#they are her children and responsibility no matter how they turned out (aegon) or how she may not have wanted to be a mother or knew how to

[alicentflorent]

All I want from s2 Alicent is for her to be like “you know what, fuck it. I want power for myself and my children because I damn well suffered enough years of hell for it.”

[yesimwriting]

Midway

a/n a small-ish fic of someone comforting aegon bc i feel bad for him 😭

Summary: You did not choose to be Aegon's wife, and yet you seem to be the only one choosing to be there for him during his recovery.

Warnings/info: forced marriage turned to awkward, subtle pining masquerading as uneasy friendship, vague descriptions of life threatening injuries, canon compliant incest (reader is rhaenyra's daughter)

read part 2 here: A Matter of Timing

----

Hushed whispers, as stale and sterile as the fresh gauze being stretched and pulled taut against his skin. The rasp of his breathing scrapes at the air that manages to pull itself into your own lungs.

"It is..." Alicent stalls, her gaze never leaving her eldest son, "A lot, I know." Her eyes are wide, glossier than you've ever seen them. An odd sort of empathy presses itself against your chest, making a full breath feel like even more of a fantasy.

Your sympathies and courteously vague expressions of understanding and mutual hurt are things Alicent has no use for. She's tolerated you like an inherited dress that doesn't quite fit, only begrudgingly acknowledging you when surrounded by family.

These days, her barely there tolerance for you has grown even weaker, considering the reports your handmaid had delivered to you of Alicent's attempts to convince the council to lock you away after your mother's retaliation to Aegon's coronation. An imprisonment only prevented by Aegon's command.

She lets out a breath, her attention briefly dropping to the ground before settling on you. "But you are his wife."

A fact she's only come to accept because of your blood. As Rhaenyra's daughter, your marriage had been a compromise, a final attempt at merging a divided family before your grandsire's passing. If your mother had known how quickly Aegon's supporters would have pushed him towards the throne...

You nod your head slowly, dismissing thoughts of yourself. For the first time since your union, the context of your arrangement does not cloud all else. "Yes."

There had been no attempts made to gloss over the extent of Aegon's injuries. For once, the heart of the Red Keep prioritized reality over projecting strength and invulnerability. The maesters had warned you, had detailed the damages left behind by the flames and the fall. An attack strong enough to kill a dragon.

"I um...I tried to visit him earlier, when he first returned." The surprise of your own honesty is an afterthought, a barely there thing attempting to occupy the little space left in your mind. "They said he was not yet stable."

Alicent is silent, some distant quality hollowing her stare as she watches the maester. His movements are succinct, precise as he quietly instructs a maid to bring him a salve left on the table. How many times in these last few days has he gone through this process? How many more times will a maester need to dress Aegon's wounds and rebandage him?

"Stable seems relative." Alicent blinks, her attention returning to what's directly in front of her. She turns to face you. "I trust that you'll sit with him, keep him company after the maester is finished."

Aegon's thoughts on your company have shifted several times throughout the short time you've been married. He often goes through periods of indifference followed by fleeting displays of interest that feel eerily close to companionship. Not quite a friendship or a romance, but something warm and comfortable. Mutual glances shared over supper, peaceful moments in the hall, occasionally crawling into the other's beds at night like children that cannot find sleep on their own.

Some skeptical part of you wonders if Alicent's sudden interest in your wifely responsibilities has more to do with punishing you than caring for Aegon. You doubt she considers you some great source of comfort in her son's life. At least you don't mind the thought of staying here, away from prying eyes and whispers that your privileges within the Red Keep should be restricted until the realm is no longer so divided. "Of course."

She nods once. "There--there is much to be decided upon in Aegon's absence." Alicent lets out a rigid breath. Perhaps Alicent really does want to know that someone's with Aegon. "I should go."

"I will keep him company, your grace."

With that, Alicent spares Aegon a final glance before turning to leave. You remain near the entrance of Aegon's bedchambers, far enough away to not impact the maester and his work.

You watch the process openly. Aegon's burns and other injuries are meticulously cleaned, white cloth stained dark as it is dragged against his skin. Salves and balms are lathered onto his wounds, concoctions meant to promote healing and ward off infection. The final step of the process involves the freshly cleaned wound being rebandaged.

The maester works at an expert pace, treating Aegon's body in sections. Before you know it, he's stepping back to assess the results of his efforts. The maester then looks over at you.

You've never been in a position to be responsible over someone so injured. Are you meant to...dismiss him? Approve his work? Ask something? "Is he..." Well seems like a terrible overstatement. You force yourself to take a few steps forward. "How is he?"

He briefly presses his lips together. "Much more stable than he was previously, your grace. I am afraid that I cannot yet predict much about his recovery. As of now, the priority is preventing infection."

You allow your gaze to fall onto Aegon. There's something about the way he's lying there, immobile and broken and smaller than he should be. "Right. Well, thank you."

The maester nods, "It is my honor, your grace."

He begins to gather his supplies before leaving. At the maester's absence, the maid that had been assisting him turns towards you. "Is there anything you need, your grace?"

You briefly consider sending her out for water or asking her to bring you a book you left in your own apartments. A menial task would ensure her return, which would mean you'd have a temporary reprieve from being alone with Aegon like this. "No, I'm alright. You are free to go."

She nods at the dismissal, "Thank you, my queen."

Queen. The title that belongs to your mother in her own right, not as a position inherited towards marriage.

The girl leaves, her quiet footsteps nearly drowned out by Aegon's unsteady breathing. You watch her until she's disappeared through the doorway, and then for awhile longer. When you can no longer justify your silence, you step forward.

Standing so close to the foot of Aegon's bed tugs at something deep inside of you. He is so still, so without defense. Like this, he does not seem like a man desperate to cement his position, or the person you never wished to be bonded to in this way, or even the only one who you allowed to enter your apartments after news of your brother's death arrived at the Red Keep. Now, he only seems like a boy trapped midway between where he lies and death.

Though bandaged and burned, the entirety of Aegon's features have not been destroyed. The shape of his nose, the part of his lips still familiar. His hair had not been a priority, and while the maester did brush it back to work on him, the disheveled strands have fallen forward again.

You move away from his bed's edge with careful steps. Before you can overthink the act, your hand moves to his forehead. As gently as you can will yourself to, you unplaster the hair stuck to the oily salves on his forehead. Your fingers catch themselves on silvery knots. You begin to pick apart the largest tangles as best as you can without a comb.

It's not an easy task, sweat and product cementing the knots into place. "I'd hate it if no one brushed my hair." The words come out on instinct, the desire to justify your proximity the way you would if he was awake. In all honesty, you're not sure if he can hear you.

The process is slow and clumsy, nails separating strands for you to comb through. Up close like this, you can almost pretend that this is restful for him. He still doesn't look well, but from here you can focus on his shut eyes and parted lips. Your hand drifts away from his hairline, fingertips fluttering over bandages and brushing against unmarred skin.

Something awfully sentimental attempts to claw its way up your throat. "I'll go get a comb." You pull your arm away from him. "I'll--I'll be back, I promise."

You take a single step back before turning your back to him. The maester deemed him stable, which means that he will not spontaneously pass if left alone for a moment. You'll only leave to fetch a comb and maybe a book so that you have something to read aloud. He's never loved your novels, but it's the only way you can think to keep him com--

A soft sound, so gentle and brief you could almost convince yourself you imagined it if it wasn't for the distinctness of the word. Your name.

You stall. Perhaps you misheard something else, maybe a stuttering of his breathing or the room settling. You turn.

He remains unchanged--body in the same position it's been in this entire time and eyes still shut. The supposed whisper should be dismissible.

