#the dragon cradle does make me laugh

[egophiliac]

I've had a beast of a cold for the last few days, but I wanted to get this out before the new year! while I've sort of made my peace with my first take on Lilia's UM poster, I really wanted to do a version with the new context that chapter 6 gave us. because. c'mon.

(don't worry, Lilia can carry ALL HIS KIDS AT ONCE)

[solxamber]

Good morning/evening/ whenever you're reading this.

May I request Silver, Malleus, and Ace with someone who's like a sheep in wolfs clothing? Basically someone who seems intimidating and scary but is actually nice if that makes sense. Romantic or platonic is fine.

Malleus, Silver, Ace with a Sheep in Wolf's Clothing

hi! thank you for waiting, i hope this is what you wanted <3

Malleus Draconia

At first, Malleus is absolutely enchanted by the way you carry yourself. Your cool exterior, fierce glances, and aura of danger? He’s genuinely impressed. In his eyes, you’re practically royalty, strolling through campus with an air of mysterious authority that rivals his own.

But one evening, when the two of you are alone, he watches as you carefully kneel down to help a tiny creature—a shivering, injured bird, fallen from its nest. He’s speechless as you whisper gently to it, cooing softly as you tuck it into a makeshift cradle from your scarf.

“Ah, so even the fiercest can be kind,” he says, thoroughly charmed.

You look up, cheeks red. “What? No, I mean— I wasn’t… fierce,” you mutter, trying to explain away your rough side.

Malleus lets out a low chuckle, genuinely amused. “There’s no need to pretend with me, Child of Man. I find this side of you… endearing.” And with that, he offers his arm, as if escorting the most dignified person he’s ever met—like of course you’d be kind.

And every time he sees you after, he watches you just a little bit closer, hoping to catch more glimpses of the sweet, gentle heart beneath your “terrifying” façade.

Silver

Silver’s first impression? Oh, you were fierce, alright. With that intense stare and sharp wit, he thought you were the kind of person who could take on a horde of fire-breathing dragons without blinking.

But it doesn’t take him long to notice the little things: how you’re the first to offer help in a quiet, unassuming way. Or how you gave Grim half your lunch when he wouldn’t stop whining about his empty plate.

One day, he finally works up the courage to ask. “You’re… not like most people expect, are you?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Uh… how do you mean?”

He tilts his head thoughtfully. “You seem… gentle. Like someone who cares more than they show.” He says it simply, but with a warm smile.

“Oh! I—well, I guess…” You clear your throat, trying not to look too pleased. “Yeah, I try to be. Is that… weird?”

Silver chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Not at all. I think it’s admirable.” And with that, he goes back to his usual quiet self, though you notice he hangs around a bit more often, maybe just to keep an eye on you—or to be near you, enjoying the company of the sweetest “wolf” he’s ever met.

Ace Trappola

Ace was 100% convinced you were bad news when he first saw you. The way you stood, arms crossed and serious, maybe even a little cold, he thought for sure you were a total menace. So when he finds you one day, crouched down and helping a stray cat drink from a cup you’d brought, he actually does a double-take.

“You… feed stray animals?”

You look up, blushing furiously. “Uh… yeah? Why wouldn’t I?”

He bursts out laughing, clapping his hands. “Oh man, and here I thought you’d, like, fight a cat if it came too close!”

You roll your eyes, trying to act annoyed, but you can’t help but laugh, too. “Yeah, yeah, real funny.”

After that, Ace doesn’t let you live it down. He’ll pull you along when he sees a lost animal just to watch you fuss over it, teasing you the whole time. “Oh no, don’t let the fearsome ‘tough guy’ break out the baby voice again!”

But despite the endless teasing, he genuinely loves seeing you drop the act and show your soft side. And even if he won’t say it out loud, he thinks it’s pretty awesome having a friend as kind—and surprisingly tender—as you.

Masterlist

[the-fiction-witch]

My King

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Aegon Targaryen Couple - Aegon X Reader Reader - Y/n Targaryen (Aegons Wife) Rating - Sweet + Smut Word Count - 1330

Requested - I submitted a request/idea like this to another writer but I will not keep this like head canon idea type thing to myself........ Aegon is 100% the type to love his girl breastfeeding him... him being all stressed and angry or sad from the council not listening to him and Alicent being cruel and everything and he just wants to lay his head in her lap and latch his mouth onto her nipple and drink in her sweet milk... it makes him feel at peace... makes him feel wanted and loved and special

Writers Notes - I actually loved this idea so much I made two versions of it, cause I couldn't decide which angle I liked better so this is Version one a second will be coming soon.

Y/n sat in the royal chambers, perched softly on the ottoman beside the fire. Wearing her sweet soft green cotton gown with long off-shoulder sleeves. The twilight of the hour cascades purple and gold across the floor and tapestry-lined walls. Maids and guards long since sent away leaving only gentle sounds behind, The sound of the fire's soft crackles and pops, the sounds of gentle sucking, and of sweet heavenly humming.

Y/n hums softly to the baby in her arms, his little body cradled so sweetly and gently as the new prince feeds from his mother's breast.

“There we are, all done my little prince,” She cooed as she pulled the baby from her breast, wiped his lips, kissed his forehead and stroked her fingers softly over his Targaryen silver hair, She chuckled slightly at the baby's milk drunk little face, eyes droopy and sleepy.

“Fuck those cunts!” Erupted from the door as Aegon forced his way into the chamber throwing open the doors, letting them smack into the stone walls to their sides. He turned and slammed the doors in the faces of the guards who followed him, screaming to the ceiling like his own dragon,

Y/n, blinked a few times before she set the baby in the crib, “Is… everything alright my king?” She cooed,

He ran his hand through his silver hair and took a breath, “I wish to burn this infernal castle to the ground.”

“I see.” She nodded, “May I ask why?”

“Everything is why!” He yelled, “My mother is being a pretentious little bitch! Gives me all the power in the world and then forbids me to do anything! My brother is being a self-initiated little prick! Anyone think he thought he was king! This council constantly going round and round in bloody circles! Undermining My AUTHORITY!” He paced,

“I understand Aegon,” She nodded,

“W-what?” He froze up a moment,

“I understand, that must be very hard. Very conflicting emotionally and politically. I’m sorry you have to feel this way,” She cooed,

He scoffed a moment, “How is it… that you are… as angelic as you are?” he leaned his arms on the back of the chair, “You know just what I need.”

“Years of practice,” She chuckled,

He let a laugh slip, “I was expecting you to tell me how foolish I am, for feeling this way.”

“You are not foolish for feeling this way, your feelings are never foolish.” she affirmed, “It is a complicated time, but you have every right to feel disheartened and upset as everyone else does.”

“You’re too sweet. For a man like me.”

“Perhaps that's why you need me,”

“Perhaps it is,” He chuckled finally his eyes meeting his wife, He smiled at her a moment letting out a rather happy and content sigh, but his eyes flicked down to her bare breast and his teeth caught his bottom lip,

“Ohh! Forgive me, my king, I was feeding the prince.” She blushed pulling her dress back up and tying the small ribbon,

“You have no need to apologise Y/n,” He cooed, “How is he? Baby Baelor?” he asked coming to the crib to loom over his son,

“He’s fine, sleeping well.”

“Thank the gods,” He nodded, “And you?”

“I am very well my king,”

He chuckled and sat down in the chair beside her ottoman, “You have no need to still call me that,”

“I know, I just like to,” she smiled,

“You are far too sweet, for me, for Kings Landing … for Westeros,” He said pressing his forehead to hers and caressing her cheek, “Must you love me so strongly?”

“I must,” She nodded,

“Hum…” He smiled rubbing his thumb on her cheek before softly pressing his lips to capture her own,

The two shared a soft and loving kiss for a few moments before he pulled back,

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” she asked,

His eyes trailed down from her lips, down her neck and lingered on her cleavage, he licked his lip and captured it once more in his teeth, “Mhm,” He growled,

Y/n blushed a moment, “Yes my king,” she nodded moving her hands to unlace the top of her dress tugging the dress down and holding it at her waist exposing both of her bare breasts to him,

He smirked a low growl in his throat as he took his time, looking at her. His eyes trail over every single inch of skin with a look of feist desire. After a while, he moves his hands to stroke her skin running his fingers gently across her, “what happened here?” He asked his thumb briefly brushing over the small mark on her tender breast just above her nipple,

“He bit me.”

“Bit you?” He rasied an eyebrow,

“It’s alright little guy just doesn’t know his strength yet,”

“You poor thing,” he cooed, “It’s a crime to bite something so beautiful,” He cooed fully cupping her breasts in his hands his thumbs softly circling her nipples watching with glee as they perked up and hardened for his attention, He gives her a few tender squeezes before his attention fully moves to her nipples brushing his thumbs over them in little clockwise circles around the pointed peak, only so often brushing the peak itself which always made her whimper, “May I, my queen?”

She blushed, “Of course my king,”

He smiled and moved to kneel on the floor his body between her legs, he laid his head softly on her thigh looking up at her with a joyful smile,

She smiled down at him and stroked his silver hair as he began to pepper her breast with kisses,

He made sure to kiss as much as he could before reaching her nipple, he slowly circled the hard peak with his tongue before lapping at the nipple with the side flat edge of his tounge, forcing a giggle from her, “So sensitive Y/n,” He cooed,

“Well they’ve been working hard feeding you both,” She chuckled,

“True,” He smirked, “Come here my angel,” He cooed taking her other breast in his hand and locking his lips around her nipple latching to it, he circled the nipple with his tounge a few more times before he began to gently and softly suckle,

“There we go, does this please you my king?” She cooed as she stroked his hair,

He nodded as he began to gently drink, making sure not to be too hard or too fast on her tender breast as he slowly suckled and drank her milk, as soon as the milk touched his tongue he began to moan and groan his eyes rolling back before squeezing shut completely, his other hand squeezes and rubs her nipple on the other breast while he enjoys her sweet milk.

“Not too much, or there’ll be none left for Baby Baelon,” She chuckled,

“Hummm” He nodded a little dismissively enjoying himself far too much to stop,

She chuckled and rolled her eyes a little petting his silver hair and caressing his cheek as she held him in her lap letting him drink and play for a good while until finally, he pulled back.

Ageon licked her nipple clean and wiped his mouth, “You make me feel… so peaceful my angel,”

“I’m glad I can, I’m just happy you feel better.”

“I feel much better now,” he cooed nuzzling into her lap, “I love you y/n,”

“I love you too Aegon,” She smiled giving his cheek a soft little kiss, 

[damn-stark]

Chapter 11 A dot Targ. A dot Vel.

Chapter 11 of Moonlight

A/N- Are you my daddy?

Warning- swearing, talks of death! ANGST, FLUFF, flashback, Daemon, SPOILERS, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!Fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- 2x02

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

*A FEW YEARS BACK. KING’S LANDING*

“Tell me, what is it you fear the most?” Aemond quietly asks against the night breeze that passes over the roofs.

The question is easy to answer, it’s a fear you’ve known since you knew what fears were.

“Well,” you respond unsurely only because even speaking of it frightens you. “I’m afraid to lose my family,” you pause and hear Aemond shift, you feel his puzzled gaze upon your answer, so you clarify yourself before he can be a smart ass. “I know that people die, it’s natural. And well it seems death is good friends with our family…I just mean that I don’t want to watch them die, you know? I do not want to end up alone.”

You let out a deep and shaky breath and turn your head to meet his gaze. He doesn’t carry judgment anymore, he instead looks like he understands your fear, which is a relief.

“What about you?” You press softly. “And do not mess with me and say you’re fearless.” You scoff and roll your eyes to look back at the stars glimmering overhead. “Father says everyone fears something,” you add to assure him that he can confide in you. “Up to the mightiest warrior, and down to the tiniest man, it makes us who we are. Even gods fear.”

Aemond draws out a breath and remains quiet for a moment while he brings his legs up to his chest, making you drift your eyes back to him, and noticing him looking at the sky. You don’t rush him, you wait, and watch his thoughts form behind his blue eyes.

“Well,” he breaks his silence hesitantly and quietly as if afraid to be heard. “Mhm…perhaps losing you…You’re my best friend.”

Your eyes widen out of disbelief and your heart…skips a beat in the same way it happens to women in love in the books. Albeit you actually end up laughing. “That’s a stupid fear,” you retort.

Aemond snaps his head to the side and glares at you. “I was being serious.” He snaps.

“Look, it’s sweet, truly, but,” you sigh. “I am a woman. If the gods are good I will have children, my mother says that many women die that way. That’s how my grandmother died,” you pause and swallow thickly. “It’s easy for women to die. That’s probably how you’ll lose me.”

It’s a cruel reality you don’t truly understand, but it’s one that’s been ingrained in you since you were old enough to know about babes and birth. Aemond though, doesn’t seem to understand as you do, he holds your gaze with a pointed look before he scoffs and counters. “Perhaps I won’t. And that does not mean I still can’t fear losing you.”

You offer him a flustered smile while a heat unfurls on your face and your heart once again skips a beat. “There must be something you fear. Something real,” you press him for more.

Aemond exhales deeply and hums as he looks back at the sky. This time it’s easier for him to find his answer in the stars. “I fear not bonding with a dragon. What will be of me then? You all have one, except me. Aegon already laughs at me because of it, and so do your brothers. They will laugh at me forever.”

You sit up and look at him seriously. “I told you already, you will get a dragon. Not everyone’s dragon hatches in their cradle, I mean…Prince Daemon bonded with his dragon when he was older. Yours is probably out there waiting, or perhaps it’s with someone else for now, but you will get one, I know it.” You assure him once again without getting exhausted of telling him the same reminder because you believe what you’re telling him, and you defend that by offering him a sweet grin.

Aemond watches your smile for a second and then looks into your eyes as if expecting you to jest just as Aegon does, but you never once let him believe anything else but what you’re offering him, and that assures him. You assure him in many ways no one else can, and he can’t help but offer you a gentle smile that’s just as gentle as him over that fact.

“Now I have something to tell you,” you shift to a more lighthearted subject. “I just came up with it just now. Since you are my family, I fear losing you too, right? Well,” you exhale softly. “Since you are my best friend, and my most trusted confidant, if you were to die first…I will die with you.”

Aemond sits up and shoots you a glare before gently pushing you. “Do not jest about that!”

You laugh softly and shake your head. “I am being serious! Because I mean if you were to die first and I died after you, we could fly in the heavens for all eternity. We would be together.”

Aemond lets out a breathless laugh and then smiles softly at the ceiling you sit on before meeting your gaze with a serious look. “If that were to happen,” he begins to say. “If I die first…I want you to live on. I do not want you to die for me.”

You lose your smile and sigh deeply.

“You have to live a happy life,” he continues. “Swear to me. Swear that you will not be that stupid.”

You hesitate, but you don’t want to make him upset, and you know he’s taking his words out of the depths of his heart, so you offer him a soft smile and reassure him. “Fine, I swear, but I am selfish, so if you want to die for me, you can.” You shoot him a grin. “You do not have to make me such promises.”

Aemond rolls his eyes and mutters. “Yeah, yeah.”

You hold his gaze for a moment longer before you grow restless and push yourself to your feet. “Okay, one more thing.” You shoot him a mischievous smirk, and he has no trouble knowing you’re up to no good. “You might wonder why I’m wearing a cloak on such a warm night…”

“I wasn’t,” Aemond interjects as he stands to his feet now too.

You begin to walk back with your hands clasped together, and your smirk deepens. “You might also be wondering why we are sitting on these roofs when we usually sit on the ones on the other side. Well…” you trail off and pull your hands away from each other to unhook the pouches you have hidden under your cloak. “Wine bags!”

Aemond has been following your steps but stops when he sees the bags in your hands. “What are you doing?” He queries.

You rush over to him and give him one sack before you turn on your heels and run to the edge of the roof, causing a panic to set in him. “Hey, get back from there. You’ll fall!”

You ignore him and sit on your knees to lean over the edge with the bag dangling out. “Come quick,” you whisper excitedly.

You look down and catch your target just as you planned. Aemond hesitates at first but he can’t help his curiosity and ends up right by your side.

“At this time of night,” you explain quietly. “Some servants take their leave to rotate with the others. Aegon likes to creep on them from his window...” you trail off with a snicker, and without warning you untie the bag in your hands and then let it fall.

The moment the bag crashes on Aegon’s big fat head, the wine explodes out of the bag and soaks him completely, catching him off guard, and making you chuckle quietly.

“What the hell?!” Aegon exclaims.

“Haha,” you celebrate.

Just before he can look up you snatch the other wine bag from Aemond and let it fall on Aegon another time.

“Hey! Who was that?! Get the fuck down here and face me!” Aegon yells out as he wipes the wine off his eyes.

Your snicker turns to a malicious laugh, but just before he can see it was you, you quickly get up and grab Aemond’s arm to yank him back with you.

“Come on, come on!” You urge him between giggles and pull him inside with you. Never once do you think of letting him go to run at your own peril, you don’t stop to catch your breath, you run and laugh together until you finally reach a hall Aegon won’t enter, and burst out laughing even harder.

“What was that for?” Aemond asks between laughs. “We could get in serious trouble.”

You stop laughing, but grin. “If we get caught. Which we will not, and you said that he was being mean to you today so I got him back.” You reveal and nudge his arm. “Do not say you feel bad. It was just wine.”

Aemond scoffs and begins to smile. “I do not, it was funny.” He says with a crooked smile before he starts laughing quietly at first and then laughs harder. You join him again and you both continue to laugh together not caring if you could get caught.

——

*NOW. DRAGONSTONE*

The short moment you spent with the Hull boys was quite amusing, especially more so when Addam heard Astraea’s chitter from the skies before she descended and dove in the water to catch a large fish from the sea. He looked so flabbergasted and awestruck that it made it hard for you not to get mixed in his excitement.

He was a stranger, but he had this way about him. Maybe it was his charming grin because he flashed his pearly white teeth or his sense of humor? Maybe it was the fact that he so easily seemed to get comfortable, making the atmosphere flow with ease instead of getting uncomfortable. That is until your grandfather took you away with him.

Addam was like a fresh breath of air in the same way your brothers are, so maybe that's the ultimate factor, that's why he so easily found a way into your battered heart; because he kind of reminds you of your brothers.

Alas, a dark cloud soon cast in your mind and took your heart by storm. Those happy ba-dams sounded frail once again as you were struck with thoughts of Aemond and memories of your past, and then like a flash of lightning you also got hit with images of him killing Lucerys. You tried to stop it, you wanted to think of something else, but a person can’t stop a storm.

How could a man who loves you bring you so much pain? You always defended him against Aegon when you were young, you were his friend when he said your brothers and his brother hated him. You're the person he loves, and you're the person who loved him, so why did he have to kill your brother? Why did he push you to hate him too?

Does he even truly love you? Or was it all a lie?

Maybe you should take pride in having sex with Cregan, you ached for comfort and he gave it to you, he showed you he loved you even after you married another man, even after you left, so maybe you shouldn’t feel an ounce of shame for it now. He would never kill your beloved brothers the way Aemond did.

But…

Does Aerion deserve such a selfish mother? Does he deserve feuding parents? A life without one or the other?

A life of parents who hate each other?

Does he deserve a mother who has a gaping hole within her that bleeds at the mere thought of his father?

You can’t help it, you’ve been trying to close your wound, fill it with pure interchangeable hate, but there’s emptiness you feel now amongst the hate.

However, are you such a needy woman that you’re not capable of being alone, or the star in someone’s eye? Why do you crave it so? Why is your mind so tormented?

You want to scream it all out, shout it all into the wind until your voice is hoarse and your tears dry, but you have Aerion strapped to your chest and you’re home now. Furthermore, you can see Jacaerys waiting by the entrance.

Is he going to be your new shadow now?

“Jacaerys,” you greet your brother once you’re strutting down the runway.

Said man eases his hand off his pommel and stands up straight with his lips pursed and a certain darkness in his eyes that’s not related to grief.

“I have been waiting for you, you arrived just in time, a meeting has just been convened in the great hall,” he shares, making your curiosity slowly overpower your torment.

“What is it?” You ask as you slow down and start to unstrap Aerion from your chest.

Jacaerys glances at Aerion’s wet nurse approaching you and then glances down, telling you without a need for words that he's going to wait and just press a dull ache in your chest as you start to worry.

“Aerion slept the entire time we were at Driftmark,” you let the wet nurse know as she takes Aerion and the straps you used to keep him attached to you. “He’ll be hungry soon.”

The wet nurse nods in comprehension and quickly turns around to head to the child’s apartments, letting you fall by your brother's side to follow him to the great hall in silence for a few minutes until there isn't anyone nearby.

“It’s news from King’s Landing,” Jacaerys finally fills your curiosity, but only makes your heart hurt as it starts to pound against your chest.

Is it Aemond?

“Someone…sent an assassin to kill Aemond…” he trails off and glances over at you to see your reaction; and even if you want to hold it in, even if you want to only express nonchalance over the desire of Aemond’s death, your eyes batting furiously and your breath hitching gives away your shock.

You knew that your mother was going to want Aemond’s death, and if not her, Daemon now had a reason to personally hit the first blow. Yet hearing this desire still finds a way to wound you. Even if you hold hate for him, you still find yourself distressed and…scared.

“Did…” your voice shakes, so you clear your throat and draw in a deep breath to stop your tears before they can fill your eyes. “…It happen?”

Jacaerys keeps his gaze on you for a lingering moment, but you avoid looking at his face out of fear you’ll see disappointment.

“No,” Jacaerys shares, letting you feel a sense of relief that you can’t fight off. “He’s escaped his fate, but they got another…”

Aegon!

“Aegon's son, Jaehaerys.”

You immediately come to a halt, and Jacaerys takes a few more steps forward before he stops too, and turns to face you with a hardened face that can’t actually hide his disbelief.

“Helaena’s boy?” You can barely whisper out because of the shock, the disgust, and the pure horror that you’re hit with.

“But,” you mumble and feel tears cloud your eyes while horror and disgust churn in your stomach. “He’s just a boy,” your voice quivers. “He’s just four.”

Jacaerys nods and can’t muster anything to say in return. What is there to say about the murder of an innocent child?

You can’t even form thoughts, you’re so stricken with disbelief and horror that you can’t even feel any part of yourself, you’re numb. And it’s all so quiet too, so horrifyingly quiet.

You don’t remember where you are or that your heart is beating until Helaena comes to mind first; her heartbreak, and her own horror. She’s already such a fragile soul. You can’t imagine what she must be going through. And that poor boy?

Gods…who would be capable of doing something so sinister, who could give the order?

Your mother would never, and no one from her council would ever do it either, so who could order the death of someone so innocent? He has no fault in this war or in the death of Lucerys.

Why could someone…gods…

You can’t—you have to gag. Yet you don’t puke, you hold it down and all you do is worry your brother.

