#the second prince
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
youtube
Melody Journey (Music TV Show, 2024)
Zhou Shen, Xue Zhiqian, Ayunga, Liu Yuning, Liu DuanDuan, and more
I blame Liu Yuning for my falling into the c-pop wormhole, which led to a whole new world filled with cheesy ballads, romantic love songs, old-school rock hits, and cdrama OSTs. Chinese music industry really knows how to celebrate its talents—and have fun while it's at it!
Melody Journey has a fairly original concept. They invited a bunch of upcoming and established composers to present their new (!) songs to equally established and upcoming singers. That creates a very powerful mix - the singers get exposure and can sing some pretty amazing new hits (or less amazing, but it's still all in good fun), and the composers get their songs being broadcasted nationwide for the first time.
The modern stage is visually striking, the filming of the whole show is top-notch high-quality, but what makes it so damn good and delicious on all levels is the cast. The show features a lot of familiar faces from Singing with Legends season 3, which was pure awesomeness (if you haven't watched it - just go and do it now, you'll fall in love with all the singers and probably the Chinese music industry as well).
This means we get to enjoy the frantic humor of Xue Zhiqian, as well as his passionate performances. Next, there's Zhou Shen with his incredibly high, androgynous voice and a diva-like presence on stage (that, and his humor barely passing the show's censorship XD). There's also the incredibly lovely Shan Yichun and some cool guests appearing all the time, so the cast is pretty fluid.
At some point, Ayunga joins the stage - and if you know him, you know that this Mongolian musical singer is a real gem both in terms of looks and his gorgeous voice. Then Liu Yuning joins the show, bringing his magical voice and powerful performances, which can't really be compared to anyone else. That, and his personality also shines bright.
I was also very surprised to find Liu DuanDuan (2nd Prince from Joy of Life) to be a pretty good singer. Like really good! I didn't connect to him much at first, but he has a quirky sense of humor and a very hard-working personality. He's very passionate about singing, and it shows!
The show is hilarious right from the first episodes, there's so much humor, you can watch it just for that alone. Xue Zhiqian is a walking stand-up comedian, but he treats music very seriously. He also shifts between the roles of a singer and composer, giving some of his songs to the performers.
Because all the songs are new, it's very exciting to see the whole process of reacting/choosing what to sing. Everyone has their own personalities and preferences, which makes for a very entertaining process. I haven't laughed so much in a long while. All the guys and girls know each other, so it's not really a competition, but rather a fun music camp they do altogether.
At the end of each episdoe, some cutting-edge AI decides what song has the best chance of becoming a hit. That's pretty much it! No rewards or fancy titles. The show itself with new music and interesting performances is the reward, so they're doing it just for the fun of it.
I enjoyed the concept just as much as I enjoyed everyone's performances - there were lots of really cool new songs! So I recommend watching it fully, but if you're interested in our boy Liu Yuning, he appears in episode 7.
I've watched 9 episodes out of 11, and it's been nothing but fun paired with excitement :3 The humor is literally never-ending. No one is safe from friendly pranks.
You can't have Liu Yuning on the show without some height jokes, okay? They're obligatory)))
All the boys are incredibly touchy-feely and they hug a lot, which made my heart all warm and fuzzy. They're so cute. Also, the support seniors have to younger stars is very heart-warming.
Apart from all the fun, the show is just very pleasing to the eye. The stages have cool visual effects and some performances are very artsy.
The beginning of the show is already striking and you know it's going to be pretty!
#melody journey#cvariety#c-pop#chinese singers#liu yuning#xue zhiqian#joker xue#阿云嘎#ayunga#ayanga#zhou shen#liu duanduan#the second prince#the 2nd prince#joy of life#joy of life cast#chinese music#shan yichun#singing with legends#this show is nothing short of amazing#do watch!#LYN#Youtube
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
I actually thought this was a brilliant fanfic idea and ended up writing a little novel on the topic XD Things got queer somewhere along the way, but I'm eternally grateful for the inspiration and those sleepless nights I spent writing this fic. I'll humbly leave the link here just in case. It has a bit of everything - the royal family interactions, a case study on Fan Xian's pansexuality, backstabbing plots, the Emperor being his vicious self, and many more endearing things that I loved in the show, with my own spin on everything.
But it is, in its core, inherently queer and very BL-esque with various important not-so-philosophical questions arising in a society that's not quite ready to answer them. But it's all in good fun (kind of, almost, not really). There's some trauma. And lots of humor. And I think I actually like how it turned out. Will be posting more soon!
I need a Joy of Life spinoff focused entirely on the imperial family interactions—Fan Xian, the princes and the Emperor, and all of their shenanigans. No high stakes stuff, just small-time squabbling and vicious scheming over tiny stakes. Imperial Father, I denounce Fan Xian for stealing my grapes. Imperial Father, the Second Prince is wise but has no proof. Imperial Father, why is Fan Xian here at this family brunch, again.
Fan Xian does constantly try to escape this family circle, but the Emperor won’t let him. So he’s stuck accompanying the Emperor and the princes on all kinds of family outings. Brunches. Hunts. Visits to important temples. The brothers keep squabbling. The First Prince wishes he could stab half of them. The Crown Prince is trying to hold on to the crown. The Second Prince is plotting against everybody in turn. Fan Xian is defending himself and attacking whoever he feels deserves it at the moment. The Third Prince has no clue what’s going on. Allegiances shift constantly. The Emperor is having a great time
#joy of life#joy of life 2#fic#fanfic#writing#fanfiction#fan xian#case study#this is one of the biggest fanfics I've ever written in my life XD#I can only love it at this point#it's kinda sorta not finished#but it needs to see the light of day already#god bless Joy of Life and its creators/writers/producers#it's one of the best shows EVER#li chengze#li chenru#the first prince#the second prince#fan ruoruo#poisons#humor
201 notes
·
View notes
Text
(this one's been getting stolen a lot, so please be aware that if you see this anywhere else (even with credit), it's been reposted against my wishes! please do not use my art in your videos/reupload to pinterest/etc., thanks!)
--
gargoyle Mal is everything I've ever dreamed of and more. his little raincoat! his umbrella! I hope he really does have big ol' stompy rainboots to splash around in puddles in. I hope they have little faces on them.
(Twst please give me Malleus having a rainy day adventure, this is everything I need right now)
#art#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland spoilers#malleus draconia crown prince of briar valley descendent of the witch of thorns and a mage of frightening power: ooh big splashy#(my brain INSTANTLY to this very day: hit 'em with a splash attack)#honestly though yeah i do just want to see malleus having a really good fun day in the rain looking at some big stone fellas#it's gonna be three solid hours of him lecturing us on the minutiae of stone masonry and i'm gonna be hooked on every second#remember kids: aqueduct means you're in luck#if there's no water spout then get it the heck OUT
12K notes
·
View notes
Text
Viserys I Targaryen and his son Aegon II vs Aegon II and his son Jaehaerys
🔪 inspired by this tweet:

#aegon ii targaryen#jaehaerys targaryen#lauraneedstochilledits#house of the dragon#tom glynn carney#prince jaehaerys#hotd S2#hotd spoilers#hotdedits#targaryensource#dailyhotdgifs#hotdcentral#hotd#aegon targaryen ii#the greens#house of the dragon spoilers#aegon the second#house of the dragon tv show
11K notes
·
View notes
Text
-𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘎𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘴-
[ book version]
Sadly couldn't get enough time to draw others.
#team green#dance of the dragons#hotd art#queen alicent#alicent hightower#greensfireandbloood#prince aemond#aemond targaryen#daeron targaryen#daeron the daring#aegon ii targaryen#helaena targaryen#queen helaena#aegon the second#house targaryen#house hightower#digital illustration#artists on tumblr#ibispaintx#illustration#alicenthightowerart#teamgreenfanart
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Apple Of Their Eye
part two here
PAIRING: Dark! Aegon Targaryen X sister!reader X Dark!Aemond Targaryen
CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+, mdni) incestuous relationship, dark!targaryen brothers, innocent virgin!reader, dubcon, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, handjob, riding, breeding, threesome, kissing, possessive behaviour, nipple play, throat fucking, drunk reader, praise, pretty much the targaryen brothers giving their sister sex lessons and claiming her as theirs.
SYNOPSIS: Being close to both your Targaryen brothers had its own perks. Drinking wine together, going horse riding and reading books. It was all a dream but when Aegon heard the talk of your betrothal, he decided it was finally time to taint you. What you didn’t expect was Aemond walking in on you indulging in your older brother’s sickly pleasures.



Giggles erupted from your lips when your sweet brother, Aegon made a weird face to encourage sweet giggles out of you. His favorite sound in the world, as he liked to address it. Your bond with both your brothers was something never seen before among house Targaryen. Fiercely loyal to each other, defensive and protective. You were the perfect trio of destruction — well, with a honeyed touch of peace.
That was your vital role.
To calm down the blood of the dragons.
You had grown so attached to one another that both your brothers denied the responsibilities of the throne, wishing to spend time with you.
You had to convince Aegon to sit upon the throne and he agreed in one go when his little sister asked for it. How could he not? You were looking up at him with such hopeful, glimmering eyes, those long lashes of yours coating the apple of your cheeks.
He often wondered if his bridled desires would break out of control one moon and find way to you?
Aemond entered the room, hand resting atop his sword as he analyzed the room, which was in shambles. You and Aegon again had enjoyed a pillow fight — pieces of feathers and cotton everywhere in the room. Pale sheets on the floor and wine spilled everywhere.
He was the youngest, yet he felt as though he was the oldest amongst you three. You and Aegon behaved like little children, even when you were younglings. Aegon and you would disturb the council members and pull hilarious pranks on them meanwhile Aemond paid them no mind.
“You two.” His voice put a hold to your giggles, your attention diverting to your brother. Your silky strands — similar to Aemond’s — were a mess. They reached your hips, only at such a young age and Aemond couldn't keep his one eye off the loose strap of your dress over your creamy shoulder.
Aegon smirked to himself, knowing well him and his brother shared their feelings about you.
You smiled at Aemond, a big grin of excitement adorning your soft, delicate features. “Aemond! Come here, have wine with us.”
He shook his head. “I have duties to tend to, sister. You carry on.”
Your lips formed a frown. “But Aemond, I miss you. You rarely ever spend time with Aegon and I. Do we bore you now, do you seek fun in planning war and those boring councils?”
Aegon nodded in agreement and Aemond shook his head, walking closer and taking a seat on the bed with you. Aegon had his head on your lap, staring at you with love sick eyes of a puppy. Your flushed state and rosette cheeks were a vision for Aemond — his callous hands aching to touch you.
“Aemond how can you neglect our beautiful sister here?” Aegon taunted, reaching out to wrap a finger around a strand of your silver hair and curl it. You smiled at him, cheeks round and Aemond swallowed. “I am not neglecting her, I am merely occupied with tending to my duties since no one else will.”
He diverted his one eye to Aegon and the older brother groaned, tugging on the single strand of your hair. You whimpered at the pain, lips puckering into a pout. “Aegon, stop it.”
“You shouldn't trust Aegon so much, sweet sister. He is all but a twat,” Aemond’s words made you turn to him and he looked away from you, not wanting his gaze to linger somewhere below where he was allowed. His own reluctance at being around you proved that he too struggled with the same demons his older brother did.
Aegon sat up now, eyes boring into Aemond’s. “And why shouldn't she? I pay her more mind, more attention than you ever would.”
“I trust him, brother. You should too, he's our king and he cares for me.” You softly spoke.
Your soft soothing voice was like the sun against their cold words. Aemond pondered late at night how their monstrous house got blessed with such a sweet little thing? Repentance was not something that came to house Targaryen — so why were they bestowed with you?
Your kindness, to the maids — the highborn ladies and even the members of the small council made you quite the perfect candidate for queen, especially when the realm loved and adored you. The sweet daughter of Viserys Targaryen, left behind to bring prosperity and love.
“Yeah, she trusts me.” Aegon said, scooting behind you. His chin nestled over the small cup of your shoulder, staring straight ahead with mischief in his gaze. “Don't you, sweet sister?”
You nodded, coyly.
He was almost taunting Aemond, being able to stay this close to you while he was busy with preparing for war. It was not fair, definitely to Aemond it was not. He inhaled a sharp breath as Aegon buried his face in the crook of your neck, accidentally pressing a kiss to your exposed skin. Your body shuddered and you quickly pulled away from him, staring at him in confusion.
Aemond felt a lump form in his throat.
Fuck, you were so innocent. Oblivious to the sick desires of both your brothers.
“Be careful, sister.” Aemond said to you, gesturing towards the other Targaryen brother. “You're too innocent for your own good.”
Then he got up, parting from your chambers, hoping that the next time he enters, he finds you all alone and not with that foolish brother of his. He did not harbor resentment towards Aegon necessarily, but ever since they were children, they fought. For a dragon, for toys and for your attention. It had been a constant battle of who'd bring you the prettiest flower first, who would be first to dance with you at feasts, who's horse you'd sit on and ride.
For everyone else it was draining but you relished the attention you got from your brothers. Enjoying each and every bit of the fight going on for you — only you didn't knew it went beyond the walls of brotherly love and they were horrifyingly obsessed with you.
Aemond had turned down every marriage alliance, not interested in securing the future of the realm if it came at the expense of being far from you. A woman would only act as a wall between the two of you and Aemond did not want any walls. He would gladly crush them, with or without the help of Vhagar.
You prepared another cup of wine to drink but Aegon was called to the council — arranged by the dowager Queen. Crestfallen, you let your brother go as he fixed his attire and departed from your chambers, after leaving a sweet kiss on your forehead.
As soon as Aegon entered the council room, he's greeted with everyone there. Each member and with a scowl on his face, he takes his seat. Evidently upset by having to leave his sister, even though he could go back to her at anytime.
“Your Grace.” Everyone greeted him, standing up and heads low. Aegon gestured them to sit and they obliged, following into their comfortable seats.
Alicent looked at the council members, knowing that the discussion they had come to would eventually upset the King. Everyone was hesitant and Aegon noticed that. He raised a brow, confused. “Are we here to stare at one another? If we are, do excuse me. I have pressing matters to attend to.”
Everyone knew pressing matters meant giving his undivided attention to his little sister.
“In order to secure house frey and gain access and control to the passage in riverrun, we think it would be best to form a marriage alliance with them.” Alicent’s words didn't actually hit Aegon how they were supposed to, as he grinned. “We cannot offer a dragon, we can offer a dragon.”
Assuming the marriage alliance was for Aemond, his younger brother not his little sister. “Great, it is about time Aemond finds himself a pretty bird too.”
He was cheerful. If Aemond was married, he would have your attention all to himself and he became overjoyed with that, a little too fast. Alicent swallowed, exchanging glances with the master of coin and the maester. Her hesitance was in existence because she did not know how maturely her son would handle to the news of sending his only sister away from him.
“Your Grace, the marriage alliance is for your sister, the Princess. House frey has suitors available and the Princess gets to choose with whom she wishes to ma—”
Aegon’s palms slammed down against the wooden table, rising up from the table. His gaze searing and his lips quivering from the sheer courage of Tyland Lannister’s, to marry his sister off without even inquiring him about it. The fact that they even thought of doing that filled him with a rage so overwhelming, he felt like burning the whole small council to the ground.
“That is my sister you're speaking of.” He reminded them. “I will have your fucking tongue for even suggesting to get her married off in the first place.”