You step forward, voice fragile as you ask, "Aegon?"

For a moment, pressed between the audible strain between his breaths, a faint optimism pulses through you. Weeks of being a bride, a queen of the realm hated by all those around her, and your only form of protection has, ironically, been the man that's bound you to this place.

The hope fluttering in your stomach quickly morphs into something closer to dread. He is not awake. He is not well enough to call for you or any--a shift, a turn of his outstretched hand so small and inconsequential you likely would not have noticed if it was any less needed.

Ignoring the blurring edges of your vision, you move towards his bedside in quick strides. Without thinking, your hand finds his. "I know that this union is not one you entered willingly. I am also aware of the fact that you know I did not ask for this either." You've not often held Aegon's hand, but now you're glad for his tangibility. "But you--you have not been cruel. You've actually been surprisingly patient, even when I have given you reason not to be."

His palm is warm against yours, the familiarity of it strangely assuring. The few times you've laid together for the sake of duty, the heat of Aegon's skin had been one of the few aspects of the process that you were reluctantly drawn to.

"At times, you have been kind..." You blink in an attempt to dismiss the stinging behind your eyes. "Friendly, even." Your hold on him tightens. "And I miss that. I--I miss our friendship."

The grief in your chest is a hybrid thing, made up just as much out of your empathy and fear as it is by your hurt. It's a sensation so dizzying, you nearly pour your panic out to him. You have to bite your tongue to avoid asking him to not leave you alone here.

Tears are beginning to prick the corner of your eyes when you feel his fingers bend around yours. Aegon squeezes your hand with a barely recognizable force.

He's--he's awake. "Aegon?"

His hold on you does not falter as a faint sigh escapes his lips, a midway of his own.

- - - -

a/n not to offer a part 2 to everything i write but i have an idea for a second fic that’s connected to this so if ur interested lmk :)))

[novaursa]

Hey again! 😃 Ok, so I've got 4 requests for you (since now it's 1K words per person).

I was thinking of some "lost" scenes from that Alicent fic I requested, but this time it's about the Reader's bond with each of his children.

With Aegon - A scene in which R catches Aegon drunk after a night out, and pulls him aside to listen to his concerns about fulfilling his duties and being responsible in general. Reader remains understanding and tells Aegon that no matter how old he gets, he can always count on his help, but that he has to find his way on his own (Aegon looks more closely at his father and sets him as an example of how a prince/king should behave.

With Helaena - A scene in which Reader takes her to Essos for a trip to a jungle (idk if there exists jungles in Essos, but let's pretend they do) on a quest to find more exotic bugs. Should be fun and playful! Maybe R trips over a root and lands on his bum, and that's what makes his darling daughter laugh so much.

With Aemond - That one scene after he gets gifted with "The Pink Dread". The Reader comforts him and even dares to tell him that should he have had a pink(ish) dragon, that's the nickname that he would bestow upon it (think of how people would expect TPD to be some small creature - yes, like a pig - but no, it's a FRIGGIN' DRAGON! 😂😂😂). Also, R mentions how he sees a lot of himself in Aemond (particularly related to his own youth).

With Daeron - The scene where he visits him in Oldtown and where R goes all buddy-buddy with Gwayne (one of the only sane guys in HoTD, I swear). Daeron impresses R with his musical skills and takes him to see Tessarion (who is happy to play the part of a big puppy - like rolling around on its back and bearing its belly to get free scratches 😉).

Where Dragons Dare (Lost Chapters)

- Summary: Unrecorded moments with each of your children, that no Maester will ever write about.

- Paring: father!reader/targ!children (platonic)

- Note: Since this was regarding your previous request that was turned into three part series, I've made an exception for you. Enjoy. ❤️

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Previous part: 3/3

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @literaturedog

You stride through the torchlit corridors of the Red Keep, the evening air heavy with the scent of incense and wine from the feast held in your honor. A king’s life is one of constant vigilance, not only for the realm but also for your own blood. The weight of your crown and responsibilities settles upon your shoulders, the unspoken burdens of the Iron Throne. It is a life you have come to accept. 

But not everyone does. 

The clink of armor catches your attention, and you hear a hushed voice speaking to one of the guards near the side entrance. You already know what you will find before you round the corner. Aegon—your eldest son, your heir—is once again trying to sneak into the keep after a night in the lower city. His form, slightly slouched, leaning against the doorway, makes it clear that his night's indulgences have taken their toll.

You sigh softly, but there is no malice in it. This is not the first time. It won’t be the last.

"Aegon," your voice, even and steady, cuts through the stillness of the night, causing your son to stiffen. He turns slowly, his eyes glassy, yet there is a flicker of recognition. His silver hair, unkempt, falls into his face as he gives you a sheepish smile, one that reminds you so much of his mother when she tries to conceal her worries. 

"Father," he mumbles, straightening himself as much as his state will allow. He’s a prince of the blood, but in this moment, he looks like nothing more than a wayward boy caught in the act.

"Walk with me," you say simply, motioning for him to follow. There's no need for a reprimand, not yet. You both know where this conversation is headed. You step into the open air, out onto one of the quieter terraces that overlook the city below.

Aegon follows, his steps slightly uneven, but he doesn't protest. The two of you stand there for a moment, the distant sounds of King's Landing below humming in the background. The city never truly sleeps, much like a king’s responsibilities. 

After a while, you glance at him from the corner of your eye. "You’ve been out drinking again."

Aegon leans on the stone balustrade, staring at the lights flickering in the darkness. "It’s not like anyone missed me," he mutters, his voice heavy with bitterness. "I’m no good at all this. What does it matter?"

"It matters because you’re the future king," you reply, your tone calm but firm. "Your actions don’t only reflect on yourself; they reflect on the crown, on our family."

At this, Aegon snorts softly, his lip curling into a sardonic smile. "Aegon the Unready, that’s what they’ll call me," he mutters, almost to himself. "They all expect me to be like you. I’ll never be that. I can barely stand the weight of their stares, let alone a crown."

There is silence for a moment, broken only by the distant sounds of the city below. The firelight dances across the sharp planes of your son’s face, making him seem older than he is, and yet still so young. You can see the weight of expectation, the fear of failure, all of it etched into his features. 

You step closer, resting a hand on his shoulder, the familiar comfort of a father’s touch. "I wasn’t always certain either," you admit, the words carrying the weight of your own journey to the throne. "When I was young, I doubted myself just as you do now."

Aegon looks at you, surprise flickering in his eyes. It’s rare for you to speak of your own vulnerabilities. You are the king—stoic, dutiful, unwavering. But tonight, you let that mask slip, if only for your son.

"You don’t need to be me," you say quietly. "You need to find your own way. Being king isn’t about perfection. It’s about responsibility, about understanding that you carry the hopes and fears of an entire realm on your shoulders. And yes, sometimes it’s heavy. But that’s why we’re here—to bear it, so others don’t have to."

Aegon’s gaze falls to the ground, his fingers tapping nervously against the stone railing. "I’m not sure I can," he admits after a long silence, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want to fail you."

Your heart clenches at the vulnerability in his words, the rawness of his fear. You step closer, turning to face him fully. "You won’t," you say firmly. "Not as long as you’re willing to try. You will make mistakes, we all do, but that’s part of the journey. You don’t have to do it alone. I’m here, Aegon, always."

His eyes meet yours, and for the first time in a long while, you see not just the rebellion, not just the stubbornness, but the uncertainty and the longing for approval. He is so much like you were at his age, fighting against the very things that would one day define him.

"You’ve always been there for me," he says, his voice softer now, more introspective. "I just…I don’t want to be a disappointment."