“Are you okay?” He asks with concern.

You take in a few deep breaths and nod stiffly. “Yes,” you mutter and nod again. “The news is just disturbing.”

You turn to face him and Jacaerys seems more concerned. “Are you sure?” He double-checks and studies you.

“Yes,” you reassure him as you grab your stomach. “Just processing the news…I just can’t believe someone would do that.”

“I know,” he whispers. “Maybe…you should ask Mother for a dragon egg in hopes one can hatch in Aerion’s cradle?” He suggests, causing you you start thinking about something that hadn’t even crossed your mind—“A hatchling is small but fierce, they can protect a child in ways a guard can’t.”

“You don’t think…” you can’t even finish your sentence out of fear that someone will try to get revenge on Lucerys by killing Aerion because they can’t reach Aemond.

“No, but just to make sure,” Jacadrys says and grabs your arm to caress it with his thumb. “They killed Helaena’s son, I just want to make sure. I’ll have more guards posted outside the children’s apartments just in case.”

A smile flickers on your lips because of how deeply he’s worried, yet your paranoia doesn’t let you feel anything but fear.

“Okay,” you express softly like a little girl shaken with fear. “Do you think they’ll let me send a letter to Helaena? We might be on opposite sides, but she’s innocent, her kids are too, and I do really care about her.”

Jacaerys lets your arm go and sighs deeply before he shakes his head. “It wouldn’t be a good idea. Just keep her in your thoughts,” he throws out with little care. “Now come on before we miss more.”

He goes on to lead the way and you follow him in silence as you just think about Helaena, and now this new fear Jacaerys set in you.

Maybe…it would be smart to send Aerion to Winterfell…just him. No one would harm there, Cregan would make sure of it.

“Could I ask…” Jacaerys slowly rolls out, breaking the silence. “About how it started between you and—”

“Shut up,” you hiss at your brother without needing to hear him finish.

It’s like he climbed in your thoughts!

“I’m curious,” he snaps back.

You glare at him and leave it unanswered considering you’re in a castle corridor that servants and knights use. Instead, you swiftly change the subject to what you have planned.

“I want to help our grandmother patrol the Gullet, and eventually when Aegon's fleet comes I want to help grandfather fight too.”

Jacaerys hums. “Really? That sounds good. Smart too, Rhaenys patrols a lot of open water alone…I actually thought of surveilling King’s Landing with Vermax as well,” he shares his own plan.

“That’s smart!” You praise him right back. “You and Baela could do it.”

Jacaerys shoots you a side eye and you just smirk faintly before you add on to your comment. “I am being serious. It sounds like a good plan. We just have to share it with our mother.”

Jacaerys lets out a deep sigh and then interjects with another plan. “Some days we could patrol the Gullet together too. Give Rhaenys time to rest and deal with matters here.”

You meet his gaze with a smile and don't even think it over, you accept right away because he’s so protective that you would think he’d want to do things like patrol alone to keep you out of danger—Then again after losing Lucerys, keeping each other close guarantees your safety, that way no one can rip either of you away from each other in the same way they took Lucerys.

Neither of you want to even think of losing each other now that it’s just you and him. It’ll be like living in the dark if you lose each other.

“That sounds fun—or like a good plan. I would like that,” you praise Jacaerys’ plan and then gently his back, making him scoff but not protest or move out of the way.

“Actually I got these chainmail face masks customized so when I’m dragonback I get to wear them as protection for my face,” you bring up with some excitement because you can finally talk about the armor you got made; like the chainmail coif, the chainmail masks, and the body armor for battle as well.

“We wouldn’t want more face scars,” Jacaerys points at the scar on your face and sucks air in between his teeth, making you scoff and swat his hand away.

“Funny,” you grumble, making him chuckle.

However, your moment then comes to a cold stop when you near the great hall and hear the murmurs of the meeting. You don’t even need to be close to feel the tension, but when you do get close it immediately takes you hostage, making you walk in slowly and stiffly, with horror making a reappearance on your face.

“…there will be swift retribution in one form or another—”

“I have seen to it, Your Grace,” you hear a lord cut your mother off quite disrespectfully whilst you silently make your way to a seat across from her.

“Let me fly out on Vermax,” Jacaerys quickly interjects his plan since a convenient silence permits him. “While my sister helps Rhaenys in the Gullet,” he shares your part of the plan too as he walks up behind your chair to help you push it in. “I can watch for movements from King’s Landing.”

You sit up straight to show your confidence in your plan, however, the moment your mother looks between you and your brother she immediately shoots the plan down with a hint of an emotion you can’t read. “No.”

You sink back into your seat and share a frustrated sigh with Jacaerys.

“It must be said that the damage to our position is immeasurable, at a time when we most need loyalty to our cause,” the previous lord continues to share a big concern.

“B-but it’s a lie,” your mother defends the accusations you don’t need to hear personally, you know they were thrown at her to weaken her claim. The Greens are smart to use the people, you do have to give them that.

“Having lost my own son,” your mother continues. “That I would inflict such a thing on Helaena of all people,” she presses in disbelief. “An innocent.”

You draw out a deep shaky breath and glance down at your hands on your lap as her grief comes across your mind louder than before.

“The death of Prince Lucerys was a shock and an insult,” Lord Broome interjects after a second of more tense silence. “A mother so aggrieved might, naturally, seek relief in retribution,” he dares to speak out loud, making you quickly sit up and lean forward to glare daggers at the man, whilst your own mother pushes herself out of her chair to confront him.

“Are you suggesting, Ser Alfred, that my grief drove me to order the decapitation of a child?!”

He has some nerve throwing accusations like that to his Queen, and Daemon is surprisingly unbothered by such vile accusations thrown at his wife after he decapitated Ser Vaemond not long ago for insulting your mother.

“I merely thought, perhaps, an action taken in haste,” Lord Broome continues to speak out loud making your lips curl to a sneer, while your glare only turns sharper.

“Mind yourself,” the hand warns the bold lord in such a calm yet threatening manner that he actually goes silent, letting your mother return to her seat.

However, as chilling as your grandmother's threat was, you’re still surprised Daemon hasn’t spoken in her defense…

He’s been too quiet since Jacaerys and you joined the meeting actually. Too uncharastically quiet…did he…

You blink and look over at him for the first time since you got here and right away you catch this smug-looking smirk playing on his face. One a bit small, but still visible and telling.

How could you have not come to that conclusion before? He’s a cruel man, vile in many ways, why didn’t it occur to you that he was capable of ordering the murder of a child if Aemond couldn’t be found?!

The act is clearly oozing Daemon’s name. Only he could kill a child and be smug about it. He’s so disgusting, and cruel, and does nothing to ease your hate for him.

You have wanted to stop carrying so much hate for him, he loves your mother after all. Your brothers never have anything bad things to say about him, and in the few times he’s been in the same room with Aerion, he’s been…kind to him; and you don’t think that lightly! It really costs you to think of him in such a kind light, but it’s true.

Now though, he only adds fuel to your hate and adds disgust where there wasn’t any. Furthermore, in the midst of your brewing disgust and heightening hate, the man you were thinking about and glaring at meets your gaze across the table, and that smugness doesn’t fade, you only seem to feed into his cockiness as he realizes that you know it was him.

He doesn’t linger in your speechless interaction, but you continue to glare at him as if you were trying to kill him with your looks alone before you slowly rise from your seat and pull everyone’s attention as you address the table of men, the Queen, and her Hand.

“Your Grace, I would like to request double the guards protecting Aerion, I would not want the same killer aiming to kill my son next since he is Aemond’s only son,” you sneer and snap your gaze at Daemon to continue piercing your glare at him so he knows you’re referring to him.

Your mother nods gently. “Of course,” she doesn’t hesitate to give you what you want this time. “But rest assured no one will touch him,” she offers you comfort while her own gaze points at Daemon.

You rip your eyes away from the despicable man and offer her a much gentler look accompanied by a thankful smile. “Thank you, My Queen.”

She offers you a nod and then draws out a deep breath before she clasps her hands on the table and interjects. “You are all dismissed, we will reconvene later.”

You find her dismissal a blessing even if you just arrived, and hastily stride away from the hall thinking of nothing but what Daemon did to poor Helaena. Much to your surprise though your brother trails after you and follows you into the kitchens since it is alone at the moment.

“Tea?” you offer him what you’re about to make for yourself.

Jacaerys shifts his feet before he snickers and rudely offends you. “You know how to make your own tea?”

You grab the kettle and turn around slowly. “Of course,” you deadpan. “I know how to cook some of my own food too.”

Jacaerys looks away to hide his teasing grin before he walks over to you and watches you prepare what you need. “What did Lord Stark teach you?” He asks.

You stay quiet, and with little regard for your fingers, you light the match and end up watching the fire eat away at the match as if the flames have your answer.

When the fire touches your fingers Jacaerys calls your name, making you snap from your stupor and throw the match under the kettle to give life to a small fire.

“He would make fun of me because I could not do the simplest things for myself,” you muse. “He said I was spoiled, which was big of him considering things were brought to him too, but…” you trail off with a smile and finally nod in agreement to his answer. “Yes, he taught me the basics. I would watch him too on the hunting trips he would invite me to, Lady Karstark was nice to me so she let me go.”

Jacaerys hums and crosses his arms over his chest, you glance over at him and see him paying attention to your fingers that were touched by the fire while also holding obvious frustration over the situation he chose to talk about.

“He…did not trick me,” you finally answer the question he had asked earlier whilst you fiddle with your fingers to hide the fact that you were unharmed since you still don’t know why the fire doesn’t hurt you the way it should. The Red priestess gave you a reason, but you still have a hard time comprehending it so it’s better not to give it any attention at the moment.

“We were friends. Best friends. We talked about the fathers we both lost, he taught me to plant my feet in the ground and not have my head in the clouds,” you speak fondly of Cregan. “I live in the moment because of him…we were friends…that’s how it started.”

Jacaerys clenches his jaw and watches the fire under the kettle before he mutters. “Is it over?”

You swallow thickly, and to avoid making him more upset you don’t talk about the fact that you continue to write to each other. “Of course,” you answer quietly.

“I would have preferred him to be my good-brother,” he surprises you by saying.

“Jacaerys,” you scold him and gently hit his arm, making that serious line on his face pull to a cheeky smile.

“I can say it now…you don’t love Aemond anymore do you?”

Your smile quickly falls at his daring question, and your once-softened eyes grow dark with conflict. Something that should be easy to answer isn’t actually so easy to say out loud, no matter how much you tell yourself that you hate Aemond.

“I…have a son with Aemond, Jacaerys,” you avoid giving him an answer. Albeit nothing will save you from his disappointment, so you also avoid looking at him out of fear that you’ll see hate in your brother's eyes.

“It’s…complicated…I hate him for taking Lucerys, but—”

“I really can’t blame you for your unresolved feelings,” Jacaerys cuts you off with hints of sorrow showing through his frustration. “It would be easier to hate me…I…encouraged mother to let us deliver the messages. I sent Lucerys to his death…I,” his voice breaks so he cuts himself off.

You forget what you’re waiting to boil, and drop all your inner conflict to turn and face him with determination and sincerity. “No,” you say sharply and grab his arm to turn him to face you. “No, don't say that, it is not true! What happened is not your fault, Jacaerys.”

Your brother's eyes water before he meets your gaze with the look of a sad and guilty little boy.

“It’s not your fault, Jace,” you insist softly but also sharply. “We were sent as messengers. We made that promise, all of us. Aemond…was dishonorable and basically stabbed Lucerys in the back. Aemond killed Lucerys,” your voice quivers. “Not you. And Luke would never want you to blame yourself for that. Do you understand? It’s not your fault.”

Jacaerys nods softly and lets a few tears escape his eyes now that no one is around to see him cry. You, however, gently cup his cheeks and wipe them away before you wrap him in an embrace. “It’s not your fault,” you add one more time for reassurance.

Jacaerys isn’t as good at expressing himself with words like you are, but you know he is grateful with the way he holds onto you and rests his head on your shoulder.

When you pull apart he offers you one of his one-of-a-kind smiles that have a way to ease your mind. You then mirror his gesture and speak thousands of I love you’s to each other without uttering a single word.

It’s not until you hear your tea boiling that the moment is broken.

“So? Tea?” You ask again as you grab your cup to pour yourself some.

Jacaerys scoffs and grabs his own cup before he finally responds. “All right, I will try it, but if I die let everyone know it was your poor tea skills.”

“Oh haha,” you feign a laugh and then pour him some tea.

“Oh did you hear about the prisoner that they found in one of the ships?” Jacaerys trails on as he waits for the tea to cool. “Supposedly it was that one person you told us about, the White Worm.”

You bring your cup to your lips but then slowly pull the cup down to show your confusion. “She’s…here?” You probe.

Jacaerys nods. “I’m sure she’s the one who told you know who, what to do, considering what you said she does,” he says and finally brings his cup to his lips to take a sip. All while you stare at your dark tea and get lost in the thought as to how this great influence ended up here. As a prisoner.

“I am surprised,” Jacaerys says lightheartedly and with a hint of snarkiness in his tone. “This is not bad. I’m sorry, but you won’t be heir today, sister.”

You blink and roll your eyes to him before you kick his shin with an unamused glare. He hisses at the sting but laughs regardless. From then on you try to forget about the White Worm being in the same castle as you. Jacaerys ends up leaving you, and you try to think of practicing with a sword or with your bow and arrow, but your question as to why she’s here overpowers you and drives you toward her instead.

It wouldn’t be a mistake, you worked together when you were in King's Landing. You weren’t friends you knew not to trust her, but this dynamic has you on top, you are a Princess and she is…well…the White Worm, a whisperer, schemer, and a survivor.

Maybe you could even propose to work together again now that she’s here. You are the Queen's daughter after all, and she’ll listen to you if the White Worm plays her cards right.

Nevertheless, before you can even get close to the corridor where the White Worm is being kept, you grow tense at the sight of Daemon storming by without that smugness from before. Now, in the short glance, you stole as you passed by like strangers, you notice a hardened face and a grimace where his smirk once played.

You could relish in his unhappiness, but before you can even find amusement or pride, just as you thought the vile stranger was paces away, a hand harshly grips your arm before you’re whipped around harshly and with ease.

“You,” he sneers. “I need to talk to you.”

You look at him with a fear you can’t hide fast enough and shock.

He hardly talks to just you alone, and when he tries he’s violent about it?

“Let me go,” you mutter shakily and push him away from you.

Daemon glances to the right and then to the left before he takes a step forward and narrows his gaze on you. “You will return to King’s Landing at once and infiltrate the Greens.” He instantly spats.

You blink repeatedly in disbelief and without thinking you shake your head softly, but Daemon doesn’t care because he keeps running his mouth.

“Play the dutiful wife, or whatever it is you need to do to get on your cunt of a husband’s good graces. I have had one of the men who fought with me at the Step Stones infiltrate the Castle Guards to protect you, his name is Ser Jason Waters, pick him to be your sworn protector, do not trust any other knights.”

He already had this planned? Does your mother know? Is she okay with this?

“No,” you mutter in disbelief and with a hint of heartbreak at the thought that he—they want you gone. “I am not going. My mother would not agree.”

Daemon shakes his head and quickly rebuttals you with his patience hanging by a thread. He’s trying to be patient for your sake, but he doesn’t want to be argued with at the moment.

“This is for the sake of the Queen. Your mother. Your family—our family!” He makes sure to say louder so it can reach your heart. “Do you not want this war to be over sooner?” He leans towards your inner desires. “You are married to one of them, making you the perfect mole. You will get on your knees, plead for mercy, and press the fact that you were wrong in choosing your mother…he wouldn’t let them kill you.”

Did he just try to be reassuring over something he doesn’t know?

He doesn’t know Aemond like you do. If Aemond believes you betrayed him he will not forgive you no matter if you love him, or have a son together. He’s petty and angry when someone crosses him. If he doesn’t believe your pleading cry he will not be kind. Daemon doesn’t know that, Daemon doesn’t know the Greens like you do.

You will not do it, he will not make you return to the side of a Kinslayer and a Usurper. You don’t want to leave again, you’re happy here with your family. This is all you’ve ever wanted and he will not rip you away from your family in the same way Alicent ripped you away from them the first time for an act you did not commit! Not again!

“No,” you argue with anger you wish you would’ve shown Alicent six years ago; and with new anger directed at Daemon for trying to put you in harm's way. “I will not go! You cannot make me go to them! They killed Lucerys and Visenya! They took my mother's throne! They will lock me away or kill me! They will take Aerion away! You cannot make me go!” You spat out. “I will not go! You cannot take me away from my family again! You are not my King! And you are not my father! I. Will not. Go!”

Daemon lets out a deep sigh, and turns his head away to stand in silence for a moment before in the blink of an eye turns back around and slaps his hands around your arms to yank you to him with a harsh strength that startles you deeply and makes all your anger fall as you fill with fear and disbelief.

No one has ever grabbed you in such a way or looked at you with so much anger.

“You are not my daughter. You are right. I am not your father. I will never be your father,” his words have a way of wounding you even deeper, but you don’t know why exactly, you know he’s not your father, and he could never replace your father…but maybe…just maybe you held a flicker of hope that you would feel an ounce of that sort of connection again after it was so suddenly ripped away from you. And he was the only one who could have given it to you, but now that flicker is gone and you’re in the cold with no hopeful light at the end of the tunnel.

“But I am the Prince Consort,” he sneers and tightens his hold to the point your flesh and deep buried muscle begins to hurt, letting you know you’ll bruise. “I am your Prince Consort, you will do as I say and leave with your son after telling the Queen, so the wrong people don’t know and give you away. Do you understand or do you want me to drop you over there myself?”

Tears crawl down your cheeks as your bottom lip trembles. And it’s impossible to notice especially because Daemon stands so close, but he still does nothing to console your fear, he just lets you go and drops his head for a second before he looks at you again and points.

“You will go. Spy on their plans and send reports back to the Queen or me, do you understand? You might just be our path towards the Throne, so do it and never let your guard down.”

“I hate you,” you don’t hold back from saying before you finally find the will to break away and shove past him to continue down your path.

“Do it!” He bellows over his shoulder while you keep storming away with tears in your eyes, and your breath labored as you fight your sob.

You almost have half the mind to go run and cry to your mother, but what’s the point if deep down Daemon does sound reasonable. As petty as Aemond could be, he doesn’t know what you did on your last day in the North, that is the probably only reason he would completely turn his back on you and view you as an enemy. Leaving and supporting your mother is probably something you can talk over, you’ll sing a song and he will probably be enchanted by your words. And once he falls prey he’ll take to your defense in front of his brother and the council.

But do you really want to return to the side of a man who killed your brother? You’ll look at him and that’s all you’ll see, a murder. A Kinslayer.

Then again…

But no! He killed Lucerys. Your little brother. How can you play a dutiful wife to such a man? Maybe you should accept Cregan’s proposal and find refuge in Winterfell with Aerion. You’ll avoid fighting this war and having your heart broken even more because you suspect more heartbreak still has to follow.

It would be a dream.

But nevertheless, as to what you will do, you’ll talk to your mother about Daemon's plan, and she’ll be your deciding factor…later, once you’ve calmed down, and maybe after you have taken a small nap; it feels like you’ve been on your feet for days on end. Most importantly though, after talking to the White Worm, you’re already close to Mysaria’s cell, so what would be the point of turning back now? You'd just add to your fatigue.

When you reach her cozy cell, however, you hesitate to make your presence known. Conversing with someone after the way Daemon treated you is beginning to sound exhausting.

Albeit you are also curious so you rap your knuckles on the door even if the guard said he’d just let you in since she is considered a prisoner, but where’s the decency in that?! Thus you wait and when you hear her welcome you in you make yourself known, much to her surprise.

“Princess,” she greets you in surprise.

You offer her a small and strained smile and redirect her greeting. “Mysaria. I can’t say I’m not surprised. I never would have thought we would cross paths here.”

Mysaria watches you from the other side of her small chambers, and you finally study her; noticing how different she looks from the elegant woman you would see in King’s Landing. Her falling braid, her dirty white dress, and dirt covered face really makes her less intimidating. She’s completely ordinary now.

“Well, the Hightowers chased me out of my home after they burnt it to ash. I can’t even say that the foundations stand in place,” she reveals, making your gaze flicker away as your mind fills with different thoughts of concern.

“And…all those people that lived with you?” You ask softly.

“Ran I would hope, I taught them better…does it matter in truth?”

You snap your eyes up and look at her as if she had physically wounded you. “Of course,” you defend yourself. “I am not heartless.”

Mysaria lets her gaze linger on you for a moment before she nods. “No. You are not. Could I ask though, now that I am down here and you remain up there”

You squint in confusion at her words, but then quickly quirk a brow to encourage her to keep going.

“Why did you care so much about the smallfolk?” she queries and sits on a wobbly wooden chair. “It’s disappointing to say that not many of your current kin have shown any care. If it’s not for their personal gain of course.”

You hold her gaze for a moment before you walk over and sit on the edge of her hard bed. You then glance down at the gems on your many rings and sigh deeply as you shrug. “A part of me envied the smallfolk when I was younger,” you share and right away feel her shocked stare upon your words.

“They could live their life as they wanted, if they had money they could go get lost at the ends of the world, where the sea meets the edge of the world and touches hundreds of tomorrows. They could never return and no one would care…I envied their freedom. Now…I have grown,” you speak sweetly and look over at her. “Now I want them to like me…it’s vain, I know, but in Winterfell, the Lord and Lady Stark would treat their people with kindness, as if they were their own kin, and they got kindness and respect in return…I want that.”

“You are no heir,” she speaks harsh words with her heavy accent, revealing that she’s not from Westeros. “You will not be Queen. It is not your duty.”

“I know,” you barely form in a whisper. “I was a sick babe. The maesters did not know if I would live so they encouraged my mother to seek an heir in another. She had Jacaerys and those around her saw the advantage of having a male heir and did not let her change it once I lived past my death date…but,” you breathe out and turn to face her completely. “I am still a princess. No matter what, eyes will always be on me, I want those watching me to like me, in the same way those in the North look at their Lord.”

Mysaria hums and nods gently, letting you get up and slowly make your way to her. “I could grant you your freedom,” you speak. “I only need to speak to my mother. She will listen to me only if…you help me in the same way you helped me back then.”

Mysaria’s gaze lingers on your eyes and doesn’t jump at the proposal like you thought she would. She watches you instead, as if she’s just trying to aid you with something, but not willing to spit out the answer to let you figure it out alone.

You can’t however, so she lets out a deep breath and shares what she had been hinting at. “With us both here there is no way in which you can help me. There's nothing I want here, not from you.”