The whole council flinched at the King’s outburst. Alicent had expected it to be a tantrum but this was more than a childish tantrum. The room was elevated with tension as Aegon panted, his body quivering from the rage coursing through his veins.
Alicent took a deep breath. “It is for the best, my King. You need to win this war and the Freys are demanding a dragon which we cannot provide.”
“So you give them my sister, like some fucking piece of coin?” He snapped, turning to her. “She is the princess of house Targaryen, my sister. I will not have you subject her to the same fate as all the other women.”
Aegon dismissed the council, walking out of there. Alicent sighed, holding onto tethered pieces of hope that maybe talking to Aemond about it would be better, since Aegon did consider him his closest blood and best sword. Little did she know she would be riling up another dragon and awakening it.
The next few hours were unbearable for Aegon. He had visited your chambers but you were nowhere to be found and when he asked your maids, he was told you'd gone out to collect flowers for the vase in your room. Countless times both your brothers had told you to either tell them or command the servants to bring you flowers — still you did what you felt.
Upon your return, you found your chambers not deserted. Aegon was there, situated on your bed. Hair a mess, tunic unbuttoned revealing his pale chest. Your brother was disheveled and you couldn't recall the time you two spent together being the cause of this.
So what had happened?
Worried and upset, you dropped the basket filled with flowers by the side of your door and walked over to him. Your purple dress, a match to your purple eyes, flowing behind like the waves of the sea. You sat next to your brother, small hands reaching out to cup his face in them.
“Brother, is everything alright? You seem upset.” You inquired and when Aegon raised his head, you saw just how devasted he appeared.
Devasted and drunk.
Your eyes noticed the cup in his hand, as well as the pitcher on the floor. Something happened at the small council, that much you figured out. But what had happened, now that was for Aegon to tell you.
Though your brother only stared at you, bringing the cup to your lips. “Drink, for me.”
You were in no mood for wine but you still obliged him, parting your lips and consuming the wine. The crimson tainting your lips red as you swallowed it, gulp after gulp. Even for you that was a lot and when you were finished, Aegon refilled the empty cup.
“Drink more.” It was a command.
You frowned. “Did I do something wrong, brother? Is this your way of reprimanding me?”
He stared at you, eyes droopy and full of glimmering lust for you — unbeknownst to you. “I want us to be drunk together, like old times. Please.”
You heard the plea in his voice and nodded, softening at the disheveled state your brother was in. You parted your lips to take sips as Aegon held the cup for you. He pushed it, more and more until the wine had overwhelmed you and drops spilled over your dress, trailing down your chin.
The red had absorbed into the purple but you finished your glass, staring at Aegon after the glass had been tore from your lips.
Aegon moved further into your soft bed, veiled by pellucid pale curtain and you followed, laying next to him. His head found comfort on your chest, a frown so evidently ceasing his features. Confusion had clouded your senses — hoping that your brother might tell you the cause of his distress.
But all he did was lay silently on your chest, feeling the soft plush of your breasts against his cheek.
Aegon swallowed the urge to press his mouth over your pebbles and suck them, burying his face deeper into your breasts. He was a mess and he knew that his mother would go against him, to secure more power and alliances with the other lords.
He could not let it happen.
He mouthed lazily at the chiffon, attempting to take a nipple of yours into his mouth. The purple fabric absorbed the saturation of his saliva, as your brother crossed all the limits between the two of you.
As if there were any to begin with.
“A-Aegon, what are you doing?” You whispered in a breathy gasp when he sucked on your peaked nipple through the cotton, his other hand moving to provide your other breast with attention.
Your back arched slightly and your breath quickened as your brother’s hands moved down to the laces which held your dress together. As drunk as you were, you still knew this was wrong yet had no control whatsoever of the situation. Once your laces were loosened enough, Aegon tugged at the sleeve of your dress and unveiled your breast.
“Brother, this is inappropriate. You're under the influence of wine, we should not—”
Aegon looked up at you with the softest look on his face, akin to a puppy. He switched his attention to the unattended breast of yours which he had uncovered, suckling on the nipple, fingers rolling the soaked one in between them. Your soft lips were parted and made the prettiest little sounds of pleasure foreign to you.
“I'm your brother, sister. If I don't deserve to have you like this when who does? Those fucking house frey suitors?” He snapped, voice fallen to a few octaves. Your breath hitched in your throat at his words, not being able to understand what he was insinuating with his words.
Your brows scrunched and your crinkles formed on your nose. “H-House frey, Aegon?”
He chose silence.
Aegon moved to lean up against the bed, his unbuttoned tunic revealing his bare chest beneath his small clothes. You watched him, your silver hair a mess — cascading beautifully down your shoulders and narrow back. Aegon patted his lap, a silent order for you to sit on it but you could only blink innocently.
Having no regards of such matters.
“Crawl to me, sister.”
You nodded, as puzzled as you were, slithering to settle yourself over your brother's lap. Both hands on his chest as your thighs sat over each side of his waist, looking down at him. This was all new to you but you were not complaining.
His hand extended to grasp your chin, pulling your face closer to him. He could see everything, all the subtle features which made you all the more beautiful. The mole neath your left eye, the way your pupils enlarged whenever you locked eyes with him, how your pretty lips quivered. “Today I will teach you how to make your brothers the happiest. You wish to learn, don't you sister?”
You eagerly nodded.
Aegon grinned. “Kiss me, my little dove.”
You obliged, pressing a kiss to his cheek and Aegon released a chuckle. In complete awe of the naivety you possessed. “Here, sister. This will make me and Aemond the happiest.”
You were hesitant with it but still leaned your head, pressing a subtle, feather light kiss to Aegon’s lips. His hunger was far from satiated as he stared at you with a hooded gaze, his blood heating up at the feel of your lips against his. He was over the moon with only a peck, he could only imagine the power of a proper liplock.
“Did I do good? Was that okay, brother?”
Aegon shook his head. “No, little dove. You have to do more, kiss more of my lips. Try to suck on them, yeah?”
You puffed out your cheeks, irritated at your own incompetence at making your brother happy. Still, you kissed him once more but this time like a baby bird trying to eat it's food with untrained beaks, you tried to suck on Aegon’s lips. Closing them around his upper lip, your saliva glossing his lips. Aegon’s cock stirred awake in his breeches at how inexperienced you truly were. An innocent girl getting ruined by her brother.
You closed your eyes, focusing at the task at hand. Aegon reached for your nape, locking it in place as he finally kissed you back. Soft kiss of yours evolved into something harsher, something more passionate and you whimpered, your endeavor to retreat declined by your brother. Your small hands nestled over his chest — trying to push him but it only strengthened the kiss, Aegon trying to drown in the sweet nectar.
“Open your mouth, little dove.” Your endeavor to speak was mistaken as consent by your brother, his tongue running over the edge of your perfect teeth — making way to your tongue. He wrapped around the wet muscle and began to suck on it, the saliva dripping from your mouth and slipping into his. Light headed you had become due to the vigorous kiss and how your brother dominated your mouth with his tongue.
Aegon soon broke the kiss and allowed you a few moments of air, staring at how swollen your lips had become. He had tasted you and it only fuelled his desire more for you. To claim you and never let anyone else's sight fall upon you. Heart fluttering at being the first man ever to put his cock inside you.
“This is what good sisters do for their brothers.” He said to you, his hands rested on your thighs and thumbs swiping across the pale skin. “You're such a good girl, my Princess. You'd do anything for your King, won't you?”
You nodded your head impatiently, doe eyes looking into your brother's purple ones. Chest falling and rising, sharp intakes of breath breaking through the silence. Aegon smiled and that was the biggest achievement for you, ever. He lifted one hand from your thigh, taking your small hand into his. Aegon loved how your petite hand disappeared into his — a perfect size you were for him.
He wondered in that very moment how you'd look taking Aemond’s cock into your small mouth, considering he was bigger than the both of you. Taller, toned from the constant training of wielding a sword. The thought of both of them taking you at once riled him up like nothing else.
Aegon brought your hand to his crotch, laying it over it. Your coy eyes widened. “B-Brother.”
“Unlace my trousers, sister.” Albeit it was an order, his tone was soft. You had never seen such a dark look in your sweet brother's eyes, violets always glimmering with excitement and happiness.
You were hesitant at first, reluctance dripping from the way your shivering fingers pulled at the soft laces which tightened his trousers. Aegon watched with a curious gaze, knowing very well he was about to defile his little sister and ruin the innocence she so wholeheartedly showcased. It almost made him sad but this was necessary, to wed you to him. Or even Aemond.
He couldn't care less who you married as long as it was one of them.
With bated breath, you loosened his trousers and then looked at him for further instructions.
“Pull out my cock, sister. You should feel something hard, that is my cock.” Your silver lashes fluttered, fingers getting to work. The second you felt something hard, skin but rigid — you grasped it to free it. Aegon hissed upon your cold touch and you retreated, feeling bad.
He was quick to reach for you. “No, no. Do not worry, for I am fine. You shall continue.”
So you did, given the reassurance, your gaze focusing on the unclothed cock of your sweet brother. Aegon reached for your hand and wrapped it around his own cock with your neath it. “I need you to move your hand, sister. Pursue my actions, this will truly please me.”
Aegon began to move his hand in slow, sensual strokes and you followed. The more you touched him, the more he lost his composure. Little sounds falling from his parted lips and his hand fell to the side over his thigh — letting you take the lead. You picked up your pace, hand undulating over his throbbing length.
Palm stained with his precum, you used it to slick his twitching cock and then moved your fingers up. A shuddered gasp of fulfillment slipping from Aegon’s mouth upon that accident. You smiled, in victory and pressed the pad of your thumb deeper into his little hole. Watching as more of the pale liquid spurted out.
The more you stared at it, the prettier you found it — shade darker than the rest of him and cock head the same pink as his agape lips. Varicose veins, a deeper hue of purple than the ones of your irises embedded in neath the flesh.
Eyes sparkling at the thought of touching Aemond in the same way, getting to see such an intimate part of him. You wished he was here, to be able to do this for him would be a great blessing.
Your mouth watered the more you gazed at your brother's glistening cock head. Without paying much mind to it, you leaned lower and closed your lips around it. Aegon’s eyes immediately snapped open when he felt the warmth your mouth provided and stared down at you.
“Oh, Gods.” He groaned, almost a whine. “Who taught you this, my sister? Have you engaged in such acts before?”
You quickly backed away, shaking your head with a guilt ridden face. “No, Aegon. I am so very sorry if this was something I was not supposed to do. I promise I have never done this before, I promise. I swea—”
“Hey,” Aegon whispered, caressing your face with his large hand. “I believe you. You see I do not wish for you to get involved like this with someone else. It is only right if you do it with me, and Aemond.”
You nodded your head understandingly. “I would love for you to continue, my little dove but right now I need something more. Could you give it to me, my sweet girl?”
“Yes, brother. Anything my King wants.” You smiled, lips shimmering with his residual and Aegon’s cock twitched.
He pulled you on his lap once more, hands on your waist. Then the pair dropped lower to your bare thighs and Aegon bunched up your dress, revealing your unclothed, bare pink cunt. You were never too fond of wearing small clothes under your dresses — summer of Westeros unbearable for a delicate thing like you.
He licked his lips deliciously.
“Just as you touched me, I have the full right to touch you too. You understand?” You nodded like an obedient student, stomach churning in anticipation for your brother's next move.
Aegon pulled you closer rather harshly by your thighs and your shoulders went slumped, feeling his head brush against your pearl. Your eyes widening at the electrifying contact. “I need to do this in order to make my cock fit inside you, so be a good girl and let me, okay?”
“Yes, brother.” You whispered, stomach fluttering in anticipation.
Aegon’s fingers moved to your cunt, running in the center of your soaked folds. He found it amusing how you had no idea of the pleasures taken between a man and a woman yet your body had reacted like this, cunt drenched and wet. He knew your maidenhead was still intact, after all he rarely ever let you be in the presence of someone else.
If Aegon was occupied, it would be Aemond who would linger around you like a new born shadow.
They knew how innocent you were, how fucking naive and monsters lurked in the red keep. You needed their protection more than the people of the realm. Careless they were about the iron throne, Aegon wished to fuck you on it before properly ascending it.
“Oh.” Your eyes slightly rolled back at the way your brother caressed your folds, pinching your pink pearl. “You've got such a beautiful cunt, my sister. I am sure you will put it to good use to make your brothers happy, won't you, little dove?”
Eager you were to please them.
They had brought you everything, anything your heart had ever desired. Allowed you to ride their dragons with them, brought you the most beautiful gifts from the north and drowned you in lannister gold. Both brothers even went as far as getting you jewelry from Dorne since Aemond caught you complimenting a dornish necklace.
Aemon’s thumb prodded at your bud, swirling it around, watching how your face contorted in pleasure. Lids fluttering shut and head thrown back, fingernails digging into your brother's chest. You were a fucking sight, all disheveled. With his other hand, he entered a finger into you and your pleasure-clad face evolved into one of pain.
“Ow,” you complained at the sting of being stretched out. “Aegon, that hurts.”
“I know, my Princess but you mustn't rush. I will bring you pleasure soon, it is a promise.”
You believed him, waiting out the sting as Aegon fully sunk his finger into you. Driving it in and out of you, all the while rubbing your swollen attention seeking bud. Your expressions were the prettiest, the most breathtaking and he questioned himself why did he not do this earlier?
Just what was stopping him back?
He was the fucking King, goddamnit. He could have you whenever he wanted and you would give yourself up to him, everytime. Just like right now how you were serving yourself up to him on a silver platter like those animals during feasts.
“Brother, oh my god. This feels weird, I feel weird.” You whimpered, hips moving on their own accord over your brother's fingers and Aegon licked his lips, furthermore sinking his canines into his lower lip.
Aegon added another without warning and you whined out, a loud one which made him reach over and press his palm over your lips, sealing them shut. “As much as I absolutely adore your sounds, we should not let anyone find out.”
You nodded, and Aegon removed his hand, letting you breathe. You decided to keep it blow but everytime Aegon would move his finger inside you and you would feel it run at your gummy unclaimed walls, little whimpers would escape you. Feeling his fingers curve up and rotate, hitting into a spongy spot of which’s existence you too were unaware of, you cried out.
Aegon smiled.
That was enough preparing.
Aegon pulled out and you gasped when he brought his lips to his mouth, sucking on your sweet arousal.
He wanted to take you on your back but that was how he took his whores. He would never let them sit on top of his thighs and look at him like this — all dolled up yet disheveled. You were his sister, the apple of his fucking eye and Aegon was not going to take you like some whores.
They existed to keep his sick desires for you at bay, but he knew after this, he would not be needing them anymore.
“This is going to hurt, sister but worry not, I assure you I am right here. It shall feel better soon, just like with my fingers.” His comforting words and soft tone helped with your trepidation — allowing your brother to raise your hips and align his cock with your drenched hole.
Aegon allowed you to sink down on him and when his head breached your entrance, a sting worse than before spread like a virus, consuming your whole being. Your eyes welled up with tears and your lips quivered, a brusque tremor awakening in your petite hands. He was quick to come to your rescue, holding both your hands and leading the pair to his nape, making you latch onto him for support.
“Here, hold me. As tight as you can, my little dove and carefully slide down. Be careful and gentle, alright? No rush here.” He continuously comforted, guiding you and you nodded, inhaling a deep and brief breath.