"You’re not," you reply, without hesitation. "And you never will be. You will grow into this role, just as I did, just as many before us have. But it takes time. You will find your way, but you must be willing to take the first steps. Recklessness won’t serve you well when you sit on the throne."

Aegon nods, swallowing hard. He’s listening now, really listening. You can feel the shift in him, the internal battle as he begins to process your words. His posture relaxes just slightly, and he looks at you with a newfound respect.

"I look at you," he says quietly, "and I see what a king should be. You always know what to do. How did you learn?"

You smile faintly, the memories of your own trials and lessons flickering in your mind. "By making mistakes. By learning from them. And by trusting in those who love me. You’ll learn too, Aegon. But you have to start by taking responsibility for your actions. If you want to be a good king, you have to be a good man first."

He nods again, more resolutely this time. There’s still doubt in his eyes, but also something else—a spark of determination, a glimmer of hope.

"I’ll try," he says, the words holding more weight than any drunken apology ever could.

"I know you will," you reply, squeezing his shoulder one last time before stepping back. "But for now, let’s get you to bed. You can begin to prove yourself tomorrow."

As you guide your son back into the castle, you feel the familiar pull of duty and love intertwine within you. The road ahead will not be easy for Aegon, just as it wasn’t easy for you. But tonight, at least, a small part of that path has been cleared, and your son—your heir—is beginning to take his first steps toward the man he will one day become.

The warm, humid air of the jungle clings to your skin as you lead Helaena through the dense foliage, her excitement as palpable as the buzz of insects that fills the air around you. She’s always been different from her siblings—quiet, introspective, but with a mind that sees wonders where others see only the mundane. Today, her joy is infectious, and as you glance over your shoulder, you see her eyes wide with fascination, darting from tree to tree in search of her beloved bugs.

"Father, look!" she exclaims, her voice bright with enthusiasm. She crouches down, her slender fingers delicately picking up a beetle with iridescent wings, the colors shifting from emerald to sapphire in the dappled sunlight that pierces through the canopy above.

You smile at her, marveling at how her joy lights up the whole forest, making even the most alien surroundings feel like home. "That’s a beautiful one," you say, stepping closer to inspect her latest find. "What do you suppose it eats?"

Helaena tilts her head, her eyes narrowing in concentration as she watches the beetle crawl over her hand. "I think it feeds on nectar from the flowers," she muses, "or maybe the sap from the trees. Look at the way its legs move—so delicate, but strong."

You crouch beside her, nodding as you study the small creature. "You could be right. You always know more about these things than I do." Your tone is light, teasing, but there’s truth in your words. Helaena’s understanding of the natural world has always been beyond her years, her connection to it deep and mysterious.

The two of you continue your journey deeper into the jungle, the air growing thicker with the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers. Vines drape lazily from towering trees, and the occasional call of a bird echoes in the distance. Helaena moves with purpose, her gaze constantly scanning the ground, the trees, the air above for any new creatures she hasn’t yet discovered.

"Do you think there are bugs in Essos that no one in Westeros has ever seen?" she asks suddenly, her voice filled with a childlike wonder that makes you smile.

"I’m sure of it," you reply, pushing aside a low-hanging branch to let her pass. "That’s why we came here, isn’t it? To find something new, something no one’s ever written about in their tomes or sung about in their songs. Maybe you’ll discover the most magnificent bug the world’s ever seen."

Helaena beams up at you, her lavender eyes shimmering with excitement. "And I’ll name it after you," she says with a giggle, skipping ahead a few paces. "A beetle, maybe, or a butterfly—something regal."

You chuckle at the thought, shaking your head. "I can’t think of anything less regal than a bug named after me. But if anyone could make it sound important, it’s you."

The laughter between the two of you echoes through the trees, light and easy, as you continue on your way. You’re not following any particular path—there are no roads here, no guides to lead you. Just the two of you, father and daughter, on an adventure through the wilds of Essos.

As you step over a moss-covered log, you glance back at Helaena to see her crouching low again, examining a cluster of bright red flowers. Her fascination with the natural world has always been a source of pride for you, something that sets her apart in a family so often consumed by politics and power. Out here, in the quiet of the jungle, she’s in her element.

You’re so focused on her that you don’t notice the thick root winding through the underbrush until it’s too late. Your foot catches, and before you can catch yourself, you’re tumbling forward, arms flailing as you lose your balance. You hit the ground with a soft thud, landing squarely on your backside.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then—

Helaena bursts into laughter, the sound bright and musical, like the ringing of silver bells. She clutches her sides, doubling over as the laughter shakes her small frame, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

"Father!" she manages to gasp between fits of giggles. "You—you tripped on a root!"

You sit there for a moment, stunned, before letting out a laugh of your own. "Apparently, your father is no match for a jungle root," you say, shaking your head as you sit up, brushing leaves from your clothes. "I was so busy watching you, I forgot to watch where I was going."

Helaena, still laughing, steps over to you and offers a hand, her grin wide and infectious. "Here, let me help you up, Father. You’ve fallen in the dirt like one of your regal bugs."

You take her hand, letting her pull you to your feet, though it’s more symbolic than anything—she’s small and slender, and you mostly stand up on your own. Still, the gesture warms your heart, and you smile down at her.

"I suppose even kings can fall every now and then," you say, brushing off the last of the dirt from your breeches. "Especially when they’re distracted by a daughter who’s far too clever for her own good."

Helaena’s laughter finally subsides, though her smile remains, bright and full of affection. "I’m just glad I was here to see it," she says, her voice teasing but sweet. "I’ll have to remember this next time Aegon or Aemond try to act all serious."

You raise an eyebrow at her, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face. "Oh? Are you planning on using this against me?"

She shrugs, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Maybe. It depends on how much I need to bargain with them next time."

The two of you share another laugh, and the moment feels light, easy—like the weight of the crown and the responsibilities you both bear have been left far behind in Westeros, forgotten in the simplicity of a jungle trek and shared laughter.

As you continue walking, you let Helaena lead, her steps more confident now as she moves through the underbrush. The jungle is alive with sound—chirping insects, rustling leaves, the distant calls of unseen animals—and you find yourself marveling at how small and vast the world can feel all at once.

"Father," Helaena says after a while, her tone more thoughtful now, "thank you for bringing me here. I know there are more important things you could be doing back home, but…this means a lot to me."

You smile at her, feeling a swell of pride and affection. "There’s nothing more important than spending time with you, Helaena. The realm can wait a few days. Besides, I think we’ve both learned something valuable today—like how to avoid tree roots."

She giggles again, but there’s warmth in her eyes, the kind of warmth that makes you realize just how precious these moments are. The crown may be heavy, the throne demanding, but here, in the jungles of Essos, it’s just you and your daughter, sharing an adventure neither of you will ever forget.

"Now," you say, clapping your hands together as you glance around at the trees towering above, "shall we see what other exotic bugs we can find? Maybe one that doesn’t involve me falling on my backside this time?"

Helaena grins, her face lighting up with renewed excitement. "Let’s!" she says, darting ahead into the greenery, her laughter trailing behind her as you follow, ready for whatever adventure lies ahead.

The halls of the Red Keep seemed quieter than usual today. It was a rare stillness, the kind that hung heavy with unspoken tension. You could sense something had happened, though no one had yet brought it to your attention. You had spent much of the afternoon in the library, pouring over old maps of the Narrow Sea, but something in the air felt wrong.

As you rounded the corner toward the private wing where your children’s chambers lay, you heard faint sniffling. The sound was quiet, but unmistakable. You quickened your pace and followed the sound until you found Aemond, sitting alone on the cold stone floor, his knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. His face was buried, but even from this distance, you could tell he had been crying.

