#the drowned rook

[bodhranwriting]

A little hint into a future character in the Arcane Skies trilogy…

She dreamt a lot.

They weren’t quite nightmares, exactly, more like something next door to them in her personal dreamscape.

They always started the same: twelve doors, each of a different colour and material, stretching deeper and deeper underground. She had the keys to each and every door, the pockets of her ink-black dress seemingly infinite and – at the same time – quite empty until she reached her hand inside.

The keys were all different too. She pulled out great, ornate silver monstrosities, tiny pearl-inlaid delicacies, rusted brass keys straight from her childhood music boxes, even once a key which she was sure was carved from bone.

The bone key was the last one. The door it opened was the only real one; a cell-door with polished bars and arcana padlock.

Always, always, the voice in her head told her not to open it, to leave it alone in the depths of the dungeon.

Every night she opened it.

Every night it was seemingly unoccupied. The bed was perfectly made, the plates empty of food and wooden cup desert-dry. Sometimes she had time to run her finger through the dust before the realisation dawned.

She had been followed.

She’d turn, fear rising in her gullet, and she’d see the angel.

He was more beautiful than he’d ever been in life; neater, smoother, dressed in a robe of indeterminate colour which hurt her eyes like the midday sun. Always, he’d tower above her with parchment cream wings peppered with lead-silver and black ink.

He never spoke because they did not need to.

She knew what she’d done to him.

But before the white fire descended upon her, she’d stare into his face that she both knew and did not know, searching for his eyes.

They were dark and full of hatred, yes, but there was something which made her heart sing before she died.

He might hate her, this dream-version of her oldest friend, but he knew her.

And that was all that mattered.

[panigamermauser]

The Crow and the Rook 💜

[too-many-rooks]

Pearl Diver - Mitski

Pearl diver, dive, dive deeper,

Pearl diver, dive dive, down.

[valiantvillain]

If there's any sea travel or time on boats in Veilguard then things could potentially get awkwardly funny for Asala bc I envision her as both having thalassophobia and terrible seasickness. Just the fearless leader suddenly going white as a sheet and trying to maintain a semblance of composure whilst also holding onto the very meager breakfast she had in preparation for the trip for dear life. Double awkward points if it's very early in game and she is very much trying to get the companions to respect her.

[josephslittledeputy]

WIP Wednesday!

Tagged by @detectivelokis @direwombat @inafieldofdaisies @clicheantagonist @socially-awkward-skeleton ty for keeping me in the loop lovelies!

Tagging @g0dspeeed @nonfunctioning-queer @marivenah @henbased

Posting a few things since I've missed a million wip wednesdays, so first up is the beginning of Willa's disastrous journey in part 1 of her dark au :)

“Ugh…” A groan forces itself through cracked, dry lips as she wakes to an insistent mumbling hum buzzing by her head. Her eyes flutter open and roam over her settings with an owlish blink. Numbly, she stares ahead, to the swaying headset that’s making so much noise, and finally to the vibrant orange ribbons, flapping in the wind outside. A few minutes tick by before her memory trickles in, syrupy slow, bringing with it an ice cold terror. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. She was hanging upside down with her seat belt being the only thing holding her in place. It takes another minute to realize that the ribbons outside were not ribbons at all, but flames. To make matters worse, there's a tiny waterfall of liquid, dripping down from the helicopter and splattering onto the ground into a puddle. The smell itself is indistinguishable: Gas. She looks over to her right to see Hudson, passed out, then in front of her to see Burke, also passed out, and then there was… Wait, where the hell was Joseph? “Amaaaziiiiing Graaaace.” The distant, haunting timber of his voice paralyzes her. Ironically, she can’t help but to think that this would be the part in the movie where the main character ran and hid from the killer. But she has no where to run and no where to hide, so she does the next best thing: A fumbling attempt to grab the headset dangling just out of reach, taunting her. “How sweet the sound…” She leans forward, brushing her fingertips against the headset and pushing it further away. “C’mon!” She makes another attempt and this time her hand secures a tight grip around it. With a bud of hope blossoming in her chest, she pulls it toward her, just a little closer- Joseph’s hand shoots into view like a striking viper, latching onto her wrist with a punishing grasp and her breath hitches in her throat. She doesn’t dare to turn her head, in fact she’s not even sure she’s able to. She’s frozen in place, watching him move into her line of view. “That saved… a wretch… liiiike me…” He tilts his head, watching her. Unblinking. Waiting. It’s only when she releases her death grip on the only lifeline out of here that he, in turn, lets go of her wrist. It's a short lived relief, as in the next moment he grabs her jaw, lips twitching in amusement now that he’s made sure she’ll be unable to look away from him. “I told you that God wouldn’t let you take me.” He taunts, using his other hand to blindly reach up and grab the headset behind him, pulling it close so he could talk into the mic. “Dispatch.” “Ohhh… my god.” Nancy responds with a relieved, shaky exhale of breath. The reply prompts a brief half smile, one that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Everything is just fine here. No need to call anyone.” No. No, no, no. There was no fucking way- “Yes, Father. Praise be to you.” He drops the headset with a dramatic flourish then leans in with deadened expression, getting close enough that she could smell him this time: Dirt, sweat, ink, old books, and… something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on. He reaches up, slowly, as if approaching a cornered animal and she can’t help but to think, oh god, this is it. Bracing herself for the pain of long, pianist fingers penetrating squishy flesh, her eyes fly open in surprise when rough, callused thumbs brush across the apples of her cheeks instead. It’s a soft, soothing gesture, one she’s unfamiliar with. He wipes away stray tears that she hadn’t even realized were there and takes a moment to watch her. A second later, he’s leaning in, getting too close, forcing her to move her head back until it hits the headrest behind her. “No one is coming to save you.” He utters those final words before climbing out of the helicopter

Next up is Willa's (failed?) cleansing!

