Rhaenyra stepped forward and placed a hand on Daemon’s shoulder, grounding him. “She’s strong,” she said softly, glancing at you. “She’ll get through this, just as I did. You remember.”

Daemon exhaled deeply, his expression conflicted. He nodded, though his hand still lingered near yours, as if afraid to let go. “I’ll stay,” he said firmly, looking at the maester and midwives. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Aegon moved to your other side, taking your hand again. “Neither am I,” he said, his voice steady with determination.

Surrounded by the people who loved you most, you felt a small surge of comfort amidst the pain. Whatever lay ahead, you knew you would face it together.A sharp wave of pain tore through you, and the tears spilled freely down your cheeks. You shook your head, clutching at Aegon’s hand with trembling fingers. “I can’t… I can’t do this,” you gasped, your voice breaking as you tried to steady your breathing.

Aegon leaned closer, his other hand gently brushing your hair back. “Yes, you can,” he said softly, though his voice carried a firm conviction. “You’re the strongest person I know. You can do this.”

Rhaenyra knelt beside you, her hand resting over yours. “Listen to me, sweet girl,” she said, her voice steady and soothing. “I’ve been where you are now, and I know how it feels like it’s impossible, but you’re stronger than you know. Trust yourself.”

Alicent stood just behind her, her hands clasped tightly as if in silent prayer. When she spoke, her voice was gentle but full of encouragement. “You’ve come this far, and soon you’ll hold your child in your arms. Focus on that—on your strength and your love for them.”

Another contraction hit, and you cried out, your body tense with the effort. Daemon stepped closer, his face a mask of both worry and determination. He placed a firm hand on your shoulder, grounding you. “You are my daughter,” he said, his tone unyielding. “There is fire in your blood. You will see this through.”

Surrounded by their words of comfort and unwavering belief in you, something inside you began to shift. You took a deep, shaky breath, leaning into Aegon’s touch as you found a sliver of strength within the storm of pain.

“I’ll try,” you whispered, your voice trembling but resolute.

“And we’ll be right here with you,” Aegon promised, pressing a kiss to your forehead as another contraction built. Together, they steadied you, their love becoming the anchor you needed to face what was ahead.

The maester’s voice was calm yet firm as he instructed, “It’s time, princess. On the next contraction, you need to push with all your strength.”

You gripped Aegon’s hand tightly, your knuckles white as another wave of pain surged through you. With a deep breath, you pushed, every fiber of your being straining as you fought to bring your child into the world.

“That’s it,” Rhaenyra encouraged, her voice steady by your ear. “You’re doing so well, my love. Just a little more.”

Alicent stood near the maester, her hands clasped tightly together in silent support. “You can do this,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “Stay strong, dear.”

Aegon’s other hand brushed the damp hair from your face as he whispered soothing words, his voice filled with both awe and worry. “I’m here, love. You’re doing amazing.”

Another contraction hit, and you cried out, the effort draining every ounce of strength from you. “I can’t… I can’t…” you gasped, shaking your head as exhaustion threatened to overwhelm you.

“Yes, you can,” Daemon said firmly from where he stood nearby, his eyes fierce yet glistening with emotion. “Keep going, my love. You’re almost there.”

With their encouragement surrounding you like a shield, you drew on reserves of strength you didn’t know you had. You pushed again, and the room filled with the maester’s voice. “I see the head! One more, Princess. One more push.”

Tears streamed down your face as you gave it everything you had, a guttural cry escaping your lips. And then, suddenly, the room was filled with the sound of a newborn’s first cry—a sound so pure and powerful that it seemed to silence everything else.

The maester held up the tiny, wriggling baby, a look of relief and joy on his face. “It’s a boy,” he announced.

Aegon’s breath caught, and his eyes filled with tears as he looked at his son. “You did it,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You did it, love.”

The maester placed the baby in your arms, and all the pain, fear, and exhaustion faded away as you gazed down at him. His tiny fingers curled instinctively, and his cries softened as he felt the warmth of your skin.

Rhaenyra and Alicent both leaned closer, their faces shining with pride and joy. Daemon, for once, was silent, his eyes fixed on you and the child you held.

“He’s perfect,” you whispered, tears streaming as you looked at Aegon, who leaned down to press a kiss to both your forehead and the baby’s. “He’s perfect.”

The peace of holding your son in your arms was short-lived. A sharp, familiar pain tore through you once more, causing you to gasp. Your grip on the baby tightened briefly before Aegon gently took him from your arms, his face etched with concern.

“What is it?” Aegon asked, his voice trembling as he looked between you and the maester.

One of the midwives checked quickly, her hands moving with urgency. “There’s another,” she announced, her voice filled with both surprise and certainty. “There’s another baby.”

Gasps filled the room as the realization settled over everyone. Rhaenyra stepped closer, her hand gripping yours tightly. “Twins,” she whispered, a mixture of awe and worry in her voice.

“No, no,” you whimpered, shaking your head as the pain surged again. “I can’t… I don’t have anything left.”

“Yes, you do,” Alicent said firmly, her voice a soothing command. “You are stronger than this pain. You’ve already done it once—you can do it again.”