Then you sunk more, his girth expanding your hole. Little movement and reassuring words from your brother helped you take the entirety of his cock and when your ass finally met his thighs, Aegon groaned. You felt his cock twitch inside you and your hold around his nape tightened. The pain was throbbing and hot — consuming your whole being but the fact you were so full with your brother's cock, contempt, you let out a drunk giggle.
Short on breath but still, you smiled at Aegon.
While you two descended deeper into forbidden pleasures, Aemond had gotten free time to come see you.
After intense sword training and back and forth of sharing strategies of the war with Ser Criston Cole, Aemond had found his feet switching route — bringing you to the hallway where your chambers were located. As he walked, with each step, he felt extreme excitement build up in his stomach. Finally having enough time to spare you a visit and get drunk, bask in your presence.
He hoped that Aegon would not be there as he wanted you all to himself, especially for tonight.
Upon opening the door to your chambers, the view before him left him astonished and there were rarely many things that left Aemond Targaryen astonished. He was quick to close the doors, not wishing for anyone to come across the Princess’ bed chambers and witness such sin.
His hands formed into fists — how you sat on top of Aegon, hips oscillating in a sensual manner. Too sensual for someone as innocent as you and he knew Aegon had managed to ruin and defile the only pure thing about house Targaryen. Yet fucking again. You two were so indulged and far gone in your pleasures that Aemond’s presence was barely noticed.
But then Aegon caught his brother's tall figure by the door.
“Oh brother, welcome.” He called out, although it was more of a moan and you turned to look at Aemond.
Your cunt tightened at Aegon when gaze laid over your brother, the one you missed the most since he barely had time to spare. Aegon let out a hoarse chuckle, shaking his head at his brother. “You will not fucking believe it but our sister's cunt became more tight upon seeing you.”
Aemond’s teeth gritted. “Mittys, that is our sister.” (Fool)
“Do not pretend as if you have not wished to do this more than I have.” He voiced it out, hand pressing into your waist. You whimpered as Aegon made you move on his cock and by now the pain had subsided, pleasure coming in to take control. You began to roll your hips over his thighs, eyes locked with Aemond.
You needed him too, your eyes screamed for him to come closer and as if you had telepathically communicated, Aemond sauntered towards the bed.
You whined when Aegon pushed his hips up, breaching furthermore of your cunt. “Aemond.”
Aegon was inside you but you were moaning for Aemond and the older brother did not even find it upsetting. Rather his cock hardened even more — if possible, hearing you whine and ache for your younger brother with such need. He did not mind sharing you with Aemond, as long as he could have his fill of you too.
“A-Aegon said I could make you both happier like this. I want to, I love you. You're my brothers.” You expressed your profound love for them, nodding your head as Aemond slipped of his leather gloves. He tossed them aside and reached for your hair, taking a strand and curling it around his finger. His nose catching a whiff of the perfumes and oils you were basking in, yet the natural scent of roses was enough to drive him fucking crazy.
He leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to your bare shoulder. Eye following the stretch mark trailing down to your breasts and the stretched flesh made him realize that you had grown. You were not a little girl anymore but you were still their little sister. Your rosy nipples were peaked — demanding attention and Aemond hissed.
His own cock bulging against his leather slacks and Aegon saw it.
Aegon moved inside you, thrusting up and you lost composure. Lips breaking apart to let out the most feminine sounds, silver strands glued on a perspired forehead as Aemond watched you bounce on his brother's cock with vigor. Your fingernails had dug into Aegon’s nape and tears sat beautifully like pearls in your waterline.
It was evident that you were sensitive, nothing like the common whores.
“Does she not look fucking beautiful, bouncing on her big brother's cock like that?”
Aemond wanted to punch Aegon but he was not wrong. You did look celestial, out of this world with how you bounced up and down on his cock, trying to desperately please him.
Aegon rolled his eyes at Aemond. “Are you only going to just watch? I have taught her things, with her hand and mouth. Be a dear and show him, sister.”
Like a trained puppy, you were quick to oblige, hands extended to work gracefully over Aemond’s leather slacks. You undid them, pulling at the leather and he watched how eager and desperate you were. Hands moving with a significant tremor.
“Aemond,” he raised his eye from your hands to your face. “may I please have you in my mouth?”
If the offer had crawled to him on its fucking fours with the most precious doe eyes, who was he to deny? He, too was a man at the end and had perpetually craved you the same as Aegon. Only he was subtle with his desires.
“Yes, my sweet sister.” Aemond whispered, staring at you. His consent made you flourish like the moonlight, bright and glowing right in his face.
Aegon decided it would be better to switch positions and he pulled out, bringing you on all your fours and giving space to Aemond against the bed headboard. He shifted, sprawled out before you, leather slacks and small clothes long gone. In the process, Aegon had stripped himself bare too but the brothers wanted you to not remove the dress.
Just how easily they had access to you despite the dress, it enticed them.
With Aemond’s cock in your hand, you came to a conclusion that his was the prettiest. It was longer than Aegon’s but had almost the same girth. Protruding veins embedded inside the pale skin, his balls hot and throbbing with an ache. You looked up at him and smiled and all Aemond could do was return it and fucking melt.
“Aemond, remove your eye patch. I want to see you whole.” You voiced out your desires and he reached for the eye patch, sliding it off and tossing it aside. The sapphire sparkled like crazy in his eye and you had always found it to be the most coolest and breathtaking thing about Aemond.
Having less of a part than the others did not make him less human too.
Though he appeared more like a god. The fire from the fireplace casting a soft golden glow over both brothers, leaving them heated with pent up desires.
Aegon had already pummeled his cock back into you, not after witnessing the blood staining his length. Testament of your chasity staining him fully and his wanton for you only grew more. You pressed a little kiss to Aemond’s tip — watching him with your deer like purple eyes and he hissed, hand moving to interview with your silver strands.
Eventually you wrapped your lips around his head, slowly taking him deeper and deeper into your mouth while using your hand to stroke the rest which failed to fit. All while Aegon drove himself deeper inside your sweet, innocent cunt, drawing pathetic little whines out of you.
Aemond groaned, fingers tightening around your roots when the vibrations from your moans sent waves of electricity straight into his loins. You choked when he breached your throat, sputtering around him. Drool and cum glistening around your mouth. Your younger brother sighed pleasure, primary focus of his one eye.
“Messy little girl,” he taunted, the fluids dripping from your chin.
Aegon nestled his cock over and over into your sweet spot, urging you to reach your peak and unravel. “L-Look at her. So fucking obedient and pliant. I want to watch her stomach swell up with my babe. That way mother won't try to marry her off to someone else, some fucking riverrun lord.”
Aemond’s attention snapped to his brother's words, and Aegon only nodded. Letting him know that they were close to losing their sister but not anymore. The sweet dove was tainted, used and claimed. Even if their mother tried to marry her off, she was already tainted by her brothers and no lord would want her. That pleased both Aemond and Aegon.
“Gods, what a blessing you are.” Aemond praised you, highly, palm pressing deeper on your head, encouraging you to take him deeper and you did. His head sliding into the confines of your tight, wet throat. “Perfect little girl, a cocksleeve.”
With each thrust from Aegon, your body moved forward against Aemond’s. A sweaty mess of pleasure and bodied you three were but that did not matter. Aegon felt his peak near, tethering onto it and soon he finished inside you after delivering harsh, potent stutters of hips into you. Your cunt tightened, sucking him in, like a vice.
“Oh fuck,” he groaned. “Like that, little dove, take me in, all of me. Milk me fucking dry, let me breed you so you carry my silver haired children.”
Aemond didn't mind his brother having you first and defiling you, since he pretty sure had your throat first. You were theirs and that's all that mattered. Gagging sounds reverberated in the room along with strong sounds of skin slapping against skin. Your peak danced around too, and when Aemond fucked his cock harshly into your throat, you squeezed around Aegon’s cock and came all over. Tears splurging out, making a mess on your face.
Your whole body twitching from the intense climax. Thighs shaking and sensitivity heightened. Followed by your release, Aemond pursued. Release spurts of white into your mouth, spending fully inside you. Yet he did not unhand you, holding your head in place to fuck his hot load into your mouth.
Once he was done, he pulled out and grasped your chin, peeking inside. “Swallow it whole, Princess.”
And you did. Gulping down the remnants of his spend.
Your head, tired from being in one position, laid right on Aemond’s bare thigh. Aegon was still inside you and when he pulled out, he saw your gaping hole spurt out his white residual. Parts that failed to reach your womb but it did not matter. He would breed you over and over again until you were to end up with his child.
Or Aemond’s.
As long as it was a silver haired babe.
“A-Are you happy now?” You asked, a question for both of your brothers and Aemond nodded his head, running his slim fingers in your hair.
Aegon crawled upto you, laying next to Aemond. A subtle smile playing at his lips, eyes hooded and body weary from all the hard work. “Very happy, little dove. We could not have asked for a better sister.”
Your pale flushed skin reddened as Aemond moved you, bringing you closer to his chest and wrapping his arms around you. Aegon admired the two of you, pleased with the fucked up dynamics of his family. This was a pleasure he could not have found or ever would find in the bed of a whore. You were the apple of their eye and they could not let you go, even if it meant restoring to such methods.
Your hands cupped your younger brother's face, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.
Aemond had expected it to be a gentle peck but it grew needy and hasty, exactly how Aegon had taught you. Your lips suckling on his like a babe, trying to pry his mouth open and meet your tongue with his. You seemed addicted, desperate to kiss your younger brother the same way you had kissed your older. The kiss grew heated as Aemond opened his lips, finally taking control and dominating your mouth.
You whimpered, and Aemond could taste the residual of his orgasm. It did not phase him as he continued relishing in the sweet kiss, feeling your cunt beginning to rut against his already hardening cock.
When you broke the kiss, Aemond admired you before shifting his attention to Aegon who had a nasty grin on his face. “You're responsible for this.”
“Proudly. Only had to teach her once and look at how she's already sucking on your lips like it's a fucking cock.” He cheered, reaching over to pinch your cheeks. You giggled and hugged your younger brother, resting your head in the crook of his neck.
The three of you did not leave your chambers that night while the whole of red keep searched endlessly for the sword, the King and the maiden.
#mimi writes ☆#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen x reader#aegon ii targaryen#aegon the second#aegon smut#aegon x reader#hotd aegon#aegon targaryen x reader#hotd#hotd s2#hotd aemond#hotd season 2#hotd fanfic#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen fanfiction#prince aegon targaryen#aemond one eye#tw dubcon#tw dubious consent#house targaryen#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen#aemond fanfiction#aemond x you#aegon x you
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
I miss the Mario RPG games,,
#my art#mario#luigi#mario and luigi superstar saga#prince peasley#digital art#digital drawing#that second drawing is a lil bit older
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
Prince Jing telling everyone NOT to mention Li Yu's whole inability to do up his hair or wear his robes properly is hilarious to me. Because on one hand, this is a considerate way of ensuring no one makes his carp spirit feel bad about not knowing human customs. On the other hand, it also ensures no one stops his slutty, slutty carp spirit crush from being slutty
#dtbpf#disabled tyrant's beloved pet fish#prince jing#mu tianchi#li yu#wang xi#dtppf#i can't remember if this is from the second or third book... but i am a big fan of li yu with his modern sensibilities#a) having no idea how this old timey fashion works#and b) not being anywhere near as concerned about ''propriety'' as literally everyone else in this palace#prince jing WILL suffer over this and he will NOT be letting anyone put a stop to it#after all everyone knows yao are just Like That right? right??#look at him over here showing a peak of COLLAR BONE *gasp*#my art
740 notes
·
View notes
Text
Why haven't you looked into Prince Khanin's background to find something to use against him? The reason you want me to look into this is because you're dying to know if Khanin and Charan are actually dating, right?
Jimmy Karn as PRINCE RAMIL and Ohm Thanakrit as PAYTAI THE NEXT PRINCE | EP. 6
#the next prince#the next prince the series#ramilpaytai#jimmy karn#ohm thanakrit#jimmyohm#lana.gifs#thenextprince.gifs#userbon#uservix#usersasa#userrlaura#userrzey#tusersilence#tusermona#tuseralexa#tuservic#rinblr#forfive#userspicy#usertorti#esmetracks#userjamiec#tuserhidden#asianlgbtdrama#fyeahthaidramas#not a huge fan of this coloring ugh#i just know who's in charge in bed and i'll be proven right when the blindfold scene will finally come to us but in the meantime#vibrating in my seat every second they're on my screen i need MOOOORE
481 notes
·
View notes
Text
Curioser and Curioser [Ch. 3] [fic] [Joy of Life]
Curiouser and Curiouser (39828 words) by Wandering_star_light
Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Joy of Life Rating: R-ish Relationships: Fan Xian/Li Chengru, Li Chengze/Xie Bi'an, Fan Ruoruo & Fan Xian, Fan Xian & Yan Bingyun, Fan Xian & Wang Qinian, Li Chengru/Fan Ruoruo Characters: Fan Xian, Li Chengru, Li Chengze, Xie Bi'an, Emperor of Qing, Chen Pingping, Li Chengqian, Fan Ruoruo, Wang Qinian, Yan Bingyun, Shadow Additional Tags: a case study on Fan Xian's pansexuality, a queer revolution in the Kingdom of Qing, Red District novel writing, Poison, Aphrodisiacs, but it's not what you think, Palace Shenanigans, deathly royal dinners, backstabbing, Mindfuck, the Emperor is vicious and mysterious, Li Chenru has DEPTH, everything is not what it seems, Brother-Sister Relationships, No Incest, Hurt/Comfort, Fan Xian is being his genius self, Yan Bingyun is kind of remarkable, Chen Pingping is one of a kind, it's fun and stabby and everyone gets permanently shocked by what's happening, but not really, careful exploration of ménage à trois
Summary: Having mourned the ‘death’ of Fan Xian, none other than the God of Poetry himself, on a truly global scale, the Emperor planned an equally grand celebration of his precious official’s return. Once the news of Fan Xian being alive emerged, it spread like fire on a hot summer day, making everyone sigh with relief.
Hence, it didn’t really come as a surprise when His Highness, beaming with joy and badly hidden mischievousness, announced to everyone that they’d be celebrating Fan Xian’s return for no less than a month. Fan Xian, naturally, would have to attend each and every joyous festivity, be present at all feasts, participate in all the games, and most importantly, stay at the palace for everyone’s (mostly the Emperor’s) entertainment.
The First Prince watches the theatrics unfold in the most unexpected ways, not knowing that he has a very peculiar role to play in the palace's never-ending shenanigans.
#joy of life#joy of life 2#fic#joy of life fic#fiction#fanfiction#writing#fan xian#chenru#the first prince#the second prince#fan ruoruo#fan sizhe#chen pingping#the emperor#xie bi'an#yan bingyun#a queer revolution in the kingdom of qing#palace shenanigans#queer and queerer#i just love this show to bits#backstabbing plots#lots of emotions#everyone is a little unhinged#but all in good fun
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝘾𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙣



Aemond targaryen x Reader wife Velaryon
Word count: 1779
Warning: Fluff
Pt2 pt3 pt4

"Mommy! Vaera has my dress," little Vaerys complained, clinging to your skirt with the determination of someone seeking justice in her small, childish world.
"That's not true," Vaera retorted, her tone indignant, her voice reflecting the restlessness she also showed in her constant fidgeting as you tried to braid her hair.
"Vaera, stay still," you ordered her softly but firmly, your skilled hands deftly moving through her golden locks. Despite her agitation, your skill did not waver, and soon an impeccable braid began to form.