"Aemond?" you called softly, kneeling beside him. "What’s happened?"

Aemond looked up at you, and your heart sank at the sight of his tear-streaked face. His usual stern, stoic expression was gone, replaced by vulnerability, the kind only a young boy trying so hard to be a man could wear.

"It’s nothing, Father," he muttered, wiping furiously at his eyes, though the gesture did little to hide the redness.

You sit beside him, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Something has upset you, and I would like to know what it is."

For a moment, Aemond says nothing, as if weighing whether or not to burden you with whatever weighs on him. But eventually, his resolve crumbles, and he sighs, his voice barely above a whisper. "It’s them. Jace, Luke...and Aegon. They—they played a trick on me."

You feel a tightening in your chest. You had heard rumblings before of the teasing that occasionally happened between your sons and your sister Rhaenyra’s sons, but this felt different. There was something more painful in Aemond’s voice.

"What kind of trick?" you ask gently, though you already have a sinking suspicion about what might have occurred.

Aemond’s cheeks flush with shame as he looks away. "They—they told me they had a dragon for me," he begins slowly, each word weighed with embarrassment. "I’ve always wanted one, and I thought… maybe this time…"

His voice trails off, and you feel your heart break for him. You know how much Aemond has longed for a dragon of his own, how he watches his siblings and cousins with their dragons, envy and longing etched into his every glance. 

"They said it was waiting for me," he continues, his voice shaking. "So I went to the dragon pit. I was so excited, Father. I thought—maybe, finally—" His breath hitches as fresh tears well in his eyes, but he quickly wipes them away, trying to be strong.

"And then I saw it," he says bitterly. "A pig. They dressed up a pig and called it the 'Pink Dread.' They were all laughing, all of them, even Aegon."

A cold anger flares in your chest at the cruelty of the prank. You can picture it all too easily: Aegon and the boys snickering behind Aemond’s back as he approached the animal, thinking, for one precious moment, that his dream had finally come true. You know how deeply this would have cut Aemond, how much it hurt him to be humiliated in front of his family. But for now, you push that anger aside. This moment is about Aemond, not them.

"Come here," you say softly, pulling Aemond into your arms. He resists at first, too proud to cry in front of you, but after a moment, he lets himself lean into you, his small frame trembling as he clutches at your tunic.

You stroke his hair, the familiar silver strands soft beneath your fingers. "I’m sorry that happened to you, Aemond," you whisper, your voice full of warmth and understanding. "That was cruel, and you didn’t deserve it."

He pulls back slightly, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "They all have dragons," he says, his voice thick with frustration. "Why not me? Why am I the only one without one?"

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of his question. "Sometimes, life doesn’t seem fair," you say honestly. "It can feel like the things we want most are the things we’re denied, no matter how hard we wish for them."

Aemond looks up at you, his eyes still glistening with unshed tears. "But one day, Aemond," you continue, your voice full of quiet conviction, "you will have a dragon of your own. I know it. And when you do, you’ll be a better rider than any of them, because you’ve waited. You’ve longed for it. That’s something they’ll never understand."

He listens intently, his shoulders relaxing slightly as your words settle in. "And you know," you add with a smile, "if you ever did have a dragon that was pink, you could give it a name far more fitting than they ever imagined."

Aemond blinks at you, confusion flickering across his face. "What do you mean?"

You lean in conspiratorially, a playful grin tugging at your lips. "Think about it. A pink dragon, breathing fire, soaring over the battlefield. No one would laugh then. And you could call it the 'Pink Dread'—a name that would strike fear into the hearts of your enemies. They would hear it and tremble, knowing what it meant."

For the first time, a small smile pulls at Aemond’s lips. The idea takes root in his mind, and you can see his imagination sparking to life. "The Pink Dread," he murmurs, as if testing the words. "That… that would be funny. No one would laugh at a pink dragon breathing fire."

You nod, your heart warming at the sight of his growing confidence. "Exactly. They may laugh now, but one day, you’ll be the one laughing."

Aemond looks up at you, his blue eyes searching yours, and for a moment, you see a younger version of yourself reflected in him. The same yearning, the same fierce determination to prove oneself, the same frustration at being left behind while others surged ahead. You had been that boy once, trying to find your place, trying to prove you were worthy.

"I see a lot of myself in you, Aemond," you say softly, your voice filled with quiet pride. "When I was your age, I often felt the same way. I watched others get what I longed for, and it made me feel… less. But it didn’t stay that way forever. And it won’t for you either."

Aemond frowns slightly, looking down at the ground. "You were like me?"

You chuckle softly, ruffling his hair. "More than you might think. I wasn’t always so sure of myself. It takes time, but you’ll find your way, Aemond. You’ll grow into your own, just like I did. And when you do, there will be no one more capable than you."

Aemond’s small smile widens slightly, the last traces of tears fading from his eyes. "I’ll remember that, Father," he says, a quiet strength returning to his voice.

You wrap your arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. "You are strong, Aemond. Stronger than you know. And one day, the world will see that too."

As you sit there with him, the warmth of the Red Keep surrounding you both, you know that the sting of today’s prank will fade, but the lessons Aemond is learning now—about resilience, about strength, about finding his place in the world—will shape him into the man he will one day become. And you will be there, guiding him, as he grows into the prince, and the dragonrider, you know he is destined to be.

It had been far too long since you’d visited Oldtown, and the excitement of seeing Daeron again filled you with anticipation. His letters had spoken highly of his time here, his training, and how much he had grown, but there was nothing quite like seeing it for yourself.

The familiar scent of saltwater from the Whispering Sound mixed with the spices and perfumes of the bustling city as you made your way through its cobbled streets. Your memories of Oldtown were filled with childhood games, racing through the alleyways, and the company of old friends. One of those friends, you knew, was waiting for you just inside the Hightower.

As you passed through the gates, you saw him: Gwayne Hightower, your childhood companion and steadfast friend. He stood tall, wearing the colors of House Hightower, a broad smile spreading across his face as he caught sight of you.

"Your Grace!" Gwayne called out, his arms open in welcome as he walked toward you with the easy confidence that only an old friend could have. "I was wondering when we’d see you again."

You smiled broadly, clasping his forearm in a firm handshake before pulling him into a warm embrace. "Gwayne, it’s been far too long," you said, clapping him on the back before stepping back to look at him. "You haven’t changed a bit."

Gwayne chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, I could say the same of you, but we both know a crown has its way of changing a man."

You smirked, shaking your head. "Perhaps, but Oldtown doesn’t. It feels like I’m stepping back into my youth."

"And that’s just what Daeron’s been waiting for," Gwayne said, his voice filled with pride. "He’s been practicing something special for your arrival."

The two of you made your way into the Hightower, exchanging stories of the years gone by. Gwayne filled you in on Daeron’s progress, not only in his studies but in his musical pursuits, something that had come as a surprise to you when you’d first heard of it. Daeron had always been a quiet boy, thoughtful and dutiful, but you hadn’t expected him to take to music with such dedication.

As you entered one of the private chambers, there he was—Daeron, your youngest son, sitting with a lute in his hands. His bright eyes lit up when he saw you, and he quickly set the instrument aside to rise and bow.

"Father," he said, his voice filled with genuine warmth. "I’m so glad you’re here."

You smiled, stepping forward to pull him into a quick embrace. "It’s good to see you, Daeron. I’ve been looking forward to this visit."

Daeron stepped back, a hint of shyness in his expression, but there was also pride. "I’ve been practicing," he said, gesturing to the harp behind him. "Would you like to hear?"

"Of course," you said, sitting down as Gwayne settled in beside you, both of you eager to see how much Daeron had improved.