“Not this one.” He holds a hand out, stopping the peggie at her side and giving them a look before handing over the book he’d been reading from. His blue eyes—looking almost colorless in the moonlight—flick back to her and the water parts around him when he moves closer. “This ones not clean.” Then he lunges, pushing her down until she's submerged underneath the water again. She struggles, trying to gain purchase on anything, but the effort is futile and a few seconds later she’s already resurfacing. Her chest heaves with her gasps for air, her lips trembling from the cold temperature. “Y-you mm-muh-mother-f-fucker!” “Ahhhh!” He clicks his tongue with a smile, “Shhhh.” Expecting it this time, she holds her breath just before he pushes her under, the cold water shocking her system as if she were doing a polar plunge. She manages to grab hold of his shirt, pulling him with her and delighting in the blurry shock on his face when he stumbles and falls. He barely manages to catch himself and in using her to regain his balance, he sends her back slamming into the ground, driving the air from her lungs. Out of instinct, she opens her mouth and inhales water, gulping it down like she hasn’t had a drink in years. It gives her a bone chilling sense of dreadful déjà vu. Her frantic movements grow more sluggish the longer time passes until soon, she isn’t even struggling at all, but weakly smacking at whatever part of his body she could. But he doesn’t relent, he doesn’t let up, he keeps her there until her vision darkens at the edges. Then he keeps her there even longer, sharp fingers digging into her shoulders as he takes out his rage and frustration on her. She can’t do anything but exhale… and let go. . . . “N’aww, you really thought this was over? It’s only just begun…” . . . Someones pressing on her chest—one, two, three—then pushing air into her lungs. They repeat the motions again. One. Two. Three. Air forces its way into her lungs. She doesn’t respond. Again—one, two, three—more air. She responds this time, coughing and throwing up water that spills over her face. Sweet, sweet air fills her lungs and there’s a multitude of voices all mumbling by her ear. Her eyes lazily open, idly noting that her chest feels heavy, that it aches. Above her, with the moonlight behind him like a halo, she can only think that Joseph Seed looks just like an angel in that moment. Or maybe it’s the bliss—yeah, she’s sure it's the bliss. His lips were moving and the words don't register with her, but the relief was clear on his face. Raising a hand, he pushes wet strands of hair from her face and slowly, the words begin to fade in. “You’re not here by accident or by chance. You are here by the grace of God. You’ve been given a gift.” His lips pull up into a smile, not like the half ones that she’d seen earlier in the crash, but a real one. His hand smooths over her hair again, the motions setting her at ease, making her relax, disarming her. “Now it remains to be seen whether you choose to embrace it…” His voice lowers into a despairing whisper, ”Or to cast it aside.” Chirping crickets fill the silence while he continues to stare, memorizing her features.

[zestials]

unprompted / always accepting.

@painmon sent ── "zestial! i br—" trips over the carpet and spills the tea he was bringing over absolutely everywhere. he remains laying face down on the floor.

the overlord turns on heel towards the voice calling for him just in time to see the unceremonious fall. ( * what a dreadful sight to behold ! ) as if in slow motion , the liquid splattering , the crash of a body atop & the stillness that follows --- like he'd simply given up after such disaster. zestial creeps forward , peering down at the mess now scattered about his office. tiny shadowy staff members are already dashing forward to clean up , but zee waves them off for his sake. the less eyes to perceive such embarrassment the better.

" art thou ... well ? " a silly thing to ask perhaps , he knows he's alive --- or as alive as one could be in hell ! but it's only polite to ask. a clawed hand's extended to help him rise to his feet. " fret not , i shall procure thee a fresh set of raiment. "

[minskerr]

when you're a chess piece and you drown

palette was once again from palettekeen's palettober!

[v-anrouge]

Wait I like your idea so much better

imagine putting sunscreen on him 😳

[rook-hunt-chasseur-damour]

Why do you think you were sorted into SavannahClaw?

Ah! I have heard some students murmur that persistence and tenacity are quite similar, but in the end, I chose Pomefiore ^^

[wigglepiggle]

HUGE DROWNING TW

i have not shaded in months anyways horrors

[seashaper]

>> Madison Rook sees the red flags that their angel counterpart has chosen to ignore, already pushing it with the water, now he’s going to fully submerge himself? Really? Rook vividly remembers what happened the last time their ‘brother’ had sunk under deep, cold water, the fear they’d had to calm, and the inevitable mental scars that had to come with that act for its perpetrator. They have their suspicions, and after how close things came the first time, the arcanist decides to be better off safe than sorry.

They sit invisible off the banks, watching Mads Altair wading into the water, boots left on the shore. His wings unfold from his back, and Rook sighs, deeply, magically silenced, pressing a hand to their face. He couldn’t have forgotten the circumstances entirely, could he? Those violet feathers begin to soak up water, and the tiefling stands up, ready to move forward. The angel’s bright blue head disappears under the flow, deeper than he expects as his bare feet slip from under him, the current knocks him off-balance, and his now water-weighted wings begin to drag him down. 

The water filling his ears, silencing the world, submerges Madison Altair in a similar memory, a much more painful 1, a deep, aching pain and fear of what’s to come filling his chest. Tears come to his eyes, the fear makes him gasp, and immediately he’s choking on water, starting to thrash beneath the surface. His head hits a rock and things go dark faster, but not for long.

It wasn’t possible to move much faster than Rook did as they glimpsed the first sign of thrashing; quickening their spell with an internal surge of power, they take Control of the river where their other self had submerged. With a gesture of their long, invisible staff, the water’s flow turns in on itself, then to the shore, ejecting the sopping angel onto the smooth stones and dirt before quickly retreating to its normal state. The staff turns to a wand, and with a now-familiar, more precise gesture, Rook draws the water from Altair’s lungs, allowing him to cough and gasp for air, but they see the black blood dripping from the side of his head, the dizziness in his eyes. ..This is the perfect opportunity. 

Shadows gather in Mads Altair’s eyes, filling the gaps in his head trauma induced lingering darkness as he coughs up the last of the water, and the pulse-pounding terror of nonexistence expands from that memory into his soul, convinced despite the breathing that this might still be the end.

“This is the second time, Altair,” the now-visible tiefling states, as if Mads could see them anyways. “You haven’t even apologized for what you did to me, but I’ve saved your life twice, now, 3 times, technically. And I never even held it against you. But if you’re going to be a dick about even taking responsibility for your own cruelty, remember, I apologized for what I did the second you confronted me. And I’ve left you alone, despite it all. I knew you hated having me around, and I respected that. But you still think I deserved it, don’t you? Do you still? After all I’ve done for you, and for everyone else?”

It would be so easy to hurt him. So easy to make him feel what he made them feel, to even the smallest extent, and Rook has to take a moment to breathe while Mads hyperventilates without response, but they knew from the start they wouldn’t return his cruelty in kind. Still, they can’t help but leave him to panic for a moment while they consider their next action. Stepping closer to him, they reach for his hand wrapped around his head and pull his watch free, tossing it nearby. The same way the angel had done to them, sword in hand..but instead of spearing him to a tree, Rook presses a hand to his huddled head. 