You help her…

As guarded as she is, she’s open when she needs to be. Like now. Without a need for deeper explanation you realize that after all this time of believing she was under your thumb, you were actually another string for her to pull on.

You were so blinded by the thought of power that you did not read her like Cregan told you to read people.

How could you be so foolish?

“Okay,” you say with a sense of hurt. “Well…then I can still help you leave. I can talk to my mother.”

“What of Daemon?” She asks and surprises you.

“What of him?” You quickly follow up.

“He said he would give me my freedom.”

You mindlessly rub the throbbing offended area on one arm and shrug. “I do not talk to Daemon. I can talk to my mother, take it, or leave it and stay here.”

After all, she did let you know secrets from within the Red Keep you otherwise would’ve gone unaware of.

“I will take it,” she doesn’t hesitate giving in, making you feign a smile and find a reason to cut this reunion shorter than you had expected after being left with much to think about.

——

*LATER*

Dear, Cregan,

This letter is not going to start the way I would have wanted, but alas there is something urgent I must press. By the time you get this letter, I am sure you would have heard what happened at King’s Landing with Queen Helaena’s son, news like that travels fast, especially when they want the whole of the realm to know. But I digress, no matter how many people whisper in your ear, or what letters you get from the Green Council, it was not Queen Rhaenyra who sent that assassin.

My mother did not kill the boy. She would never do something so cruel. I believe that, and I hope you do not sway. Your support, whether small, is still important, and your loyalty even more so.

I know who it was but without real proof, I would just be crying wolf, so I will keep my mouth shut and hope you come to the conclusion yourself considering how many times I have ranted about him. Instead, I will express my regret for not having the time to ask how you are, or what you have been doing. I have so much to say and so little paper, so I will save my formalities for next time.

As of now, I do have to tell you that I left my ring at Castle Black, the one with the sapphire. If you somehow have it or get it in your possession, toss it, or sell it, I do not care.

Now I was hoping you could aid me with something. Do you still dream of your father, Cregan? I have found myself dreaming of mine as of late, and more or so in always the same setting; I find him as I am now, not as a child, but me, I find him washed up ashore. When I reach him he's concerningly thinner and looks ill. I try to save him, but I never can. We only speak a few words before the angry waves take him back to the sea. And no matter how much I try, I can never reach him and all I’m left with is an ache.

Anyway, Jacaerys—

A knock rapping on the door interrupts you from the thoughts you’re writing on paper, and before you can welcome the visitor in you hide the half-written letter first and then proclaim. “Come in.”

The door gets opened by a Ser Erryk, letting your mother walk in without that usual tense and serious decorum she wears when she’s with her council. She actually offers you a tender smile that mirrors the gleam in her eyes as she watches you.

“You wanted to speak with me?” She asks as she makes her way to you.

You walk her to the cushioned seats across the balcony doors where you like to read and watch the dragons fly in the distance.

“Yes, I went looking for you earlier but I was told you were busy,” you let her know, making her nod softly. “Is everything all right?”

She lets out a deep sigh and offers you a very stiff shrug before she shares what’s on her mind. “I went to speak with the prisoner, Mysaria. The one who snuck here on a ship.”

Oh well, what a coincidence you were meaning to talk to her about that exact person.

“She aided…in the tragedy committed against Helaena’s son after her freedom was promised, now the one who promised it to her is gone, and I am left not knowing what to do with her. Let her leave to aid in my destruction, or keep her here to aid us.”

You nod along in comprehension and find the right time to do as you said. “The White Worm is not to be trusted, but after what she said the Hightowers did, I know she will not return to their side willingly.”

Your mother's eyes narrow and she leans forward to probe. “You spoke with her?”

You avert your gaze and nod softly. “Yes, but I was merely curious as to how she got here. The last time I had heard of her she was the ever so great White Worm of King’s Landing.”

Your mother doesn’t detect that you’re hiding anything that should make her worry so she sits back and presses. “That is right I remember you spoke of her when we got to King’s Landing. She helps you.”

You express a dry laugh and shake your head softly. “No,” you mutter with defeat. “I helped her. Unknowingly, but that doesn’t make her less undeserving of what she was promised,” you finally speak for her case. “You will probably gain more from her if you grant her her freedom rather than keeping her here.” You say and look at your mother sweetly and with the faintest smile to nudge her towards what you’re hinting at.

Her gaze lingers and without giving an answer she nods softly and speaks thoughtfully. “I see.”

“But if you want to save yourself the trouble then you could just…kill her,” you suggest seriously but also a bit lighthearted. Albeit she doesn’t seem to get the latter with the concerned gaze she shoots you, so hiding the fact that you were serious you backtrack. “Let her go. I think that would be the right thing to do.”

She responds with silence this time that lingers for a moment before her gaze then wanders behind her where you had been when she walked in.

“I hope you were not busy, my Sweet.” She interjects after a while.

You shake your head and immediately use one of your usual covers for when you’re writing to Cregan. “No, I was just reading some of our Valyrian histories. There’s a lot more books from Old Valyria here than in the Red Keep.”

“Are you still searching for answers on this fire immunity?” She asks with slight amusement, making you scoff but nod.

“I’m just curious.”

“Why?” She immediately presses and rises from her seat to quickly maneuver over to sit next to you instead. “Is there something you know?” She asks.

This would be the perfect chance to trust someone with this gift you are bestowed with and relieve yourself of this secret you bear. You could—you should show her that you are unscathed by the usual dangerous flames that provide warmth, and threaten someone with death or wounds, but you know so little. You are confused by it, and by the words that Red Priestess told you in regards to it, which in turn makes you want to understand more of what you might be for yourself first before you tell someone else.

Besides, what if she looks at you differently if she saw what you were gifted with? You can’t have her look at you like you’re some demon from the deep depths of all seven hells. You don’t want to be unloved by the mother you deeply adore.

“Just curious is all,” you say and omit most of the truth. And as to not have her linger in what you have yet to understand you drift the subject to what happened earlier with Daemon. Not because he told you to speak to her, but because there was really no chance you wouldn’t come spilling out what he did.

“Mother,” your voice shifts to sound quieter and express that fear that still rattles you. “Daemon talked to me earlier.”

Your mother's gaze snaps away from the serene scene outside your windows, and her lips fall as her eyes flicker between curiosity and concern.

“He proposed—no, he more so demanded me to go to King’s Landing to infiltrate the Greens,” you share and see her head shake faintly without the need to hear more, or without time to think of how useful that can actually be.

“I may have argued against Daemon’s demand when he initially proposed it but,” you continue and sigh shakily. “It may not be a terrible idea. Aemond still demands mine and Aerion’s return, I can most likely get in his good graces and have my freedom to move about the castle and hear what may help you. I want to help you.”

Your mother nods gently in comprehension and watches your hand resting next to hers for a moment before she meets your gaze with a soft endearing look that makes you feel right at ease and deeply loved.

“I know, I understand. I really do,” she speaks with fondness hanging off every word, and so kindly that her soft smile and her twinkling gaze let you believe what she says and helps you understand what you would have otherwise argued.

“…More than you and your brother know, but as much as I want you both to really show me the warriors aching to be free, I must think as a mother first. You are my legacy. You and your brothers, you are what will carry out our blood, I can not put that in danger, I cannot put you in danger if I can still help it. Do you understand?”

“I do,” you say, but still find it in yourself to argue for the woman before you, your Queen, and your mother. You want to do right by her more than anything and prove that you are strong, that you can be what she needs in a dragon warrior with salt-littered blood.

“But if there's a chance to gain an advantage in this war shouldn’t we take it?” You argue desperately as you shift your body to face her completely. “I can be your advantage Mother. I could help you get closer to your throne.”

Your mother holds your gaze and watches your desperation play out in your eyes for a moment before she lifts her warm hand to cradle your cheek ever so gently. “You will help me here in time,” she argues back without a shift in that tender affection in her voice. “You cannot go, I will not be there to protect you. I need you here. You are my strength, my Sweet. My firstborn, my first love.”

Your breath hitches and your smile trembles.

“I need you with me,” she presses and you can’t find it in yourself to counter. You ease into agreement perhaps just exactly how she wanted, but you do. That need to do what Daemon asked of you begins to fade away like ash scattering in the wind.

“Besides, Daemon is not your King,” she clarifies, making you grin. “He cannot tell you what to do without telling me about it first, okay?”

You nod and can’t help yourself, you lean over and wrap her in an embrace she doesn’t hesitate to return.

“I will make you proud,” you proclaim just loud enough so she can hear. “I swear. I will be everything you need and so much more,” you hint at your gift that the Red Priestess called fire-made flesh without directly revealing yourself just yet. You will in time when you understand what you’re really made of. As for now, you’ll be what she wants you to be. You’ll stalk your prey from a distance and prepare for the attack. You’ll be the dragon hiding in the eerie shadows until fire kills the girl.

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT*

You can’t really say you’re disappointed whatsoever by your mother's reluctance because the truth is, this is all you have ever wanted, to be amongst your family whether it be here in Dragonstone, in King's Landing, or wherever you may find yourselves to be.

It may sound childish like you need to grow up because you are a grown woman with a child and a husband of your own, but your family is your joy. And for a while, you were content with your little family, your heart did not yearn to be amongst your mother and brothers, you missed them dearly but you were content. However, Aemond made sure to break that peace apart when he killed Lucerys.

But now you’re here, in Dragonstone, where the majestic songs from the dragons harmonize with the sound of strong crashing waves, and accompany the gentle whips of air that unfurl through your windows, bringing forth a soothing sound that ails Aerion to his nightly slumber, and brings the pleasing smell of sea salt that tangles with the smell of the calm fires that illuminate the dark castle halls and keep every room warm.

You're here in your ancestral home, where every piece of your grand history is etched on the stone walls, or stitched in tapestries proudly hung from room to room. You’re here surrounded by a sea that calls out your name and holds fond memories of you and your father. How could you want to leave it all behind and trade it for a city that smells like shit, and is polluted by usurpers, traitors, and killers?

This is where you belong, here, where you can smile, and admire your beloved brother Jacaerys and brave Baela sitting under the mystical moonlight together, admiring how the dragon scales glimmer like bright stars as the dragons dance about the clear and starry sky; each person itching to share an intimacy that goes beyond longing stares and feathered touches, but not daring to cross that line just yet.

This is where you belong where you can bid your sweet mother a goodnight without having to look at the sky and say it to the wind in hopes she would somehow catch your voice. You can request and seek her comfort here without having to rely on old letters or haunting embraces.

Here, where Driftmark and your grandparents are all a short flight away is where you belong. You belong here where you share intimate dinners and laugh together over stupid jokes, or dramatic and far-fetched stories that never fail to pique your attention. This is home, where you can watch your little brothers grow in the same way you watch your son grow. You are home, and deep past all your adventurous desires you could not ask for more.

“After we put Aerion to bed I will have you fed,” you tell your grey cat following you at your side ever so gracefully, and he actually meows back before trotting forward and leading the way to the children’s quarters.

Before you can catch up you fall behind first as you spot Ser Erryk, from the corner of your eyes, hiding in the shadows.

“Good Night, Erryk,” you tell the man with his helmet on, which is an odd thing to have inside, but maybe he came from outside or something. Whatever.

“Uh,” he breathes out before you hear him respond as he walks out of the shadows. “Goodnight, princess.”

You offer him a gentle smile and catch his gaze fall on your sleeping son in your arms and linger on him for a moment before his gaze flickers back to you and seems to have many running thoughts behind his eyes. You can’t help but grow a tad bit uneasy in this shared silence, so you just offer him one last smile before you turn away and push forward, catching your cat come out of the children’s room.

He meows impatiently and you roll your eyes and sigh. “Yeah, yeah.”

When you enter the room, however, you come to a sudden halt when you see Rhaena reading by the fire.

You could try and escape but she notices you right away therefore forbidding you from making a quick escape.

“Rhaena,” you greet faintly and hide how shaky your breath gets by walking to Aerion’s crib.

“Cousin,” she greets and rises from her seat.

You avoid the exchange of awkward smiles by keeping your back to her even after you put Aerion down.

However, that gesture makes her blurt. “You have been avoiding me.”

Your breath hitches and you mentally curse in defeat.

“Ever since you returned from Winterfell,” she continues to add to your guilt. “Why? I have always thought that you and I have been closer than that. We were far closer than you and Baela are, yet I see you speak with her all the time.”

You swallow thickly and let your gaze stay focused on a random spot in Aerion’s cradle before you slowly turn with your gaze downcasted, speaking your shame without the need of saying it with words.

“This is the only place I knew I could stop you before you ran so please did I do something wrong?” She throws out and just punctures your already wounded heart.

“No,” you whisper and finally step away from your son's cradle to approach Rhaena cautiously. “Of course not,” you make sure to get that point across.

“Then?” She queries with a hint of sadness in her confusion.

“It’s just,” you mutter and walk past her to get near the fireplace and watch the enchanting flames dance. “You were…betrothed to Lucerys, and I know I may not know the feelings you shared, but he was still your betrothed. You still loved him in a way, and…Aemond,” your breath hitches, and you hear her heels click against the stone louder and louder as she gets closer—“My husband took Lucerys. He took him from you, and I can’t face you knowing that because I see your heartbreak, and when I see your heartbreak my own heart hurts with guilt. I’m sorry, Rhaena. I’m sorry for what happened.”

Rhaena falls by your side and steals your gaze brimmed with tears.

“But it was not your fault,” she says what everyone else has said. “You are not Aemond. You were not even there when it happened. You could have not stopped it either.”

You drop your head and quickly wipe away the tears that roll down your face.

“I do not blame you,” she assures you sweetly as she reaches over to take your hand in hers. “No one blames you, so please do not torment yourself. You are not your husband, and you are not responsible for his doings.”

You slowly lift your gaze and lock eyes with her kind yet saddened ones.

“You mean that?” You make sure to ask first, but without hesitation, Rhaena nods and gives you a lovely smile.

“Truly,” she sounds more confident now.

You let out a sigh of relief and mumble, “Good. I'm glad.”

“Can we go back to the way we were now?” She asks and you can’t help but flash her a faint grin before you nod eagerly.

“Good,” she says breathily as if unsure whilst she steps back, letting your hand fall back to your side—“I wanted to ask you something.”

You give your back to the fire, and snake your hands behind you to seek the fire's warm embrace on your flesh.

“All right…ask, just know you’re making me quite nervous though.” You giggle nervously at the anticipation.

A small amused but nervous smile flashes on her features before she shares what she’s holding in. “I was hoping you could help me train with a sword or archery.”

You blink repeatedly in disbelief and look at her completely shocked considering you should be the last person she should ask. She has her father, and even if you don’t like him you have to admit he is a great swordsman.

“You all have your dragons, and I do not but I still want to help in some way. Be more useful,” she adds to her case. “And I saw you training with Jacaerys, so I was hoping you would show me.”

You bring your hands forward and fiddle with your ruby ring as you make your way to a seat across from her. “What about your father?” You hesitate bringing up.

Rhaena just meets your gaze and shakes her head with a slightly hardened look.

“I want it to be you,” she finds the right thing to say to sway you to the decision she wants to hear.

Yet before you can offer her your help, someone rushes in the room, interrupting your conversation, and stealing your attention toward the door where you see one of your mother's ladies-in-waiting, Elinda, heaving and with panic painted on her features.

“Princess,” she calls out with distress, forcing you to your feet. “Theres been an incident in your mother's apartments”

Your heart falls and without needing to hear the rest, and without any caution to your safety you rush to your mother's quarters. And actually, you don’t even know how exactly you got there with your pounding heart drumming in your ears, and a deep heart-aching fear clouding your gaze.

It’s not until you make it past the door of your mother's room, and see her standing across the room that you’re pulled out of your trance.

“Mother,” you announce your presence and see her attention stuck on a man on the floor by her feet. You follow her line of gaze and finally find out what happened, or you start to imagine the gist of it when you see the Kingsguard twins, Ser Erryk, and Ser Arryk both lifeless and bleeding out on the floor. Which begs the question, who was it you saw earlier? Ser Erryk? Or Ser Arryk?

Did you see Ser Arryk on his way to assassinate your mother?

It had to be him, he had his helmet on and seemed puzzled when you bid him a goodnight.

How could you—he almost killed your mother. The Greens almost killed your mother…

“Mother,” you say shakily but not because you want to cry, you’re caught in disbelief as to what happened. And finally your mother's eyes part from the body, and she finds you, letting you see the red cuts on her cheeks and the horror and shock in her teary eyes as you stride over to her in a hurry.

Nonetheless, when you get close to the dead men, without knowing who’s who you look between them both and still can’t believe they sent someone to come kill your mother. Not because you find it unbelievable, you actually don’t put it past the Greens to do something like this, after all, Daemon did kill their heir. You just feel the tragic but simple disbelief that someone almost killed your mother.

Someone almost took your mother away after killing your brother too. All while you were doing…nothing…

“Are you all right?” You ask your mother while you make sure all you see are small cuts and not serious wounds.

“Yes,” her voice quivers.

You grab a hold of her arms, and she holds your elbows while you study her one last time before you wrap her in a tight embrace to comfort her shaking body, feeling yourself slowly grow sad and terrified over a certain thought that latches in your mind with no intent to budge or die.

Jacaerys comes rushing in shortly after and after his shock he grows angry that Ser Arryk somehow got in, making your mother go and calm him down even if she’s distressed. All while you quietly look at the bodies on the ground and know what you need to do.

You don’t want to, you hate what you decided, and you hate obeying Daemon even more, but you can’t stay here when there’s a chance of doing so much more out there with the enemy.

Everything may not go the way you want it to go. You may get locked up and separated from your son, but if you can save someone you love from death then shouldn’t you try to be their faithful servant?

You have to try. You will try.

You’re going back to King’s Landing and infiltrating the enemy. You’ll return to Aemond’s side and be his wife.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N- RIP MC you would have loved yacht parties and movies/series with love triangles

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @callsignwidow @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Cold-hearted Wolf

Master list

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Martell princess reader

Tags: NSFW, Angst, fluff, arranged marriage, eventual smut, cregan is repressed and mean at first, then falls for the reader.

Epilogue

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A year had passed since the Cregan's return, and Winterfell stood in a state of hard-won peace.

Now, a seasoned and respected leader, Cregan and has made the best of your rule, with you as one of his advisors. In your midst was your four-month-old son, Robert, a bundle of energy and curiosity.

In the grand library of Winterfell, the warm light of the afternoon spilled through tall windows. Cregan sat on the floor, a giggling Robert cradled in his arms. The heir’s chubby fingers reached for his father's dark hair, and Cregan playfully dodged the tiny grasping hands, eliciting more laughter from the child.

"Look at you," Cregan cooed to Robert, "Mama's reading her important papers, and we're just having fun."

You sat at a table covered with maps and scrolls, engrossed in the strategic considerations of the Riverlands. Your brow furrowed as you examined the details. Cregan's loyal hound lay at your feet.

Your lord husband lifted your son high into the air, eliciting gleeful giggles from the child. "Yes, my boy," he laughed, "Your mother does look so very pretty when she's angry."

"Im not angry," your head shot up from the maps.

Someone knocked on the door, and a man clad in furs, and armor had entered the room. "Your presence is requested at a council meeting, Your lordship," he informed after bowing.

Cregan looked down at his son. "I must go, little one." He kissed Robert's chubby cheek before turning to you. "Can't I bring him with me to the council room? He's a strategic genius in the making."

With a hint of amusement in your eyes, you rose from your chair, the dog stirring to get up as your arms reached for Robert. "He won't be dissecting maps, my love."

Cregan smiled at you both, pulling you into an embrace. "Well then, I suppose I must leave my two favorite people behind for now."

Against your wishes, his words had your cheeks flushed. Cregan chuckled at the effect he had on you, wanting to tease further. "Did I mention how beautiful you look today?"

Your protest was half-hearted as you playfully swatted his chest. "Go to your council."

He chuckled and gave you a gentle kiss before whispering. "Come with me, love. I want you there."

You sighed, realizing you couldn't resist the plea in his eyes. "Robert needs to be put to bed first."

You handed Cregan a particularly important map from your pile, along with notes you had made.

Cregan kissed your lips tenderly, then turned to Robert. "Give your father a kiss." He leaned down to give Robert a peck on his squishy cheek.

He headed into the war room.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The council chamber was filled with the murmurs of maesters discussing the growing feud between the dragons. They recounted the grievances and exchanged worried glances as they deliberated on the implications of this feud. The tension was palpable in the room.

As Cregan and his advisors contemplated the brewing conflict, the door to the chamber burst open. A maester entered hurriedly, introducing the arrival of Prince Jacaerys Velarion, who followed suit.

“Lord Stark." Jace addressed.

“Welcome, my prince.” Cregan acknowledged him. “My condolences for the death of your grandsire,”

“Thank you,”

A quiet presence had entered the room. You slipped in through the heavy doors without making a sound and walked in the shadows. You approached your husband quietly. His eyes found you as you made your way to him. They always did, and he took your hand in his own.

You bowed to Jecaerys and he nodded in acknowledgement. "My lady."

"My prince," you nodded. "You have my prayers and condolences."

"Thank you." Jace nodded. "My uncle has usurped the rightful queen, Rhaenyra. The Hightowers have just broken a peace of more than a hundred years."

The gravity of the situation was clear to everyone in the council chamber. War was on the horizon, a conflict that could have far-reaching consequences not only for the North but for the entire realm. Cregan gave you a significant look, understanding that you had to prepare their kingdom for the uncertain times ahead.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Cregan Stark quietly entered his bedchamber, the flickering candlelight casting a warm glow around the room.

You, unaware of his presence, walked around, cradling your son inyour arms, softly singing a Dornish lullaby to the baby, the words filled with images of sun, sand, and sea. Your melodic voice had a soothing effect on the child.

As you gently placed Robert into his crib, Cregan watched with a tender smile. He couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of protectiveness.

Stepping closer, Cregan embraced you from behind and kissed the top of your head. Little Robert's chest rose and fell as he slept. "He looks content," he whispered.

You turned to face him, your eyes meeting grey ones. "I would do anything to keep him that way."

Cregan looked at his wife, his gaze filled with a mix of love and exhaustion. "I have to go to the Riverlands. To show the Targaryens that the Starks are with them."

Your expression softened, and you held him close. "Aye, that you do, my lord -"

"Cregan, please." He asked, taking your hand in his.

"Cregan." You corrected yourself.

He sighed, resting his forehead against yours. "I don't want to leave you. I want to keep you with me. At all times."

Your eyes were filled with understanding as you held him. "You won't have to. We'll come with you. I can protect both of you."

Cregan shook his head gently, his voice filled with a sense of duty. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell."

You felt a swirl of emotions, a confusion of whether the Stark in question was your or your son. But as if he could read your thoughts, Cregan lifted your chin and whispered, "It's you I mean, y/n."