Daeron returned to his seat, his fingers brushing the strings of the lute with ease. The melody that filled the room was soft at first, delicate and sweet, but soon it grew into something more complex, full of emotion and depth. His fingers moved skillfully, the notes flowing effortlessly across from the lute, creating a sound that was both soothing and captivating.

You watched him closely, impressed by the concentration and passion in his playing. He had grown so much, not just in skill, but in confidence. When he finished, the last note lingering in the air, you clapped your hands together, beaming with pride.

"That was beautiful, Daeron," you said earnestly. "You’ve improved so much. I never knew you had such a talent."

Daeron blushed slightly but smiled, pleased with your approval. "Thank you, Father. I’ve been practicing every day. It helps me focus."

Gwayne leaned over, grinning. "He’s the pride of Oldtown, your Grace. Everyone speaks of his music as much as his dragon."

At the mention of Tessarion, Daeron’s eyes brightened even more. "Speaking of which, would you like to see her?"

"I wouldn’t miss it," you said, standing and motioning for him to lead the way.

The three of you made your way through the halls of the Hightower and out toward the dragon stable where Tessarion was kept. As you walked, Daeron talked animatedly about his time in Oldtown, how much he had learned, and how attached he had become to his dragon. You could hear the excitement in his voice, and it warmed your heart to see him so full of life and purpose.

When you reached the stable, you were greeted by the sight of Tessarion, her blue and silver scales gleaming in the soft light of dusk. She was still small by dragon standards, no larger than a large horse, but she had a regal air about her. However, that air of regalness disappeared the moment she saw Daeron.

With an excited rumble, Tessarion bounded toward him, her wings fluttering slightly as she lowered her head and rolled onto her back, exposing her soft underbelly in a clear plea for scratches. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight—this mighty dragon, one day destined to be a force to be reckoned with, now behaving more like a playful pup than a creature of legend.

Daeron laughed too, kneeling beside her and rubbing her belly with both hands, her tail thumping happily against the ground.

"She’s just like a dog!" you exclaimed, amusement bubbling in your chest.

"She likes to be scratched here," Daeron said, his voice full of affection as he rubbed Tessarion’s side. "She’s still young, but she’ll grow big and strong. One day, she’ll be the fiercest dragon in all the realm."

"That, I have no doubt," you replied, watching as Tessarion nuzzled into Daeron’s hand, her eyes half-closed in contentment.

You knelt beside Daeron, reaching out to touch Tessarion’s shimmering scales. Her hide was warm under your palm, her breathing slow and steady as she basked in the affection. "She’s a beauty, Daeron. You should be proud."

"I am," Daeron said quietly, glancing at you. "She’s my closest friend."

There was something in his voice, a depth of connection between boy and dragon that was rare and powerful. You had seen it with your other children and their dragons, but with Daeron and Tessarion, it felt different. There was a quiet understanding between them, a bond that ran deep.

You smiled at him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "She’ll be a great dragon, Daeron, and you’ll be a great rider. Tessarion’s lucky to have you."

"And I’m lucky to have her," Daeron replied, his hand never leaving her side.

For a while, the three of you sat there in the dragonpit, Tessarion’s soft rumbles the only sound in the still evening air. The world seemed far away, the troubles of the realm forgotten in the warmth of family and the comfort of an old friend.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting Oldtown in shades of gold and pink, you looked at Daeron, filled with pride at the man he was becoming. He had found his place here, among his studies, his music, and his dragon. He had grown into himself, and you couldn’t wait to see what the future held for him.

"Thank you for bringing me here," you said quietly, your voice filled with affection. "I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you."

Daeron smiled, his eyes filled with warmth. "I’ve missed you too, Father. I’m glad you’re here."

And as Tessarion rolled over onto her side, thumping her tail against the ground with contentment, you realized that moments like this—simple, peaceful moments with your children—were worth more than any crown or throne.

[zaldritzosrose]

Bring Me To Salvation (Criston Cole x Whore!Reader)

Summary: Ser Criston was nothing if not dutiful, steadfast in his dedication to his role as protector and knight. All to the detriment of himself. A chance meeting with a Silk Street woman began to open his life to delights far outside his usual tastes.

TW: MINORS DNI, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, mentions of sex work, submissive Criston, edging, orgasm denial, handjob, Criston being a sad, pathetic, whimpery mess.

There will be a part two.

Words: 3859

The life of a Kingsguard came with rules. Rules on how one must act in public, how to live one's life. No marriage, no titles. But what had become Criston's downfall was one rule.

Abstinence.

Well, a Kingsguard was not forbidden from sex itself, but from fathering children of their own. But Criston took his vows to heart. Complete abstinence reduced the risk of siring a child, a logical path. Duty meant everything. For the most part.

That was until he was chosen to protect Princess Rhaenyra. He had done his best, resisted for as long as he could. But every man breaks. And Criston’s resolve broke one night, letting the princess entice him to bed.

He had foolishly hoped she may feel more than lust for him, but he was left with nothing but bitterness instead. Years passed, and he watched her not only fawn over Prince Daemon, but also Ser Harwin.

That hurt him most. It weighed on him and turned his countenance sour. Something akin to hatred burning in him as he watched the princess birth bastard after bastard. Criston did his best to push his focus elsewhere. Swearing himself to Queen Alicent and helping her sons train and learn to be men.

And it worked. For the most part. He was not quite the same man he had been, he was highly strung and tense more often than not. But the two princes were a distraction he welcomed.

Until Rhaenyra and her sons returned. Walking through the Keep as if nothing had changed. The two dark haired princes joining Aemond and Aegon in the training yard as though they belonged there.

To make matters worse? Ser Harwin was there to greet them.

Criston held his ground as he sparred with Aemond, the younger prince having grown to be an excellent swordsman. His brother however, had taken the role of spectator. Sitting on the sidelines and pouring cup after cup of wine down his throat.

“Well done, my prince,” Criston praised, as Aemond once again proved himself skilled.

He could feel eyes on him. Jacaerys and Lucerys watched intently, but those were not the eyes Criston could feel. He turned slightly to find Ser Harwin glaring.

“Is there a problem, Ser Harwin?” Criston asked, motioning for Aemond to take a break.

Criston rolled his shoulders, frustration rising in him as Harwin smirked.

“You seem a little tense is all, Ser Criston,” Harwin called back, smirking wider as Criston scowled.

Even Aegon snorted a laugh in response, earning him a glare from Criston. Tense was an understatement. Criston could not remember a time where had actually been relaxed.

“And you seem far too relaxed, ser, do you not have better things to be doing?”

The tension was clear, so thick it could have been sliced. Harwin simply shook his head and walked closer, clapping Criston on the shoulder.

“You need to enjoy yourself more. Spend a little less time playing knight.”

Harwin walked away before Criston could respond, and with a tight jaw, Criston turned back and began sparring again. The words ringing in his head.

Weeks passed and the words Harwin had spoken continued to bother him. It was not the first time anyone had told him he took his duty too seriously. But it was the first time it had bothered him so much. Maybe it was because the words came from Harwin, a man whose mere presence was enough to frustrate him beyond belief.

But at the same time, maybe all those people were right. Did he take himself too seriously? Surely it would not be too out of the question for him to take some time for himself?

Those thoughts were soon knocked from his mind when he was called to the Queen’s chamber.

“Ah, Ser Criston,” Alicent smiled, though the expression seemed strained.

“I have a request, that needs the utmost discretion.”

Criston nodded and listened to her instruction. And what he heard did not surprise him at all. He was to retrieve Prince Aegon from one of King’s Landing’s brothels, yet again. The prince had a taste for all kinds of depravity and Criston knew it was not about to be an enjoyable endeavour.