In an instant his life-or-death terror fades into dizzied confusion, which intensifies as he floats up several feet into the air, still blind as his knees and feet leave the ground. “Wh- hey, what’s- you can’t-” he can’t get his words together in time to assemble a real response, but as his vision returns to a painfully sudden flash of silvery mist, he sees himself alone floating in place 15 feet overover the shore, his watch below him, out of reach. Altair wiggles in the air, drenched wings flapping weekly, but he can’t budge, and there’s nothing to pull himself along on. It takes some sparks along his skull clearing his thoughts enough to realize what Rook did, and that it’s temporary, before the loud cursing in the middle of nowhere begins.

[possibly-not-a-ghost]

Welcome to the phandom! Glad to have you 💗💗💗

Oh thanks! It's such a nice fan space I can't believe I didn't even know it was here!

[justkillingthyme]

yeah means i love him .almost as much as clive

So so very real.

Murdering your guys as a sign of affection. Also very real on murder methods because. Yeah he got left behind Augh,,, froenborg

[noblehcart]

men this 🤏 close to professing their love to rookheeya? lOVE 💕💕 to see it.

[dolicekiss]

Silver Sobs

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen X Sister!reader

CONTENT WARNING: incestous relationships (obviously) noncon, dubious con (?), somnophilia, smut (18+, mdni), dark aemond, unprotected sex, breeding, nipple play, forced kissing, threats, coercion, praise, obsessed and sick aemond, display of possessiveness, hair pulling, biting.

SYNOPSIS: After the terrifying battle which took place at Rook’s Rest, Aemond’s lust for power had still not subsided despite burning his own brother, the king of Westeros. He arrives at King’s Landing with one thing in mind; to claim everything that belongs to his brother which included — you, his sweet dear sister. The Queen.

Restless and relentless, you paced around the floor of your chambers. Finger nails scratching the skin around them, drawing blood from beneath the stripped flesh.

War was blooming, like a dangerous grey cloud above your heads with the prominent promise of a storm. Panic was everywhere, as well as despair. Multiple soldiers had died, leaving behind their families to fend for themselves, the King had fallen.

And amongst all that, you could only possibly worry for the well being of your only child, Jaehaera. After what had befallen your innocent babe, you had completely disconnected from everything.

Under the name of war, you suffered. You witnessed the atrocities committed by Rhaenyra’s men and your mind had become a void — as you found yourself sinking deeper and deeper into it. Images and reality merging together. Both a foreign concept.

There was no one there for you.

Everyone enamoured with the idea of winning the war, playing their parts, desperate to stay alive. You were all but a pawn, a machine to produce heirs. You knew they didn't even consider you a proper Queen.

The smallfolk and even your own mother, Dowager Queen as well as your brother, Aemond.

Yet you did not care.

You wished to be left alone, pay no mind to such things. Break free from the uneasy restraints of danger and war. Form peace, relish in it. Is all you wanted.

You were not blessed with the courage to go pay your badly injured husband a visit, choosing to nip and scratch at your own skin was a much better and comforting option.

Losing your babe made you realize none of this was worth it. Not a single person in Westeros could end the brewing war and you'd left everyone to fend for themselves — just as they had abandoned you.

Darkness fell over Westeros and meanwhile your maidens were preparing you for bed, Aemond on the other hand battled obscene thoughts and needs at such a dark hour.

Aemond drowned himself in wine yet it had no affect on him. Instead he found himself wondering about staking a claim over everything that belonged to his brother. He got the throne, when he didn't even wish for it and he got you — the sister that Aemond himself wanted.

From when you both were only children, little kids, Aemond had thought of marrying his older sister. Only a year younger, he was. Hoping he'd be the one who's children you'd carry, watching your stomach swell up with his babes and be his wife but even that was snatched right away from him in the name of serving the realm.

His childhood snatched — face left deformed and disabled, a laughing stock that he'd become for his older brother. The drunken fool who had no right to even linger around such a prestigious throne, made only for strong willed men and warriors to take a seat on.

Aegon was no warrior.

He was foolish, an embarrassment and an utter disappointment.

Incapable of pronouncing a word properly in high valyrian.

And he surely did not deserve to have such a sweet little bird such as yourself by his side.

He finished his wine in one gulp and slammed the glass down, aggressively against the wooden table. Criston Cole was nowhere to be seen and Aemond made up his mind to ravage you, to claim you like he had already desired to from the beginning of time.

His steps were stable and strong, booming through the halls of the red keep. Each step only brought him closer to your chambers, driving himself quickly up the stairs which lead to your chambers.

He was relieved to find no guards guardian you and scoffed, realizing how little and less important you were to the Hightowers.

Aemond’s hands moved to push past the doors and there you were, sound asleep in your bed. Your daughter asleep in a cradle a little far away from your bed. He closed the heavy doors and sauntered towards the bed, standing at its foot.

He had consumed wine but he was not drunk at all. Matter of fact, Aemond was as sober as the day he was born.

Your silk robe concealed the plush of your creamy breasts as they rose up and down in soft little attempts to inhale air, one arm laid leisurely over your stomach while the other somewhere concealed within your silver, sparkling hair.

Aemond felt his cock harden in his leather slacks, his sword still attached to his hip. Reaching for it, he undid it and placed it over a table across and then moved his body to continue admiring your body, the vulnerability you showcased had him frozen on the spot.

The lecherous act he was heading to engage in would surely leave you in disarray too but Aemond was too far gone to even care anymore.

He'd arrived to claim what was rightfully his.

He walked to the side of the bed, hands reaching out to remove the blanket from your frail figure. Then his hands pried open the robe, revealing your kirtle. It scarcely did anything to veil your dignity and Aemond shuddered.

His hands, his war causing hands, sinful hands, moved covetously over your body. Fingers digging into your neckline to pull it down, watching with his one good eye as your breasts spilled out. The cold air forced your pebbles into peaks and Aemond nearly lost all restraint.

Large hand cupping your left breast, a callous thumb flicked your nipple and your already parted lips released a short lived gasp. He was pleased with the soft sound, as subtle as it was.

Aemond sat next to you on the empty space, slithering his tongue over his plump lips. Your breaths were soft, the only sound echoing in the expanse of your room, cutting through the silence like butter. His own breath hitched in his throat, upon witnessing the disarray you were in.

Hair like rippled waves of the narrow sea, body loose and comfortable. Aemond leaned in, shrinking the space between the two of you, to analyze your features. He'd never gotten the chance to do, you'd never allow him. You were anything but an immoral woman who'd give herself to him on a silver platter.