She couldn't help but feel a surge of adoration for him as their eyes locked. The depth of his love and trust overwhelmed her.

Seeing the distress in his eyes, you comforted him. "Don't worry about me. Just because I had a baby doesn't mean I've lost my training." You smiled, your eyes gleaming with determination. "Remember when I knocked you on you arse?"

He held back a chuckle. "On my arse?" He repeated.

"Percisely, in a dress, no less."

"You caught me by surprise." He whispered through clenched teeth, sweeping your his grasp and digging his fingers into the ticklish spots on your body he came to know very well.

Not wanting to wake the baby, you shot up one hand to coveryour mouth as you giggled.

A soft chuckle escaped Cregan. "Have I apologized for underestimating you?"

"About a hundred times." You grinned. "If any idiot tries to go after you or Robert, they'll regret it."

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The stars shined brightly over Winterfell, accompanied by soft winds and howls as Cregan made love to you.

He'd always perceived the act as one of honor. Especially with you. The raw emotion of his impending distance lay heavy in his intense touches, kisses, and caresses.

You gasped, glossy eyes worshipping him with vulnerability. "I love you,"

You tried hard to maintain a quiet tone. Robert slept peacefully in the agecent room. But still, it was difficult. Your body couldn't suppress your reactions that well when Cregan got primal like he was now.

He bent down to kiss you. Whispering, "Gods, I love you." Into your lips. His hips a steady rhythm against yours. Your responses did more to him than you could possibly know. Hearing his name escape through a moan on your lips filled him with something intense, a need to drive deeper into you. He wanted to be as close to you as he possibly could in this moment. To remember it when he had to go away.

He grasped you by your thighs, groaning against your whimpering mouth. Damn the dragons. Let them fight their own battles for once. He wanted to stay with you and with his child. He wanted to raise Robert with you, to teach him to fight, hunt, lead.

But couldn't set aside his duty.

Tag list:

@malfoycassimalfoy @leahnicole1219 @literishdegree99 @sardynes @magicseahorse @nsr-15 @littlebirdgot @ginarely-blog

[undertheorangetree]

The Last of the Dragons

Chapter Five- The Agreement

Summary- Even days have culminated to this moment.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female Reader. Incest. Pregnancy (we all knew this was coming). Treason. Mention of murder/poisoning. OOC Aemond cuz he’s experiencing joy. Titty sucking. Soft smut.

Author’s Note- and that’s that on that! I genuinely cannot believe how well received this was, I honestly thought I was gonna be writing this entirely for me and didn’t think people would respond to it the way they did. I’m so so glad you all loved it and hopefully that love continues with the final chapter. Full chapter linked below🥰

Morning lets out a curious sound as she follows the reflection of the compact. Her head tilts, the scratch of her claws echoing through the room as she turns them in before she's pouncing on the sunspot, attempting to trap it underfoot. Baela laughs as she shifts her hand, sending the light further into the room, Morning skittering across the flagstones in order to chase it and pulling a laugh from her as well.

Rhaena does not share in their glee, letting out a heavy sigh as she makes her way across the room. "You're so mean to her, you shouldn't tease."

"We're playing," Baela defends, but Rhaena picks Morning up all the same, the young dragon settling into her arms almost immediately. She curls into the warmth of Rhaena's chest, stretching out long where she is cradled, tail falling limp over her arm.

"You'll be lucky if she doesn't bite you," she laughs, making her way over to Rhaena and running her fingers across the pink scales on Morning’s snout.

The little dragon makes a purring noise, pushing up against her fingers and she can't contain her smile. She had never seen Silverwing as a hatchling, claiming her on Dragonstone soon after her family arrived, but she can't deny how sweet Morning is, more akin to a cat than a dragon. Vermax had never been that way, Arrax kinder but capable of the same prickly nature. Tyraxes and Stormcloud seemed closer to Morning than the latter two were but none seemed sweeter than her. Though sweet as she may be, she is still a dragon, capable of violence at any given moment. Particularly if Baela continued to goad her.

Baela looks at her in mock offense, closing the compact pointedly before making her way toward them. "She would never. Far too sweet for such cruelty, aren't you, my love?"

She puts her face far too close to Morning's and though she braces herself to watch her sister lose a chunk of her nose, Baela pulls away before anything can happen, simply rubbing the tip of her nose against Morning’s. There is a degree of longing in her eyes as she backs away and immediately she knows Baela is missing Moondancer. Their bond had been special and the loss had hit her hard, especially when coupled with all the horror that followed, the chains Aegon forced her into, and she feels her heart break for her sister.

"Perhaps we can go riding soon," she offers, coming up to take hold of Baela's elbow. "Silverwing is big enough for two. We can ride however you'd like."

Baela smiles, the corners tinged with sadness, and brings up her hand to take her own, squeezing once. "I would like that."

"And perhaps Morning will join us as well once she's big enough to saddle," she adds, turning back to Rhaena.

Her second sister grins brightly, a laugh escaping her as Morning scrambles up her arm to lounge across her shoulders like a mink fur. She nearly blends into Rhaena's gown, the two pinks far too similar a colour to be pure coincidence, and Baela reaches out a hand to pull their sister closer.

It is moments like this that she has missed the most, moments where the three of them are alone, where they can act as they did as children. There was a brief period, the two years they spent together on Dragonstone before Baela was sent to Driftmark to ward, where they had days just like this. The three of them, joined together at the hip solely because they were girls of the same age. The same septa, the same maester, together always. On occasion, she had found herself missing Helaena, wishing that the four of them had been given the chance to be girls together, wishing that this familial rivalry did not exist. But the night on Driftmark had sealed that fate behind a metal grate forever and Helaena's marriage to Aegon had confirmed it further.

There was to be no shared girlhood for them. Not in this lifetime.

The door to her chambers opens then, pulling her from her thoughts and revealing their grandsire. He stands in the threshold for a moment to take them in, all three chained together by clasped hands, and smiles widely. It makes her stomach drop. "Are we to spend the morning together then?"

"Unfortunately not," she says, face scrunched in sympathy before turning to her sisters. "Would you both give us a moment alone? Council matter, I'm afraid."

"Of course, lovely," Baela assures her. Though there is a clear suspicion there, she still presses a kiss to her cheek all the same.

Rhaena is nodding as well, raising Morning in her arms. "We should find something for this beast to eat before she attempts to devour a few ravens in the rookery."

They say their goodbyes, each pressing a kiss to Corlys's cheek, and she feels her heart clench the moment the door closes behind them, leaving her alone with their grandsire. Corlys looks over at her and smiles, enough to make her guilt feel all consuming before she gestures to her dining table. He takes a seat while she begins rifling through her letter chest, searching for the right seal before pulling it out and joining him at the table.

Read the rest here :)

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[tamayakii]

Mare's Milk & Cider

warnings: drinking(reader has no specific age), story takes place in "second of his name" during Aegon's II celebrations, canon events basically. pairings: Otto Hightower x reader(can be seen as platonic/romantic), hotd x reader notes: thank you Aaliah, @genshinluvr, she helped me out with the ending!!! Let me know if you'd like to be in a tag list for this fic :) this fic is also paired up with this drawing i made!

“Then it lies with you, to make him see it.” Hobert advised, stepping closer to his younger brother, “Lord Hand” It did not go under Otto’s nose of what his brother was suggesting, reminding him of his own title.

His eyes never leave Hoberts as he considers his brothers' words, “and speaking of growing,” Otto follows Hoberts's moving gaze to the Princess, Angel of The Red Keep, adorned in a headdress with a long silk veil, dragons and stars embroidered in. Face decorated in Velaryon pearls, neck and fingers embellished with the finest green rubies, jades and agate the Hightowers could find.

“The fine lady y/n has grown to be a wondrous young woman, hasn’t she?” Hobert eyes do not hold simple admiration for a young girl grown, they hold more, and they contain something that Otto wants to snuff out with his bare hands.

“She is betrothed?” Hobert asks, looking back at his brother. “A fine woman like that cannot go un-married for long. With her and Rhaenrya combined, I can imagine the king's chambers are filled with betrothal letters.” Otto looks back at the Princess, watching as she plays with her new baby brother, covering her face and pulling her hands away quickly.

“A fine mother she will make as well, Aegon loves her.” The comment almost makes Otto snap, the thought of anyone being her husband or the father to her children makes a fire burst inside him. One Otto cannot explain reasonably, so he stifles it.

“She.. is not betrothed, Brother, I don’t think the King has any interest in marrying her off,” Otto answers, his lips tightening when his brother looks at him with a smirk. A near-knowing one that always made Otto furious since childhood.

“The king, or you?” Hobert quips, smirk widening when Otto’s face scrunches, nostrils flaring and wrinkles deepening. Hobert pats his shoulder as he begins to walk away, satisfied to get under his brother's skin.

No. Lady y/n shall not betrothed. Otto thinks, especially not to the likes of his brother. He watches as she laughs, throwing her head back and hand over her heart. Nothing, nothing could compare to her.

She steps away as the Lannister boy steps in, talking about the stepstones. She treats herself to the glorious spread on the table, picking out ham and grapes, plate barely complete- Otto steps in.

“Please, My Lady, have more” He helps fill her plate, and she shakes her head,

“You’re so sweet, Ser Otto, but i don’t think i can handle it. I am trying to watch my waist.” She responds, in a honey-sweet voice, one that cradles his entire being but her words make him roll his eyes.

“Treat yourself, My lady, we do not wish you to starve on such a good day. Now go ahead; eat before the long journey” Soon Viserys is at her side, like a dragon protecting its kin. All it takes is one look to make Otto step away,

“Come eat.” The king demands, “Fortify yourselves for the journey.” Otto watches her, keeping by her father’s side; Like a lamb to its mother. She looks over her shoulder and smiles at him--

☾

The trip to Kingswood is long and cold. Hand intertwined with Rhaenrya’s as you arrive, the loud crowd applauding for the king and new prince’s arrival but Rhaenrya makes no move to depart from the carriage.

“Rhaenrya?” Whispering as you scooch closer to the princess, “They await to see you” Still unmoving, all she does is blink. “Come.” standing up and pulling her along, “We will go together.” You step out of the carriage, with the princess alongside you.

“The Realms Delight herself; Princess Rhaenrya of Dragonstone! Accompanied by Princess y/n, Angel of The Red Keep!!” You squeeze her hand, looking at her. She looks at you with a somber smile, squeezing your hand back.

The roar of the crowd could blow you back, it will never not be jarring to be reminded of your station. A Princess. Not by blood but by word, and who would tell the king no? Who would dare say to King Viserys that his second daughter, whom his own late lady wife believed she had birthed her, cannot be a princess?

The celebrations are grand, the finest cakes and delights, the meat freshly hunted and prepared before your eyes. At your father's request, you stayed by his side, forcing you to leave Rhaenrya.

The glorious tent is filled with laughter and talk, and the smell of wine and cake fills your nose. Looking over to where the pregnant Queen Alicent sits, you realize she has been staring at you. You offer her a smile and she too offers one back.

Settling back into your chair, crossing your hands on your lap as you look above. Looking into the tiny details of the royal tent, the golden threads woven with black.

“Tired, my dragonling?” Viserys looks at you, reaching his free hand to yours- the other holding a goblet of wine. You reach over and hold his hand, As soon as he questions you, a yawn tries to force its way to your throat.

“The ride was tiring and too long for my tastes but--” you look to your father with a reassuring smile, “I shall be okay, After some food and rest, I'll be okay” he smiles back at you before taking another drink from his goblet.

Soon enough you’re offered your own goblet, filled with mare’s milk and honey. Time passes by slowly, you blink once and your father isn’t by your side anymore, It seems no one has noticed you dozed off. You promise yourself you won’t fall asleep but as you close your eyes and your goblet tips in your weak hand; the promise is broken.

“Is that all I am to you? A prize to be proffer about to the great houses?” Rhaenrya's voice makes you jump out of your short slumber, eyes wide like a deer as you begin to process the situation. As Viserys steps towards Rhaenrya, you push yourself out of your seat, setting your goblet down on the table beside you.

“You’re of age, Rhaenrya,” he points out, “and Jason Lannister is an excellent match,” he adds on. Oh. Oh no. Stepping towards the pair they seem not to notice you, there was no smooth way to stop this bickering. The two argue every day at least ever since Queen Aemma passed and especially since Viserys took Alicent to wife.

“He’s arrogant and self-serious” Rhaenrya argued, You wring your hands together anxiously. Watching the two fight as a bystander was like watching two lions fight, watching them as their family felt like two dragons fighting overhead. All that would follow would be the destruction of varying amounts that was left for you to pick up and fix, being both of their shoulders to lean on.

“Well, I thought you might have that in common” Even Lord Lyonel could feel the suffocating air around the two, taking a third step back. Sending you an apologetic look, the face Rhaenrya has is indescribable. Perhaps she wanted to scream at him, or even shocked that he would say such a thing, or maybe she had been at a loss for words.

Otto stalks closer from the sidelines, watching closely. This catches your eye, you try to breathe; knowing he is here comforts you. For nearly three years now, he has been your aid, your comfort and your closest friend- even despite the large age gap. You realize the tent has now fallen silent, and everyone listening in.

You quickly step to Otto’s side, seeking his silent comfort. You wish you could fix everything, and make everyone happy; even if it left your hands raw and bloody. If you could give your own heart for it; then you’d do it.

“Even I do not exist above tradition and duty, Rhaenrya!!” You cover your ears quickly, eyes wide with fear. Turning your body away from them, you began to feel violently aware of everyone's eyes on your family, some on you but mainly on the spectacle; The King and The Heir fighting on Aegon’s second name day.

When Viserys turns to Otto what he sees makes his flesh burn; You. So very close to Otto but turned away from him- Your father. It makes his blood boil, you should seek comfort from him. Not Ser Otto. You are his daughter. Not Otto’s.

Viserys soon leaves after the news of the white hart, but Otto stays, just for a moment. His gloved hand sitting on your shoulder, a reassuring hold. Your breath is shaky and your chest tight but you still manage to look at him through your eyelashes,

“Breathe, Princess.” He insists, and he maneuvers you towards your seat. Hand traversing to your lower back, “Sit and have some milk.” He gently puts your goblet back in your hand as you seat yourself. Feeble hands grip the handle, eyes drawn to the floor.

Otto tries to find the right words, he has never been a man of comfort. His hand hovers over your dropped head, unbeknownst to you. He sighs and takes his leave, passing his goblet to a maiden.

The day gets longer, Rhaenrya has run off with Criston following behind her. You knew it was against your set rules but you sank into your cups, after whispering to the help to fill your cups with cider but to not tell anyone else.

Your eyelids get heavy again, head tipping back. You love your family, you do. They took you in as a child, they gave you everything even despite the tight rules provided, sometimes… sometimes you wish that you took to a dragon and flew. Flew somewhere, to old Valryia or maybe to the free cities.

Then you’d be free.. but never truly free. Your love ties you down to your loved ones but that is the consequence of loving hard. Looking down into your cup, you swirl your drink. Taking a deep breath you look back to Alicent, she is already looking at you.

You wonder how long she has been staring at you and you tilt your head, she gestures for you to sit next to her. Another sigh leaves your mouth, slowly pushing yourself up.

“oh! princess, here allow me to help!” a maiden comes to your side, you wave her off as you give her the empty goblet. You keep your steps slow so as to not wobble, to others; you looked like you were gliding.

“My Queen.” you address as you sit beside her, Alicent quickly holds your hand closest to her. You are surrounded by the lady wives of many different men along with Larys Strong, the son of Lyonel Strong, the brother of Harwin “Breakbones” Strong.

“This is Viserys’s other daughter, Princess y/n” Remembering to keep your eyes open, you look around with a smile. “Dear y/n, how’s your day? you seem awfully tired.” Alicent asks with concern, one hand on her belly and other on your hand as she leans closer.

“I’m quite fine.” you mumble back, fighting your heavy lids as you nod. “The day is long… but soon we shall dine and turn in for the night.”

The conversations bore you, useless politics, rumors, marriages of lower houses. You wave over another servant with a sigh, already they know what you want. They deliver it, you try to hide the contents from Alicent but she notices.

“Cider?” She whispers tightly, holding the wrist that holds your goblet. Your nose flexes, “You know you cannot handle that.” She states, “a maiden your age shouldn’t even be holding a cup of cider.”

The rest of the ladies converse, and you are unbeknownst to another set of eyes on you. “Please. I will be fine.” you whisper, patting her hand and prying her tiny fingers off.

You take another big swig of your cider, almost finishing it all in one go. Looking over to Larys who has nearly burned holes into your head, nodding at him as a greeting.

“La-Larys.” you slur and he smiles at you, and you return it with a half one. The sudden need for fresh air sits in your lungs, eating you like a snake does a vole. Chugging your drink before shoving it in between the cushions of the seat, you stand up.

“I’m.. gonna go get some fresh air.” You announced, trying to make your way out of the once lovely group of women who now seem like a horde of gossiping vultures.

“Oh!” Lady Redwyne pops, “I heard that the hunters found a fat hog, they should be smoking it just now!”

The thought of watching them gut a pig to smoke makes your stomach turn, “thanks.. Lady Redwyne” You hurry out of the tent, the sun shining upon your skin. The pungent smell of burning meat and spices hits you, quickly turning away and scurrying to the back of the tent- where it was closer to the forest edge.

“ugh…. fuck.” You groan, kicking the dirt below you, the cider sticks to your insides like jam to bread. You ache to be in the comforts of the red keep, painting, or perhaps riding on horseback. You ache for a lot of things. Ache for the motherly hands of Aemma, to feel the embrace of someone you refuse to let yourself say. Perhaps you ache for the unmade.

You stand there, for minutes. Just staring into the bushes and trees, the arrival of the hunting party brings you back. Smoothing down the white lace on your dress, gulping down the fresh forest air; you return to the celebrations.

“Princess?” a feeble voice calls out, you look around and are surprised to see Larys.

“O-oh! Larys.. Larys, you surprised me.” You turn to the man hunched over his walking cane, leaning onto it. “How have you enjoyed my brother's second name day?” you ask, almost swallowing your tongue.

“it has been fine.. not that i can enjoy the most of it.” He moves his twisted foot, something that has dubbed him “The clubfoot” among gossipers. “But to be honest, i think i prefer talking with the maidens.” he adds, “they are far more gentler”

You nod along, eyes flickering over to the hunting party. Dogs held right by handlers, horses snorting and throwing their heads back as their riders dismount.

“But you..” he continues on “seem to be left to your own,” You still and wrong your hands together. Adjusting your stance as you feel yourself leaning, telling yourself to keep yourself together.

“Yes.. but it’s okay, I don't… don’t mind.” You reassure,

“I’m sure the cups of cider helped.” he smirks, knowing, your face flushed. How did he know? noticing your red face he chuckles,

“not to worry, Princess. I shall not tell anyone.” His eyes never leave yours, following your finicky gaze. It makes you uncomfortable, like a child being examined.

“I suppose it’s not-“

“You shall not tell anyone, what?”

you almost jump out of your skin, you turn so quickly that your head may have spun all around. Otto stands tall, chin up. Almost looking down upon Larys,

“Ser Otto” Larys addresses, if Larys was scared, he made no effort to show it. Your heart beats against your chest, “She was telling me a story; about Aegon.” You try to catch up to where Larys was, but he seemed to be a whole book ahead.

“ye… yes!” you stammer over words, “i uh, guess you could say i spoiled him despite Alicent request.” Otto's hard eyes soften when they land on you, it was a siren's song to your intoxicated state.

“The princess should be with the king.” Otto says, he offers you his arm and you reach for it.

“I was keeping the Princess company as she enjoyed the fresh air.” Larys explains, “She felt a bit queasy. I guess the mares' milk may have gone bad.” Otto looks down at your averted gaze, examining your state. Shuffling in your stance, flickering eyelids and subtle swaying.

“I see, I will look into that.” Otto puts his hand over yours, a grip to keep you near- not to comfort. “Come on, Princess.” He tries to walk you back, you step on your own foot as he does so.

“I think the princess would like to enjoy the fresh air longer.” Larys turns slowly, looking dead in Otto's eyes.

“The king has requested her presence” Otto's grip tightens, his nostrils flare. “but you can enjoy the air if you wish. I’m sure you won’t be bothered” Larys watches Otto lead you off into the tent, eyes never leaving you.

Entering the red tent filled with dozens of folk and your father right ahead, your sister is nowhere to be seen. You want to go home, you want to lie in your warm bed with Rhaenrya and wake up to braid each other's hair.

Soon you’re back in your chair, holding Viserys’ hand and Otto to your left. You stare off, taking a deep breath.

You would always be in the jaws of someone bigger, the dragons or the hounds. You’d bare your neck like a lamb, and hope for the dark delicate love.

Entwined in other people’s fate, all you can hope is that the fates bring you peace.

[callsign-rogueone]

fractured - b.d.

Bodhi Durran x reader You break your arm, but Nolon isn't available to mend it. Bodhi takes care of you in the meantime. [request] words: 1.1k 🏷: no book spoilers. she/her reader in an established relationship with Bodhi. mentions of injury (broken arm) but no blood and no description of how it happened. just some fluff of Bo taking care of you.

Bodhi is out of his seat as soon as he sees you exit the exam room, looking a little worse for wear -- your arm is in a sling, the bridge of your nose split, and you’re walking slowly, like your legs are sore.

“There you are,” he breathes. “Xaden said you were here, but nobody would tell me anything. What happened?”

“I fractured my arm in two places,” you explain, “But Nolon is busy, so until he’s done with whatever else he has going on, I have to heal the old fashioned way.”

You leave out the details of how it happened, and hope that he won’t ask. He doesn’t -- he just takes your bag from your ‘good arm’, slinging it over his shoulder before you can protest and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You give him a pained smile, letting him lead you back across the bridge to the rider’s quadrant, where everyone is sat down for dinner, in the middle of a spirited conversation. You slip into your normal seat, thankful that nobody seems to notice your condition or make a scene -- until they do.

“What’s with the sling?” Imogen asks, raising an eyebrow.

Every head at the table turns toward you. Great.

“Nolon was unavailable,” you answer in a tone that does not invite any more questions -- that seems to be good enough for them, but you still get a few worried glances and pitying looks from your friends in response.

You poke at your food, attempting to cut it with the side of your fork and failing -- it isn’t sharp enough. You set the utensil down, giving up; you aren’t that hungry, anyway, not after the painkiller the healers had given you, which isn’t doing anything except make you nauseous. You really hope that Nolon will be back tomorrow, because living like this is going to suck.

Bodhi notices your dilemma and slides your plate toward him, wordlessly taking your knife and fork and cutting everything into bite-sized pieces for you before he gives it back.