He was dismissed and made his way through the city as the sun fell. And it was not long before he found the right place. Whispers of the silver haired prince led him quickly to his destination.

With a sigh, Criston entered the whorehouse, finding the Madame and demanding Aegon be brought to him. The woman did not hesitate, disappearing to search for the prince.

Criston waited patiently, two Kingsguard behind him as he averted his gaze from the debauchery around him. He was not a prude, but at the same time he was not as comfortable here as other men may be.

But in averting his eye, he found the gaze of you. There was no doubt you were one of the girls working here. The soft silks draped around your body were not something he saw many noblewomen wear. The second he caught your eye you smiled, making your way through the crowd and towards him.

There was something about you that had him entranced. Eyes that seemed to bore into his, see into his very soul. It was like you knew just what he desired the most.

"It is not often we get Kingsguards in here, ser..." you almost purred the words out to him.

Just by looking around the room he was in now, this place was built for the deepest and most depraved sins. So, it was no surprise Aegon had ended up here. People were draped over every available surface in every possible state of undress and debauchery.

Criston simply nodded at your words. Aegon has already been dragged out to him, already demanding to be left alone. Criston broke eye contact with you momentarily to glare down at the prince.

“Your mother wants you home, my prince. There are two guards outside for you.” Criston said simply, and Aegon wailed profanities at him as he was dragged away.

But you were not deterred. He did not know when you had closed the distance between you both, but soon your rounded nails tapped his armoured chest. Kohl lined eyes gazing up at him and he internally chastised himself for the desire that pulsed down his spine and through his cock.

"We cater to all tastes here, ser...I am sure I can find something you will enjoy."

Criston’s mouth felt dry at those words. The way you let every syllable roll of your tongue, the feeling of your hand on his chest. No, he could not let himself break so easily again.

“A pleasant offer, I am sure, but I must return the prince.”

He did not wait for your response before turning to join his fellow Kingsguard at the door. But that did not stop you calling out to him before he left.

“The offer will always stand, ser, should you desire it.”

Weeks passed before Criston even thought of you again. He put his focus on serving his queen and keeping the royal children safe and protected. But when he was alone, his thoughts would drift back to you and what you had promised.

But nothing came of it until Princess Rhaenyra and her children returned to King’s Landing again. Bringing back the anger and bitterness that seemed to linger and simmer within him whenever he saw her. Reminding him of everything he almost had. What was worse? She now had Prince Daemon at her side. Not only now as her uncle, but as her husband. A custom he never understood, but it only deepened his resentment further.

The King organised a ‘family’ dinner, something that every member knew would not end well. But when the King made a choice, no one was ever truly willing to go against it. Tensions were high as it was.

Criston took his place in the dining hall, where he could easily watch each member of the family he was sworn to protect. And he did his best to ignore Rhaenyra and her family entered the hall, barely acknowledging his presence as they sat.

The dinner passed with little consequence, save for the childish remarks passed between the four young princes. Criston did his duty and escorted them all back to their chambers before returning to the Queen’s side.

“Is there anything you need from me, Your Grace?” Criston asked, standing just inside the doorway to her own chamber.

Alicent looked at him with a smile.

“No, Ser Criston, you may retire if you wish,” Alicent replied, but Criston could sense that she had something more to say.

“Thank you, Your Grace, I will see you again in the morning.”

He turned to leave but Alicent, as expected, called him to stop.

“Actually, Ser Criston, there is something,” she said, walking closer to him.

He stopped, turning back to her and waiting. Her face was coloured with concern and it had him on edge. But he said nothing.

“I have one request to make, and a concern to raise.”

Criston nodded and Alicent continued. Explaining how she felt the tension that had settled in him recently. Whether it was due in part to Rhaenyra’s arrival or something else, she did not press him for an answer, but it was her request that surprised him.

“Please, take some time for yourself. Find a way to relax.”

The knight was silent. He could hardly deny his Queen’s request, though it was not phrased like an order, it felt like one. He made a promise that he would take her request to heart. But he had little idea on how to do that.

He soon left for his own chamber, making quick work of stripping himself of his armour and settling into his bed. And it was only then that his thoughts began drifting back to you.

"We cater to all tastes here, ser...I am sure I can find something you will enjoy."

“The offer will always stand, ser, should you desire it.”

He could not get those words out of his head, combined with Queen Alicent’s suggestion of finding something to relax him. His mind went back even to Ser Harwin’s jibe about his tense demeanour.

“You need to enjoy yourself more. Spend a little less time playing knight.”

He knew he should not. His honour and duty warred with his desire to take up your offer. Would it be so bad? To visit you once, to see if you could be the ‘something to enjoy’?

It took only mere seconds more of thought for Criston to pull a cloak from his wardrobe and make his way quickly down the quieter side of the Keep and out into the city.

Tonight was a quieter night, for a brothel. A few regular patrons were in attendance, but none had yet to call for your services. Yet.

You heard the heavy swing of the door, and the Madame calling your name over the soft chatter of patrons and whores. You fixed your silken robe, making a smooth path through the room and out to the entrance. You assumed it would be one of your regulars, your talents were quite…specialised.

What you did not expect was the Kingsguard, Ser Criston, stood before you. He looked so different, unencumbered by his armour. He seemed to shrink in on himself, as if he was already regretting coming here.

The Madame nodded to you and left the pair of you alone.

“I see you took my offer, ser?” you said softly, closing the distance between the two of you.

Criston seemed to stiffen a little, making it clear he did not frequent these places often.

“Please, do not make me regret it.”

You simply smiled, taking his hand and noting the coin in the Madame’s hand as you passed her. The knight had paid, you were his for the night. Criston’s eyes drifted over the room around him, seemingly the main area of the brothel. It was quieter than when he had been here last, and he felt himself relax a little with that knowledge.

And thankfully, you continued to lead him down a corridor and to a private room. You both entered in silence, yet it was not uncomfortable. Your hand was soft in his, and nothing about you made him feel as though this was a mistake.

It was only when you crossed the threshold did you let go of his hand, urging him gently to sit down on the bed as you closed the door and lit some of the candles littered about the room. Criston took this opportunity to take in his surroundings. The bed was large, dressed is plush fabrics in deep tones, the headboard half covered with plump pillows.

The rest of the room, however, took his interest.

The wall to his right was home to a large glass fronted cupboard, showcasing a plethora of oils and scents that he knew immediately were what you used to ready yourself. The wall to his left was something entirely different. Locked chests that had him wondering what was hidden inside. Something about you told him that you were more than just a typical woman of the Silk Street.

“Now, my sweet knight, what have you come here for?” You asked, walking back over to him and reaching gently up to run a hand through his hair.

Criston, despite himself, leaned into the touch. Eyes closing as he let a soft sigh escape him. What exactly had he come for? He did not really know himself.

“I was hoping you could help me…relax.” His voice was quiet, a low rumble that was tinged with the faintest hint of shame.

You realised then, that you would have to start from the beginning. Bring him out of whatever cloud of shame he seemed to be hiding in. You made quick work of his cloak, taking your time and letting him ease into the whole situation.

“Shall we start with some wine?”

Criston nodded and gladly took the cup when you handed it to him. Letting the sweet liquid ease his mind. You sat beside him on the bed, your hand moved back to his hair and began to rub soft circles into his scalp. Criston could not stop the way he leaned back into your touch again, soft sighs leaving him as your lips soon latched on to the skin of his neck.

The pleasure you gave him was slow, but intoxicating, seeping into his veins and pulsing down through his cock. He felt you smirk against his skin as you noticed the prominent bulge in his breeches, watching it twitch as you pressed a firmer kiss to his throat.