You were the Queen.

Aemond knew he'd be reprimanded for even being in your room, staring at you up close like this. He had unraveled you like some gift, like a present and he wished to do so much more.

Your beautifully long lashes coated the apples of your cheeks and Aemond, with a gloved hand, reached to swipe the thick strand of hair away from your cheek. Just by touching you, despite having leather separate his skin from becoming one with yours, he was already thanking the Gods for blessing him with you.

Aemond slowly slipped his gloves off, resting them on the table next to the bed. He fully slipped into bed next to you, face buried in the crook of your neck and bare hands slithering to fondle with your beautiful, plump breasts.

Soft flesh with hardened nipples.

A soft breath from his lips ghosted over your nape, his hips pushing into your hip in dire need for physical affection. Aemond had slept with whores, he'd fucked them but for the first time in his life he wanted to lay with a woman to satiate his hopelessness for affection.

Something he never received from his mother, Alicent and Rhaenyra always managed to overshadow him.

He let out a guttural moan, pushing his hips more into you and when you shifted in your sleep — back turned to him, Aemond fucking lost it. You had exposed your perfect curves to him, how your ass was shaped and how your side dipped in, giving you the shape of a goddess.

In your state of unconsciousness, you had presented yourself to him like a feast.

Aemond’s actions grew haste. Hands reaching from behind to grope your tits much more roughly, hips stuttering into you from behind and his cock leaked from the amount of pleasure the depravity of this endeavor brought him.

His breath grew quicker, heavier and your sleep was soon disturbed. As you fluttered your eyes opened, revealing the purple hues, your sleepy brain finally acknowledged your surroundings and the cold, callous hands fondling you from behind.

You gasped, giving away hint of your consciousness and before you could even scream, Aemond had already wrapped a palm over your mouth.

“Sh, sh. It's me, Aemond.” As if that would make things much better for you, but this revelation only worked to make things harder for you.

Your eyes widening in horror and when you tried to shift, a feeble attempt to slip out of his tight grasp, you realized the severity of the situation. Aemond’s hard manhood was pressed up right between your ass. Your brother's and it left you completely astonished. Your flight or fight response being triggered.

You tried to say something but only muffled words paired with broken sobs tore managed to make through the little space between Aemond’s slim fingers clasped tightly over your lips. Your vision blurred as you tried to focus on the cradle in which your daughter laid, asleep and in peace.

Aemond had glued himself to you. “I've missed you, dear sister. I miss our childhood, I miss what we had. Remnants of our childhood always haunts me.”

You almost felt bad. Guilt ridden because somewhere, deep down, you were aware of the feelings your brother harbored for you. The two of you would even go as far as behaving as you were already betrothed to each other when younglings.

You moved past it, accepted your loveless marriage with the care less drunken brother of yours. You succumbed to your targaryen traditions, roles and duties bestowed upon you by the Gods but it appeared that Aemond decided to fight that Gods.

He chose to go against destiny and the traditions.

“I will remove my hand and you shall keep your honor and dignity intact, Dear sister.” You nodded in desperation and Aemond with great reluctance peeled his hand off your face, causing you to inhale a sharp breath.

You registered the situation you were in. Breasts spilled out, hair pushed aside with Aemond buried in your nape. Seeking solace that he never found in his mother's embrace and you swallowed. Tears streamed down, soaking into the cushions.

“This is wrong.” You whispered, hoping that you don't awaken the dragon in him. “Immoral, Aemond. I am your sister, the Queen. I carried His Grace’s heirs. You cannot do this.”

Your tone was fearsome and Aemond’s irritation grew when you faced him with the facts. He knew about this already and he did not care, not in the slightest. His arm which had wrapped around your waist, tightened, a warning to tread carefully.

“His Grace is also your brother, our brother, so what is so immoral about us engaging in such..” Aemond couldn't call it debauchery, because he didn't see it exactly as that. He saw it as something more, something pure beyond anyone's understanding. “acts.”

You tried to shift, to face him and when you did, Aemond was already staring back at you, his patch still over his disabled eye.

Surely with more persuasion he would leave your chambers and you could pretend that none of this happened but unfortunately for you, there was no God, no sept or no traditions that could change his mind.

“Aemond, I'm his lady wife. I'm merely your sister. Please try to understan—”

Aemond nearly growled. “Do not remind me over and over again that he – a drunkard, an idiot – managed to put his heirs in you when you were supposed to carry mine! You were mine, do you hear me? It is about time I get what is rightfully mine, what was taken from me.”

Before you could say more, Aemond closed the space between you two and captured your lips in a rough kiss. One with which you could not keep up — small fists banging at his chest, in tethered hope that he might have a change of heart and dissipate from your presence.

Your husband was fighting for his life, meanwhile you were laying nearly bare in front of your brother.

You felt bile rise up in your throat but you had no other option than to swallow it back down as Aemond’s passionate lip lock grew more restless and haste. Using up all your strength in an endeavor to push him, yet there was no retribution. He carried on with his sick intentions.

His hands moved down to grab a handful of both your tits, his lips swallowing your little whines and pleas. His rutting which had stalled, continued again as he pushed his hardened cock into your mound.

“A-Aemond.. ” You tried to reason, still.

His hands worked their way around your breasts, flicking your hardened peaks repeatedly and your body twitched. You did not wish to accept it but this was the most pleasure you'd felt in your whole life.

Warming your husband’s bed was only to fulfill his desires, his needs and wants. You were solely a doll, a lifeless being who only existed for Aegon to have his pleasures with. You always wondered how your own mother could subject you to such cruelty, such monstrosity.

To lay awake at night and welcome your husband, whom you do not wish to even breath the same air as, with open arms.

Aemond’s potent tongue pried your lips open and you let it happen, not possessing any more of courage. His tongue danced with yours, a reminiscent of the dragons that danced above Rooks’s Rest. He panted like a wild beast, and you followed.

Dire need to consume you warred with his ache for you and Aemond soon tore away from you but continued flicking your swollen buds. He stared at you, eye dark and rapacious.

Your cheeks were flushed and the rays of moonlight illuminated the beads of sweat on your forehead. Aemond was lost in you, drunk off a single kiss and he simply could not wait to have more of you.

“You have grown into such a beautiful woman, Sister.” Aemond praised, pinching both your hardened pebbles simultaneously and you cried out a wail. “But before me I still see my older sister, nuha byka hunte.”