You thank him quietly, managing to eat half of it -- better than nothing, you suppose. Maybe you’ll feel better at breakfast.

He’s sitting on your right, your uninjured side, and he keeps you close to him all through dinner, tucked into his side.

When everyone is finished, he picks up your bag again, carrying it upstairs to your room, right across from his, following you inside and setting the bag on your desk chair. “Do you want help changing clothes? I promise I’m not just asking because I want to see you naked.”

You don’t laugh at the joke, kicking your boots off roughly, not caring where they land. 

“I’ll be fine,” you answer, turning your back on him. You’re sick of this, of feeling like a child, of being coddled and given those concerned looks all through dinner, like you can’t handle yourself -- like you haven’t had worse injuries, like you hadn’t run the gauntlet and bonded a dragon and literally everything else this terrible school asks of its students.

You try to tug your shirt off, hissing in pain at the movement of your arm. Hot tears start to flow down your cheeks as you continue to struggle, the fabric getting stuck on the thick wooden splint the healers had put around your forearm as a temporary fix.

“Hey,” Bodhi coaxes, “let me do it.”

You sigh, admitting defeat and taking a few steps toward him, allowing him to help get your good arm out of the other sleeve first, and gently untangle the shirt from the splint, tossing it into your laundry hamper with practiced ease.

He wipes away your tears with a gentle brush of his thumb, cradling your cheek in his hand. The familiar softness of his touch relaxes you near-instantly.

“I know this is frustrating for you, and I know you’re a badass independent woman dragon rider, who can take care of herself, and that’s one of the things I love most about you, but it would be easier -- and it would make me feel better -- if you let me help you. I love you, and I don’t want you to be in pain.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “Love you too.”

You stay like that for a moment, leaning into his hand and closing your eyes -- you’re exhausted.

“We’ll go by the healers before breakfast and see if Nolon is back,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your temple. “But until then, I’m gonna be here to help you, okay?”

You make a soft sound of acknowledgement, working up the courage. “Stay the night?” you ask softly. 

“Gladly,” he answers. “I’ll even bring extra pillows.”

There’s a moment of soft, comfortable silence that you want to linger in forever -- you really don’t feel like trying to shower with this thing on, or to lay down in bed; even with Bodhi by your side, it’s going to be uncomfortable, especially with how much you usually toss and turn during the night.

“I never asked you how this happened,” he realizes.

You stiffen, silent.

He looks at you with a seriousness you hardly ever see, deep concern with anger simmering underneath. “I need you to tell me who did this to you.”

You shake your head. “Nobody hurt me.”

He doesn’t look like he believes you -- you could very well be lying, because you don’t want him to go off and beat someone up just because they bested you in a challenge, but there weren’t any challenge fights today; they’re over for the rest of the school year. Had someone gone out of their way to injure you, to make an attempt on your life? 

“My love, I’m serious. If someone tried to-”

“I tripped over my own shoelace and fell down the flight of stairs by Kaori’s classroom,” you interrupt quietly. “Half a dozen first-years saw the whole thing.”

He knows you well enough to know that you’re telling the truth, that what he’s seeing is genuine embarrassment -- the shyness in your voice and the warmth of your cheeks give it away.

He laughs in relief, and at how deeply unserious this whole situation is. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing.”

“It’s okay,” you say, shaking your head with a slight smile. “It’s pretty funny.”

It’s hilarious. You’d completed your first year largely unscathed, sustaining no major injuries, but an untied shoelace had nearly done you in.

“That’s it,” he declares, “I’m tying your shoes for you every morning from now on.”

You laugh, wincing when the motion jostles your arm and sends a jolt of pain through you.

“Oh, honey,” he soothes. “C’mere.”

You settle into his arms, leaning against him as he embraces you, careful not to touch your splint.

“I love you,” he whispers, nudging his nose against yours.

“I love you too,” you reply. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Always, my love. Always.”

[innerfare]

Angsty Sabo Headcanons 

Summary: A collection of angsty Sabo headcanons

Genre: Angst

CW: None // SFW

———

Sometimes, Sabo can’t stand the sight of his scars, especially the one on his face. It’s actually the reason he has a little skincare routine. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t overcome his early childhood education, which taught him that men like him are such horrible monsters. He thinks he looks like a monster.  

Sometimes when he gets undressed and turns the shower on, he stares in the mirror while he’s waiting for the water to heat up. He ends up focusing on his scars and wondering if he deserves them. A small part of Sabo thinks he does deserve them. Despite fighting to abolish the system that teaches kids they were born wrong and recognizing it is, in fact, the system that is wrong, Sabo just can’t escape the feeling that he was born wrong. 

Sabo didn’t attack Dragon that day because he wanted to take a shot at the strongest guy on the field, he did it because on some level, he sensed something paternal coming from the man, and it made Sabo lash out; he wanted to kill Dragon like Ace wanted to kill Whitebeard.

“I’m sorry he died, but at least he didn’t die in handcuffs.” This is the only thing that Dragon said to Sabo about Ace, and Sabo latched onto it. At least he didn’t die in handcuffs. He repeats the phrase over and over in his head, a mantra he chants internally every day. He keeps hoping it will make him feel better, but it doesn’t. It makes him feel worse to know the best his brother could have hoped for was to die like a man and not a dog; he shouldn’t have died at all. 

Sabo knows Ace died thinking Sabo would be waiting for him on the other side. He tries to comfort himself with the thought that Ace will be waiting for him, but it doesn’t help. It makes him feel selfish to think Ace died first. It should have been me. 

Sabo doesn’t feel good about having cheated death. He feels like a fraud, a phony, a mistake. He feels like he should be dead. And no matter how many battles he fights and wins, no matter how many enemies he defeats, no matter how many adventures he goes on, he can’t escape the feeling he’s wasting his second chance. Ace wouldn’t waste it the way I am, he tells himself. 

Sabo has nightmares about Ace’s death. The worst part about them is that he has no idea if they’re accurate. Is that how it happened? Is that what it looked like? Is that what adult Ace’s voice sounded like? Is that what Luffy’s scream sounded like? He has no fucking clue, and it tears him up inside. 

A doctor gave Sabo some pills to help him sleep dreamlessly through the night, but taking them makes him feel guilty, as if he’s escaping the punishment he rightfully deserves for not saving Ace. 

Sabo hates sleeping alone. He grew so accustomed to sharing with Luffy and Ace, and even after suffering amnesia, never got used to being alone in bed. Sabo will show up at Koala’s door sometimes at two in the morning and ask if he can sleep with her because being alone reinforces the feeling that he somehow abandoned his family.

When he gets his memories back, Sabo starts sending a little bit of money every month to Dadan. He views it as recompense for the pain he’s certain he caused her by not protecting the boy she raised from the cradle. He won’t go visit her because he’s terrified she’ll scorn him for Ace’s death and turn him away from her doorstep. 

Sabo has a page at the back of his journal where he writes down all the jokes he thinks would make Ace laugh, in addition to other things he wishes he could tell his brother.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[angstywaifu]

Garrick Tavis Dad HC's

Kind of a part 2 to last weeks Garrick Tavis with Pregnant Reader HC's. You cannot tell me this man does not give off girl dad vibes. He just screams it to me. So this will all be based around Garrick having a little girl. Masterlist

This man would be over the moon when he finds out it’s a little girl. His little girl. He vows then and there to protect her at all costs. He also immediately starts asking for another one, earning an eye roll from his partner.

He loves nothing more than to sit on the couch or somewhere outside, cuddling his little girl. And nearly always falling asleep with her cradled to his chest.

That girl goes everywhere with him that he can take her. To the point Xaden, Bodhi and the others get sad if he doesn’t turn up with her. She has all of them wrapped around her little fingers already.

Every time she does something new he gets so excited. He will rush to where ever you are and tell you immediately what she’s done. Most times you have to tell him to slow down and repeat what he has said as he’s spoken way too fast.

Once the Toddler stage hits though, this man gets even more excited. He can’t wait to be able to play games with her and teach her everything he can. He gets even more excited when she turns into a daddys girl and just wants to do everything with him.

He’s taking care of Chradh? She’s right there helping out. Garrick being quite impressed with how patient Chradh is with her. Especially when she paints one of his claws bright pink to make him look prettier.

He’s sparing and practicing with the boys? He makes her a training dummy and wooden sword to practice with off to the side.

She wants to play princesses and have tea parties? This man is sitting at that table that looks ridiculously small next to him, with a tiara that looks just as ridiculously small on his head pretending to drink tea and eat cakes with all the dolls and his little girl.

He would spend hours building playhouses that looks just like a castle for her to play in. And loves when she asks him to play the knight and rescue her from the evil dragon. Chradh, who Garrick thought would roll and eye and want nothing to do with it is just as into it as he is. Sometimes too into it which has resulted in a few crushed or burned down playhouses.

Once the nightmares kick in, Garrick is there and ready to fight off any monsters under the bed scaring his little girl. She isn’t convinced they’re gone? Garrick will sit by that bed and hold her hand till she’s sound asleep again. Most time’s he also falls asleep to and you find him sprawled on the floor with his hand still holding hers.

Garrick is fully stocked up on first aid supplies immediately after her first fall. He is fully prepared for any burns, cuts, grazes and insect bites. No harm is coming to his little girl that he can’t fix.

And no harm will come to her when she is older. No boy is going to mess with her. They’re all too scared of her dad, as well as her uncle’s Xaden and Bodhi. Any boy that is interested in her is going to have to prove it. One wrong move and he’s out. Garrick only wants the best for his little girl.

The boy that does win her heart and Garrick’s approval, they’re pretty much like father and son. Spending time together without her there. They just laugh when she complains her boyfriend has become her dad’s boyfriend.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

We light the way (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 

Summary: House Hightower doesn't have dragons. But they have a magic of their own. 

Warnings: Canon typical violence and language. Dialogue lifted from the show. Strong!Reader

A/N: I intended to finish the bingo, so I prompted myself: Aemond + witness + friends to lovers. 

The magic had always been there. It was in his blood. It had always been. When Aemond was four years old, he had woken up in the middle of the night, screaming in terrible agony. Years later, with greater pains to serve as reference, he would compare it to the loss of his eye. 

The wet nurse that tended to him and his siblings had burst into the room to find him clutching his arm to his chest, but was unable to identify what was wrong with him. She had called for help, and soon, the Queen and the Maester had been roused. 

“This is most unusual.” The Maester pressed down on the inside of his forearm, and it had felt as if a thousand needles were digging on his skin. Aemond screamed. “I can't see any wound, nor has he have a fever.” 

His mother stepped closer, a grim expression on her face. Her eyes were worried.

“Aemond, love. Tell me what's wrong.” She gently cradled his face, examining him frantically. 

“Mother, make it stop! Make it stop!” 

Alicent's gaze drifted downwards. On Aemond's inner arm, in green ink, there were letters appearing in a pretty, feminine handwriting. Aemond did not know how to read yet, but whatever it said, it was not good. It wasn't normal. Words did not suddenly appear on people's skin. 

“Out! Everyone out!” She yelled, so forcefully for the normally polite Queen, that the Maester and the wet nurse scrambled to obey without questioning her decision. When they left, she brushed his hair back from his face and hugged him very tight, until the hurt went away. 

Aemond looked down. The letters had stopped appearing on his skin, and now, words in green ink remained. 

“What does it say, Mother?” 

“Stop hurting my brothers.” Alicent’s face scrunched up, as if about to cry. She took a deep breath.

“Why is it here?” Aemond pointed angrily at his arm. Like any boy of four years old, pain and tiredness made him cranky. “What is going on?” 

His mother looked at a loss for words. When he was older, she would tell him she was not too sure how to explain it, and had merely used her own father's version of the tale to make Aemond understand.

“Our family is different, love. Do you remember our words?” She gently scratched his scalp in the way he liked. 

“Fire and blood.” Aemond nuzzled his face on her stomach, hiding. 

“My words. Grandsire's words.” Her voice held a certain degree of annoyance. 

“We light the way.” 

“That's correct. We light the way, just as the Seven do for House Hightower.” She gently grabbed Aemond's forearm, and traced the letters. He shivered. “For some of us, the special ones, they light the way towards our destiny.” 

“My destiny is hurting someone's brothers?” 

“No.” Alicent laughed. “Your destiny is the person who will say those words to you. The words are how you will identify your soulmate. No one else, except us special Hightowers can see them.” 

“Not even her?” 

“Not even her. But she will have a mark like yours.” 

“And she won't be able to see it?” 

“No.” Alicent smiled. “You are very lucky, you know? Other Hightowers get less clear marks.” 

“What do yours say?” 

“I have no words, but a red thread.” And she lifted her finger, showing how a string of wool wrapped around it, and pooled, crimson red, on the floor. 

During the coming weeks, Aemond watched. His mother's red thread twisted around hallways and stairs, passing over torches and bathing rooms, like blood flowing down the walls of the Red Keep. His sister, Rhaenyra, held the other end. Aemond realized then that if he wanted his soulmate, he would have to tie her securely to him, for a mark did not ensure anything. 

Aegon and Helaena had no marks. Nor did anyone else outside his mother and Rhaenyra. 

♧

The first thing Aemond noticed about you, upon meeting you, was that you were loud. You came into the world crying. No, wailing. As he stood near the birthing chamber, by his mother's side, he felt confused. 

“Are all babies this loud?” He asked her. Alicent frowned. The cries sounded much more pained than it was normal for a babe, but Aemond did not figure that out until he was older. 

His father had ordered that every member of the family had to be present during the birth of Rhaenyra's first babe. On the floor, Helaena was chasing a caterpillar, as Aegon played dragons and knights with one of the guards. His father was silently praying. 

Aemond and his mother were sitting by a window, trying to ignore the screams. After enduring almost six hours of Rhaenyra’s agonized sounds, and now hearing the babe, Aemond had come to a decision. He would not have children once he found his woman, for it sounded hurtful to her and if she was meant to be his, then Aemond could not allow any harm to befall her. 

“Not always.” Mother answered, with a wince. And then, another wail could be heard, joining yours. 

“The Princess has birthed twins!” The midwife announced, joyfully. “A girl and a boy.” 

King Viserys stood, clapping. 

“Can we see them?” 

“Of course, Your Grace.” The midwife opened the door a bit further, allowing them to step in. Aemond, curious about the babes, was the first to approach. They were so tiny but… 

“Your hair is brown.” He said to one of them, perplexed. Aemond carefully rubbed the babe's hair, trying to get the grime out. Then, he turned towards the midwife, accusingly. “You didn't clean them properly.” 

His father's and Rhaenyra's smiles froze. 

“She is not dirty.” Rhaenyra said, shortly. “She is like that, and she is perfect.” 

Aemond frowned. He wanted to ask his mother how it could be, that the babe had hair different from her parents. But his mother squeezed his hand, harshly, and Aemond understood that she did not want him to ask that. 

He looked at the babe. At you. You were rather pretty. 

“She is pretty. Though she is tiny. I expect she will grow.” He gave a questioning glance towards Rhaenyra, who looked unsure. She didn't seem to like Aemond's questions, but he was at that age. 

The terrible twos had turned into the horrible threes, and the curious fours. Right now, he was just entering the questioning fives. It would be an affliction that would follow him for the rest of his life. 

“Of course she will. And you will protect your niece, won't you?” His father ordered, and Aemond nodded solemnly. He would. 

Aemond failed to notice then, but on your arm, in childish black letters, the proclamation of the color of your hair was plain to see. 

♧

Lady Laena's funeral had put you in a melancholic mood. Just like Jace, you were old enough to see the truth of your parentage and were mourning Ser Harwin. You thought it stupid, having to attend a funeral for a woman that you never met, while your father's charred remains were put to rest at Harrenhall without even his brother's attendance. 

If it were you burying one of your brothers, you would have been inconsolable. You didn't understand why Lord Larys wasn't. 

Watching Lady Laena's remains go back into the sea made you think of your father, and it was all so sad, you had started crying right along with Baela and Rhaela. Your uncle, Aegon, had laughed at you, commenting on your weakness for crying for a stranger, which only made you sob harder. 

It was only natural that you had sought the comfort of your other half during the night. As of late, your mother insisted that Jace and you should be in separated rooms. She had said something about how improper it was, since you were growing older. You had not understood that either. 

You had gone to him in the middle of the night, and fell asleep hugging him close. Jace was a source of comfort despite being younger than you. Your mother often said that you had to protect him, being the eldest, but Jace always said that he was going to protect you because he was going to be King. 

“Jace, Jace.” A voice interrupted your slumber, and you felt the warmth pulling away. You held it tighter, refusing to let go. 

“Jace, wake up. Wake up.” The voice insisted, and you pried your eyes open to see Baela's face staring down at you. The sight confused you, and you squinted at her. She was starting to tear up, and Jace still gave no sign of waking up. You shook him hard. 

Jace mumbled something. 

“Someone stole Vhagar.” Baela said, more urgently. It prompted your brother to sit up fully, jerking you upwards too. 

“What?” 

You did not hesitate. You jumped out of bed, put on your slippers and went to wake Luke. 

After that, it was chaos. Vhagar's roars could be heard clearly in the distance, and you ran into Aemond slipping inside the castle, fully dressed. You did not need further explanations. 

The girls and Aemond traded insults. Then, they were coming at him and they were rolling on the ground. Aemond made mention of your parentage, egging on Jace and Luke. You were too horrified to do anything but scream. You would have done nothing, four against one already seeming unfair without your intervention, if Aemond had not started choking Luke. 

“Stop hurting my brothers!” You screamed, launching yourself at him. Then there was a rock, and a dagger, and you had given Luke an opening, and Aemond was screaming in agony. 

The sight of his maimed eye made you shriek louder. There was so much blood, and you pressed your hands on it, as you had seen the Kingsguard do when someone was injured. Aemond slapped you, wailing. 

“I am trying to help!” You said, stubbornly. Your tiny hands went to grab for his eye again, but Ser Harold was entering and removing you from him. For the first time, you looked down and realized your nightgown was soaked in blood. You started sobbing harder. 

You had to be carried back into the hall, nearly catatonic. When your grandfather took in the sight of Aemond and you, he demanded answers. He started to yell, and gesture at the Kingsguards, only frightening you more. 

Finally, your mother appeared, and you rushed to her, grabbing fistfuls of her dress with blood soaked hands. 

“What happened?” Your mother picked you up, examining you closely. “Why is my daughter not being tended to?” She asked the Maester. 

“Luke and Jace are hurt.” You cried. 

“Show me.” Your mother said to the boys. Then, she scowled and repeated. “Why are my children not being tended to?”

Queen Alicent laughed. It was an ugly, grating sound. 

“Who did this?” 

“They attacked me!” Aemond complained. 

“He attacked Baela.” 

“He broke Luke's nose.” 

“He stole my mother's dragon!”

Everyone was talking at the same time, making a terrible noise that didn't allow the King's words to carry. Even the Queen was screaming, until…

“He called us bastards!” 

“Aemond… I will have the truth of what happened. Now.” Your Grandsire said, creeping towards Aemond. You felt a bit bad for him, being reprimanded by his father after losing his eye. 

“What else is there to hear?” Queen Alicent sounded exasperated. “Your son has been maimed. Her son is responsible.” 

You flinched. She sounded so angry. Your hand reached for Luke's, holding him close. You were afraid he might be hurt by the Queen. 

“It was a regrettable accident.” 

“Accident? The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush.” The Queen pointed at Luke, harshly. You whimpered. “He meant to kill my son.” 

“It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves. Vile insults were levied against them.” Your mother stepped in front of Luke, Jace and you. 

“What insults?” The Queen seemed distracted by something Aemond was muttering to her. They were too far away for you to hear, but by the way his lips moved, you thought it was something similar to “Mine… She… mine.” 

“The legitimacy of my children’s birth was put loudly to question.”

Queen Alicent was starting to turn very pale. You doubted it was because of your mother's words. It was no secret to anyone that Jace, Luke and you were not Velaryons. You did not look the part. At all. It was no wonder that someone had finally said it to your face. 

“What?” Your grandsire's eyes widened. Had he not known? You didn't understand why he was so angry.  

“He called us bastards.”

“My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace. This is the highest of treasons. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders.” Your mother quickly interjected. Queen Alicent looked about to lose her mind. 

“Over an insult?” Alicent sounded odd. Her mind was clearly elsewhere, but she kept arguing. “My son has lost an eye.”

The King started interrogating Aemond, but you were focused on something else. The Queen, despite still defending Aemond, had her eyes fixed on you. At first, you thought she was looking at Luke, but then you realized she was focused on your arm. Or your sleeve. Uncomfortable, you tugged your sleeve down. She was probably looking at the blood in your hands.

Slowly, very slowly, she was creeping closer. Her hand reached forward as if to grab you when Aegon spoke. “We know, Father. Everybody knows. Just look at them.”

More recriminations were to follow. Your mother, noticing Alicent's attention was on you, shoved you back behind her. 

“This interminable infighting must cease!” The King proclaimed, loudly. His eyes darted from your uncles towards you and your brothers. Even at such a young age, you could feel something was irreparably broken between your mother and the Queen. Luke and Aemond too had broken their bond beyond repair. “All of you! We are family! Now make your apologies and show good will to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your king demands it!” 

Jace looked perplexed, as did Aegon. To them, the request sounded as unreasonable as it did to you, despite their short ages. You knew then you would never be a family again. 

“That is insufficient. Aemond has been damaged, permanently, My King. Good will cannot make him whole.” The Queen complained, her brown eyes narrowing.

“I know, Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye.” Your grandsire sounded exhausted. 

“No because it’s been taken.” Alicent answered.  You shifted in your place, ignoring Jace's hands urging you to stay as you were. You felt dirty, hands and sleeves covered in Aemond's blood. It was sticky and it smelt bad. 

“What would you have me do?” The King’s tone was exasperated, but cautious. He could sense there was something else at play, that the Queen would not allow the slight to go unpunished. Aemond, in the corner, was unusually quiet. 

You squirmed even more into place. Jace squeezed your hand in warning. The Queen looked like a wolf about to pounce, and it scared you. You feared of what she could do to Luke. 

But instead, her eyes darted to you again. 

“There is a debt to be paid.” You felt as if her words were being spoken directly to you.  “I shall have one of her son’s eyes in return.

You gave a horrified gasp. Your mother looked ready to gut Alicent. Murmuring broke out across the room, everyone speaking at once. Luke hid between Jace and you. 

“My dear wife.”

“He is your son, Viserys. Your blood.” Alicent's eyes were watery with just indignation. She was about to cry out of sheer frustration. 

“Do not… allow your temper to guide your judgment.” 

“If the King will not give me his eye, then I want her daughter. Who will marry Aemond like this? It will mean the loss of his ability with his sword, ladies will not want him.” She spoke hurriedly, as if afraid that if she let anyone get a word in, no one would listen to her. Alicent's voice raised. “I want her betrothed to Aemond. She will return to the Red Keep immediately. I do not want Princess Rhaenyra to find a way to damage that too.”