“We will start simple, kiss and touch until you are comfortable…”

Criston could only groan in response, all thoughts leaving him as your palm found his cock. Palming him through the fabric, the heat of your hand and the plump flesh of your lips sending his mind into a void of nothing but pleasure.

His hips chased your hand, desperate for whatever friction you could give him. But at the same time, you could tell he would need instruction. Permission to give in to his desires.

“You can touch me, sweet knight.” You whispered into his ear, taking one of his hands and placing it on the swell of your breast.

Your now free hand untied your robe, letting the smooth silk fall from your shoulders and exposing your bare skin. You revelled in the soft groan that left the knight as his eyes opened, widening as he took in everything that was happening.

The bare skin. The warmth of it beneath his palm. The gentle friction of your hand against his hardened length. But he wanted more.

“Please…”

He could not seem to form any more words. While he was not the most eloquent of men, he could barely process that you had him speechless from the first touch.

“Please what, my darling? Tell me what you want, and you shall have it.”

His fingers tugged at the soft bud of your nipple, the way he licked his lips giving you a good clue as to what he wanted. Your hand in his hair guiding him down and letting him bury himself between your breasts. He may not know it yet, but everything he was doing told you one thing.

The stoic knight was submissive. Desperate for affection, no matter where it came from. In need of having someone else take control away from him. And you were more than happy to do that for him. It was your specialty really. Taking powerful men and reducing them to panting, begging messes of themselves.

You tugged his head back, already seeing the damp and wide-eyed look in his eye. Telling you, your assumption was right.

“Stand up and take off your shirt.” You ordered, letting your voice taking a little more of a commanding town and smiling when you saw his cock twitch in response.

Criston hurried to remove his shirt, throwing it behind him and waiting for your next instruction. Just the idea of being at your mercy, at his pleasure being held solely by you, had his skin heating and his cock already leaking onto the fabric of his breeches. You licked your lips, letting him wait just a little longer before your next command.

“Now, strip bare. Let me see you, Ser Criston.”

He had never removed his clothes faster, near tripping over himself as he kicked away his boots before pushing his breeches down his legs. He could tell immediately that this was what you enjoyed. The smug expression, the commanding tone, it suited you perfectly. Your eyes roamed his now bare form, watching the flush that coloured his chest and moved higher under your gaze.

You stood from the bed, letting your robe fall entirely from your body as you closed the distance between you. He held his breath as you touched him, soft hands starting at his shoulders and working their way down, mapping every inch of his muscled form.

But when you reached his cock, his knees felt like they would buckle. It had been a long time since anyone but himself had touched him so intimately and he was already on the brink of overstimulation.

“Now, we can do this two ways. I can be gentle, bring you to your release with my hand, my mouth or my cunt…” you whispered, pressing your lips to his jaw between words.

“Or…I can do what I know you really need. To surrender. To relinquish the control, you hold on so tight to.”

You punctuated your words now with gentle squeezes to his cock, not quite enough movement to make him come, but enough to have him grunting under his breath. He did not know what to answer. Deep down, he knew that the second option was what he wanted but he was too embarrassed to say the words.

His silence, however, was not acceptable.

“Words, I need your words.” Your hands stilled on his cock, and he could not stop the whine that left him when your movements stopped.

“Please…the se-second…please…” Criston was verging on incoherent, and you had barely started.

A mix of shame and desire surged in his veins, a war raging in him between grabbing his clothes and fleeing and staying at your side and following your every command. You could see it, his eyes flicking still between the door and you. You resumed your movements slowly, working up to pumping his cock faster and faster and watching how he slowly but surely folded under your touch.

You pressed your lips to his, feeling him melt under your touches.

“You will not come unless I say. You will only touch me when I say.”

Criston nodded quickly. He may not have known it, but his body did. Relaxing into your touch and surrendering completely. You released his cock, another whine leaving him, but he knew from the look you gave him that he would not be without your touch for long. You ordered him to lay down, walking over to the cabinet and taking out a small bottle of oil.

“We will start slow, ease you into it. Let your body get used to the feeling of submission…”

Criston’s head fell back against the sheets, feeling the heat of your body as you crawled up to lay beside him. Your lips kissed a trail down his body, supporting yourself with an arm on either side of his torso. His moans were soft, the evidence of just how much control he had already let slip.

Your kisses covered his entire body as your hand sped up, working his cock until Criston was panting and begging beneath you. And when you felt him twitch in your palm, you stopped. Denying his orgasm and forcing a harsh whine from his lips.

“I..I..?” Criston stammered, beads of sweat already forming on his forehead.

“You will come when I tell you to. Not before.”

Criston sighed in frustration, but the combination of the denial and your words sent a rush of desire through him. He nodded, and you began your ministrations anew.

Four times. Four times you denied him before his body was so flushed, so sore, so slick with sweat that he began to give in and beg you.

“Please, it hurts…I need to…please...” His voice was pathetic almost, he could hear it. If he was not so deep into his arousal, he would have been embarrassed.

Your hand wrapped him tight, the other slipping down and adding pressure around his stones, massaging and squeezing until you could feel his cock twitching again. His eyes searched for yours, waiting for the permission he needed.

Those sad brown eyes, wet with tears and filled with desperation. If you were crueller, you would have denied him a fifth time.

“So good, well done, you can come, my sweet knight.”

That was all he needed. With a rough, strained moan, his orgasm ripped through him. Leaving him panting and gripping tight at the sheets beneath him. You could not help but smile. There was something quite satisfying watching strong men like Criston fall apart at your hand.

Eventually, your hands slowed, moving from his cock to his stomach and hips. Stroking soft circle into his skin as his breathing slowed. He sat up on his elbows, wiping a hand over his face to clear the tears and sweat.

“I am impressed, ser, not many submit so easily.” You praised, planting a kiss on his hip before sitting up between his legs.

Criston huffed out a laugh, his mind still in the throes of pleasure and almost unable to form any answer except for one.

“Thank you.”

Criston left your side in the early hours, but not without the promise of his return. And your promise of more means of…exploration.

Even after one meeting, Criston could feel himself walking lighter, less tense.

Maybe, just maybe, you would be his salvation.

@bucknastysbabe @elaratyrell @fairyslunaluna @towriteloveontheirarms @aemondsbabe

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

When answering asks I mentioned several times that while I agree that Aegon's character arc is the best one this season (among the Greens and overall), I still don't like it. No one really asked but I decided to put it out there anyway - because he is my second favourite character of the book/show combo.

When I think about Aegon in season 2, this bit from the trailer comes to mind:

If we are to take Aegon more or less as a separate character (which is not so easy as no character can/should exist in a vacuum), his storyline has been quite decent (the effort to be a good ruler despite the lack of actual preparation, the obvious love and care towards Jaehaerys and heart-wrenching reaction to his murder, the failed attempt to prove himself at Rook's Rest - and now the signs pointing to him becoming a new man after what happened, more cunning and harsh). Besides, Tom has been given quite a few really good moments where he could show, truly and without being restrained, just how talented he is (it was the least HotD owed him after the treatment he got because of the shitty writing for the previous season). And even with that, I am still far from being convinced that the writers won't fumble it all in season 3 (just look what they did to Aemond this season after him getting IMO the most compelling and consistent beginning of the character arc in season 1).

But if we look at Aegon in connection with other characters? I am not merely disappointed, I am fucking furious, actually.

He's the character who suffered the most this season (feels like suffering takes up 90% of his screentime) - and this is understandable given what he's been going through. But how does the show present us this suffering? More precisely, who is presented as being responsible for it?

The first big blow dealt to Aegon was the murder of Jaehaerys. And which characters are actually shown to be the cause of Aegon's anguish?