You flinched at the name.

He addressed you as his little bird in high valyrian when you were kids and then he stopped, after witnessing your wedding to his brother. In all honesty, you longed to be called that and Aemond had finally responded to that longing of yours, unknowingly.

Aemond’s hands fell, fingers tucking underneath the edge of your silk robe as he tugged at it. You didn't allow it — still fighting back as you stayed still. He didn't like that one bit. The Targaryen man pressed his forehead against yours, warm breath lingering like a looming threat.

“You will let it happen.” He commanded, rendering you speechless. Chills dancing across your frail frame at the sheer dominance in his voice. Just when did your little Aemond grow up into a masculine and domineering man?

You shook your head, staring at him with a plea. “Stop ‘tis for I am the Queen, I am your Queen and I demand you to stop.”

Aemond tugged at the dress, bunching it up past your thighs. “I wish you were my Queen but instead those fucking cunts had you warming up my brother’s bed like some common whore.”

The overwhelming urge to cry took over and you sobbed, banging your fists against Aemond’s chest. It didn't seem to affect him much but it did rile him up how you fought to accept him but most probably allowed his brother in — gave yourself up to him in the name of duty and sacrifice.

“I'm not a whore!” You wailed, punching him over and over again. To flee from the upcoming acceptance of your situation but Aemond reprimanded you. He forbade you and greeted you in the form of your queasy truth.

Aemond grabbed both your wrists, glaring at you. “Yet he treats you as one. You're even below that for him. I have seen him show kindness he's never shown you, to a fucking whore. Not the mother of his children, not his queen, but a whore for some coin.”

The reality Aemond was making you face was slowly poisoning you from the inside. You couldn't even hit him anymore as your wrists had been restrained. Your demeanor fell and Aemond took notice, his fingers unclasping from around your small wrists.

He saw how you cried.

Softly, each tear falling as your pale pillow awaited to absorb your pain.

“But I would treat you differently. If it had been me, I would have cherished you like the only woman in the seven kingdoms and beyond that.” He whispered to you with yearning obvious in his voice.

Aemond managed to slip the petticoat off your body and revealed you to him — in all your glory. Skin bare and glistening from sweat. Each curve delicious and crafted by the seven Gods themselves. You were the embodiment of pure targaryen beauty, some even going as far as claiming you to be the most beautiful targaryen woman.

You tried to reach for the blanket, to cover the shredded pieces of your dignity but Aemond hurried to refrain you from doing so.

He grabbed both your wrists, slamming your back down on the bed and pinning you against the mattress. His body hovering over yours, knee bent and settled between your thighs. Your chest heaved, and tits bounced from the force of harsh pants.

Aemond’s knee pried open your thighs rather forcefully, pressing his knee against your cunt. His vile action had earned a whimper of discomfort and embarrassment out of you, your whole being resenting the throbbing sensation spreading in your core as it flourished.

“Tonight I shall have you and cherish you like you deserve, like I should have.” Aemond whispered, tone grave. “If you choose to stay adamant and resilient, I cannot promise you humility, nuha byka hunte.”

Your lips formed into a pout, tear ducts sore from all the droplets you'd shed. “A-Aemond please, don't. If you do this, everything will change.”

Aemond scoffed at your naivety. “Everything has changed, Sister. Brother is injured, I'm prince regent and you're going to carry my children.”

You shook your head, pushing at his slim frame but that only resulted in Aemond’s hand drowning in your silver, pale locks. A malicious grip tugging at the roots, a fiery sensation blooming.

“They will be bastards.” A lone tear slid down.

Aemond’s lips broke in a sadistic smirk. “And? The pretender can have bastards, not even remotely close to her late husband’s features but I can't have bastards with you?”

He licked his lips, his pointy, sharp nose caressing against your own. “Our children will look like true born Targaryens. They will have our purple eyes and silver hair.”

There was no point.

You were defeated.

Aemond saw you accept defeat and he smiled in victory, his other letting go off your hair and moving to grab yours. He pulled it to the strings of his leather slacks and encouraged you to undo them.

You shook your head and that angered Aemond.

How adamant could you be?

“I will shove my cock into your cunt one way or another and I will make sure my seed takes root inside you.” The vulgarity of his words made you sob, your hands trembling as you began to undo his strings. Pulling each one from the knots and finally loosening the leather enough for him to slide out of it.

Aemond was pleased and soon, he was naked too.

Leather pieces thrown over to the side along with his eye patch too.

When your gaze captured the sparkling sapphire in the void of his left eye, you were left appalled.

He had never ever shown you what was behind that eye patch. Even after you begged him to, he grew cold and pushed you away but now you had begun to realize it was probably because of the announcement of your betrothal to Aegon.

His silky strands were in a tedious contrast to your wavy, thick ones.

Lingering eyes caught the awakened cock between his legs and horror flashed in your widened eyes. He was blessed by the Gods, that was for sure and no wonder your brother was this famous amongst the ladies. He had the equipment to satisfy them.

You gulped, nervousness donning your face.

“I slept with other woman so I could become better for you. Incompetence and lack of experience would surely ruin this time, don't you think so, sweet Sister?” Aemond spoke, as his hand dropped from your knee to your center.

You flinched every time he caressed your skin and your abdomen twitched with absolute need. You failed to fathom where all this rush and need was birthing from — how the disgust lingered but along it roamed a feeling of desire which had erupted in the form of essence from your hole.

Aemond ran his slim, tenacious fingers over the stripe of your cunt, gathering the arousal you produced. “Your little cunt is very wet, Sister. Disobedience, wails and pounding at my chest. Is this all merely an act, to veil your sickly desires beneath?”

Your breath broke and humiliation draped itself around you like an invisible blanket. Your small hand reached over to deliver a tight slap to your brother's face, but it barely caused an impact. All you left was a red hand print on his face.

Aemond looked at you, head tilted and fire born in his eye.

You had awakened the dragon.

“Your actions tell me you have no desire to be treated with respect. So be it then.”

Your low chances of rebuttal were revoked as he slid two fingers at once into your opening, going to the point until he was knuckles deep inside your squelching cunt. You sobbed hopelessly, hands trying to push at him but none of it worked.

Your resistance only boosted his ego, his god complex. He had all the power over you, despite you being the Queen. How fucking pathetic and cruel life had been to you but Aemond was here. He was here to save you, and in order to do that, he had to claim you first.