“My King, surely no one would reject a Prince of the blood.” Your mother said, weakly. Her hand clutched at your shoulder, fisting in your nightgown. You risked a look at your grandsire. He looked thoughtful. 

“Ser Criston… Bring me the girl!” The Queen ordered, and Ser Criston took a step towards you. You cowered.

“That will not be necessary.” Your grandsire said. “Girl, come.”

Your brothers cried out. Aemond's face stretched into a satisfied smirk. Aegon looked bored, and your cousins horrified. None of that you took notice, but your mother. She was making a wounded, hurt noise. It sounded much like a wail.  Her hand around your shoulder tightened. Daemon leaned in and whispered something to her, making her grip loosen. 

“Go.” Daemon said, shoving you slightly. “Go to your Grandsire.” 

And so you went. Up close, King Viserys was much more intimidating. There was a certain stench around him, of flesh rotting, that not even the medicine could mask. You lowered your eyes, staring at your slippers. 

“Do not be afraid, child.” He gently tilted your chin up with a finger. “Look at me.” 

You obeyed. He examined your face curiously. One of his hands grasped your forearm, and he looked at your hands as well. Self-conscious about the dirt and the blood, you made your hands into tiny fists, before relaxing them. 

“Why are you covered in blood, but your cousins and brothers are not?” 

“I tried to help him, Your Grace.” You answered, truthfully. You had thought you were really helping then. The answer seemed to please him. 

“You are a good girl. You wish to help, and you will.” Viserys smiled. He seemed glad to have found the answer to his troubles almost accidentally. “Your marriage with your Uncle will unify both sides of the family. Go with him.” 

Without any other choice, you went to stand beside Aemond. His eye was swollen and shut by stitches. He stared at you with his good eye, before his hand shut like a vice around your wrist. 

Like your grandsire, Aemond forced your arm up. But instead of examining your hand, he looked at the inside of your forearm. You didn't see anything, but he seemed pleased. He grabbed a handkerchief and wiped your hand clean. Then, he grabbed your other hand and cleaned it too. 

“You are mine. Mine, you understand?” He squeezed your wrist, sharply.

You nodded, eyes filling with tears. 

“Yes, Uncle.” 

“Do not mourn me, Mother.” Aemond said, slipping your hand in his. He looked at Alicent, evenly. “It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye… but I gained a dragon.” 

“This proceeding is to an end. Whoever questions the legitimacy of Princess Rhaenyra’s children again will lose their tongue.”

And then, Queen Alicent was leading you out of the room with her family, a firm hand between your shoulder blades and the looming shade of Ser Criston behind you. You tried to look back, go to your mother, but you only managed to see the desperation on her face as Daemon led her and your siblings out of the room. 

She would fight for you. You knew she would. This was only temporary.

♧

Alicent sighed, tiredly. She had just put you to bed on the loveseat inside her rooms. She was too afraid of Rhaenyra whisking you away in the middle of the night to do otherwise. You had taken a long time to settle. Poor thing that you were, you had been crying silently as the maids made you bathe and found you a clean nightgown. 

Alicent was sharply reminded of when she was told she would marry the King. She had been afraid too. Terrified, in fact. Back then, Viserys had seemed like such an imposing man, and he had not been kind to her. As the sickness got the better of her, Alicent felt a secret pleasure at seeing him humbled. She actually enjoyed doing her duty and caring for him, if only because she could remind herself he was weak. The cruel man who had hurt her now had started to rely increasingly on her. Her stomach twisted in dark satisfaction. Not so great now, huh? 

That was not the point. It was for the best, Alicent tried telling herself. You would be happy with Aemond. This was nothing like her situation. The gods had made Aemond and you perfect for one another. You just had to get used to him first. 

Alicent had been older, though. You were a girl not yet flowered. And she had her father at court. Alicent had never wanted to go to him, but she had had the option. 

You had no one. And you knew it. You had sobbed quietly into your pillow as Alicent whispered reassurances and rubbed your back. When you had finally calmed down, you had given her big pleading eyes and asked for her to allow you to say goodbye. She had felt as if she was the worst person in Westeros.

“The Hand, Your Grace.” The voice startled her. She looked up to find her father already in the room. 

“Say your piece.”

“Now, what piece is that?” Her father raised his eyebrows. 

“I’ve conducted myself in a manner… unbefitting my station. I lost composure and made a scene.”  

“All true.” But despite his words, Otto sounded amused.

“I disgraced myself.” Alicent went on, unsure of what he was thinking. She disliked that he was so difficult to read. She could never tell if he was about to reprimand her or congratulate her. “But it was necessary. The girl is…” 

“I have never seen that side of you, my daughter. I even doubted its existence.” Otto's reply was calm and measured, but there was a hint of pride in his eyes. 

“It was an ugly thing. I regret it.” Separating a mother from her daughter, no matter how wretched the mother was…. You would need Rhaenyra, in the years to come. You would flower, grow, need to be told about heirs and taught womanly things. But Rhaenyra would have never allowed you to come, if Alicent had not forced her hand. She would not understand. She was not a Hightower. 

This was best. No matter how lonely you got, you would always have Aemond. 

Yet Alicent remembered her own maiden years without a mother, and her heart hurt. You would be lost at court. You were a child. But just as Rhaenyra had not spared Aemond, she could not spare you. 

“We play an ugly game. And now, for the first time, I see that you have the determination to win it.” Her father spoke, and it was then she realized they were having two different conversations. 

“No, Father. That's not why…” Alicent sighed. Sometimes, it was better that certain things were seen rather than told.  “Get up. Come.” 

She led him towards where you peacefully slept. Her father remained puzzled. 

“Alicent…” 

And it was then that you rolled onto your side, showing the inside of your arm. In scraggly, black letters, the insult remained exactly the same as it had been spoken aloud. “Your hair is brown.” 

Otto staggered back. 

“You see, now?” Alicent asked him, voice wavering. “I had to take her. I had to, Father. Right? She is Aemond's. Rhaenyra already took so much from him, I couldn't let her have her, too.” 

“You did the right thing.” Otto squeezed her shoulder, as he bent down to cover you more with the furs. “She is his, yes. But she will also prove invaluable in the years to come.” 

“How so? Preventing war?” 

“She will sit on the Iron Throne. Why should a man rule, if she was born first?” Her father smirked. “Keep a grip on your passions. And I promise you, in time, you and I together will prevail. What that rogue Aemond has done in winning Vhagar and her to our side… The boy was right. It’s worth a thousand times the price he paid.”

♧

Aemond had found he did not like his soulmate very much. You were shy and easily frightened, and you spent most of your days crying in the corners. 

You were little, his mother said. It was normal that you were taking your time to adjust.  

This was nothing like Aemond expected. You being his seemed like a great jape. You cried at everything and managed to be more annoying than Aegon. Then, there was the fact of your parentage. Why would he be cursed with a bastard for a soulmate? Had he slighted the Seven in some way? 

“Stop crying.” He snapped at you. “You look like a fool.” 

You sniffled, quietly. Helaena had invited you to go catching bugs with her, but you had started sobbing when the first caterpillar was placed on your arm. Aemond had to intercede, pulling you aside, but you had only cried harder. If there was something in which you resembled Rhaenyra, it was in the fact that you always made your displeasure known. 

The only time you seemed at peace was with a book in your hands. His mother had noticed that particular miracle when one afternoon, upset at Aegon tugging on your dark braids, you had disappeared. Alicent had been frantic, sending servants to turn the Red Keep upside down in your search. She had found you by accident, sitting in the library with a book open on your lap, comically large for your childish body. The attempt at self soothing had been noted and tucked away to ruminate later on. 

“Aemond.” His mother said, sharply. He sighed. It wasn't like he tried to scare you on purpose. Just that Aemond was not too sure what to do with you. Girls were not his primary concern, but he supposed you were to be endured.

Later that day, his mother pulled him aside. 

“If you treat her cruelly, she will grow to resent you.” He was too young to catch it then, but there was a glimmer in Alicent’s eyes that indicated she spoke out of personal experience. “This is not how you win her over.” 

“She is mine, though.”  Aemond scowled. There was no need to win you over. His father had already ordered your marriage to him. Not even Princess Rhaenyra could oppose it. 

Besides, you were a bastard. It was obvious to anyone with eyes. You should be grateful Aemond paid you any sort of attention, even if it was negative. When you grew older, and your strong features made themselves even more known, no one would want you. 

You were the lucky one. Not him. 

“Soulmarks do not ensure anything.” His mother said, her tone turning slightly less patient. 

“But father gave her to me.” 

His mother looked up, as if begging to the Seven Heavens for fortitude. 

“Betrothals and marriages can be annulled by a King.” Aemond frowned. Why would his father change his mind? “Or a Queen.” 

“Oh.” Aemond had not considered that possibility. He would have to ensure the two of you were married by the time your mother took the crown. And hopefully, if he could manage, get a babe too. That would be much harder to annul. 

“You need to make her want to stay.” His mother had a point there. It was a much simpler solution than what Aemond was concocting. There was only the issue of how. Aemond had no clue what to do with girls, and you cried so much it was off-putting. 

“How?” 

“Be kind. She is lonely here. She needs a friend.” 

He found you crying again the next day. You had scrapped your knee on the dragonpit, after visiting your growing dragon. You were inconsolable, face covered with snot and eyes swollen from so much crying. 

Aemond would have scoffed at your weakness, were it not for the lingering memory of his mother’s words. 

He fetched water and a clean linen, and kneeled in front of you. Big, teary eyes stared down in confusion. Your dark eyelashes, clumped together with tears, and another reminder of your bastardy, fluttered. You gave a few harsh blinks. 

“The King gave me you.” Aemond enunciated, slowly. He wanted to make sure you understood his meaning. “You are mine to guard and protect. And to care for.” 

Your dark eyes, pretty for a bastard, widened.  You pulled your leg back, but Aemond made sure to hold your knee firmly, and continued tending to your injury. 

“Nothing bad will happen to you. I ride Vhagar, the biggest dragon in existence.” 

That didn't seem to reassure you much, either. You flinched as if hurt by the thought of Vhagar. Probably scared, remembering exactly how he had won her. 

Aemond tried to recall what normal girls liked. Helaena was no use, but of the few times he had crossed paths with his other nieces, he had a lasting impression of romantic gestures and delusions. 

“When we are older, we will marry, and I shall be very kind. You will love me very much and you will never be alone again.”  Aemond rubbed your kneecap, gently. 

Your jaw was hanging open, but you didn't even make a peep. He sighed, exhausted again. You were stubborn, so there was no point in expecting you to… Aemond was unable to finish the train of thought. His mind had gone blank. 

Your arms were around him and you were not letting go. 

♧

It spirals, after that. You are quiet, the consequence of a childhood spent near Jacaerys, Aegon and Lucerys. They seemed to have much louder voices than you. Yet, at the same time, you are always making yourself known. 

Be it a hand curling around his wrist to drag him to the kitchens to try the newest lemon cakes, or a swift tug to his jerkin to get Aemond to pay attention, your feelings are loud and clear. 

Aemond has never been particularly playful or fond of the outdoors. He much prefers studying philosophy and history. At two and ten years of age, it is a bit late for him to take part in childish games like monsters and maidens or come-into-my-castle, but you are younger than he by a few years, so he accepts his fate easily enough. You will grow out of it, Aemond muses, and it's not entirely unpleasant to be the one that causes you to shriek in laughter. 

Besides, it's not like the two of you only do things that please you. Often, you curl with him near the fire, a book in your hands, while Aemond studies his lessons. Aemond finds your weight against his side comforting, and he feels a vicious sort of pleasure at enjoying something you used to do with your twin. 

He might not be able to take Lucery's eye. He might never manage to hurt Jacaerys. But Aemond will take their sister, make no mistake. Soon, the day will come that they visit the Red Keep and something will happen, and you will run to Aemond's arms for comfort. Not theirs. And it will be all the vindication he needs, watching those stupid Strong boys gape at their beloved sister’s preference. 

You have been growing well. He is satisfied to notice that you have intelligent eyes and that you take well to your lessons. You curtsy and dance as well as a lady of twice your age, your manners are pleasing, and you know the Seven Pointed Star by heart. Once could almost forget you are a bastard and not a miniature copy of Alicent, with how often you have taken to following her around. 

Aemond is not a fool. His grandfather has taken an unusual liking to you, and is frequently imparting lessons. His mother pays you more attention than she does to Helaena. It may be guilt on his mother's part, but his grandsire does not have such qualms. He is no woman. They are grooming you to rule. 

“Aemond!” You run towards him, excitedly. “I want to go riding. Can we?” 

“I don't know, Princess.” He smirks. One thing he likes about being older than you is the ability to lord his knowledge over you. You get so huffy and pouty, it makes him understand why Aegon enjoyed teasing him so much. He would never be as cruel to you, though. You are too sweet for it.  “Can we?” 

“You know what I meant!” You scowl at him. Your limbs seem to be vibrating with the force of will it takes not to stomp your foot like a commoner. 

“Of course we can. You have a dragon and I do too, we are both very proficient…” Aemond teases, enjoying the way your face scrunches up in displeasure at the knowledge you will have to bend. 

“May we!” Your voice raises slightly. “Mean!” 

Aemond waits a moment, letting the suspense build. Your lower lip trembles, fighting the urge to pout.

“Please?” You say, brown eyes pleading. It doesn't bother him as it used to, your darker features. Aemond has found there is a certain beauty in your hair and eyes. Besides, Aegon has told him that the women at the Riverlands are much more pretty than those of House Targaryen. If he was not jesting, you would grow into a beautiful woman thanks to your Strong blood. 

“Fine. We will go.” He is careful to keep his tone gruff, as if he was doing you some great favor. In truth, Aemond enjoys the activity as much as you do. He has to be careful, with your dragon and you being smaller than Vhagar and him, but it is fun to race you. He even lets you win, sometimes. 

Sometimes, though, you win fair and square. It's very troubling. You have started to become distracting, and too often Aemond thinks of how pretty you look with the blue backdrop, riding a dragon like a true Targaryen. It's then that you take advantage and push your dragon further, faster, until you surpass him and Aemond shakes himself out of the spell you cast on him. 

He wonders if kissing is as pleasant as Aegon says it is. Your clever mouth looks soft, and Aemond knows you would yield to him easily. He is very curious about how your hair would feel on his hands, and how it would look coming undone from your braids. 

A joyful little sound brings him out of his contemplation. You are hiking up your skirts and breaking into a sprint. 

“Last one there carries the books for a whole week!”

“Oh, you are on.” And he is running after you, hot on your heels, as if he were a boy once more. 

♧

Alicent can't sleep. The storm raging outside keeps her awake, pacing. Viserys is getting worse with every day that passes, and she fears she is living on borrowed time. 

Will Rhaenyra kill Aegon? Even with the betrothal of Aemond to you, Alicent doubts she will stand down. The letters that have come are few and far in between, getting even more spaced out now that you are happier and Rhaenyra is having Daemon's children. 

Jacaerys is the only one who keeps a steady stream of communication with you. Alicent is guilty of reading his letters. She has committed that particular sin various times. Among the tales of your week and the recounting of how much you miss your other half, there are some troubling thoughts. Has mother replaced me? Does she not love me anymore? Will you too forget about me? 

He tries being reassuring, but he knows the truth. Just as Alicent does too. Rhaenyra hates being anything but the center of attention. She had been a regular mother to you, but she cannot stand the influence Alicent is having on your life, nor can she tolerate that you are happy with it. If you wrote tales of your unhappiness, of your unwillingness to marry Aemond, Rhaenyra would be loving and supportive. But you are too honest for that. 

At first, Alicent had taken to mothering you as a way of atoning for her sins. She had dragged you away from home when you were a child. She had gifted you to Aemond. It had been her fault that her father decided you would sit on the Iron Throne after Rhaenyra was dead. 

But now, caring for you comes naturally. You were an easy child. Sweet natured, and starved for affection. You were not like Helaena. Instead, you enjoyed placing ribbons in your hair and trying on new dresses, and you were actually interested when Alicent spoke of the Faith. 

Most of all, though, you loved Aemond with all your heart. You followed him everywhere, be it cheering for him in the stands as he trained, or helping him get to his chambers when the pain in his eye turned into a migraine. It made Alicent love you even more. 

There were times, though, when your love for Aemond turned problematic. Suspecting tonight was one of those times, Alicent decided to stop her senseless pacing and go check on you. 

The guards stationed outside your hallway squirmed in their posts when confronted with the sight of Alicent. 

“Let me guess.” She said, tiredly. “The Princess is not in her rooms.” 

“No, Your Grace.” One of them said, lowering his head in shame. Alicent fought the urge to scream at their incompetence. How could one girl, barely two and ten, manage to slip past two guards? Alicent loved you like you were her own, but you were just too much like Rhaenyra sometimes. 

“Thank you.” Alicent inwardly was cursing up a storm. She knew exactly where you were. 

It was not long before she found herself outside Aemond's chambers. This set of guards looked more grim. 

“Do not tell me. The Princess is inside.” Alicent asked, flatly. The guards only stepped aside, curtsying to her.

The bed was too small to hold both of you comfortably, so you were laying on your sides. Aemond was not wearing his eye patch, and Alicent thought him asleep. Your head was resting on his shoulder, half squeezed against his arm in a position that could not be comfortable for your neck. 

Both of you still had your nightclothes on. Alicent could have danced in relief. She had enough as it was with Aegon to add you two to the list. 

“Mother.” Aemond whispered, very quietly. He had you hugged to him, and now that she looked more closely, Alicent could tell he was rubbing your back up and down. She wondered how long he had been standing guard. 

“You are five and ten. She has already flowered. This has to stop.” She whisper-shouted. 

“I am not going to dishonor her, mother, for the Seven's sake! I am not Aegon.” Aemond whisper-shouted back, being careful not to move you. 

“What are you doing, then?” She placed her hands on her hips and looked down at your sleeping form. While it was true that you were entirely dressed, the way Aemond held you lately was less friendly and more of a lover's embrace. 

You sighed in your sleep, sweetly, and hid your face against his neck. Both of them went quiet for a few seconds. 

Only when you were settled again, Aemond dared to speak. 

“The same as always. She was scared. She used to climb in with…” 

Alicent rolled her eyes. She had heard the same excuse too many times to count. 

“Prince Jacaerys, I know. Just as I have known since you were ten, but neither of you is a child any longer.” 

“Mother…” 

“What will the maids think come the morrow? The guards? They will see her coming out of your quarters. You can't keep doing this. I have tolerated it far too long.” The guards already knew. Used as they were at keeping their King's secrets, no one had thought to speak yet. They, too, believed it was harmless behavior. But both of you were getting older and Alicent feared the day when Aemond's hands turned from consoling to groping, and your soft little hugs turned into passionate embraces.

“It's entirely innocent, Mother, I swear.” Aemond looks vaguely offended by the thought and Alicent has to steady herself because of the audacity of this child! No, she was surely atoning for all her past deeds with the two of you. Aegon was sent to taunt her with her failures as a mother, and the two of you were destined to remind her of Rhaenyra and her failures as a friend. Thank the Gods Helaena was normal, in comparison.“I wouldn't touch her like that. I don't intend to hurt her.” 

Alicent stopped her complaint before it left her mouth. Surprise made her eyes go wide. Then, with her softest voice, she tried to fix this. 

“It's… Oh, Aemond. It's not meant to be hurtful.” Poor child. Who had told him intercourse was meant to hurt? Alicent had kept her woes in that area strictly to herself. Aegon and Rhaenyra flaunted loudly that they enjoyed it very much. So why was Aemond so afraid?

“But it hurts you. It hurts Helaena. It hurts the girls Aegon…” 

She deflated. So worried had Alicent been about precocious youths, she had never stopped to think about how she had never explained to them what the marital duties were. Painful. Hurtful. Alicent could not deny that. Men did not care for the pleasure of women and were it not for the fact that she had been friends with Rhaenyra once, Alicent would think it hurtful by nature too. It was not meant to be that way, even if she herself had not experienced the pleasure people went on and on about. 

Alicent had to reassure Aemond. It was vital that once he married, he produced heirs. His grandsire's plan depended on it. That would not be achieved if he was afraid of touching you. Besides, your situation was different. You were marrying your soulmate. Your other half. 

She felt utterly unable to help Aemond realize it was not meant to be hurtful, but magical and blessed by the Gods. Her father was better suited to giving this talk than her. He was the one who had actually married his destined partner.

Sometimes, she wondered if you two were a way for the Seven to fix history. When you did willful, reckless things with no care for your reputation, she could see Rhaenyra running around the Red Keep, despite the different coloring. And when Aemond, dutiful, serious Aemond, got all uppity about the topics and scandalized himself, it was as if looking at herself during the past. 

Alicent would never say it out loud, but she liked your coloring. When she looked at you from a certain light, she could pretend you were Rhaenyra and hers. And when Aemond chased you around, long silver hair at his back, she could almost pretend it was the two of them again, racing in the hallways of the Red Keep. 

We light the way indeed. The Gods could be very cruel. 

No, Alicent thought bitterly, she had lacked the necessary parts to keep her soulmate by her side. Let her father take this one. 

“It does. But you will not be rough with her. It will feel pleasant, and that is why it is so dangerous. She will not want you to stop, you will not want to, either.” She keeps her tone reassuring. Aemond looked fully offended now, a fierce scowl on his face. As if he were being accused of a terrible crime. 

“Of course I wouldn't be rough with her. She is mine.” He scoffed, all haughty. Alicent fought the urge to laugh. Boys. Always so dramatic. She much preferred mothering Helaena and you than this. It was almost easy in comparison. 

“And you are hers?” She teased. 

“I am.” Aemond seemed amused by the reference to wedding vows, lips twitching with the urge to smile. He fought it because Gods forbid he let his mother know he thought her witty. 

“Good.” Alicent smiled. “Have you kissed?” 

“Mother!” Aemond shook his head, turning red as a tomato.“I am waiting for her to be ready. She flowered so recently…” 

“That is very kind.” More kindness than she had been afforded by her husband. Aemond must be smitten. 

Alicent decides then she will speak to Viserys about expediting the wedding. And get her father to teach the both of you about marital duties. She does not want to risk the both of you siring a bastard. Not on her watch. 