"Sweetheart, what you're wearing is very pretty too," you tried to negotiate with the little platinum-haired girl who was still clutching your dress.
"But I want it to be pink," insisted Vaerys, her lower lip trembling in a pout you knew all too well.
You sighed, knowing there would be no peace until the little one's wishes were fulfilled. "Alright," you relented, gesturing to one of your ladies-in-waiting. She hurried to tend to the twins, swapping their dresses with the efficiency born of routine. Meanwhile, your hands briefly rested on your swollen belly, caressing it with deep, protective love.
The sound of the doors opening behind you interrupted the moment, and you turned just in time to see Aerion, your only son, standing in the doorway. "Mommy," he called softly, almost hesitantly.
A gasp escaped your lips at the sight of your son. Your hands flew to your mouth, trying to contain the shock. The beautiful platinum and golden hair that used to fall in soft waves to Aerion's shoulders had disappeared, crudely cut. His face was smeared with smoke and dirt, as if he had been in the midst of a battle.
“Aerion, for the love of the gods, what happened?” you exclaimed, crossing the distance between you in an instant. You took your son by the shoulders, examining his face with concern as you searched for answers in his eyes.
One of the knights who had escorted Aerion to the room remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor as if the shame was a weight he could not bear.
“What happened?” you insisted, your voice firm, seeking answers in the knight’s face.
The knight cleared his throat before responding, his voice full of a mixture of respect and concern. “Prince Aerion decided to escape from his training and ventured into the pit where Vhagar and Silverwing rest. We managed to pull him out of there before the dragon’s fire consumed him, but his hair caught fire in the process, and the maester decided to cut it to prevent further damage.”
He finished speaking with his gaze once again fixed on the ground, as if each word added more weight to his shoulders.
Before you could respond, Aerion quickly intervened, noticing the displeasure forming on your face. “But the maester said it will grow back!” he exclaimed with the desperation of a child seeking absolution, his large, anxious eyes searching yours.
You gestured for the guard to leave, and he obeyed with a bow before exiting the room. Then, you pressed your lips together, trying to stay calm as a storm of fear and anger swirled within you. The danger Aerion had exposed himself to was no small matter; the fact that he had emerged practically unscathed was a miracle. However, his recklessness could not be ignored or overlooked.
You took Aerion’s face in your hands, gently wiping the dirt from his cheeks, your gaze firm and worried. “Aerion,” you began, trying not to let your voice tremble with emotion, “we’ve talked about this before. Dragons are not pets. You cannot approach them as if they were dogs.”
“But I just wanted to see them,” your son responded in a whisper, his eyes fixed on the ground. Guilt weighed in his voice, and yet there was still a trace of his childish stubbornness. “I’m sorry, really,” he added, stepping forward and wrapping his small arms around your waist, seeking comfort and perhaps a way to avoid the punishment he feared.
You sighed, feeling the warmth of his embrace, but not letting it distract you from what needed to be said. “I know, my love, and I believe you. But you must understand that you cannot do this again. Dragons are powerful and dangerous creatures. I don’t want to lose you to a mistake.” With tenderness, you tilted your head and placed a gentle kiss on his head.
With the same softness, you pulled away slightly from him. “Now, go clean yourself up,” you ordered in a tone that left little room for objections.
One of your ladies-in-waiting approached and took Aerion’s hand with the usual deference, guiding him to the bath to prepare him for cleaning. As you watched them leave, you let out a slight groan of pain as you felt the baby in your womb give small kicks, reminding you of their presence with an energy that could not be ignored.
The door opened again, and as you looked up, you saw your husband, Aemond, who gave you a warm smile upon seeing you. There was a familiarity and affection in his gaze that always managed to calm your spirit. Carefully, he placed his sword on the table before approaching you, his presence filling the room with a tranquility only he could offer.
“Daddy!” Vaerys exclaimed with excitement, breaking the brief moment of silence. Without hesitation, the little girl jumped into her father’s arms, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck with the absolute confidence of a child who knows they will always be received with love.
Aemond lifted her effortlessly, holding her against his chest as his face softened even more. “And how is my little warrior today?” he asked playfully, as Vaerys laughed, delighted by her father’s attention.
Meanwhile, Vaera, who had remained silent, looked at her sister with bright eyes, waiting her turn to be hugged. With a gesture that showed Aemond’s natural skill in handling the dynamics between his children, he extended his other arm to draw Vaera to his side as well.
“Look at my dress,” Vaerys exclaimed, raising her arms to proudly show off her pink dress, waiting for her father's approval.
Aemond, always attentive to the details that mattered to his daughters, smiled and nodded appreciatively. “It’s a beautiful dress, Vaerys,” he commented with warmth that made the little girl’s eyes shine.
Not wanting to be left out, Vaera quickly interjected, spreading the folds of her own dress. “Look at mine too!” she proclaimed, her voice filled with a mix of enthusiasm and expectation.
Aemond placed a loving kiss on Vaerys’s cheek, then another on Vaera’s cheek, making sure both felt his affection equally. The twins, satisfied with their father’s attention, moved away with playful laughter, their pink dresses fluttering as they disappeared into their own world of games and giggles.
Your husband approached you with a tenderness he only showed during the most intimate moments. Gently, he placed his hand on your swollen belly, caressing it with the same devotion he showed each day, as if already attuned to the new family member who was about to arrive.
“You look worried,” he murmured, his voice filled with concern as he pressed his forehead against yours, a gesture you shared when seeking comfort in each other’s closeness. “What’s wrong?”
The warmth of his skin and the familiarity of his touch reassured you, but the emotions you had been holding back began to surface. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting his presence calm your thoughts before you responded.
“It’s Aerion,” you confessed in a whisper, feeling the worry still weighing on your heart. “Today, he ran off and got too close to Vhagar and Silverwing. He almost… I can’t bear to think about what could have happened.”
“He’s a brave boy,” Aemond said, his voice soft but with the firmness of someone who understands the complex nature of his son. “I’ll talk to him.”
You nodded, knowing that Aemond, with his patience and wisdom, was the best person to guide Aerion in these moments. As the weight of your worry began to lift, you allowed yourself a moment of vulnerability, resting your head against Aemond’s chest. The steady beat of his heart beneath your ear was a reassuring reminder of the strength and stability you always found in him.
Sensing your need for closeness, Aemond wrapped you in a warm embrace, his arms surrounding you with a tenderness that always surprised you, contrasting with his usual sternness. In that moment, the outside world, with all its worries and challenges, seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, connected in a silence full of understanding.
“You need to relax,” Aemond murmured, his voice caressing the air as gently as his hand moved up and down your back. The gesture was comforting, almost hypnotic, as if he wanted to erase the accumulated tension from every muscle in your body, leading you to a state of deep calm.
The warmth of his touch and the firmness with which he held you sent a wave of tranquility through you. You rested your head against his chest, letting yourself be carried by the steady rhythm of his breathing, which slowly synchronized with yours. You could feel his strength and protection enveloping you, offering you a refuge where you could rest without reservations.
“I’m here,” Aemond continued, his voice low, almost a whisper, resonating in your ear like an unbreakable promise. “You don’t have to carry all this weight alone. Together, we can handle anything.”
His words, laden with a love that didn’t need to be expressed with grand gestures, comforted you in a way that few things could. It was a reminder that, despite everything you faced, you weren’t alone in this journey. Aemond was by your side, sharing not only the joys but also the burdens that life imposed on you.
You felt his fingers tracing gentle circles on your back, a simple gesture that spoke of his desire to see you relaxed and at peace. Each caress seemed to take away a bit of the tension you had accumulated, and in response, you held onto him a little tighter, letting his presence envelop you completely.
“Thank you,” you murmured, barely a whisper, but enough for him to hear. You lifted your gaze to meet his eyes, those eyes that always offered you the certainty that, no matter what came your way, you would face it together.
#house of the dragon season 2#rhaenyra targaryen#aegon targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#hotd season 2#aemond fanfiction#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen#angst#fanfic#prince aemond#aegon the second#aemond one eye#aemond x reader#hotd aemond#fire and blood#fluff#asoif/got#writers on tumblr#medieval#house of the dragon#dragon age
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Held Only in Dreams - Aegon Targaryen x Wife!Reader.

Summary : There was a time when your halls rang with laughter. When your chambers were filled with the soft shuffle of tiny feet and the scent of lemon cakes cooling on the windowsill. A time when your husband’s hand curled possessively over the swell of your stomach, whispering prayers to gods he claimed not to believe in. A time when you were not only queen—but mother, wife, sister, daughter, beloved. That time is gone. Now, the Red Keep feels like a tomb. Your son is dead—burned before your eyes in the dragonpit, his small body offered to flame while your screams echoed through stone and fire. And with him, the future you built crumbled to ash.
Warning : Reader is Rhaenyra's Daughter, Angst, Mentions Of Bloods, Fluff, Child Loss, Stillbirth, Grief, Death Of a Loved One, Trauma, War-related Violence.
Aegon II Targaryen Masterlist.
House Of The Dragon Masterlist.
Tom Glynn-Carney Masterlist.
Dividers by @zaldritzosrose
The scent of death was a bitter perfume in the Dragonpit that day. Smoke, old stone, and blood clung to the air, heavy and unmoving, as though the world itself had paused to mourn. You stood still, the silk of your black mourning gown whispering around your legs in the thick silence. The wind toyed with the ends of your dark hair, but you barely felt it.
Your eyes—wide, bloodshot—were locked on the small, shrouded body of your son, Jaehaerys. He looked too small to be dead. Too light. Too still. The pyre of wood beneath him crackled faintly, waiting for flame. And yet all you could hear was the memory of his last breath.
“Mother—”
That broken whisper. That tremble in his lips. The way his little hand clutched yours like he still believed you could save him. It played again and again in your mind like a cruel curse. You couldn’t stop it. Wouldn’t. Didn’t want to forget.
You did not weep. Not until it started.
Aegon moved before you even registered it.
He stepped forward, his white hair untamed in the wind, shadows etched deep under his violet eyes. He didn’t look like a king—he looked like a man stripped bare. The grief in his jaw was rigid, his throat moving as he swallowed it down, over and over again. His gaze flicked up to Sunfyre, who waited just beyond the pyre, golden and restless.
Aegon voice hoarse and unsteady.
“Dracarys.”
The word echoed.
And then Sunfyre unleashed.
The fire roared, gold and white, greedy and all-consuming as it swallowed the wood, the silk, the body. Your baby. The heat slammed into your face and that was when the sob tore free, unbidden and raw, and you collapsed.
Your knees hit the stone with a crack, hands shaking, teeth clenched so hard your jaw hurt. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. The flames danced in your eyes but all you saw was his smile—his first steps—his tiny fingers playing with your hair. Gone. Burned. Turned to ash.
You didn’t notice Aegon move until he was there—kneeling beside you, wrapping his arms around your trembling form like he was holding himself together by holding you. His grip was desperate, his chest shaking against your back.
“I should’ve protected him,” he said against your hair, his voice a whisper turned to splinters. “Gods, I should’ve protected him.”
You turned, slowly, painfully, looking at him through your tears. “We’re his parents. We both should have.”
He cupped your face, and for a moment, the firelight turned his eyes to molten amethyst. “You blame me,” he said, barely audible.
“I blame the war. I blame the greed. I blame the fucking throne,” you whispered, gripping the front of his coat. “I don’t have room to hate you, Aegon. I’m too full of hurt.”
He nodded, a slow, devastated motion, pressing his forehead against yours. His breath was hot with whiskey and regret.
“I wake up hearing his voice,” he said. “Every godsdamned night. And I pray for the morning when it doesn’t break me.”
Your lips parted, your breath catching. “Then let it break you. Let it destroy everything, but not us. Not now.”
Aegon’s thumb brushed your cheek as if memorizing the shape of your sadness. “Then burn with me,” he said, voice cracking. “We burn together.”
You kissed him—not for passion, not for want, but for grief. A kiss that trembled with loss, mouths crushed together in silence, tasting salt and ashes. It was an anchor. A promise. A shared ruin.
Behind you, your son’s pyre roared louder. And as the sky darkened and the smell of smoke soaked into your skin, you held each other there on the cold stone floor—two parents grieving a child lost to the madness of dragons and crowns.
The fire ate everything but the pain.
The hearth crackled, low and unrelenting, casting flickering shadows against the stone walls of your shared chambers. It was late, though you couldn’t say what hour. Time had lost its meaning somewhere between the scream that tore from your lips the day Jaehaerys died, and the silence that followed.
You sat curled in front of the fire, your nightgown wrinkled and damp with old tears, legs drawn up tightly to your chest. Your bare feet were cold against the floor, but you didn’t move. The warmth from the hearth touched your skin, but could not reach the frost that settled inside you. That hollow ache had rooted deep, twisting through your ribs like a knife left in place.
The door creaked open.
You didn’t look. You didn’t have to.
Alicent Hightower.
Her steps were soft, deliberate—like one might approach a wounded animal. You felt her presence like a shadow behind you. A ghost that lingered long after the spirit had gone.
“Child,” she called gently, the same tone she might’ve used before you married Aegon—before the world became red and burning and ash. “Please. Look at me.”
You didn’t.
Your gaze remained fixed on the fire. The flames were mesmerizing. They didn’t care who they consumed. Perhaps that’s why you liked them now.
“I did not come to fight,” Alicent continued after a moment. “I only came to see if you—”
“If I what?” you whispered, not turning your head. “If I still bleed? If I still have a voice to scream your name into the void of loss? If your grandson still lies in ash while you walk freely in silks?”
Silence. Her breath caught, but she didn’t move.
“I came to grieve with you,” she said quietly.
You laughed, a low, humorless sound that scraped from your throat like gravel. “You came to ease your guilt. Don’t pretend otherwise.”
“I loved Jaehaerys.”
At that, you turned your head—slowly. Your brown eyes, hollow and rimmed with shadow, met hers with a weight that made Alicent physically recoil.
“Not enough to stop this,” you said. “Not enough to stop your father. Not enough to stop Aegon from being forced into a crown soaked in blood. You stood there. You chose it.”
“I was protecting my family.”
“And I lost mine.”
The words hung in the air, thick and furious, trembling on the edge of sobs. You pressed your forehead against your knees, voice muffled when you spoke again.
“The gods are cruel,” you whispered. “To take my grandsire. To make Aegon a king he never wanted to be. And now… now our boy. My son.”
Alicent stepped closer, but you raised your hand without looking.
“Do not touch me.”
She froze, her hands curling into her skirts.
“My son died because your house could not bear to see mine rule,” you continued, your voice low, steady, like the calm eye of a storm. “Because your father—your ambition—demanded Hightower blood on the throne.”
Alicent flinched. “You think I wanted this?”
“I think you let it happen,” you hissed, turning back to the fire. “And now I sit in a palace of rot, raising ashes to my lips and pretending they are food. I sleep in a bed soaked with the screams of a child who will never wake.”
“You are not alone in this—”
“I am!” you snapped, finally standing. “Do you think Aegon can even look at me without falling apart? Do you know what it’s like to feel your husband’s hands shake every time he touches your stomach, as if terrified he might find it growing again, and lose another child? Your grief is guilt. Mine is emptiness.”
Alicent’s face crumpled, but no tears fell. She swallowed her sorrow like she had done her whole life—one bitter cup after another.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
You shook your head, stepping closer to her, voice trembling now. “I was his mother. I should have died before he did. And instead, I live—watching my world fall to pieces while the people who shattered it come to me offering apologies wrapped in silence.”