You pushed inside you, caressing your cervix and your gummy walls clasped around his fingers. Your nails dug into his shoulder to cause him pain but that was a failed attempt as Aemond’s cock hardened even more — if that were possible — when he felt the prickling feeling on his shoulder.

The pain inflicted only heightened his arousal.

“A-Aemond, please.” Your cries were the least bit of his concerns, as he curved his fingers up and managed to hit that sweet concealed spot of yours.

Your back arched, lifting up from the mattress, hands bunching up the sheets in them. Writhing your hips, Aemond used his other hand to strike you down — a stinging sensation blossoming on your thigh. You suckled on your lower lip, to stifle your sounds. Jaehaera waking up could possibly ruin everything.

“The Queen’s cunt is truly worth becoming a kingslayer for. Look at how tightly you squeeze around my fingers, Sister.” He whispered, staring at you. You caught the shimmering of the sapphire and sniffled, your cheeks and nose a crimson color.

Death was much better than this humiliation at the hands of your own brother — one you used to see as your protector when you were a little girl.

“H-Have shame. Your sister.” You managed to whimper out and Aemond groaned in annoyance, retrieving his fingers from your cunt.

Your hole gaped as you whined at the loss of contact. He laid next to you, flipping you so your back was facing him. Aemond kicked your thighs open with his shins and pressed his red leaking cock head over your clit, moving it in soft little circles. The burial of your face in your pillows made you realize just how unbearable all this was.

“Do not turn away from me.” Aemond’s voice had a plea in it. “You allowed Aegon in, why is it so difficult to allow me in? I promise you, nuha byka hunte. You will never feel shame again, you will never be embarrassed by your husband again.”

His promises almost worked.

You found yourself wondering whether this was so bad. You'd slept with Aegon, in a much more brutal way, worse than Aemond. Usually he'd ignore you and your pleasure in his drunken state, only chasing after his own. Aemond made you feel good.

He actually cared enough to bring you pleasure.

You nodded your head with a soft sob. You wished things were better, that your betrothed was Aemond, not the other brother but things never turned out the way you wanted them to.

Aemond aligned his cock with your hole and sunk into you, face hidden in your nape as his naked body sought comfort in your presence, basking in it. His chin resting on the small cup of your shoulder, breath caressing the skin of your neck.

He was almost like a babe.

“Aemond.” You called out, feeling bad for what he was put through as a child. For what he had turned out to be.

Having your own children made you realize how easy it was to provide them with affection, so it was difficult for you to fathom why your own mother failed to show you and your brothers affection.

Aemond melted at the way you softly called out his name and his cock had fully sheathed inside your cunt, thighs pressed up against your ass. You'd become one and he was going to have you for himself now.

“Yes, my sweet sister?”

“It feels weird.” You spoke truthfully as you had never ever lay with a man in such a close and intimate position. Aemond figured what you were hinting at and he smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to your nape.

He moved his hips, stuttering inside you, grinding into your ass. Your sounds nearly woke up your daughter if it wasn't for Aemond’s hands slithering from behind, one groping your tits while the other silencing you.

“Quiet now. You don't wish to wake up your daughter, do you now?” You shook your head as he slowly rutted his cock inside you, pushing it deeper into that weak spot of yours and muffled sounds escaped your sealed lips.

Tears fell, and so did your dignity as your brother fucked himself into you with newfound vigor meant to swallow you whole.

Aemond lost his demeanor, his usually calm and nonchalant demeanor. Transforming into the sadistic monster that he was. He pulled his hand back from your swollen breasts and brought it to your hair, pulling it up rather harshly to expose more of your sweet skin.

A perfect spot. A clean canvas for him to paint his bloody streaks across.

He parted his lips open, baring his teeth and sinking the sharp canines into your skin. Being punctured with such severity, even his hand could not prevent the piercing scream that tore through your throat.

Your eyes squeezed shut as Aemond sunk his teeth. The searing pain of prickling bones a deadly contrast with the soft, sensual thrusts of his cock. A mess he had made you into and there was no escape from the lecherous bounds of your brother.

“I-It hurts. Aemond, it hurts!” You cried out, writhing against his body but his arm had locked you in place. Right against him.

The more you struggled, the more his long arm like a snake tightened around your stomach. He did not budge, not at all. Focused fully on the task at hand which was to leave a gut wrenching mark, as a testament to his claim over you.

When he was done suckling and drawing blood, he pulled back and hummed in satisfaction at the mark. A mix of reds, blues and purples. Such hues looked absolutely breathtaking on you. He pressed a soft kiss over the bruise, the two punctured hole and you shuddered.

Helplessness washed over you.

Your husband was hurt, in pain meanwhile you engaged in such debauchery with your brother.

Aemond snapped his hips, now ramming his cock into you. Pounding with potency and your body surged forward. He reached for your leg and pulled it up, holding it in air as he fucked you.

“P-Please. You're my broth–”

“Shut your damn hole.” Aemond snapped, patience wearing thin. “Keep saying I'm your brother but it only arouses me more.”

You gasped when you felt his cock head hit into that spongy bubble of sensitivity and Aemond scrunched his brows in over whelming pleasure. He had taken many maidens and whores but you were different – of course you were. A targaryen princess turned Queen, his own blood and flesh.

You ought to be different.

Aemond reveled in the feeling of your tight cunt pressing down on his cock, caressing every vein, soaking it in your juices. The sounds of his flesh colliding against yours enticed him in a way that he could not fathom. Like milk of the poppy, he wished to continue absorbing you.

His fingers rubbed your clit, the swollen bud twitching. All this pleasure, that you were so foreign to, it overwhelmed you. Thighs convulsing and abdomen building up knots, a warning of your upcoming orgasm.

“Brother, something’s happening. Aemond, please!” You wailed and he stared at your sweaty, flustered face.

Gods, had Aegon never once made you unravel?

How fucking pitiful.

Aemond grinned. “Yeah? You're going to make a mess, dear sister.”

Your stomach tightened and this unfamiliar feeling took over. Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull and your hands shifted hastily to find something, anything to grab a hold of as your body transcended to another realm. One visible to those who indulged themselves im such debauchery.

Aemond hissed. The sheer tightness of your cunt made him feel like he'll snap in half, his own groans and moans loud enough to reverberate through your chambers. He still continued to thrust, earning your climax out of you.

When you were done, Aemond raised himself and pulled his cock out of you. Relief washed over you but how naive were you, to assume he'd get dressed and leave without chasing after his own pleasure. Your eyes fluttered open and you found him right between your legs, kneeled.