Aegon placed your firstborn into Rhaenyra’s arms before kneeling beside you, his face level with yours. “Look at me,” he said, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes. “You’re not alone in this. You can do this. For them, for us.”

The maester’s voice broke through the moment. “The second child is positioned well, my lady. It’s time to push again.”

Summoning every ounce of strength left in your body, you bore down, the pain feeling unbearable, yet you knew you had no choice. Each push was harder than the last, the exhaustion threatening to overwhelm you.

“You’re almost there,” Rhaenyra said, her voice steady with determination. Alicent nodded beside her, offering her own quiet reassurances.

With a final, desperate push, the pain seemed to peak and then suddenly vanish, replaced by the sharp cry of another newborn.

“It’s a girl!” the maester declared, lifting the tiny baby for everyone to see.

Tears poured down your face as the midwife carefully placed your daughter in your arms. She was smaller than her brother but just as perfect, her cries softening as she felt your warmth.

Aegon let out a choked laugh, brushing the hair from your damp forehead. “Twins,” he whispered, his eyes filled with wonder. “Our family has doubled in one night.”

The room was filled with quiet awe as everyone looked down at the two newborns, now swaddled and safe in their parents’ arms. The pain and exhaustion faded into the background as you gazed at them, overwhelmed by the love and pride surging through you.

“They’re ours,” you whispered, looking at Aegon with a tired but radiant smile.

“They’re everything,” he replied, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips and then to each of his children.

The room had grown quieter after the whirlwind of events, leaving only you, Aegon, and your newborn twins basking in the stillness of the moment. Both babies rested peacefully in your arms, swaddled tightly in soft linens. Aegon sat beside you on the bed, his hand gently tracing the outline of his daughter’s tiny fingers as she grasped at him instinctively.

Your mothers and father had left moments ago, promising to return after freshening up for court, though they had each lingered with soft kisses to your forehead and whispered reassurances of their pride.

“They couldn’t stop fussing over us,” Aegon chuckled softly, his tone filled with warmth.

You gave him a tired smile, leaning back against the cushions for support. “I think they’ll be back the moment they’re presentable. They won’t be able to stay away from the twins.”

Aegon nodded, his eyes never leaving the twins. “And who could blame them?” He shifted closer to you, gently cradling your son from your arms. “Look at them. They’re perfect.”

You watched as Aegon studied your son, the softest smile playing on his lips. The little one stirred in his father’s arms but soon settled again, his tiny chest rising and falling steadily.

“They’ll have your courage,” Aegon murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “And your strength.”

“And your determination,” you added, reaching out to brush a strand of his hair from his face.

He laughed lightly. “Let’s hope they inherit the best of us both.”

The weight of exhaustion was still heavy on your body, but the love that filled the room was stronger. As you held your daughter close, Aegon leaned in to kiss her tiny forehead, then yours.

“Rest, love,” he said softly. “I’ll stay here and watch over all three of you.”

You nodded, your eyes growing heavy as you leaned into his shoulder. With your family surrounding you, the world outside could wait a little while longer.

The soft sound of Aegon’s laughter pulled you from your slumber. Slowly, you opened your eyes to find the room aglow with the presence of your family. The sight filled you with warmth: your husband was cradling your daughter in his arms, an expression of pure joy lighting up his face. He looked more at ease than you’d ever seen him, gently rocking her and whispering something only she could hear.

Turning your gaze, you saw your mother, Rhaenyra, tenderly holding your son. She looked down at the little bundle in her arms with such affection, her fingers brushing softly against his tiny silver curls. Her expression was one of pride and love, the same one she often reserved for you when you were younger.

Your room buzzed with quiet conversation and soft laughter. Alicent and Heleana stood nearby, exchanging words in hushed tones as they admired the twins. Daemon and Viserys were engaged in their own discussion, though their eyes kept wandering toward the babies with expressions of pride. Jace and Luke sat at the foot of your bed, eagerly leaning in to get a better look at their newest family members.

You turned back to Aegon, your heart swelling at the sight of him holding your daughter so naturally. He noticed you were awake and smiled down at you, his eyes softening. “Look who’s finally up,” he teased lightly. “I told them you’d need your rest, but no one could resist meeting these two.”

Rhaenyra walked over, carefully bringing your son closer to you. “You’ve given us two miracles,” she said softly, her voice brimming with pride. “They’re perfect.”

Aegon sat beside you, gently handing your daughter into your arms. As you held her close, you felt a surge of love so strong it brought tears to your eyes. “They’re everything,” you whispered, glancing between your children and your husband.

Aegon leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And you’re everything to us,” he murmured, his voice filled with emotion.

For a moment, the room seemed to fade away, leaving just the four of you in your own little world. It was a moment you knew you’d cherish forever—a moment that marked the beginning of your life as a family.

Tag list : @danytar @zaldritzosrose @julessworldd @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @callsignwidow

#hotd #hotd imagine #aegon ii targaryen #hotd one shot #prince aegon targaryen #aegon ii fanfic #aegon x reader #hotd x reader #aegon headcanons #aegon x oc #aegon fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon the second #hotd aegon #hotd headcanon #hotd oc #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen

393 notes · View notes