Alicent reached out again, but this time you didn’t move away. You let her fingers brush your arm, light and uncertain.
“You don’t have to forgive me,” she said.
“I won’t.”
Her hand dropped.
“But,” you added softly, “if you want to honor Jaehaerys… if you want to be more than a puppet in your father’s hand, then fight for peace. Fight for something besides thrones and dragons and gods.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“You have to.” You looked into her eyes, firm now. “Because I have nothing left to fight with.”
The fire behind you flared, its glow bleeding through your silhouette like a halo of grief. And Alicent, for the first time in years, said nothing. She just bowed her head and left you alone—again—with the flames.
The echo of your footsteps carried down the long, cold corridor of the Red Keep like a ghost haunting its own halls. You hadn’t walked them in days—not since the fire, not since the world bled your son from your arms and left behind the hollow shell of motherhood.
But today, the silence in your chambers had felt too loud. The walls too suffocating. The hearth too cold.
And so, wrapped in black, with your hair braided back like a warrior in mourning, you walked.
You reached the heavy doors of the council chamber and paused. Fingers curled at your sides. The guards opened them without a word, heads bowed—not as subjects to a queen, but as men who had seen death too close.
Inside, the chamber was dim despite the daylight. Clouds smothered the sun beyond the high windows. Around the long table, the council murmured—quiet, uncertain—but they stopped when they saw you.
And you saw him.
Aegon sat slouched in the throne-like seat at the head of the table, his shoulders curved forward as if the crown itself weighed too much to bear. His tunic hung open at the chest, the buttons undone and forgotten. There were dark circles under his eyes and stubble lining his jaw, as though days had passed without sleep, without care.
But worst of all—he wasn’t listening. He wasn’t even there. He stared blankly at the tabletop, unmoving, like a man carved from grief. Your heart clenched so tightly in your chest it hurt.
His head turned slowly when he felt your presence. His breath hitched the moment his eyes landed on you—as if you had appeared from a dream, or worse, a memory he wasn’t ready to see in the flesh.
You stepped forward, your voice soft but commanding.
“Leave us.”
The lords hesitated. One of them opened his mouth to protest—perhaps to speak of duties or strategy—but your gaze flicked to him, and the sharp grief in your eyes struck him dumb.
They stood, slowly. Chairs scraped the floor. Cloaks brushed the stone. No one dared speak. They filed out with silent bows, the doors clicking shut behind them, sealing you inside with him.
Aegon didn’t speak. Just looked at you like you were the last star in a dying sky.
You approached him slowly, your skirts rustling, your steps measured. Each one toward him felt like a step through fire. You stopped just before him, not touching, not breathing.
“I’ve missed you,” you said softly, your voice a cracked whisper.
His eyes brimmed, but no tears fell. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
“You didn’t come to me either.”
“I couldn’t,” he rasped. “Every time I looked at the bed, I saw him. Every time I touched your pillow, I felt your sobs in my hands. Gods, I didn’t know how to be with you without falling apart.”
You dropped to your knees before him, your hands resting gently on his thighs, fingers curling into the fabric of his trousers.
“You’re supposed to fall apart with me, Aegon. We’re not meant to carry this alone.”
His chest heaved, and he looked away, ashamed. “I’m the king. I don’t get to grieve. I sit in this chair, I listen to them speak of banners and blood, and all I want is to scream his name until the gods bring him back to me.”
You leaned your forehead against his knee, eyes shutting. “I died with him too.”
His hand moved—tentative, trembling—and threaded into your hair.
“I keep waking up expecting him to run into our chambers,” he whispered. “Asking me to carry him on my shoulders again. And then I remember… what they did to him. What they took.”
He choked, his voice cracking with guilt. “He was only a boy. And I was supposed to protect him.”
You lifted your head and looked up at him, eyes glistening. “He died because they wanted your throne. Because we were born of fire, and they would rather burn the world than see it ruled by dragon blood not of their making.”
Aegon looked down at you—really looked—and his face crumpled. You stood, then, sliding into his lap, your arms around his neck. His hands grabbed at your back, desperate and tight, like he was trying to fuse you to him. His lips found your neck—not in lust, but in need—and he buried himself there, breathing you in like he was drowning and you were the only air.
“I need you,” he murmured against your skin. “I can’t do this without you.”
“You don’t have to.”
You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, your hand cupping his face.
“You’re not a king right now. You’re just my husband. Our son is gone, and all we have left is each other. If we don’t hold on to that, we’ll drown.”
He kissed you then—messy, wet, raw with grief and love and desperation. Not to forget, but to remember. To feel. His hands curled into your sides, pulling you closer, and your tears mixed between your mouths.
“I love you,” he whispered brokenly. “Even in this ruin, I love you.”
You pressed your forehead to his, breath mingling. “Then don’t leave me alone again.”
“I won’t.”
Outside, the war still burned. The court still whispered. The gods still played their cruel games.
But inside the council chamber, on a throne of sorrow, a king and queen clung to one another in the only kind of power that mattered now.
You stayed in Aegon’s arms long after the storm of sobs had passed, held together not by strength but by shared ruin. Your face was buried in the hollow of his neck, his hands splayed across your back as though if he stopped touching you, even for a moment, you’d vanish again. The air in the council chamber was heavy with salt and smoke, with grief and something older—like the lingering scent of burnt flesh and broken oaths.
It was the first time in days that you’d felt him. Truly felt him. And then the doors opened, Aegon’s arms tightened around you, instinctive and bracing.
You didn’t lift your head.
You didn’t need to.
You knew who it was the moment the sharp footfall struck the stone. Measured. Unflinching. Proud.
Aemond.
You remained perfectly still.
“My king,” his voice rang out, calm and cold, like the blade that had started this war. “The man who murdered your son—he is in the black cells. He awaits your judgment.”
Silence.
Aegon’s hand moved slowly, brushing over your hair, down your spine. You could feel his throat work against your cheek as he swallowed. You could feel the way his chest tensed beneath your palm, the way his rage and sorrow warred against each other like wildfire.
You didn’t move. You couldn’t.
Not when he was standing there. Not when his voice was in the air you had to breathe.
“You should go,” you said quietly, not lifting your head. Aegon looked down at you, confused.
“I can’t—” Your voice cracked. “I won’t see him.”
“My love…”
You pulled away from Aegon’s embrace just enough to sit back, your eyes glistening but firm. You stared at the stone floor, not at the door.
“I can’t look at the man who tore my brother from the sky. I can’t see the face of the one who turned dragons into monsters and blood into war.”
Aemond shifted near the doorway, but said nothing.
“Everything began with him,” you whispered. “With his arrogance. With his wrath. With his need to claim victory over a child.”
There was silence, heavy and thick, like smoke pressing against your lungs.
Aemond stepped forward. “You think I do not carry the weight of Lucerys’s death every day? You think I sleep easily knowing what I did? It was not meant to be—”
“Don’t,” you snapped, lifting your head for the first time, your brown eyes blazing with sorrow and fury. “Do not stand there and speak of regret while my brother is bones in the sea and my son is ash in the wind.”
Aemond faltered, just for a moment, his mouth tightening.
You turned away again, facing the fire like it could shield you. “You want forgiveness. You want understanding. But you don’t get to ask that of me. Not when your sword carved a wound into my family that will never heal.”
Aegon stood, moving beside you. His hand rested on your shoulder, grounding you. He looked at Aemond then—his brother, his kin—and for the first time in weeks, his voice held something sharp beneath the grief.
“You should have never been there, Aemond. You were supposed to be my sword, not my firestarter. Look at her,” he motioned to you gently. “Look at what’s left of us.”
Aemond’s eye burned with some emotion too complex to name—remorse, shame, defiance.
“She is my family too,” he said. “I did not come to ask her pardon. I came because I thought she deserved to know that the man who took Jaehaerys’s life will suffer. That justice, at the very least, is within our grasp.”
You stood slowly, your voice quiet, trembling with tightly caged fury. “Justice?” you echoed. “Justice would be turning back time. Justice would be undoing what you did to Luke. What your mother and grandsire did to this realm. What you—all of you—burned in your hunger for a crown.”
“I never wanted it,” Aemond snapped.
“But you never stopped it either,” you said, each word like a brand pressed to skin. “And now you speak of justice while the blood of children—mine and my mother’s—stains the stones beneath our feet.”
Aemond stepped back then, just once.
And it was enough.
You turned to Aegon, your face softening only for him.
“I want to see Jaehaerys avenged,” you said quietly. “But I will not find that peace in a cell or on a blade. I will find it when the realm stops bleeding. When the gods no longer feast on our young. When men like your brother stop pretending their violence was fate.”
You didn’t stay to hear Aemond’s reply. You walked past him without looking, the scent of ash and steel trailing you like a cloak. Your steps were sure now. You didn’t need fire in your lungs or vengeance on your tongue.
You had something sharper.
Truth.
And the weight of all that had been lost. Behind you, the council chamber remained still—just two broken brothers and the memory of everything they’d ruined.
The hearthfire crackled low in the corner of your chambers, casting long shadows across the walls—shadows that looked like dragons, or monsters, or memories. You didn’t know which anymore. You sat in the center of the bed with your legs folded beneath you, a soft woolen blanket clutched tightly in your arms. It was small—barely large enough to cover a toddler. Faded in color now, worn from use. But every thread was familiar. Every stitch had been made by your own hand.
It had taken you weeks to embroider the blanket for Jaehaerys. Tiny stars in silver thread danced along the edges, encircling a golden dragon stitched in the center—just as you had once whispered to your son, You are my little star. My little dragon.
You brought the fabric to your nose and inhaled deeply. His scent was still there. Faint, barely clinging to the threads, but there.
It was lavender soap and sunshine and the warmth of his tiny skin after a nap against your chest. You let out a trembling breath, and then a soft, broken laugh slipped from your lips.
You smiled.
For a moment, it felt like you were holding him again.
And then the moment passed.
Your chest tightened. Your heart clenched so violently it knocked the air from your lungs. The smile faded as your throat caught, and then your shoulders began to shake.
You curled tighter around the blanket.
“I held you,” you whispered, voice shaking as you rocked gently. “I held you as you were born… and I held you again as you—”
You couldn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t say the word. Died. It tasted like blood and iron and grief on your tongue.
Your arms loosened as the sob slipped from your lips, quiet and sharp.
You knew where Aegon was—down in the black cells. You hadn’t spoken a word when he left. His hand had lingered on your shoulder, his eyes searching yours. But there had been nothing left to give him. Not in that moment. Only silence. And your son’s blanket.
He had gone to face the man who’d taken your baby’s life.
But you… you could not face the world.
You pressed your palm to your lower stomach, gently stroking the place where you had once felt life flutter. Jaehaerys had kicked there. He had hiccupped there. He had grown in your womb like a flame.
And now…
A sharp twist clawed through your belly. So sudden, so vicious it knocked the breath from your lungs. You gasped, your body lurching forward.
Your fingers clutched at the sheets as the pain lanced through you, deep and low. You tried to move, tried to rise—but your knees buckled beneath you before your feet even touched the floor. You collapsed sideways on the bed, one arm tangled in the blanket, the other pressing desperately to your stomach.
“No—no, no, no,” you panted, the pain doubling you. “Not now…”
You could barely think. The agony twisted and pulled like a vengeful spirit inside you, wringing every nerve. Your vision blurred. You tried to breathe, but your chest was tight with something worse than pain—terror.
Had grief broken you that deeply? Had loss hollowed you so fully that your body was now unraveling from the inside out?
You moaned, biting your lip to keep from screaming. You didn’t want the guards to hear. You didn’t want the maids or the servants or the court to see you like this.
You just wanted Aegon.
Your hand scrambled across the bed, reaching for anything—blankets, pillows—something to anchor you. Your fingers found the soft cloth again, the one with stars and the golden dragon.
You clutched it to your chest like it could save you. And then, through the fog of pain, you felt something. Something warm trickling down your thigh.
Your eyes widened. You looked down—and the dread that washed over you was cold, like seawater stealing the last embers of a fire.
Blood.
Not much. But enough.
You choked out a sound that wasn’t quite a sob. Or maybe it was. Maybe it was all sobs now. Maybe that was all you would ever be—a woman made of cries and ashes.
The door was too far.
Aegon was too far.
And you… you were crumbling.
Not from a sword or a war.
But from the ache that only mothers could know.
Still, even as the pain swallowed you whole, you did not let go of the blanket. Your fingers curled tighter around the scent of your son. Your dragon. Your little star. If this was death coming for you, it would have to pry it from your hands.
The corridors were silent as Aegon walked them, save for the fading echo of his boots across stone. He was numb.
The black cells had given him no satisfaction. No vengeance. Only the stench of rot and the hollow sound of a man begging for mercy that Jaehaerys had never been granted.
The crown on his head felt heavier than ever, like it had fused to his skull. He didn’t remember when he’d last eaten. He didn’t care. His hands were still smeared with dirt from gripping the iron bars too tightly, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. There was only one place he wanted to be now.
With you.
He reached your shared chambers and paused briefly before opening the door—bracing himself for your silence, for your back turned to him again, for the distance between you both that grief had carved like a canyon.
But when the door opened—
He froze.
The blood drained from his face.
You were on the floor. On your knees.
Your nightgown was soaked in blood from the waist down, the dark stain spreading fast across the silk. Your hands were pressed between your thighs, trembling as you clutched at yourself, and your face—gods, your face—was contorted in pain so raw, so violent it turned his bones to ice.
You didn’t even look at him. You just groaned, your voice low and ragged, like something was ripping you apart from the inside.
“No,” Aegon whispered, then louder—sharper. “NO.”
He bolted across the chamber, nearly slipping on the rug as he dropped to his knees beside you.
“Guards!” he bellowed, voice breaking with panic. “Get the maester—NOW! MOVE!”
You whimpered, your head lolling toward him as tears streaked your cheeks.
“Aegon,” you croaked. “I—it hurts—I can’t—”
“I know, I know,” he rasped, cradling you into his arms with a gentleness that defied the tremble in his hands. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, love. You’re safe. Just breathe, alright? Just—just breathe.”
But how could you breathe with your body betraying you like this?
You writhed against him, crying out again, your fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic. Blood soaked into his lap as he held you, thick and hot and terrifyingly real. His mind raced—was this a miscarriage? Had he not known? Were you pregnant again after Jaehaerys?
Had the gods given him another child… only to tear it away again?
His throat closed. He pressed a shaking kiss to your temple.
“Stay with me,” he begged in a whisper. “Don’t—don’t leave me too. Please.”
You whimpered again, collapsing into his chest. “I’m sorry,” you cried. “I didn’t know—I didn’t even know—”
“Shhh, no.” He cupped your cheek, forcing you to look at him through your haze. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare apologize. This is not your fault.”
The door burst open again, and he shouted over his shoulder, “Maester! She’s bleeding! Get over here, now!”
The elderly man rushed in with his apprentice and a flurry of linen and herbs. But Aegon wouldn’t let go of you.
Not until the maester forced him to.
“Your Grace, please—she needs to be laid down—”
“I said I’m not letting her go!” he snapped, eyes wild, voice cracking.
“Then help me,” the maester said firmly. “We may still save her.”
Those words snapped Aegon into motion. He helped lift you onto the bed, whispering soothing things even as you screamed again, your body arching from another wrenching spasm. The blood kept coming. The pain did not relent. And your eyes—
They found his. Desperate. Distant. Frightened.