“Are you not done?” Your voice was weary, soft and tired. Aemond chuckled at your innocence, both hands pulling your thighs apart.

His one good eye stared at your cunt, pink flesh glistening from your creamy arousal. He felt the urge to lean in and lick along the swollen stripe of your pussy but the throbbing of his cock made him cave in. He slipped inside you again, pulling both your legs up and balancing them on his shoulders.

Your lips released a gasp.

Aemond’s bestial and rapacious thrusts made you cry, muffled wails breaking apart. He stared at you as the sapphire glinted, his cock driving itself with fervor into your cunt, enjoying your sweet vice like grip.

Your shaky hands reached for his face, to cup it and Aemond leaned in your touch. Affectionate it was, his lips parted as he let out a broken breath, similar to how he felt on the inside. A broken boy and you felt horrible, like it was all your fault to begin with.

He had turned into a monster and it was all your fault.

“Your eye,” you whispered, his snaps coming to a halt. “its beautiful. You look so beautiful, Aemond.”

He admired you before snapping out of the trance and pounding into you. Aemond’s cock found comfort in your tight cunt and his release had grown closer to. You cried out, vision completely blurry and lips swollen, covered in drool.

“My beautiful sister.” He growled, pressing his pelvis against yours. “I shall fill you up, give you a child of mine. Your stomach will swell with our child. Your beautiful breasts will once again pump milk, this time for our babe.”

His palm laid flat on your stomach and you shook your head. You didn't want him to give you a child, as it would end badly for the both of you yet Aemond did not bother himself with traditions. He nuzzled his cock into you and with a loud groan, shot ropes after ropes into your walls.

Tainting your gummy flesh white. You sobbed as you felt the warm fluid fill up your stomach, your whole body suffering from prominent convulsions. Aemond’s cock bulged against your taut stomach, a fine print visible to you both.

When Aemond was done with his release, he pulled out and dropped on the bed right besides you. Body numb and throat parched from all the sounds you'd made, your gaze lingered across the room to find your daughter sound asleep.

Thank the Gods.

You turned to Aemond and found him already staring at you. His arm wrapped around you, refraining you from moving away from him as he nuzzled his neck into your neck. Aemond sniffed your scent, closing his eyes and relishing the sweetness of it. God, you were a dream come true for him.

“I will get rid of him soon.” Aemond whispered, hair mixing in with yours. “And then I will have you as my wife. Our child shall be conceived within the bounds of our marriage.”

[venmondiese]

A KING’S FAREWELL

masterlist ✧works in procress ✧ AO3

-ˋˏsummary: As King Aegon II prepares to fight at Rook Rest, you accompany him before he departs.

✧Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Female Reader.

✧word count: 2k

✧Warnings: : MDNI 18+, p in v, fluff and angst, reader is aegon's mistress, slight foreshadowing to aegon's fate, aegon depressed for jaehaerys.

✧NOTE: i saved these from drafts, this was supposed to come out after episode 4, so all the events are from ep 4.

AEMOND'S PARALLEL ONE SHOT: A prince's farewell

“Fuck” he grunts, as his hips pound into yours, again and again. Aegon was a greedy man, and you were his favourite thing ever. 

Perhaps it was your gentleness to him that nobody else cared to show to him, or maybe it was your beauty. Not even he could know why you had him wrapped around your finger.

He knew one thing; he loved your cunt. 

As the carriage goes on and on, the King just pounds into your pussy, fucking you hard as your little wanton moans fill the carriage. He is King, and he will do whatever he wants, even if that means fucking his mistress whenever, wherever and however he wants.

Right now, it was you accommodated on the seats of the carriage, trying to hold onto the walls, the pillows, anything, as his cock entered again and again.

“Fuck, Aegon-” your little whine turns him on so badly, he grits his teeth as he practically hisses, feeling your cunt clenching around him so hard, it was driving him insane. 

Aegon was a hungry man, and he loved the pleasures of the flesh. There was probably nothing you haven’t done with him, and it pleased him very much. He loved you for it, and you loved him as well.

“I want to hear you moaning my name while I fuck this sweet dripping cunt” he mutters, picking up the speed as the lewd words fall from his lips naturally.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoing on the carriage, his hips rut more and more animalistic against yours. His hand is curled against your hip, applying the right amount of pleasure to keep you still, fucking you as you take his cock. 

“Aegon… Oh, gods…” Your moans are delight for his ears, as he groans and moans. He has never been one to be silent when fucking; he never held any sound for himself, more so when he knew you like hearing him as he liked hearing you. 

He was obsessed with every part from you. Your body, the curves of your ass, the way they sway invitingly for him, your breasts, your cunt… But, also, your mind. Aegon has never truly loved someone’s mind, and it was an odd yet comforting new feeling. 

“Fuck, you feel divine” Aegon says, biting his lower lip, as he increases his pace as he pounds into you. 

“My King, we have arrived-”

“Not now” He grunts as the servant tries to open the door of the carriage. 

You can hear the little sounds of the carriage moving, creaking at the weight and movements, Aegon’s hand roaming on your flesh as his shaft is deep inside you, and by the way you moan, your mouth wide open as your eyes are closed shut, the little drool falling from your lips… Aegon knows you are about to cum, feeling your tight cunt clenching around him, making him follow your release.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” your desperate noises are a delight for his ears, only serving to fuel his orgasm. 

“Yes, just like that” he snarls, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he cums as well, groaning in delight as he comes inside you. He holds you still; as his hips slowly try to move deeper and deeper inside you, as his cum fill your womb.

You both were used to trying to make each other presentable, as he tries to comb and flatten your hair aftermath, and you pulled his breeches up for him, making sure his belt is not open and such. It was lovely, you realise, and it was something so familiar for both. 

It is your duty to entertain him as he is being equipped with the armour. The very same that the conqueror used at his time, and you smile fondly at him, trying to let his mind wander and not making him drown himself on wine before riding Sunfyre.

“Come” Aegon says as the Dragon keepers take Sunfyre out, pulling you closer to the dragon, and you chuckle a bit. Sunfyre wasn’t massive as you thought, but he was beautiful. 

The dim lights that entered the pit made his scales shine, as he was quick to come closer to Aegon and try to boop him with his nose and snuggle his head into his chest.

Aegon laughed, as he lets go of your hand to caress Sunfyre a bit more. It’s genuine. He’s happy, meeting his dragon, as Sunfyre plays some playful antics for his rider. You think it’s rather cute.

“He doesn’t bite” Aegon say, extending his hand and you slowly take it. You don’t doubt that he can, but you are sure he won’t.