[dollfaced-erin]

do you mean like requested scenarios in dragon's cradle? i do have one in mind though

cuz i was thinking what if dan jia (yes we going for the past setting) who likes to make use of her tail at it's fullest like poking someone, waving, comforting someone but instead of a back rub using hands, she uses her tail, it's like a third arm without fingers lmao

like imagine seeing the high cloud quintet finally coming home after a long arduous battle with the denizens of abundance and she just ran to dan feng for a hug after seeing him safe and sound but with the addition of her tail also wrapping around him so it's an extra tight hug i think it's just so cute 🥺

though if you do have other plans or dislike this idea you can just ignore this no pressure

sure !! i can do this one !! i dont mind if you want to use the past setting, i can always change dan jia's name to (y/n) because its a scenario, not part of the original plot. plus, it makes it more comfortable for readers !!

This honestly is very interesting for me to read ! Thank you for the suggestion anon !!

So lets get on with it !!

Taglist ! : -

@rebeccawinters , @nayukiyukihira , @pix-stuff , @fluffy-koalala , @swivy123 , @starxao , @kaoyamamegami , @kimura-uzuri , @rsvye , @seikouryuu , @just-here-reading

Reminder ! This is set in the past setting ! But instead of using Dan Jia, I would be using (Y/n) as an easier way for you to immerse yourselves ! I would also be renaming Blade to Yingxing ! But if you want me to change that, i can do that too !

Like Dan Feng, (Y/n) does have her tail which she keeps hidden. but from time to time, she does let it out for funsies ! It was a pretty blue color, like the color of her horns on her head and the fur is the same (h/c) color ! But she prefers to keep it hidden because its hard for her to sit down, and walk without realizing the presence of the darn extra limb. It even drapes to the floor !

Poor (Y/n)'s always so worried when the High Cloud Quintet go out to fight against the Denizens of Abundance. And as she is a healer, she is required to stay back and help with the numerous Cloud Knights that had retreated to seek medical attention from her.

Her worries usually intensifies whenever Jing Yuan comes back from battle, looking horribly injured and scratched up, bleeding here and there. Even for a general, he can still fall in battle, and that worries her alot ! She would push him to lay down on the stretchers she had prepared on the ground as she goes get some ointment.

But when she returns, he lays there perfectly fine, his hands behind his head and that playful and lazy ass smirk on his face. Jing Yuan would tell her the wounds were fake, even getting up and stretching to show her. (Y/n) would grip at her qi pao, trying to contain her anger, with a kind smile on her face when she was seething inside. Though she can hide her emotions from her face, her tail would pop out and give him a good smack in the side to show her annoyance.

Of course, Jing Yuan would merely laugh and apologize to her.

In a similar situation, Dan Feng would return to the battle unscathed. He didn't want to worry his sister unlike that jerk Jing Yuan who loved teasing (Y/n). After a long and arduous battle against the Denizens of Abundance, there was nothing more relaxing then just spending the night, staring at the moon.

Dan Feng would bring (Y/n) along, holding her hand tenderly as he lead her up the grassy hills, finding the perfect spot to admire the moon in silence while the others were wasting themselves away with alcohol. He loved that (Y/n) shared the same interest of watching the moon in silence, as they pointed out constellations of the stars.

They would then begin to talk while sitting up, to remove the sleepiness. It wasn't always that they had time like this, since Dan Feng is a High Elder and is always on the battlefield, while (Y/n) is in the backlines, healing the casualties of war. And as he told her he missed these peaceful and tranquil moments between siblings, he couldn't help but tear up.

(Y/n) would of course be saddened too. This was all stressful for the two of them. Since birth they have been burdened with heavy responsibilities, there was little to no time they had to spend on themselves. It was understandable why Dan Feng would breakdown from time to time.

Her little hands would hold his larger and calloused own, while her tail would gently wipe away Dan Feng's tears and rub at his back, earning a soft giggle from the latter.

During days when he wasn't at war, Yingxing would stay by the fire of the furnace he had installed is his home. He was indeed adept at creating weapons of war, sacrificing day and night as he shaped the weapons tirelessly. He never complained, but rather found his passion in creating such arts.

But whenever he wanted to take it easy, Yingxing would resort to making little things he adored. And that was beautiful little glass art or making accessories out of crystals. He always found them to be beautiful whenever they would shine like rainbows when hit with light from certain angles.

Once, he had invited (Y/n) out to hangout, Yingxing brought a little surprise with him. As she walked out of her home, he held her hand tenderly as he brought her to a beautiful lake, beneath the moonlight. And he surprised her with a bouquet of glass flowers that shone beautifully beneath the soft gaze of the moon, shining in different color.

(Y/n) eyes would immediately widen as she took the bouquet carefully in her hands, as if they were as fragile as glass (which they were, by the way), and set them aside tenderly. Then she would wrap her arms around the short-lived mortal tightly in her arms.

Yingxing would laugh as he looked down at the smaller dragon woman in his arms, wrapping his arms around her form. His aging grey hair began to cascade to the front of his face, obstructing his vision a little.

But Yingxing would closed his eyes and held the dragon lady close in his arms, chuckling, loving the warmth she exuded. The addition to the tail that slithered around his form wrapping him tighter to his beloved.

Outside of war and training, even Jingliu had a life of her own. She was a much more laxed individual. Some would even say she was too relaxed. She would stroll the streets, going on shopping sprees every so often, go cafe hunting, and trying out food. Of course, she would drag along the little princess of the Vidyadhara clan with her.

Jingliu loved bringing her to walk around the Exalting Sanctum. especially when there was a hot sale for dresses and shoes. Every time there was a new opening, or a new sale, Jingliu would be the first out of the five of them to pay a visit with beaming eyes and a large dreamy smile on her lips. She was the trendiest out of all of them, like, even her battle dresses are so elegant !

During the weekends, vendors would open up little stalls around the plaza and leading all around the area, lighting them up with friendly paper lanterns. Children would run around happily and couples would walk around, filling the night market with chatter and laughter, bringing warmth all around. And Jingliu loved bringing (Y/n) around every time they could, just for a little relaxation.

She was relieved that the uptight Imbibator Lunae would allow his little sister to go out for fun with her friend every once in a while, with the same old condition. Never let (Y/n) out of sight. And Jingliu was tired of hearing the same thing over and over again even though she was sure (Y/n) was able to take care of herself pretty well.

With their hands full of purchases from the market, ranging from snacks and delicacies to clothing and accessories, they had no hands free told hold hands in case they got separated. Every so often Jingliu would look next to her, just to make sure (Y/n) was there beside her.

But with the tail wrapped firmly around the sword master's waist, Jingliu had nothing to worry about. She was just looking to admire the soft smile and the gleam of happiness in (Y/n)'s eyes.

Starskiff watching...how she loved to roam the galaxy once more. This was a constant thought of the Foxian with purple hair that laid on the lap of her friend. Baiheng would bring (Y/n) starskiff watching every now and then to unwind, finding the latter's presence to be quite soothing.

Was this the effect of all healers ? To be this warm and nurturing ? Baiheng didn't know. But she did like the feeling of (Y/n)'s hands running through her fluffy purple hair.

Once in a while, Baiheng would even sneak (Y/n) out to bring her starskiff flying. She knew that the grumpy older brother would never let (Y/n) out to play in the sky because as he said, 'It was too dangerous for her ! What if she gets hurt?' she would mimic. And (Y/n) would laugh along, and follow her to the jetty.

All Foxians were a little daring to their short lives compared to Vidyadharas, and Baiheng was no exception !

But one time they snuck out successfully, both of them were already seated in the airship, excited for their little fly in the sky. Baiheng would show her a toothy grin, revealing her sharp canines, excited to bring (Y/n) on a wild ride. They soon landed perfectly after showcasing a number of tricks, yelling in excitement and thrill.

That was, until someone knocked on Baiheng's side of the starskiff, only to be met with the furious eyes of teal.

The two were seated on the wooden floor with Dan Feng lecturing them to no end. Despite their heads bowed in shame, they were actually trying to hide the happy smiles on their faces. No one could remove them of those gleeful smiles as they experienced the endeavors in the blue sky.

The wagging of Baiheng's fluffy purple tail and the constant slithering of (Y/n)'s own did nothing to cover up for them. Dan Feng just sighed in return, finding it futile to reason with the two girls in front of him.

End note : THIS WAS REALLY FUN TO WRITE ! i honestly dont mind if you guys want a past setting, present setting without the fights, modern day AU, or separate scenarios ! just specify them, and I'll try my best to fulfil your requests !

[celtigxr]

THE PINK DREAD - CH. 30 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: Rhaenyra and the rest of her brood return to King's Landing for the first time in years. Aegon has a heart-to-heart with his least favourate person in the world. Word Count: 4976 CHAPTER WARNINGS: Fluff, angst, mentions of bullying. Very little Valeana in this chapter, sry sry. But Aegon 👀

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE AT BOTTOM OF CHAPTER. Additionally, I'm not super proud of like 50% of this chapter. This is where my muse started to slip for me, so it's not my best work, and the next few chapters as well. I'm hoping to correct that by proof reading them, but mostly, the next 5 chapters are really me trying to move along the plot.

“Ohhh, I am going to miss these chubby cheeks,” Rhaenyra cooed in a high-pitched voice as she yanked little Valeana Celtigar and pulled her onto her lap. Nearly four years old, the girl was plump as she was adorable, filling Rhaenyra with an almost maternal level of cute aggression. Luke had just been born, another boy, where she yearned for a daughter. Valeana would fill that void until the Mother could grant her wish. 

“May I just have a bite? A wee nibble?” Rhaenyra mimicked a bite at the child’s cheeks, earning her a shriek of mirth. 

“Princess Nyra, no!!” Valeana giggled and wiggled in her grasp. 

The woman mock pouted, “But I won’t see you for weeks. What will I do without my little Valeana? Whose cheeks will I nibble now?” 

The little girl stuck her tongue out between her teeth, mischievous green eyes moving over the large man in the corner, his gold cloak making him stand out even more. “Ser Harwin’s.” 

Rhaenyra looked up at her sworn sword, who’s smile brightened, “Ser Harwin’s? But they are hidden under all that hair. It would taste awful.”

The knight chuckled, shaking his head. 

Valeana covered her face with her small hands, eyes peeking through her fingers, “But you can’t bite my cheeks, Nyra! I need’em!” 

“Oh, is that right? What for, my dear?”

The little girl’s face turned pink from hairline to chin, her eyes tightly closed as she buried her face into Rhaenyra’s soft belly. “Prince Aemond.”

“Prince Aemond?” Rhaenyra repeated, eyebrows turned upward.  

“He-he gives me kisses on’em, before we go to bed.”

Rhaenyra shared a look with Harwin, before looking down at the squirming girl on her lap, a fond smile pulled at her lips. “He does, does he?” 

Valeana nodded shyly, “I like Prince Aemond. He’s pretty, like you!”

“Oh!” Rhaenyra laughed, looking back at Harwin again, a broad entertained grin in place. The man simply chuckled louder, placing his hand over his mouth. “And have you told Aemond this?”

She shook her head, moving her face back into the shield of Rhaenyra’s belly once again, “Noooo… Prince Aegon will make fun of me.”

With a pout, the princess tried to move the girl so she could see her face, “And why on earth would he do that?” 

Valeana’s mouth was pulled into a frown, her green eyes wandering around the room while she tried to control the wobble of her lip, “He doesn’t like me. It’s ‘cause I’m not pretty, like you, or Aemond, or Helaena, or him, or Jacaerys or–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Rhaenyra pulled her up so she was sitting properly in the cradle of her lap, and took her face between both of her hands. “I will have none of that. You are just as pretty, Valeana.” 

Though the little girl did not seem convinced. Her large eyes marbled into two glistening peridot gems, “A-Aegon says I’m too f-f-fat to be pretty, ‘n–’n only pretty girls muh-marry princes, and become prin-princess-esses.”

Rhaenyra pulled her into her chest, scoffing at her brother’s cruelty, “My brother is a fool. A blind fool, my darling. Do not listen to a thing he says… You are beautiful, just like your mother, Lysa.”

“R-really?” Valeana hiccuped. 

The princess nodded earnestly, “Of course. You are her very image, just ask Ser Harwin.”

Valeana craned her neck to look up at the knight, eyes puffy and watery, cheeks pink and tear stained, “Am-am I pre-pretty, Ser Harwin?”

The large man sauntered over before bending to his knee next to Rhaenyra, so he could level his eyes with the child. “You are so very pretty, Lady Valeana. Just like Lady Lysa, just like Princess Rhaenyra.” 

Valeana blushed heavily, scrunching up her nose and putting her small hands to cover her face, trying to lean away, suddenly very bashful. Alas, Rhaenyra had a grip on her, and at her darling little display of embarrassment, the princess laughed. 

“It’s those cheeks! They’re just like apples, wouldn’t you say, Ser Harwin?”

“Oh, the juiciest of apples!” 

“Care to take a nibble with me?”

“Of course!”

Valeana squealed as she tried to pull away, but it was too late. The princess and the knight planted their lips on both of her cheeks at the same time, squishing her face. When Harwin pulled away with a chortle, Rhaenyra just kept on kissing the girl’s cheeks, pinching and taking mock bites out of them, all the while Valeana giggled, screamed, and tried to scramble out of her grasp. 

Not long after, Lord Bartimos Celtigar had sauntered onto the terrace, his face stretching out in a fond smile at the sight of his daughter in the arms of the crown princess. 

“Oh, I’d hate to put an end to this lovely display of affection, but alas, Princess Rhaenyra, we are about to leave for the Isle. Ursula is about to give birth any day now.” 

The princes sighed disappointingly, “Of course, of course.” With Valeana still in her arms, she stood up and walked over to the Master of Coin, but before she handed her over, she turned to the little one in her arms and said firmly. “Now, remember what I told you.”

Valeana nodded, rubbing her chubby fist along her reddened cheeks. 

“And if anyone says otherwise, I will send them to Syrax, then they’ll be nothing but toast.” 

The girl giggled mischievously, “Prince Egg-on-Toast.” 

It had only been a day, and yet that was too long. The night he had spent with Valeana was seared into his memory, like a dream he could not stop thinking about. That night, after he released his spend all over her hand, they had cleaned up and laid back in the pillows. She curled up at his side, head laying on his chest as they both looked up at the stars in blissful silence. He didn’t want the night to end, but it eventually did when the sky started to pink along the horizon, and Valeana jolted awake at the realization of how long they had been there. 

In silence he escorted her back to her room, thanking the gods that Floris had not woken up with the looming dawn. At the entrance, he thanked her for an amazing night, and she responded by placing a kiss on his cheek, thanking him in return. 

Aegon spent the better part of that day in bed, fingers tracing the spot where she had kissed him, eyes closed as he reimagined her tits, her face, her hand around his cock. A smirk crawled upon his face then, when he recalled the moment he returned to his bedchambers, peeled off his clothes and noticed the dark stain on his breeches. Blood. 

That was why she did not want to go further. Aegon could have had her that night, had it not been for the Mother’s curse. The fact alone made him hard again, giving him no choice but to summon Hildy so early that morning. Her services aren’t quite done after all… at least for the next 3-5 days. 

Aegon was aware that Valeana would be with his nephew that afternoon, the thought of which drove him to near madness. He needed to see her again, to do it again, but he swallowed down his impatience, and instead went into the pavilions to distract himself. There he reunited with the Redwyne brothers and as a result, found himself in Catelyn’s company. 

He leaned into her ear, and whispered, “Your idea worked like a charm.”

This elated her, turning to him with a bright smile that was infectious, “It did?! Tell me everything.”

Aegon rocked on the balls of his feet innocently, hands clasped behind his back as he started to walk through the pavilions, forcing her to trail next to him. He hummed, a smile curling his lips, “I do not kiss and tell.”

She gasped, “You ki—” Cat cut herself off and cleared her throat, looking around the area to make sure no one was listening to their conversation. People were already watching them curiously, what with Aegon being a Prince, and Catelyn being not his usual company. “You kissed?” She repeated in a whisper. 

Well, no, Aegon realized. They hadn’t… He kissed other parts of her, and her own chaste one on his cheek still made the area warm and tingly. But the realization bothered him more than he thought it would. It was a fact he wished to rectify. 

In the end, he did not tell Catelyn exactly what happened, other than they had a lovely midnight snack and chat, where he made his heartfelt confessions, and she gifted him with a chance. 

One drink became several, as usually was the case, and his jovial time in the pavilions became a pleasant blur. By the time he got back to the Red Keep, it was already too late in the evening to call for Valeana. Besides, he was far too drunk to make any sort of good impression on her father. Aegon was aware that Bartimos already had a sour impression of him, and if he was going to marry Valeana, then he would have to – somehow – get on ol’ Barty’s good side. 

Aegon barely had his tunic off when his mother entered into his chambers, completely unannounced. She had a tendency to do that, particularly when she was contrite with him over something he wasn’t even aware that he had done. 

“Mother,” he threw his head back, too tired and too inebriated to coherently greet her properly. His hands rubbed his eyes before he regarded her through his exhaustion, “One of these days, your intrusions will be awarded by the unseemly sight of your son rutting into—”

“Enough!” Her face reddened, from anger or embarrassment over the mental image he had just painted, or likely both. “I had come to you this morning, but your guard told me you were occupied.”

Aegon smiled slyly, “Very.”

The queen scoffed at her son, turning sharply away as she rubbed her fingers to her temples. She paced around the room like that, only aggravating Aegon, who longed to be nude and in his bed. 

“Would you please just berate me already? It’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

His mother finally stopped her pacing, moving her hands from her head to her hips, “What are your intentions with Lady Valeana?”

The bluntness and the seriousness of her tone was enough to sober him. Aegon wobbled back, as if a blow was made at him. To steady himself, he placed his forearm on the post of his bed, and leaned against it. 

“Did we not already have this conversation?” He peered at her in confusion. “You told me to stop pursuing her, threatened to chain me to my rooms, and I completely ignored you?”

“Aegon,” her tone was a force in its steadiness. Alicent strode over to him, and despite being shorter, it still felt like he was under her. Like he was still a child. “Tell me the truth, for once in your bloody life. What. Are. Your. Intentions?” 

Aegon’s mouth fell into a pout, his red rimmed eyes stared back at her like a reprimanded puppy. Alicent never swore, he would remember if she did. His mother had a knack for making polite words sound as lethal as a Valyrian steel blade. 

“To cour–” She did not allow him to finish. Alicent’s hand grabbed his face firmly under his jaw. 

“I said I want the truth of it! That girl is under the impression you are fond of her, but I know my son! She is the daughter of a noble house, not some common maid that you can use to exercise your depravities with!”

Aegon wretched his face away from her hand, his brows pulled downward in a twisted look of annoyance and outrage. The logical part in his brain does not blame his mother for reaching to the conclusion that he had ill intent, but what hurt the most was that she could not simply imagine Aegon actually being soft on a girl. That the very idea was improbable on every plain of existence, because Aegon simply could not feel with anything other than his dick. 

“I am fond of her!” He shouted, backing away from his mother. His frustration mixing with the alcohol in his veins created a boiling point; he was so fucking tired of his mother thinking so little of him. “And my intentions with Valeana Celtigar are pure. Why is that so fucking hard to believe?”

Alicent momentarily looked taken back by the intense sincerity of his voice, which cracked with emotion and exhaustion. The Queen shook her head, “You cannot attach yourself to that girl, Aegon. You know you are intended to marry your sister–”

Aegon scoffed loudly, throwing his head back, “Mother! Stop this! Father does not wish for me to marry Helaena, and we do not wish for it either! For once in your life can you just be happy for me?” 

The question had rendered Alicent speechless, if only for a prolonged moment. His mother’s eyes, wide, dark, glistened with unshed tears (of guilt or aggravation, he could not tell) as they darted between his desperate violet ones. 

“I cannot help but conclude,” she began to speak, her voice lower than before, almost delicate and methodical as if she was trying to soften a blow. “That you only fancy the girl because she belonged to your brother, and you know he wants her back. How can I be happy for one son, when it is at the expense of another?”

Aegon’s anger was quickly boiling over, evident by the reddening of his face and the trembling of his fingers. He longed to grab something and throw it at her, but instead he settled for taking a forceful step in his mother’s direction, and angrily pointed in the direction of Aemond’s quarters, “AEMOND DOES NOT DESERVE HER! He does not deserve the happiness that she brings. He pushed her, mother, broke her fucking leg clean off, and then treats her like the scum of the earth, and yet you stand here and tell me that his happiness is more deserving than mine?!” 

“Aegon, that is not–”

“I will not hear it, mother! I will hear no more of it! I will not marry Helaena, and I will not be your fucking king! You and grandsire’s selfish ambition will ruin my life no longer. I will marry who I chose, and as soon as Valeana Celtigar is my wife, we will fly to the Free Cities, away from this bleeding place. Away from father, from Rhaenyra, from Aemond, from grandsire. Away from you!” 

With people from all four corners of Westeros collecting around King’s Landing, there was always a very audible chorus of gasps, claps, and some screams whenever dragons flew over the city. Even if it became somewhat of a common occurrence, with nearly all dragonlords in attendance for the Royal Conclave, and the looming presence of the Cannibal that had to be deterred every two to three days, the sight never got old for spectators. However, there was a particularly louder reaction the morning that Princess Rhaenyra arrived. 

Gone for many years, the heir to the Throne’s return was heavily anticipated. None knew if she was going to come at all after the tragedy of her daughter’s untimely death. But the Conclave was not the only thing that drove Rhaenyra back home; her duty to her sons was paramount, their marriages needed to be secured to good houses, and not only that… Vaemond Velaryon was going to petition to be the Heir of Driftmark, robbing Lucerys’ inheritance. The very inheritance that his grandfather wanted for him. But alas, the Sea Snake was not conscious, and he continued to toe the line between life and death. 

The golden Syrax glided over the ramparts and roofs of King’s Landing, followed by the smaller Moondancer, and lastly the large Meleys, the Red Queen. While they descended onto Rhaenys’ Hill and into the Dragonpit, ships bearing the black banners of Rhaenyra Targaryen, and the turquoise colours of House Velaryon docked into the bay. 

The princess’ return was met with a grand reception on her way to the Keep. In the wheelhouse, the Princess sat with Rhaenys, Baela, Rhaena, Joffrey, Aegon the Younger, and her little Viserys on her lap. Joffrey, at three and ten, had spent most of his formable years at Dragonstone, so his return to King’s Landing felt more like the first time. He peered through the carved peepholes that windowed the corners of the wheelhouse, marvelling at the people who showered them with flower petals, and waved black and red flags. There were some that were not so joyous, however. For every ten, there was one brave, mad man or woman who shouted ‘dragon whore’ through cupped hands, which Joffrey chose to ignore with a stiff swallow. 