“Don’t go,” you gasped. “Don’t leave me.”
“Never,” he swore. “Never, do you hear me?”
He sat at your side, gripping your hand so tightly his knuckles whitened, his other hand stroking your hair back from your damp forehead as the maester worked below the sheets, murmuring instructions and prayers.
The minutes passed like lifetimes.
You faded in and out, whimpering his name between cries of agony. He didn’t dare move. Didn’t breathe unless you did.
The worst kind of helplessness crawled beneath his skin. He was the king. He commanded armies. He held the lives of lords in his palm. And yet here—here, watching the only thing that mattered to him scream in pain—he was useless.
Useless and broken.
The chamber was dim, the fire in the hearth reduced to a low, wavering glow that painted the stone walls in the color of dying embers. The smell of herbs and blood still lingered in the air, clinging to everything like a shroud.
You didn’t speak.
You couldn’t.
You just lay there, in the cradle of Aegon’s arms, your face pressed into the hollow of his chest, and wept.
The sound was low at first—shaky, broken gasps that caught in your throat like glass. But then they deepened, became guttural, as though your soul had been carved open and all it could do now was ache.
And Aegon… said nothing.
He simply held you.
One hand curved protectively around the back of your head, stroking your hair in slow, aimless motions—like he might soothe the storm if only he kept his hand moving, if only he could pretend hard enough that he had the power to keep you from shattering completely.
His other arm circled you tightly, pulling your trembling body closer to his chest until you were clinging to him like a lifeline. Your fists curled in the fabric of his tunic, knuckles white, your nails digging in, but he didn’t flinch. He didn’t move.
The only part of him that did was his jaw, clenched so tight it ached.
And his eyes—closed now—because he couldn’t bear to see you this way.
The maester’s words still echoed in his skull like a curse: The babe did not survive.
It should’ve been another whisper in the whirlwind of this war. Another quiet death among too many. But it wasn’t. This wasn’t a piece in the game. This wasn’t strategy. This wasn’t duty.
This was you. His wife. The only person left who touched the parts of him that were still human.
And that babe—
That had been the flicker of hope. The thing you both hadn’t dared to speak aloud after Jaehaerys. The balm that might’ve softened the open wound in your chests. Something small and warm and yours. Something that wasn’t built of blood and betrayal.
Now gone.
A future unmade in silence, in blood, on the cold stone floor of your chambers.
Your cries twisted into something smaller now—hiccuping gasps, hoarse whimpers, the sound of someone trying to breathe through grief that refused to loosen its grip.
You pulled back for just a moment, and Aegon looked down, eyes red-rimmed, haunted.
Your face was streaked with tears, lips parted as though you wanted to speak—but no words came. Only a soft, trembling shake of your head before you buried your face into his neck again, another wave of sobs wracking through you.
“I know,” he whispered finally, his voice low and ruined. “I know, love.” It was all he could say. Because there were no words that could unmake what had happened.
No king’s decree could call your baby back.
No dragonfire could burn the pain away.
Aegon held you tighter.
And for the first time in weeks, he let his own tears fall—silent and steady, slipping down his cheeks and into your hair as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.
“We should’ve had peace,” he murmured, not sure if you could hear him, not sure if he was speaking to the gods or cursing them. “We should’ve had a life. A family.”
His hand kept moving, slow and reverent. He didn’t move even when your sobs quieted into nothing, when sleep finally took you from exhaustion, from pain.
He just held you there, with his arms locked around the one thing he still had and prayed the gods wouldn’t take you too.
The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting amber shadows on the walls, but the warmth didn’t reach you. It couldn’t. Not when your insides had frozen over with grief.
You sat curled in on yourself, knees tucked tight against your chest, your arms wrapped around your shins like armor, your forehead resting lightly on your kneecaps. The clean nightgown clung to you loosely, the scent of the bathwater—lavender and lemon—already fading. You didn’t feel clean. You felt hollow.
Behind you, the chamber was quiet save for the soft rustle of silk and the hesitant approach of footsteps.
“Sweetling…” Aegon’s voice was barely above a whisper, thick with helplessness. “Please… talk to me.”
You didn’t move. Your eyes remained locked on the flames, as if there was something there you could decode—some hidden meaning in the dance of embers, some sign that might make sense of all this pain.
He stepped closer. “I can’t fix this. But I need you to let me try—”
You flinched when you felt his hand. Not because it startled you, but because it hurt—the gentleness of it. His fingers slid carefully through your hair, brushing it back from your face. He crouched behind you, resting on his knees. He was always taller, stronger, the dragon who carried fire in his blood… but right now, he seemed so small behind you. So unsure.
You said nothing. Just let him stroke your hair as your lips moved with a whisper that grew heavier with each repetition.
“The gods are cruel…” you murmured. “So cruel.”
Aegon exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead to the back of your shoulder. “I know.”
“No, you don’t.” Your voice cracked, your eyes never leaving the fire. “They don’t punish you. They punish me. They take my children. Our children. Over and over and over again.”
“I lost them too,” he whispered, and the pain in his voice made your spine stiffen. “I lost them with you. Every time.”
“But I carried them,” you whispered, and your voice caught. “I felt their hearts. I held them inside me. I gave them names in my sleep. I dreamed of what they’d look like—if they’d have my eyes or yours. I sang to them when you weren’t there.”
You turned your head just slightly, your profile catching the firelight. The tears had started again, sliding down your cheeks silently now, no longer wild or loud. Just endless.
“And what did I get for it?” Your voice shook. “Jaehaerys… murdered in his own bed. Our babe gone before they could take a breath.”
Aegon didn’t speak. He just rested his palm against your back, rubbing slow circles as if he could soothe the wound beneath your skin.
You inhaled shakily, your voice so soft now, it barely survived the air.
“This is my punishment.”
His hand paused.
You blinked, still not looking at him. “For choosing you. For choosing you over my mother.”
“Don’t,” he said quickly, voice rising. “Don’t you say that.”
“She warned me,” you went on, like in a trance. “She said loving you would destroy me. That war would follow you, pain would follow you. And I didn’t care. I chose you. I married you. I stood by you.” You finally turned your head toward him, your eyes bloodshot and wet. “And now… my children are dead. One by one, stripped from my arms.”
He looked like he’d been stabbed. “You think I don’t carry that guilt every time I look at you? That I don’t wonder if you would’ve been safer without me?”
You swallowed hard, your voice breaking again. “Maybe I would have.”
Aegon’s hand dropped from your back. He sat down beside you slowly, legs folding beneath him. The fire danced between your bodies, painting both of you in gold and shadow. You stared at each other in silence for a long moment—broken, tired, grieving in different ways.
“I know you hate me right now,” he said finally, his voice tight, like he was forcing it out past a wall in his throat. “And maybe you should. Maybe I deserve it. But gods be damned, I love you. I love you so much it hurts. And if I could take this pain from you—if I could give my own blood to bring him back—I would.”
You dropped your head again, your forehead brushing your knees. “I just want to be a mother again,” you whispered. “I want to hold my child. I want to feel life in my arms, not death.”
He reached out again, pulling you into his arms this time. The gesture was quiet, small… and yet full of the weight of a man who was watching the woman he loved drown.
You didn’t speak again, and neither did he. You simply melted into his arms in front of the fire, surrounded by the warmth you couldn’t feel, and the ghosts you couldn’t escape.
The scent of lemon cake still lingered in the corners of the chamber. You hadn’t touched it.
Aegon had left it for you on the small side table three days ago, a quiet offering, accompanied by a soft kiss to your temple and a promise you hadn’t answered. It had been your favorite once. Now, the sight of it only twisted your stomach into knots.
You hadn’t spoken more than a few words since the babe died. The pain clung to your skin like ash—so heavy, so absolute, it felt like you’d been buried with your child.
You hadn’t left the bed, either. The silken covers had long since twisted around your limbs, heavy and wrinkled with the days you’d spent curled in their cocoon. The hearth had gone cold, the fire long since died. You hadn’t asked anyone to tend it. What was the point?
Grief did not need warmth.
Your eyes were half-lidded, dry and red-rimmed, when the familiar creak of the chamber doors caught your attention. You didn’t look right away.
You expected the maid. Or perhaps Aegon again—come to coax, to plead, to wrap his arms around you and whisper that he was still here, even as you drifted further from everything.
But then—small footsteps.
You turned your head.
And the moment you saw them, your breath caught like a dagger in your throat.
Aegon stood in the doorway, his hand resting gently on the shoulder of your little daughter, and cradled in the other arm was your youngest—Maelor, still small enough to be carried.
But it was Jaehaera who shattered you. The soft golden hair. The pale, thoughtful face. The shape of her nose, the curve of her lips—so much like her twin brother.
So much like Jaehaerys.
Your body tensed, your arms shaking where they gripped the edge of the blankets, and your eyes stung before the tears even came. But they did come.
Not like before—not silent, not restrained. These tears broke through like a storm, sudden and unstoppable. You pressed a hand over your mouth as your shoulders crumpled forward. A sob tore from your throat.
Jaehaera stared at you, wide-eyed, not quite understanding why her presence had sparked such pain. She looked up at Aegon, confused, but said nothing—just held the small wooden doll in her hand tighter, as if for comfort.
You barely noticed Aegon’s steps as he crossed the room. Only when he knelt beside the bed and placed Maelor gently in the crook of your arm did your breath hitch again.
You turned your face away, overwhelmed, but then Jaehaera’s small hand touched your wrist.
“Mother?” Her voice was quiet. “Are you sad because my brother is with the gods?”
Your throat closed. You couldn’t speak.
You nodded, a slow, shuddering movement.
Jaehaera crawled up beside you carefully, climbing into the bed without hesitation. She tucked herself under your arm and laid her head on your chest.
“I’m sad too,” she whispered. “But Maelor still laughs when I tickle him. And I still remember when Jaehaerys told me stories about dragons flying backwards just to make me laugh. So maybe that means he’s not all gone. Maybe he’s still in the stories.”
That did it.
The sob that came out of you wasn’t just pain—it was a letting go, a surrender to everything you’d been trying to hold back. You held both your children tightly to your chest, one in each arm, and buried your face in Jaehaera’s soft hair.
Aegon sat on the edge of the bed beside you, not saying a word. But his hand covered yours, grounding you, as your grief spilled out in waves.
Your fingers clung to Jaehaera’s nightgown, the fabric soft and worn. You pressed a kiss to the top of Maelor’s head, his tiny hand patting your arm as though he, too, knew you needed to be brought back.
And for the first time since your womb had gone quiet, you felt something else break through the ache.
Not peace.
But presence.
The pieces of your heart that still remained—fragile, bruised, and alive—curled up in your arms. And for now, they were enough.
The chamber, once dim and heavy with mourning, now glowed soft with the orange flicker of candlelight. The hearth had been rekindled, its warmth reaching out in golden threads across the stone floor, weaving through your limbs, curling around your fingers.
You were still in bed, propped against the headboard with pillows stacked behind you, your hair loose, your gown wrinkled. But today—tonight—there was a softness on your face that hadn’t been there in weeks. Not a full peace. But something like… a pause in the sorrow. A breath of stillness.
Maelor was curled in your lap, warm and heavy against your stomach, his little legs splayed carelessly over the folds of your blanket. You had one hand around his back, supporting him, while your other arm held Jaehaera tucked beneath it. She was gently brushing the edge of your sleeve with her fingertips, lost in some private world of thought and comfort.
Maelor looked up at you, eyes wide and bright, those chubby cheeks pink with firelight. He babbled something incoherent—a string of sounds only a mother could recognize as a question. You blinked at him and tilted your head playfully.
“What is it, my sweet boy?”
He stared at your mouth like it held some grand secret. Then, with the solemn focus only a toddler could muster, he raised his tiny hands—soft, still sticky from honeyed bread—and cupped your face.
You barely had time to react before his thumb pressed into your cheek and his other hand reached down and grabbed your lower lip between two fingers.
It wasn’t painful—just surprising. The sudden tug made your mouth part in shock, and a small puff of laughter escaped you.
“Maelor!” you gasped through a breathless laugh.
Aegon, seated at the foot of the bed now, let out a playful huff, leaning back on his hands. “Gods,” he said with a smirk. “He’s already got your mouth. Now he’s claiming it.”
Your laughter grew, the sound light and trembling, like a song you hadn’t sung in far too long.
Jaehaera squealed with laughter beside you, her arms wrapping tighter around your waist as she buried her face against your side. “He always pulls mine too, mama!” she giggled. “He’s a silly dragon.”
“Silly indeed,” you murmured fondly, as Maelor, apparently satisfied with your lip, released it and let out a triumphant coo. Then, just as suddenly, he dropped forward and nuzzled into your neck, his little nose smushing into your skin, warm and soft and so achingly present.
Your breath hitched.
It wasn’t the sadness this time.
It was the ache of feeling, of realizing how much you’d missed this—how long you’d been drowning beneath the weight of your loss, barely able to register the blessings that still clung to you like lifelines.
Your arms wrapped more tightly around them both—your daughter and your son, your little lights in the long night—and you glanced toward Aegon.
He was watching you, his eyes softer now, the playful smile dimmed into something reverent.
Something aching.
“I missed you,” he said quietly. “We missed you.”
You swallowed, the knot in your throat tight but not suffocating. You leaned your cheek against Maelor’s curls, inhaling the faint scent of milk and lemons and the clean linen of his sleep tunic.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I was trying to hold it together… but I forgot how to reach for anything else.”
Aegon shifted closer, reaching out to touch your knee gently. “You don’t need to hold it together,” he murmured. “Not here. Not with us. You just need to be. Let them carry the rest.”
You looked at him, tears shining in your lashes, and nodded.
For a moment, the four of you were wrapped in something sacred—flawed, fraying, but still holy in its own quiet way.
Your son tugged your lip again, giggling now, proud of his new trick. Jaehaera shrieked with laughter, her head thrown back against your chest.
And you—you laughed too.
Real, full, and trembling.
Aegon closed his eyes as the sound filled the chamber, and when he opened them again, his gaze rested not on the shadows of your pain, but on the living proof of everything you still were.
Still whole.
Still mother.
Still here.
©2025 hisfavegirl. No part of this story may be copied, stored, transmitted, or shared in other apps.
Tag list : @danytar @hangmanscoming @julessworldd @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @searatarg @vaelry @callsignwidow @ceoofglytchell @ashblooddragons @hayleythecannibal @laedeviour @venusbyline
#⋆. 𐙚 ˚Angel's Work#。𖦹°‧ hotd#hotd imagine#hotd one shot#hotd x reader#aegon ii targaryen#hotd aemond#prince aegon targaryen#aemond targaryen#hotd fanfic#aegon ii fanfic#aegon targaryen x you#aegon fluff#aegon targaryen ii#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon x reader#king aegon#aegon the second#hotd aegon#aegon ii x reader#aegon ii x you#aegon ii x y/n#aegon ii targaryen x reader#aegon ii targaryen x female reader#aegon ii targaryen x y/n#hotd headcanon#hotd alicent#hotd s2#hotd fluff#hotd season 2
609 notes
·
View notes
Text
hiii pilizam animation to dancing queen yey
#lets ignore the fact that the second ball was like two months ago#anyways yey i locked in and finally finished it!!!!#hope ya like it:DD#krrn.animations#prince zam#tr!princezam#dtowncat#tr!pili#the realm smp#the realm#trsmp#trsmp fanart#pilizam#princezam
676 notes
·
View notes
Text
baby boy wasn't actually ready to be dead 😭😭
#tdp spoilers#the dragon prince spoilers#tdp#the dragon prince#runaan#tdp s6#he's so pretty i have to wish him good luck surviving it when ethari pounces on him approx 4 seconds after seeing him again
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Claimed
hi my little freaks and geeks!
here is the long awaited aemond x little sister!reader x aegon I promised ages ago. The original request doesn't ask for aegon but like..its set in a brotherl. bffr.