“I’m pretty sure he can”

“He won’t bite you” He corrects himself as he rolls his eye, but you giggle. 

His scales are unsurprisingly warmer than you thought, as Aegon is still hugging him softly, smiling as he sees you caress his nose softly. Sunfyre seems to like your attention. A beautiful dragon -the most beautiful- was used to attention, you thought, but he craved yours, apart from Aegon’s. You smiled as you look at Aegon so comfortably hugging Sunfyre.

“He reminds me of you” you say softly “Craving my attention” your hand moves away but Sunfyre is quick to follow your touch, asking for more. “A needy thing”

Aegon smirks, looking at Sunfyre begging for more. “Always. When it comes to you. Sunfyre can feel it as well”

It was a soothing fact. Of course, being the King’s favourite had its privileges. Great dresses and position at court, for your kin as well. Your father knew well what he did, sending you to be one of Helaena’s ladies in waiting, as you later realized his motives. Yet still, Queen Helaena was so beloved, adored by everyone that it made you look bad. For stealing her husband from her. You didn’t hate her one bit, how could you? She was beloved to you as well, and she never had problems with you around. She was kind, and as mysterious as she was to everyone. You always felt bad until she reassured you the contrary, that she didn’t mind and she held no other love than sibling love to Aegon.

You smiled at Aegon. 

“Convenient” it were your words that had him smirk faintly, as he didn’t seem quite ready yet. 

You knew him well, to see the expression of his face, all his doubts, fears and expectations. He craves to be good. And to your eyes, he was more than perfect. But to your pity, that view didn’t extend to many people. 

As he gets ready, you take the helmet from the squire’s hands, and follow him from behind as he walks over to Sunfyre, who sings softly in the way that Dragons can. It’s melodic and beautiful, you soon realize. Aegon sings too, when he was drunk, or when he was in a good mood. When he was with you and….

Well, when he was with his kids. Now, you heard him sing with his only kid. You remember it, as Helaena was inconsolable; you played with Jaehaera and helped her to be the innocent little girl she was. Aegon, after finishing the business with both the golden cape and the Rat catchers, came to see her. So unlike him, yet he just sat Jaehaera on his lap and took Balerion on his fingers and played with her, singing some songs as they played without any words. 

You were a stranger to his family. You knew it. Yet you settled in, strangely. A friend to the mother, a weird aunt to the kids and a lover to the father. It isn’t like you don’t enjoy it. 

“You look adorable in that armour, though” you say smiling, taking a step back to watch him. He was extremely cute like that. The conqueror should have been taller, you imagine him as tall as Aegon’s grandsire. And Aegon wasn’t so tall, but you adored that

“I am supposed to be fearsome, not adorable” he says, moving to grab his cup of wine again.

You shrug, taking the cup from his hands and gulping the wine yourself. 

“Well, between you and Sunfyre, you’d make a beautiful pair. Fearsome… can be arranged for other occasion”

Aegon scoffs, taking the helmet with the conqueror’s crown on it, and he hesitates before pulling it on. 

“Wait, don’t be a brute” you say taking it from his hands. You were the only one to talk to the King like that, bossing him around as if nothing and he’ll follow your every whim as Kings follow the Gods.

You make him lean his head a bit as you accommodate his short and platinum hair, helping him to put it on the helmet on his head as you can hear Sunfyre sing on the back, waiting for Aegon. 

“I have a perfect view of your tits right now” he says, you can practically hear the smirk on his face, his head on the perfect angle to see your tits pressed tightly on your dress.

“I believe you do”

Once the helmet was on, you watched him with an endearing smile. It was so unlike him, to wear armour when he wasn’t a skilled fighter as Aemond was. But as the King, he repeated again and again that a Ruler should be fighting by his men's side, not cowering on a castle and waiting for the job to be done. 

“Be careful” you say to him, almost afraid. Aegon knows of the womanly worries, a Helaena had asked him the same: to be safe. 

“I’ll be. Sunfyre is there to protect me.” He says, trying to be nonchalant. 

“I know he’ll protect you, and you’ll protect him” 

Aegon nods, a bit lost in thought. “I want for them to trust me. I will fight by their side, and fight for my claim. I will learn how to be a proper ruler”

You nod, your hand searching the skin that his armour let out. You soothe him, and he allows himself to be vulnerable for you. “You’ll be."

"No one believes I do. My mother, my council, my grandsire... even Aemond..." It seems that the betraying of his brother is what hurts him the most. Even if Aemond was his political headache as of late, he was still his brother.

"You have me by your side. You have Helaena and Jaehaera-”

“Protect them” he interrupts you. “If anything, shall ever- If they come back…”

You understand his worry. Blood and Cheese. Even if both killers were dead, he was talking about the Blacks.

“I’ll do” you promise. “I’ll be with Jaehaera. And I’ll sing her the songs that you sang to her, so she doesn’t feel lonely”

“She has lost her twin. She will be forever lonely” he says, a bit gloomily.

You remain quiet for some moments. Aegon was different since that night, and you saw it on him every day. You held him as he cried, you comforted Helaena and Jaehaera. But Aegon just drank himself numb to forget the pain of his little son murdered.

“She has you” you remind him. “And I swear to you, by the old gods and the new, that I won’t let anything happen to Jaehaera. Anything. I promise”

That seems to calm him. “And I promise to comeback” he says walking closer to Sunfyre’s mount. “Even if it is with a few ugly scratches”

You roll your eyes amused, and look at his face. “You’ll be handsome even with some scratches.” you insist, as if the idea disgusts him, yet he is willing to get some scars to prove himself. “And I’ll take your hand as the Maester cures them. And I’ll kiss the little marks to make sure they heal”

Aegon smiles, looking at you as he leans to kiss your cheek. A tender gesture from him; Aegon wasn’t afraid to show displays of affection, at least not with you. You knew that Helaena wasn’t fond of them, but with you and his kids, he’ll make sure you are pampered in love. 

“Thanks for the words. They are well appreciated, and your love is all I needed. And this proper farewell too.” 

You smile, nodding as he climbs Sunfyre. It is not the first time you have seen the dragon; he once took you on flights, and the other time you had helped him to get Jaehaerys and Jaehaera on the mount, making sure they won’t fall, as they squirmed excitedly. 

“Pray for our win.” He says loudly, looking down at your figure “For the throne shall be ours, and for good” 

thank you for reading!! reblogs, likes and comments are not necessary but well appreciated♡