Rhaenys was watching her cousin’s daughter closely throughout the ride. For years, she had strongly suspected that Rhaenyra and Daemon had a hand in Leanor’s murder. However, prior to their departure to the capitol, in Nyra’s desire for Rhaenys’ presence in King’s Landing, the younger princess had gifted her not only the truth, but an offer of betrothal between Rhaena and Lucerys. There was some doubt in Rhaenys’ mind that perhaps Nyra was simply placating her heart into believing her son was alive and happy somewhere across the narrow sea, because she needed the woman to advocate for her. Vaemond’s shadow loomed in the harbour, preparing himself for the petition for the inheritance of Driftmark, which would take place sometime past midday. Hardly enough time for a proper reunion amongst family and friends. 

Despite her doubts, however small or large, Rhaenys felt compelled to put her trust in her cousin’s hands. Her granddaughters were her blood, and she would much rather see one of them as Lady of Driftmark than her husband’s nephew. Though that alone isn’t all that steered her, but also the knowledge that Rhaenyra and Rhaenys walked the same path. They just ended up in different destinations. Rhaenys saw herself in the younger princess, had she been the Queen That Ever Was. 

When they arrived at the Keep, it was not in the Throne Room, but rather in the intimate Small Hall, which was vacant of even courtiers for the reunion. As soon as the crow princess entered, she immediately saw the new masonry, the new frescos, the new tapestries, where they once depicted dragons and scenes of Old Valyria and the Conqueror’s victories, now showed images of the Seven. She shared a look with Daemon as he approached her along with her two eldest. 

The princess swallowed her displeasure over the change of her home, but instead smiled when she reached her sons, placing a hand on each of their cheeks. 

“Have you two been behaving?” 

Luke grinned mischievously, “Better than most.”

Rhaenyra pinched his cheek for his sass, and then looked over at Jace, maternal seriousness now taking over. 

“And have you done what I’ve asked?”

Jace nodded, sucking in his bottom lip, “I have, mother. Though I wish to converse with you. There has been a…” He casted a look over at his brother, and then his step father. “Development.” 

Rhaenyra opened her mouth to inquire further, but it was at this time that King Viserys, Alicent, and her half siblings entered the room. Immediately, her spine went ram-rod straight, but her face was soft when she came into her father’s awaiting arms. 

While her conversation with her father was not forgotten, it was the moments of tenderness she spent with Alicent during her short visit to Dragonstone that also plagued Rhaenyra’s mind. Her mind was so heavy, and yet she still had the burden of mourning on her shoulders, as was evidenced by her black gown and the veil she had pinned to her braids. 

The dual kisses she shared with Alicent upon their cheeks was brief, polite, but full of unspoken emotion. Alicent looked at her with sympathy, seeing a mother still grieving, and a friend she had lost. Rhaenyra’s own eyes held longing for their youth, their past, and empathetic sadness for a betrayal that Alicent was not aware happened.

Her four half siblings were met with almost forced pleasantness. With Helaena, it was genuine, even going as far as thanking her for her attendance at Visenya’s funeral. With Aegon and Aemond, it was stiff. Despite Aegon being her first sibling, and therefore he had been in her life the longest, there was little to no sisterly devotion. He would always be a symbol of Alicent’s treachery to their friendship. But, still, she at least attempted. 

“My,” Rhaenyra placed her hands in front of her, “The last I saw of you two, you were boys, barely on the cusp of manhood. Now here you are, taller than your eldest sister.” 

Aegon smiled sardonically, his eyes glancing down at her wrist, “Glad to see your arm healed nicely, sister.” 

She raised an eyebrow at him, twisting her lip before she looked up at Aemond, her tongue tied now that the elephant in the room was acknowledged. The last time she saw them was the day Aemond lost his eye, at the hands of her son. 

“Aemond,” her shoulders straightened as she looked up at him. His eye not afraid to hold her gaze, and she didn’t expect otherwise. He was the one made of stronger meddle, never allowing his emotions to breach his armour. Even when the accident happened, he stood strong for his mother, who had cracked so brilliantly under her grief. “It pleases me that you are doing well. I have heard you’ve been taking great care of Vhagar; she has chosen her rider well, it seems.”

She knew her words would wound her more fragile step-daughter, but it was the truth, and Rhaenyra sought to seek out peace with the brother she wronged the most. She loved Rhaena dearly, but she lacked the disposition for a beast like Vhagar. She might be the splitting image of her mother, Leana, but she did not have the same ferocity that it took to be a rider of Visenya Targaryen’s war-seasoned she-dragon. 

There was a ghost of a crooked smile on Aemond’s lip, though it was barely there to be noticeable by anyone else. He gave a nod of his head, and simply replied with: “Thank you, sister.”

Then there was the final brother, the one who she hadn’t met, who was, by all accounts, an actual stranger. And yet it was Daeron who greeted her with a smile wide and inviting, an infectious one that Rhaenyra reciprocated. 

“And who is this handsome young man before me?” She tilted her chin up at him, tall and gangly as he was. Daeron was toned and handsome, but still had yet to shed the softness of boyhood. 

“Sister!” Daeron all but launched himself into her arms, taking her off guard. Her hands hovered over his back, her eyes wide in her surprise. Aside from Helaena, Daeron was the second sibling she had ever hugged, and that thought brought up a sadness she had not realized she harboured. Her arms gently folded over his back, palm slowly moving up and down. “It is such a great pleasure to finally meet you at last, Rhaenyra.” 

When she pulled away, she could now see the resemblance she shared with him; their smile was similar, their eyes the same shade of violet. “It is a joy to see you too, Daeron. The last time I saw you, you were new to the world.”

Daeron bowed his head, and moved his hands to hold hers, “I wanted to give you my deepest condolences on your loss, sister. I cannot imagine your pain, but I have been praying to the Seven for you, hoping you may find peace.”

Rhaenyra gave him a sad smile, moving her hand to his cheek, “Thank you, my brother. I appreciate your warmth and kindness.”

While her sons greeted their step sisters warmly, the reception the girls and Joffrey gave their uncles and Queen was stiff, not unlike her own. Daeron, however, was pleasant, either oblivious to the tension or decided to rise above it. Either way, it was enough to ease the strain, at least with everyone other than Aegon and Aemond. Her two eldest brothers lingered on the fringes of the crowd, eyeing their estranged family warrily, only speaking when spoken to through tight smiles that didn’t meet their eyes, or curt nods. Rhaenyra was also painfully aware that they did not even look at each other, and whenever Alicent seemed to make a move towards Aegon, he would shoulder his way through the bodies to find someone or something to distract himself with.

Rhaenyra trailed over to her husband, standing at his shoulder, “Do you mind enlightening me about what is going on here?” Her question was directed to the obvious thick atmosphere. 

Daemon opened his mouth, but at that moment the doors opened and a Kingsguard announced the arrival of Lord Bartimos Celtigar, and his family. Instead he smiled broadly and turned to his wife, “I believe that should answer your question.” 

And just like that, Rhaenyra noticed the sudden shift in the room. She watched her brothers’ visible change in demeanor as the doors opened, and the Celtigars marched through in a line, eldest to youngest. Aemond’s back went ramrod straight, but his face seemed to soften, his lips the only thing moving with a slight twitch at the ends of his mouth. He was trying to contain himself, unlike Aegon who had moved away from the crowd so he could be on the front lines, grin uncontained, unashamed. 

Then Rhaenyra saw why, walking behind the tall, willowy Floris Grafton. The little figure of Valeana Celtigar appeared, wearing her family’s colours of red and white. Cheeks still soft and pink, hair impossibly long and white, but she was now older and womanly, and very distinctively Valyrian. 

Targaryen. 

The princess shared a look with Daemon, who was nothing but amused, “You’ve come just in time to witness a war of hearts between kin.”

Her only response was a tilt of her head, because before she could question more, Bartimos was in front of her, bowing his head. Another round of greetings were met, some a second time since Dragonstone, some for the very first time. Rhaenyra took special attention at the familiarity she saw between Daeron and Shyla, but when Aegon crowded Valeana the moment she separated from her family, Rhaenyra’s eyes were glued onto them. He whispered something in her ear, she smiled bashfully, but then her eyes flickered over to Aemond, who was watching her with his hands clasped behind his back, an unreadable emotion simmering behind his single eye.

Rhaenyra migrated over to Jacaerys, mind still lingering on the interaction between her two eldest brothers and Valeana, who now was meeting Rhaena and Beala for the first time in many years. 

“Is this the development you speak of?” She raised an eyebrow at him. 

Jace smirked, shaking his head, “Part of it, but no. Lady Valeana and I spoke at length yesterday… Once we get a moment, I wish to speak to you and Daemon about it. But suffice to say, mother, I do not believe she and I are compatible.” 

“Hm,” Rhaenyra pursed her lips before giving a small nod. “At least I know it has nothing to do with her appearance.” 

Jace scoffed in good humour, “No, not in the least.” 

The princess stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Instead she moved through the crowd of Valyrians to finally meet Valeana for the first time in a decade. When Baela spotted her step-mother’s presence, she stopped talking mid sentence, which made Valeana turn around after sensing her silent interruption. 

“Princess Rhaenyra,” she curtseyed with a polite smile, though the edges twitched at her attempt to contain a grin. It was clear that little Val still remembered the memories she shared with her, and for that, Rhaenyra was grateful, now more than ever. 

“Lady Valeana,” her hands reached out to hold onto the young woman’s, her smile full of fondness, though her eyes were pensive as she searched Valeana’s face, trying to find traces of herself, of her father. It was impossible to tell, Valeana looked like Lysa Lannister with silver hair and soft curves. Still, there could be a chance… A possibility that the girl in front of her was her sister. Rhaenyra swallowed at the thought. 

“You have blossomed into such a beautiful young woman.” her hands moved to the sides of her face, her thumbs gently rubbing her cheeks, “And perhaps a princess, by the end of this season.”

Valeana blushed deeply, her eyes flickering over Rhaenyra’s shoulder, to someone behind her, and then looked down shyly, “You flatter me, my Princess. Though I am not so sure if the title suits me as much as it does you, or Helaena.” 

Rhaenyra briefly recalled the conversion she had when the girl was barely older than babe, wiggling around in her arms, trying to get away from the princess’s affection. She turned around, spotting the faces of her brothers, both of whom quickly looked away from her when she made eye contact. Then she moved her eyes to her father, who caught it immediately, conveying many words with just the simple gesture.

Sighing, she turned back to Valeana, her hands now moving to the flow of her wavy white-gold hair, “It fits you more than you realize.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE SNEAK PEAK Narrowing her eyes, she decided to press further, a little more boldly, “Are there any more whispers about me?” At their collective confusion, she added, “Only because you two seem quieter than usual, and I’m starting to wonder if you’ve learned something unsavoury that I should be concerned about.”  Ellyn’s cheeks went pink, her eyes darting from Wylla, to the grass she was picking and peeling. They both shook their heads and cleared their throats. 

Notes: *IMPORTANT NOTE FOR NEXT WEEK* So, because next week is Christmas, there won't be an update next Saturday, because I'm going to be quite busy with family obligations, and I'm not gonna even have time/energy to proof read. So this is the last chapter of the year, and the next one will be out January 4th! But, I'll still be around, and hopefully by the next two weeks, I'll have pumped out a couple of chapters to get a head of my schedule so I can work on that sad Aegon One-Shot. In the mean time, I hope everyone has a happy, safe holiday and new year!!

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel, @t0biasparabatai

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[quitealotofsodapop]

When does MK figure out his mate and son are in line for the Jade throne?

Also I know his pregnancy happens after the brotherhood, but I want Azure's reaction to his crush's son carrying and being mated to the royal line. ( Given other au's he'd see it as double black mail against Wu kong and the emperor.)

MK probably finds out that he's now connected to the royal family sometime after Red discovers his own connection to them.

One idea for the Au is that MK met Xiwangmu & the Jade Emperor on accident after one of his medical checkups with Lao Tzu. The Emperor feeling a guilt he had not felt in millennia, whilst the Empress cradled the distressed soon-to-be-parent in her arms.

Soon when he runs into her again around S4/5;

MK: "Hi Queen Mother lady!" Xiwangmu, smiling pleasantly: "Hello Xiaotian." Red Son, aghast: "What?! How do you two already know each other!?" MK: "I had a big-sad moment after one of my appointments, and after I unloaded a bit onto this tall guy in the gardens, the Queen appeared and started comforting me. She gave me a much-needed shoulder to cry on." Xiwangmu, soft laugh: "That tall guy you encountered was my husband." MK: "OH! Sorry I hadn't know at the time! I really feel bad I hadn't a chance to get to know the guy before the... you know." Xiwangmu: "It's perfectly fine, your mind was preoccupied with thoughts of yourself and your future child. My husband thought you were a charming spirit." Red Son, thoughts malfunctioning: "How in Buddha's grace did Noodle Boy meet my grandparents before I did!?"

Once MK and Red Son are a confirmed mated pair - MK realises from context clues that his mate is actually a Prince. Not just the heir of a demon clan - but "The Prince of the Cosmos" even!

MK has a little panic episode when he realises that in future, he might be considered the new Queen Mother (or King Dad) since he'll be married to the only other heir besides too-busy-for-romance-rn Nezha!

And his baby is considered an heir too!!!

Wukong finds his successor four-noodle bowls deep into a stress eating binge. He rubs MK's back until he calms down. He's quick to point out that the Queen Mother isn't retiring anytime soon, and that no one can really "replace" the Jade Emperor after he's been a fixture for the last thousands of years.

He's got forever to prepare.

Unless Nezha finds a certain handsome icy eastern dragon prince, or Erlang gets an heir within that time, and they beat him to the succession race. Then he doesn't have to care at all about celestial politics and just focus on being the Monkie Kid. That makes MK feel a little better. XD

As for the pregnancy itself! It actually started before the Brotherhood!

Possibly even as early as Season 2 with no Wukong to check if MK has buried himself recently (spoiler; he did on accident while trying to meditate the ick of LBD out of his brain). Lao Tzu could grab the gang to ask where tf his Furnace went, only for MK's human form to glitch out from hormonal changes, exposing the pregnancy on accident.

Wukong and Macaque both spend S3 staring at MK like he's Schrödinger's pregnant. He smells like he is. But clearly he isn't that clumsy or unfortunate to accidentally self-spawn a stone egg, right?

Spoiler; he is.

LBD has more ammo to torment MK with.

As for the Brotherhood themselves...

If Azure had sensed/smelled the Egg on MK when they had first met, he would have been shocked. Not only has Sun Wukong chosen a successor - but the same successor has an heir of his own cooking in the oven! How time flies.

Azure would more gently try to convince MK about the Brotherhood's plans, only for MK to go berserk thinking of how the Queen Mother, Nezha, or even Red could be hurt in the coup. But the monkey boy's powers are too weak and erratic to prevent canon from happening.

Peng and Yellowtusk are hesistant to raise their weapons to he pregnant demon. Peng has suffered the loss of a young niece and nephew before. And Yellow Tusk knows the anger a pregnant demon can wrought when pushed to their limits.

Red Son was another thing the Brotherhood was surprised to learn about when they busted down DBK's door - they had heard rumours but were not invited to any family events. The former agents recognise Iron Fan as a former celestial princess, and therefore her child an heir to the Jade Emperor's throne.

One slip of the tongue also reveals that MK is connected to all this... as the mate of the Emperor's grandson! Small world.

The scene with The Brotherhood vs The Demon Bull Fam still plays out as in canon, though with the Brotherhood more focused on taking hostages than convincing Bull to rejoin them. The Emperor's daughter & grandson would make pretty big bargaining chips after all. Red Son still manages to get away - his father pushing him aside to take the brunt of the Scroll's power.

During the attack on the Celestial Realm, Azure steps one foot towards MK, and suddenly has multiple blasts of Samadhi Fire to his face.

Red Son, burning furiously: "DO NOT TALK ABOUT MY MATE! DO NOT EVEN LOOK AT HIM!" DBK & PIF: (*surprised but proud clapping from the Scroll!!*) Mei, is amped up with her own fire: "I FUCKING KNEW IT!"

MK was a bit far away to hear Red's words amongst all the fighting and flames, but Macaque def heard it.

At that moment; Azure knows if he got his hands on MK, that the Queen Mother or even the Jade Emperor would bend to his will.

As selfish as the emperor is; even he would not risk the life of the one carrying his first great-grandchild...

If the boy doesn't tear him to shreds first.

Heaven hath no fury like a Shí Bǎomǔ protecting their kin.

[thevoidisvoid]

Writing this because Sexy Dragon Man needs more love.

Adamai x Reader

Also cross-posted on Ao3, along with my NSFW works.

"Will you marry me?"

"What?"

You loved the rain. The way that it cleansed the air sending a fresh scent of pure earthy smells around you.

It was different here, then it had been on earth. Much more calming and relaxing despite all the evil in the World of Twelve. It was times like this that you didn't regret coming back.

Not that you had any control over that.

You'd built your cottage on the edge of the Sadida Kingdom, close enough where you could return in emergency situations, but far enough you remained undisturbed….

For the most part.

You finish the final touches on your painting, enjoying how easy it came to you now. It was simple here, and it was exactly what you needed. 

“______.”

You jump up immediately spinning around before breaking into a soft grin.

“Adamai.”

You hug him tightly, dragging him down slightly to your height. (Not that you were short of course, but he was so ridiculously tall.)

“I missed you.”

You stand there for a good while, enjoying his touch. It felt so good to be alive right now, that it brushed your anxieties away. His tail wraps loosely around your leg as he pulls away slightly to drag you into a kiss.

Everything was perfect.

You hum as a clawed hand comes up to hold your face, and you can't help but lean into his touch. You couldn't ask for anything better, this was all you need.

A few more long moments passed before he let you go. His tail still wrapped protectively around you. 

“I see you've been painting again.”

He sounds amused as he grasps your hands, inspecting the ink and paint splattered up your hands and arms. 

“Yes, and I think this is my best one yet.”

You sit back down on your stool, enjoying how he moved to cradle your body in his arms. You lean back against his chest. You're rewarded by a quiet purr, and his head resting on top of yours.

You both watch the rain fall from the view of your balcony. You didn't think this could get any better.

“We should get married.”

It takes you a moment to process what he said. And it was startling to realize what he had said, when you fully registered it.

“What?”

It's his turn to hum, his tail twisting a little tighter around your leg.

“I know you heard me.”

“Adamai, I thought you…”

You look downward, face ablaze at your shock and surprise. You now knew that you'd made an assumption about him, and had just been proven wrong.

“Thought I what..?”

His voice has a teasing tone as he looks down at you.

“I thought that you didn't want marriage or something…because you're a dragon..?”

There's no way you can't make that sound any better, and to your relief he laughs.

“Just because I disprove many of the traditions people have, doesn't mean I reject them all.”

That…made sense actually.

“I guess I just don't see you as the marriage type.”

“Oh really?”

His voice still has a teasing tone to it, and you stifle a giggle as his claws brush your side. 

“Does this mean no then?”

“No!”

You slap a hand over your mouth at that, cheeks flushed at your sudden outburst.

“I mean, ahem, no. I didn't mean it to come out like that.”

“What's your answer then?”

You don't miss how his tail pauses in its gentle movement, and how he remains silent. His whole body tense as he waits for your response.”

“Yes.”

Immediately all tension flees him, and he buries his face into your shoulder. 

“Good.”

You roll your eyes at his response, glad that he can't see how red your face is. He was stupid and prideful sometimes.

But he was your stupid dragon. And in that moment, it was all you needed.

[koifish67]

Overwatch x GN! Reader adopting a kid part 1

Tw mentions of vomit

(Since solider 76 is CANON gay, his section will have have he/him pronouns for you(

(The baby is a girl)

Mako is a good dad, a great dad even.

You’d think he’d get annoyed easily by the crying of the baby, but he simply will just scoop up the small human and cradle them ever so gently.

His nickname for his baby? “puawai iti” (little flower in the Māori language)

He’ll put his baby on his stomach with a hand on them and omg it so adorable.

You catch him staring at you while holding the baby, he’ll lie if you ask if he was smiling. (He 100% was)

When he’s out and about he has his baby in a sling on him, it has lil pachimari all over it. He also dresses her in a cute pachimari onesie!

Is scared to feed her but after you show him he’s a bit more confident. Does the airplane thing 100%.

Scared but happy, he genuinely is scared that he’ll accidentally hurt his baby by doing something stupid. But happy cause he finally gets to have a kid with you.

Makes baby clothes and it looks cute! Probably goes crazy when he sees baby shoes.

Puts all his dangerous explosive stuff on a very high shelf.

Cant change diapers for the life of him, like he will gag and vomit if he has to, so it’s your job now.

Giggles so much if she farts or burps, he takes videos of it and sends it to you with him giggling in the background.

Dresses her in very funny costumes and onesies.

ROADHOG BABYSITTIER!!!

Hanzo

Omg is so so happy he finally gets to have a kid with you. He always wanted a kid, and a kid with YOU, his dream is coming true.

When he finally gets to see his child, he starts crying and hugging you and his new baby girl.

Dresses his baby in cute little dresses! He found a cute dragon onesie and is obsessed with it.

Calls her “my little dragon”

Is a pro at feeding, changing diapers, calming her down, and making her laugh.

He spoils her so much that her room is engulfed with stuffed animals, blankets, and the cutest baby bottles.

The dragons love her, they cuddle her all the time.

Mcree

Is super excited, like omg I’m gonna be a father finally!

Dresses her in a lil cowboy hat sometimes it’s so cute, its brown with little bees on it. Has her own little cow boy boots to.

Feeds her like a pro!

Does that thing where she’ll toss her in the hair and catch her, gently of course.

If he’s out and about he has a baby carrier with horses all over it.

Doesn’t smoke when she’s with him, refuses it and will never do it. He actually stops a lot and rarely does in the future.

Has pictures of her and you in his hat, takes it out to show it off to his teammates.

“Look at my amazing husband/wife/partner and our baby!”

Calls her “my little cowgirl”

Doomfist

Very excited! He’s gonna be a dad! It makes him so happy to have a baby with you.

“I cant be evil today I’m to busy being a dad”

I’m sorry but he’s really bad at matching her outfits, but she’s dressed so it doesn’t really matter.

So gentle to her, he treats her like the most breakable glass in the world.

Lots of plushes, so many omg.

He makes her dance, like he does that thing where he moves her arms and legs to make her dance and it’s adorable.

Her first words are “dada” and he starts fucking sobbing.

Solider 76

OMG HES FINALLY A FUCKING DAD! He crys in your chest when that happens

Loves taking her around everywhere in a stroller, especially at the park when he’s on his daily run.

“Where’s the wife today?”

“My HUSBAND is at home making lunch.”

Mercy babysits for you

Stricks me as the guy who builds everything, like he built her crib, a shelf, her diaper changing paper.

Has 20 books on parenting, and asks Ana a lot of questions to.

Starts crying when she touches his face and giggles, his heart is all warm and fuzzy.

Goes to check ups with mercy with her

Dilf

Starts crying when she says her first words.