✨ My Masterlist ✨
🖊️My AO3 🖊️
📝 My WIP List 📝
❄️ My ASOIAF/GOT/HOTD Discord Server 🔥
Summary: You weren’t supposed to stay. But when lines blur and hands linger, silence becomes something else entirely.
WC: 6.0k
Warnings: 18+, hard smut (p in v, oral m!recieving, fingering, threesome, creampie, facial), targcest, drunk and disorderly, a lil bit of fluff at the end, no description of reader, no use of y/n
Aemond Targaryen x Little Sister!Reader x Aegon II Targaryen
MDNI!!!
You were always just a step behind Aemond. Before he had a sword, before he lost his eye, before you knew how to keep your head down when Aegon was in one of his moods. You would cling to the edge of Aemond’s tunic, small fingers curled tight in the fabric, too afraid to let go. He never asked you to. He rarely said anything at all, but he let you trail behind him through the halls and gardens and courtyards, never once leaving you behind, never once telling you no. You didn’t understand why Aegon’s laughter made your stomach twist, or why Helaena grew quiet when he entered a room. You just knew that being near Aemond felt safer than being alone. So you stayed close. You still do.
You didn’t know why you were afraid. Not really. You only knew Aegon’s laughter made your stomach twist. That his games never felt like games. That Helaena never laughed during them. But Aemond never hurt you. He never teased, never pulled away, not even when you cried. He didn’t say much back then. He still doesn’t.
Now you’re older. The court sees you as grown. Your dresses are nicer. You’ve learned to speak only when spoken to. But none of that has changed the way you watch him. He spends most of his days training or reading. Sometimes you find him with his dragon, sometimes in the library. You don’t always speak. You just sit nearby. He lets you.
That afternoon, you catch him alone in the library. He stands with his back to you, head bent over a scroll. One hand braces the edge of the table. His hair slips forward with the angle. He doesn’t look up.
“You’re following me again.”
You smile. “You noticed.”
He exhales. “You’re not subtle.”
You step into the room. “You didn’t tell me to leave.”
“I don’t have to.”
You still cross the room. You still sit down across from him, hands folded neatly in your lap.
He keeps reading. You watch him. You don’t say anything else.
You don’t leave when he sighs. You’ve learned to tell the difference between when Aemond wants to be alone and when he just thinks he should be. This is the second kind.
He reads. You sit. The quiet settles between you like it always does.
Eventually, he speaks again. “Did Mother send you?”
You shake your head. “She doesn’t know I’m here.”
That makes him glance up. Only briefly.
“She wouldn’t like it.”
“No.”
He looks back at the scroll.
You don’t ask what he’s reading. You never do. You just watch his fingers move as he turns the page. His rings catch the light. His nails are clean and neat, like always. You used to hold his hand when you were little. Now you just look at them. The fire crackles in the hearth. Outside, the wind howls along the stones.
“You’re not afraid of him anymore?” he asks, eyes still down.
You don’t ask who he means.
“No,” you lie.
He nods once, but doesn’t believe you. Later, when you’re leaving the library, you see Aegon at the end of the corridor. He’s half in shadow, leaning against the wall like he’s been waiting. His cup is empty. He watches you walk past.
“You’re always trailing after him,” he says. “Like a dog.”
You don’t answer.
“Does he even look at you?” Aegon grins. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “He’s always reading or sulking. Doesn’t seem like much fun.”
You keep walking.
“I’d look at you,” he calls after you. “Properly.”
You don’t stop.
That night, you don’t sleep. You wait until the halls go still. When the torches burn low and the servants are gone. You’re not sure what you expect when you slip out of your chambers. Only that you’re used to following him. You’ve done it before. He never notices.
But this time, he moves quickly. Quiet. Through side halls, out into the city. You stay back, careful, steps silent against the cold stone. He doesn’t go to the library. He doesn’t go to the dragonpit. He disappears into the dark.
The brothel smells like wine and incense and heat. The kind that clings to your skin and settles in your lungs, thick and cloying. The lighting is dim, all soft candles and red drapery, the walls close and heavy with smoke. Laughter drifts through the space, slow and indulgent, layered with something sharp underneath. You slip in through the side, heart already pounding, the velvet curtain brushing your shoulder as you ease into the shadows. You shouldn’t be here. You know that. But you keep going anyway.
You see him almost right away. Aemond sits toward the center of the room, half-lit by candlelight, a woman in his lap like she’s always belonged there. Her dress has slipped off one shoulder, her fingers are spread across his chest, and her mouth presses to the side of his neck, slow and familiar. His hand rests on her thigh. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. He just sits there, silent and still, letting her touch him like she’s done it a hundred times. His expression doesn’t change. He looks cold, distant, completely unreachable. But he’s here. And he let her.
You stay where you are, quiet and out of view, too stunned to look away. It isn’t that he’s smiling. It’s that he isn’t. And still, he doesn’t stop her.
Then you hear it—too close, too loud. “Gods. You really are obsessed with him.”
You turn fast, but Aegon’s already there. He sways where he stands, cup in one hand, the smell of wine rolling off him like rot. His eyes are red and unfocused, and his grin is wide, mean, and far too pleased with itself. His tunic hangs open, and there’s something sticky on his collar. You don’t want to know what it is.
“Didn’t think I’d find you here,” he says, already talking over himself, voice raised far too loud for how close he is. “Little sneak, following big brother through the streets like a stray. Look at you.” He laughs, open-mouthed and wet. You try to step back, but he’s already throwing an arm around your shoulders like you’re in on the joke. His breath hits your face, hot and sharp with wine. “You thought he was different, didn’t you? All dutiful and noble and above it. And now you’re watching him let some whore suck bruises into his neck.”
You try to pull away, but he’s stronger than he looks when he’s drunk, all dead weight and heavy limbs. He steers you forward so you're angled toward the room again, so you have to see. “Go on,” he says, voice rising, “have a good look. She’s got her hands down his breeches and you’re standing here like a kicked dog. What did you think would happen?”
A few heads turn. You wish the floor would open up beneath you. Aegon tips his cup back and spills half of it down his front, unbothered. “You follow him everywhere, all moon-eyed and quiet like he’s your knight in shining armor. But here he is, fucking some common cunt like you don’t exist.” He chuckles again, slurring now. “Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe that’s the problem.”
You try again to twist out of his grip, but he just laughs harder, keeping you pressed to his side. “Don’t tell me this was the plan. You came here hoping for this, didn’t you? Thought if you caught him like this, he’d finally see you.” His hand slips lower, not quite indecent, but close enough that you flinch. “Bet you want him to touch you like that. Want to know what it feels like. And now you do, don’t you?”
That’s when the silence hits. Aegon goes still. You don’t even realize you’ve stopped breathing. Across the room, Aemond has lifted his head. He’s looking right at you. Not at Aegon. Not at the woman still curled against him.
You.
His gaze moves lower—to Aegon’s hand, his arm around your waist, the way you’re held there like something cornered.
Aemond is on his feet before the room can breathe.
The woman in his lap stumbles back, her voice catching in her throat as she reaches for him, but he doesn’t spare her a glance. He brushes her off like she was never there. His eyes are on Aegon, and they don’t move. Not once.
Aegon lets go of you with a laugh that’s too loud, too pleased with itself. He holds his hands up in mock surrender, wine sloshing down his sleeve. “There he is,” he says. “Didn’t think you’d mind. She’s not a child anymore.”
Aemond doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. He crosses the room in four slow steps. Grabs Aegon by the front of his tunic and slams him back against the nearest wall hard enough to make the plaster crack. The wine cup hits the floor and rolls away. No one in the brothel moves. No one dares.
Aegon just grins. His breath is unsteady now, but he still talks. “You gonna hit me, little brother? Over her? Thought you were the one who didn’t want her.”
Still nothing from Aemond. His hand stays tight in Aegon’s collar. His shoulders don’t move. The silence stretches. Then he turns to look at you. And something changes.
You don’t speak. You don’t breathe. You only meet his eyes. You expect anger, or disappointment, or something colder. What you find is worse. It's unreadable. Aemond holds your gaze like he’s waiting for something. Maybe permission. Maybe a reason not to tear the room apart.
“She followed you,” Aegon says, his voice lower now. “All the way here. Watched you like it hurt her. Maybe she wanted to see it. Maybe she liked it.”
His eyes slide to you. His grin never fades.
“Didn’t you, sweet thing?”
Your mouth opens. Closes. No sound comes. Aemond turns back to Aegon. His grip shifts, sliding higher, fingers curling tight at the base of his throat. He doesn’t squeeze. Not yet.
“She’s not yours,” Aegon says, voice rough. “Not unless you take her.”
Aemond lets go.
Aegon stumbles forward, catching himself on the table. There’s laughter in his breath, but it’s quieter now. You feel the shift as it settles around the three of you, thick as smoke. Aemond doesn’t look at Aegon again. His attention is on you. He steps toward you slowly. No anger in his expression. No rush. Just something dark behind his eyes that you can’t quite name.
He stops in front of you, close enough to touch. You can feel the heat coming off him, the tension coiled in every part of him.
“Is this what you want?” he asks. “Tell me.”
Behind him, Aegon laughs again, softer this time. “Maybe she wants both.”
Your breath catches. You don’t answer right away, not because you don’t know what you want, but because the words won’t come. Aemond is too close. You can feel the heat of him, the strain in his shoulders, the way he’s holding back like touching you would mean something he couldn’t undo. His eyes don’t leave yours. He’s waiting. Not impatient. Not pleading. Just still. Watching. His hand hovers at your waist but doesn’t settle. Not yet.
You nod. It’s small. Barely there. But it’s enough.
His fingers brush your side. Just the tips. You feel the breath go out of him, soft and steady, and when he leans in, it’s not rough. It’s careful. His forehead rests against yours like he’s grounding himself. Like he’s making sure. Behind him, Aegon laughs again. Low, amused. He sinks into a chair like he’s settling in to watch something he’s already seen coming.
“I told you,” he says. “She came all this way.”
Your eyes slip shut as his hand rises to your face, fingers curling at your jaw, thumb brushing slow across the corner of your mouth. He doesn’t look gentle, not the way he’s holding himself so tightly, but the way he touches you is measured, precise, like he’s memorizing each point of contact before it even settles. You open your eyes again, and his gaze is already waiting for you, steady and unreadable. He doesn’t speak. He just leans in and kisses you.
His mouth is warm against yours, steady and sure, like he's been waiting for this. Like he's thought about it before. You reach for his shoulders without meaning to, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, and he makes a sound in the back of his throat that you feel more than hear. The kiss deepens, slow and deliberate, his hand sliding back to cradle your head, to hold you where he wants you. There's nothing rushed about it. Nothing desperate. Just the careful press of his lips, the heat of his palm at your waist, the way his breath catches when you lean into him.
The room around you blurs. The sounds of the brothel fade to nothing, and all you can feel is Aemond—his breath, his hands, the steady beat of his heart under your palm. The kiss grows deeper, hungrier, his fingers tightening in your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back. When he finally breaks away, you're both breathing harder. His eyes search yours, still careful, still measuring every reaction.
Aegon shifts in his chair, restless and amused. "Don't stop on my account," he says, reaching for another cup of wine from a passing servant. "It's about time someone showed her what she's been missing."
Aemond doesn't look at his brother. His eyes never leave yours, his thumb tracing the curve of your bottom lip, his breath warm against your skin. Without warning, he takes your hand and pulls you toward the back of the brothel, through the velvet curtains and down a narrow hallway lined with doors. You follow without hesitation, your pulse racing beneath your skin.
Behind you, Aegon's chair scrapes against the floor. You hear his footsteps, uneven but determined, trailing after you. Your stomach twists with something like anticipation, like fear, but Aemond's grip on your hand is firm and certain.
He chooses a door at the end of the hall, pushing it open to reveal a small room with a large bed draped in crimson silk. A single candle burns on a bedside table, casting long shadows across the walls.
Aemond pulls you inside, his movements fluid and deliberate. You expect him to stop Aegon, to shut the door in his face, but he doesn't. Instead, he watches as his brother stumbles in after you, that same knowing smile still playing on his lips.
"You don't have to do this," Aemond says to you, voice low enough that only you can hear. His thumb traces circles against your wrist, a steady, grounding pressure. "We can leave."
You look between them—Aemond with his controlled intensity, his careful restraint; Aegon lounging against the doorframe, all loose limbs and predatory amusement. You should feel afraid. You should want to run. But instead, you feel something molten and dangerous unfurling within you.
"I want to stay," you whisper, and Aemond's pupils dilate slightly.
He nods once, a barely perceptible movement, and then his hand is at your waist again, steadier now, more certain. Aegon's presence fills the doorway, his shadow stretching long across the floor. You feel trapped between them, but not in a way that frightens you. It's something else entirely—a tension that pulls taut across your skin, that makes your breath catch in your throat.
"Tell me what you want," Aemond says again, his voice low and measured. His thumb brushes against your hip, a small circle that sends heat spiraling through you.
Before you can answer, Aegon laughs softly, pushing himself away from the doorframe. "She wants what everyone wants," he says, moving closer. "To be seen. To be touched." His gaze slides over you, hungry and amused. "To feel something."
Aemond's eyes narrow at his brother's words, but he doesn't contradict them. Instead, he watches your face carefully, reading every flicker of emotion. His hand remains steady at your waist, warm and grounding.
"Is that what you want?" he asks you, his voice so low it's almost a whisper.
You nod, unable to find your voice. Your skin feels too tight, too hot. You've spent years trailing behind him, watching from a distance, and now he's looking at you—really looking—with an intensity that makes your knees weak. Aegon moves closer, circling around until he stands behind you. You feel the heat of him at your back, not quite touching but close enough that his breath stirs the hair at the nape of your neck. Aemond's jaw tightens, but he doesn't step away.
After all those years, there’s something almost intimate in the sound of Aegon’s voice. He’s behind you now, close enough that you feel the warmth of his breath against your neck, the way it sinks into your skin and lingers. One of his hands rests at your waist, fingers spreading lightly, not holding but not letting go either. You don’t lean away.
Aemond is still in front of you, close enough that the space between your bodies feels more imagined than real. He doesn’t look at his brother. He only looks at you, eyes locked to yours, sharp and unreadable, like he’s waiting for something you haven’t said yet. Your breath catches. The heat from both of them settles around you, pressing in from either side, leaving nowhere to go but still.
Aegon shifts behind you, slow and steady, the curve of his chest brushing your back. His voice is lower now, all warmth and wine, curling soft against your ear.
“Let her speak,” he says. “She came here for something.”
You feel Aemond’s gaze drop, just for a moment, like he’s following the path of Aegon’s hand. The tension in him doesn’t ease. If anything, it sharpens.
"I want this," you say, your voice barely audible even in the quiet room. "I want..." You trail off, not sure how to name the feeling that's been building inside you for years.
"Show her," Aegon says to Aemond, his voice a low purr against your ear. "She's been watching you long enough."
Aemond's hand slides up from your waist, tracing the curve of your side, your shoulder, until his fingers curl around the back of your neck. His touch is firm but gentle, holding you steady as he leans in. This kiss is different from the first—deeper, hungrier, with none of the careful restraint. You gasp against his mouth, and he swallows the sound, pulling you closer until your bodies press together.
Behind you, Aegon's hands settle more firmly on your hips.
Aemond doesn't push you away, doesn't try to separate you from his brother. Instead, his fingers tighten in your hair as Aegon's hands begin to wander, sliding around to your stomach, pulling you back against him while Aemond keeps kissing you. You're caught between them, Aemond's mouth hot and demanding against yours, Aegon's body solid behind you. The room spins slightly, and you're not sure if it's from the lack of air or the realization that this is happening—that both princes have their hands on you, that neither is pulling away.
"She likes it," Aegon murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck. "Look at her."
Aemond breaks the kiss, his breathing ragged, his eyes dark with something you've never seen in him before. He studies your face, searching for any sign of hesitation, of fear. He finds none. Your lips are parted, your cheeks flushed, your eyes glazed with want. You reach for him, fingers curling into his shirt, and he lets out a sound that's almost pained.
"Please," you whisper, not sure what you're asking for, only that you need more—more of his hands on you, more of his mouth, more of this feeling that's threatening to consume you from the inside out.
Aegon's hands drift higher, brushing just beneath the swell of your breasts, his touch teasing and deliberate. "She's begging already," he murmurs, his lips trailing along the curve of your shoulder. "And we've barely started."
Aemond's jaw tightens, but there's something else in his expression now—a heat that matches your own, a hunger that he's no longer trying to hide.
"Take her to the bed," Aemond says, his voice rough with restraint. It's not a command for you, but for Aegon. His brother smiles against your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there before he guides you backward, his hands firm on your waist. The backs of your knees hit the mattress and you sink down onto it, Aegon following you, his body pressing yours into the silk. His lips find your throat, your collarbone, his hands working at the laces of your dress with practiced ease. You should feel shame—this is the prince you've always feared, the one whose laughter made your stomach twist—but there's only heat now, a burning need that crowds out everything else.
Aemond watches from where he stands, his gaze tracking every movement of his brother's hands on your body. There's something dangerous in his stillness, in the controlled way he breathes. When your dress loosens and Aegon pushes it down your shoulders, exposing the thin shift beneath, Aemond's fingers curl into fists at his sides.
"Come here," you say to Aemond, your voice barely above a whisper. You reach out a hand to him, an invitation he can't refuse.
He moves forward, slow and deliberate, like a predator approaching prey. The bed dips under his weight as he kneels beside you, his gaze never leaving your face. Aegon's mouth continues its path down your throat, his fingers pushing your shift aside to expose more skin. You shiver, caught between them again, Aegon's weight pressing you down, Aemond hovering above, watching with that unreadable intensity. Aemond's hand reaches out, his fingers ghosting over your flushed cheek. The contrast is stark—Aegon all heat and urgency, Aemond measured and restrained. Yet his eyes betray him. There's hunger there, raw and undeniable.
"You shouldn't have followed me," he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear. His thumb traces your bottom lip, still swollen from his kiss.
"I always follow you," you whisper back.
Something shifts in his expression then, a crack in that careful control. He leans down, capturing your mouth again as Aegon's hands continue their exploration beneath your shift. The sensation is overwhelming—Aemond's kiss deep and consuming while Aegon's fingers trace patterns on your bare skin, pushing the fabric higher until your thighs are exposed to the cool air.
You gasp into Aemond’s mouth as Aegon's fingers slide higher, tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Your back arches involuntarily, pressing you further into Aemond's kiss. He swallows the soft sound you make, his hand moving to cradle your face, holding you steady as his tongue slides against yours. The dual sensation is dizzying—Aemond's careful, consuming kiss and Aegon's bold, wandering touch.
"She's wet already," Aegon murmurs against your skin, his fingers brushing teasingly close to where heat pools between your legs. "Been wanting this for a long time, haven't you?"
Aemond breaks the kiss, his breathing ragged. His eyes meet yours, searching, questioning. You nod slightly, unable to form words. That's all he needs. His hand slides down your throat, your collarbone, pushing aside the thin fabric of your shift to expose your breast to the cool air of the room. Aegon's lips immediately find the newly exposed skin, his tongue circling your nipple as his fingers finally brush against your core, drawing a gasping moan from your throat.
Aemond watches your face intently, cataloging every reaction, every flicker of pleasure that crosses your features. His hand covers your other breast, thumb grazing over the hardened peak in slow, deliberate circles. The sensation of both brothers touching you simultaneously sends waves of heat through your body, pooling low in your belly and between your thighs.
"You're beautiful like this," Aemond murmurs, his voice deeper than you've ever heard it, rough with something he's no longer trying to hide. His eyes track your every reaction as Aegon's fingers slip inside you, drawing another gasp from your lips. You reach for Aemond instinctively, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.
"She wants more," Aegon says, his voice teasing but thick with desire. Your shift is pushed up to your waist now, bunched around your hips as Aegon positions himself between your thighs. He looks up at you, a wicked smile playing on his lips as his fingers continue their slow, torturous exploration.
"Please," you whisper, the word half-plea, half-demand. You're not sure what you're asking for—just that you need more, need everything they're willing to give you.
Aemond's expression darkens at your desperation. His hand slides from your breast to your throat, fingers spreading wide, applying just enough pressure to make your pulse jump beneath his palm. The gesture is possessive, commanding, so unlike the boy who let you follow him silently through corridors. His thumb traces your jawline as he watches Aegon's fingers working between your thighs.
Aemond begins to untie his breeches, his movements unhurried despite the tension visible in every line of his body. Aegon watches his brother with amusement dancing in his eyes, his fingers still working inside you, drawing soft, desperate sounds from your throat.
"Never thought I'd see you share," Aegon says, his voice rough with desire.
Aemond doesn't answer. He doesn't need to. His eyes meet yours as he frees himself from his breeches, his length hard and straining against his palm. Your breath catches at the sight of him, at the controlled hunger in his expression. He moves closer, until his face is hovering above yours, his breath warm against your lips.
"Show me," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Show me what you want."
You reach for him without hesitation, fingers curling around his length, and the sound he makes is almost pained—a sharp intake of breath that catches in his throat. His eyes close briefly, jaw tight with restraint, before they open again, darker than before. Your touch is tentative at first, exploratory, but grows bolder as you watch his reaction. His hand tightens at your throat, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you of his control.
“Stand up. Both of you,” Aemond says, his voice low but steady. “I want her.”
Aegon pulls his fingers from you, slow enough to be deliberate, and you can’t stop the sound that escapes your mouth, soft and desperate. The loss of him makes you shiver. Aemond doesn’t look at him. His eyes are only on you.
“Switch,” he says, the word landing hard in the space between you. “Now.”
Aegon laughs under his breath, lazy and pleased, but he doesn’t argue. He moves around you, brushing against your shoulder as he passes, and you feel the weight of both of them shift. Aemond steps in without hesitation, his body flush with yours, his hand already rising to your throat, not tight, just enough to make you look up at him.
“You let him touch you,” he says. “Now you’ll let me.”
His gaze doesn’t leave yours. You expect him to lean in, to kiss you again, but instead his hands move fast. One curls behind your knee, the other grips your shoulder, and in a breath he flips you over, pressing your chest down against the mattress. Your cheek grazes the sheets. The sound that escapes you is soft and startled.
His hand spreads across your back, warm and steady, keeping you there. He doesn’t say anything at first. Just lets you feel the shift, the silence, the weight of him behind you.
Then, lower, rougher, right at your ear— “Stay like that.”
You nod against the sheets, unable to form words as you feel his weight shift behind you. His hands move to your hips, lifting them slightly, positioning you how he wants you. The air feels cool against your exposed skin, making you shiver with anticipation. You feel vulnerable, displayed, but there's power in it too. In the way Aemond's breath catches, in the tight grip of his fingers digging into your flesh.
Aegon settles beside your head, his back against the headboard, watching with lazy interest. His hand reaches out to brush the hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear with surprising gentleness.
"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice thick with wine and desire. "So eager for him."
Aemond's hands spread your thighs wider, his thumbs tracing the sensitive skin there. You feel him position himself behind you, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance. He pauses there, teasing, making you wait. Your fingers curl into the sheets, a whimper escaping your throat as you push back against him, silently begging.
"Patient," Aemond murmurs, his hand sliding up your spine to grip the back of your neck. "Always so patient." There's something like reverence in his voice, a quiet acknowledgment of all those years you spent following him, waiting for him to see you.
When he finally pushes inside, it's with one slow, deliberate thrust that fills you completely. Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, your body stretching to accommodate him. He's larger than you expected, the sensation overwhelming and perfect. He holds still once he's fully seated within you, giving you time to adjust, his breathing harsh and controlled.
"Good girl," Aegon remarks from his relaxed spot just above you. As Aemond starts moving, a flicker of envy appears in Aegon’s eyes. Shifting from his laid-back position, he lifts himself onto his knees and releases himself from his trousers. His cock stands thick and hard before him, the tip glistening with precum as he strokes himself lazily. "Open," he commands, pressing the head against your lips. You comply without hesitation, your mouth opening to accept him as Aemond continues his steady rhythm behind you.
The sensation is overwhelming. Aemond's thick length stretching you, filling you completely with each measured thrust while Aegon slides between your lips, his taste salt-sharp on your tongue. You're caught between them, used from both ends, and the realization sends a wave of heat through your core. Aemond's pace increases slightly, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave marks.
"That's it," Aegon murmurs, his hand tangling in your hair, guiding your movements as you take him deeper. "Look at her, brother. Taking both of us so well."
Aemond lets out a grunt and holds you more firmly. Aegon guides your movements with one hand on your head, while using his other hand to brush back his damp, wavy silver hair, releasing a moan in the process. Aemond watches your lips stretch around his brother's length, his eyes darkening with something primal and possessive. His rhythm falters for just a moment before he drives into you harder, deeper, drawing a muffled moan from your throat that vibrates against Aegon's cock. The sound makes Aegon hiss in pleasure, his grip tightening in your hair.
"You like this," Aemond says, his voice low and certain. It's not a question. His pace is relentless now, each thrust pushing you forward onto his brother's cock. The dual sensation is overwhelming—being filled from both ends, used and wanted by both princes. Your mind goes blank with pleasure, reduced to nothing but sensation and need.
Aegon's hips begin to move more insistently, fucking your mouth with increasing urgency. "Look at me," he commands, tugging your hair to tilt your face upward. Your eyes meet his, glazed with pleasure, and his lips curve into a satisfied smile. "Always thought you'd be good at this."
Aemond's hand slides around to find the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs, circling it with practiced precision as his thrusts grow harder, more demanding. The dual sensations overwhelm you, pleasure building in waves that crash through your body with each thrust. You're suspended between them, caught in a rhythm that leaves you gasping and moaning around Aegon's length. Your fingers curl into the sheets as Aemond's skilled touch drives you higher, closer to the edge.
"She's close," Aemond observes, his voice strained with his own approaching release. His fingers move faster against you, circling with precise, relentless pressure. "I can feel it."
Aegon's grip in your hair tightens, holding you still as he thrusts deeper. "Let her come first," he says, his voice rough with desire. "Want to feel it when she does."
The permission is all you need. The pleasure crests suddenly, violently, tearing through you in waves that leave you trembling and crying out around Aegon's cock. Your walls clench around Aemond, pulsing and squeezing as you shatter beneath them. The sensation pushes Aegon over the edge, and with a guttural groan, he empties himself down your throat, his hand holding you firmly in place as he rides out his release.
Aemond's rhythm grows erratic, his fingers digging into your hips with bruising force as he chases his own pleasure. You're still trembling from your orgasm, oversensitive and overwhelmed, but the feeling of him inside you, claiming you so completely, sends aftershocks of pleasure rippling through your body. With a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself to the hilt and stills, his release hot and pulsing inside you. The sound he makes is unlike anything you've ever heard from him—raw and unguarded, a moment of perfect surrender.
Aegon's breath quickens, and his body tenses as he reaches the peak of his desire. With a final, shuddering exhale, warmth splatters across your cheeks, leaving a glistening trail in its wake. For a moment, no one moves. You're suspended between them, every nerve ending alive with sensation, your mind hazy from pleasure. Aemond's breath comes in harsh pants against your back, his forehead pressed between your shoulder blades, his fingers slowly loosening their grip on your hips. Aegon is already pulling away, tucking himself back into his breeches with practiced ease, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.
"Both of you," Aemond says after a moment, his voice rough and low. "Get up."
You feel him withdraw, the sudden emptiness making you shiver. His hands remain on your hips, steadying you as you push yourself up onto trembling arms. The evidence of Aegon's pleasure still glistens on your face, and Aemond's eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you—disheveled, marked, claimed by both brothers.
Aegon laughs softly, already reaching for the wine cup he'd set aside earlier. "Look at her," he says, voice thick with satisfaction. "Told you she'd want it."
Aemond doesn't respond. Instead, he reaches for a cloth by the bedside, dipping it in the basin of water before turning back to you. His movements are careful, deliberate as he cleans your face, wiping away the traces of his brother's release with surprising tenderness. There's something possessive in the gesture, in the careful way his thumb traces the curve of your cheek. Aegon watches with amused interest, sipping his wine as he leans against the headboard.
"Come here," Aemond says when he's finished, his voice softer than before. He pulls you against him, positioning you between his legs, your back to his chest. His arms wrap around you, one hand splayed across your stomach, the other curling loosely around your throat. The position is protective, possessive, a clear statement to his brother.
Aegon raises an eyebrow, that same lazy smile playing on his lips. "Marking your territory now?" he asks, swirling the wine in his cup. "A bit late for that, don't you think?"
Aemond doesn’t answer him. He leans in instead, mouth brushing the side of your neck, slow and deliberate.
“She was never yours,” he says, just loud enough for Aegon to hear.
You feel his breath at your ear, the way his grip steadies as his body settles behind yours. He holds you close, like you’re already his, like he’s done pretending otherwise. Aegon doesn’t push. He watches for a moment longer, then tips back the last of his wine and turns away. The room quiets again, but Aemond’s hand doesn’t move. It stays right where it is, fingers resting gently at your throat, his thumb tracing a slow line over your pulse.
And when he exhales, the sound is soft. Almost content.
@kckt88 @ylva-syverson @venusbyline
#house of the dragon#asoiaf#a song of ice and fire#hotd#hotd smut#aegon ii targaryen#aemond#hotd aemond#prince aemond#aemond targaryen#aemond one eye#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen fanfiction#prince aemond targaryen#aemond fanfiction#ewanverse#hotd aegon#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon the second#aegon x reader#aegon targaryen#aegon ii#king aegon ii targaryen#smut#therogueflame#olive writes#x reader#aemond targaryen x you#aegon ii x you#aegon ii fanfic
449 notes
·
View notes
Text

you, are god. my god.
happy birthday prince of xianle, xie lian. 🌸👑
#(RUNS ACROSS THE FINISH LINE AT THE LAST SECOND) AAAAAND SAFE!!!!!#happy birthday xie lian :')#you have no idea how much you mean to me. thank you for helping me accept myself and for reminding me that i too have a bright future#anyway guys don't try to draw and render his prince outfit because you will shrivel and you will die#heaven official's blessing#tgcf#xie lian#hua cheng#hualian#谢怜0715生日快乐
2K notes
·
View notes