Not Rhaenyra - she was as clueless as poor murdered boy himself. Not Mysaria - her opressed self "just provided the names" to Daemon. Daemon is the closest to it, but even here we were treated to this "ambiguity" bullshit about him supposedly not giving clear instructions to Blood and Cheese - and apparently he deeply regrets his actions. Boo-hoo, poor baby (I am not even a Daemon hater, actually, but the "he is just a tormented soul" thing he has going on this season has gone too far). The audience can't even properly hate the murderers themselves because of the shallow and cartoonish way the whole event was handled on screen.

But we get to see how Otto turns the horrible murder of an innocent child into a propo show - and Alicent sides with him (both are shown to disregard Aegon's feelings on the matter). Criston is presented as the one who neglected his duties and in doing so facilitated the heir's murder (and later he tries to shift the blame to Arryk which eventually gets the latter killed while fighting his own twin brother). Aemond doesn't gaf about his nephew's death (or the way it affected anyone in his family, specifically Aegon) for which he is partially to blame. And later Aegon gets a parting gift from Otto in the form of "you are a useless piece of junk - and a naive one for even daring to believe otherwise" - and Alicent's inability to console him when he needs it most.

Things only get worse from here. The Blacks are doing their thing on Dragostone (in Daemon's case - at Harrenhal) while Aegon keeps being abused, neglected and terrorized by those closest to him. His council members (including his mother and brother) do not respect him, Alicent flat out tells him he is useless in the most hurtful way possible (comparing him to Viserys who, as Aegon learned, didn't deem him worthy either after all). Oh, and by the way Viserys' neglect towards his children - Aegon in particular, in this case - is now completely taken out of the equation. Instead Viserys is presented as almost a godlike figure, someone to be worshipped and as infallible as the Pope.

And then, as the cherry on top of the cake, Aegon and his beloved dragon get horribly injured, almost killed by Aemond who Aegon trusted despite everything (Rhaenys' part in Aegon being hurt is minimal). And even after that Aemond proceeds to torment his bedridden brother, physically and mentally (I am aware there are supposed layers to it but I really doubt a lot of viewers gave that scene a second thought), so the former could remain in power; Alicent experiences remorse in all the wrong moments (and then proceeds to tell Gwayne how she is disappointed in both of the sons she actually knows and seems to redirect her hopes towards the one she doesn't). The only person who actually seems to care about Aegon is, surprise, Larys Strong, a reigning Kinslayer Supreme who actually murdered his father and elder brother while playing the game of thrones (and there is a BIG question whether Larys would give a single fuck about Aegon and his condition if he had been granted promotion by Aemond). While it's nice that the indisposed king has at least someone on his side, it's really fucked up that out of everyone else around him it had to be precisely Larys, whose loyalty is very much conditional.

To sum it all up, the writers gave Aegon an extreme amount of suffering (in accordance with his story in F&B and even more), clearly aiming to make the audience pity him as much as possible - and in a dirty and lazy writing move weaponized this pity against other TG characters (it's not clear for now whether it worked to the degree they expected for GA - but for the fandom it certainly did). Meanwhile TB is whitewashed once again. Now it's understandable where all this "they all hate each other" promo jokes (that turned out not to be jokes after all) made by TB actors came from.

In conclusion, I despise the way Aegon's suffering is being used in the narrative, and it takes a really big chunk out of the positive feelings I have about Aegon's arc in general. The F&B Greens, while being flawed individuals and not the most well-functioning family, were loyal to and cared for each other. HotD destroyed the majority of inter-Green relationships, and I am really, REALLY not here for it.

[ceoofhelaegon]

Otto sucks. Alicent sucks. They calling Jaehaerys "that child" and trying to use him as tool. Only Aegon and Helaena cares about his son's death

Otto angrier at Aegon for hanging some ratcatchers but not Aemond who killed his nephew starting a bloody war is baffling. Even just last episode Otto was sympathetic to Aemond after he killed Luke and giving Alicent shade over not letting him send Kingsguards after Rhaenyra. Now this episode he apparently relearned how to care about the optics enough again, and gives more of a shit about some rat catchers than the death of his own great-grandson.

Nonnies, I will have to rinse Otto and Alicent here.

I used to be ride or die for Alicent and even used to defend Otto against people that said he didn't care about his family, but it seems that they were right.

The absolute 180 Otto did about optics, was infuriating. And I have no idea why the WHOLE of Kingslanding would turn against Aegon? I can see the families, but the Prince was brutally murdered?! People don't forget that easily, they SAW his little body, and that scene was so sad.

That was absolutely disgusting, Aegon was correct, they shouldn't do the funeral. Both mother and father didn't want this, but they used Aegon's grief and pain to manipulate him into doing what they wanted and the fact that Alicent only interjected when Otto said that Alicent would be there as well? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!

The fact that this was the first time we've seen Helaena voicing her opinion and go against something, she is not listened to and has to do something completely out of her comfort zone.

And then, after all of this shit show Otto has the AUDACITY to say that Viserys was good king?! EXCUSE ME?! Do you mean the absolute waste of oxygen that was the reason WE ARE ALL IN THIS MESS IN THE FIRST PLACE?! I cheered when he was fired.

Using Aegon's most vulnerable weak spot, after his dead son, to say that Viserys was right about Aegon?! RIGHT ABOUT WHAT?! Did Viserys even acknowledge Aegon besides when he was a baby? He was right about Aegon not existing?!

Otto was a straight up psychopath this episode and I have no idea if I will like his character again, I will enjoy seeing him because Rhys Ifans is great, but other than that? Nope, to the bin with Otto.

Oh, and my girl Helaena...suffering so much and has to listen to her mother talking about having sex?! Literally NO ONE cares, I have no idea what they are doing with Alicent this season but I am not liking it.

And now to the worse scene I have seen, Alicent leaving Aegon whilst he is breaking down about his son being butchered in his bed. WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?! And I cannot take the 'she never got it from her father, that is why she can't do it' excuse because she CAN comfort Helaena, she CAN comfort Aemond as we've seen before, and Otto did try to comfort her, he puts his hands on her shoulders and SHE rejects him. So she IS capable of comforting people just not Aegon?

Surprisingly, Criston is the least bad of the bunch. He wasn't responsible for Helaena and the children and the WHOLE FLOOR having absolutely NO ONE, not even a maid is a plot hole, it doesn't matter what the writers say. As Aegon said, at least Criston has acted, even if it wasn't the best plan in the world, but it almost worked?

OH MY GOD, I JUST REMEMBERED.

Otto acting holier than thou about the plan, when his dumbass didn't ask Westerling to do the EXACT SAME THING?! The HYPOCRISY?!

Yeah, but we need to get helaegon and Jaehaera away from this whole mess, let them grieve in peace and have Maelor.

[mhsdatgo]

No, it's not Alicent's orders that Aegon pays mind to, in fact, I think Alicent's words have long since stopped mattering to him.

I say long since because it hasn't always been this way. Believe it or not, no matter how much rage and callousness grew in him from his young age to adulthood, he too was a boy once, with a need for an authority figure just like everyone else. Alicent took upon that role, in the only way she knew how.

See, Alicent's changed. She is turned cunning, politically savvy, extremely smart, albeit incredibly emotional and paranoid, no longer passive. She's aware she's the only one siding with her children in those dire times, she knows they are threats to Rhaenyra's rule, and as such, must be eliminated. She's aware, yes, but all along she feels like she's the only one who truly cares, at least cares enough to do something about it. She's already felt like she was the only one noticing the elephant in the room, but she's always bitten her tongue. Now those days are over.

Unfortunately when it comes to generational cycles, Alicent is a woman that is packing with those. She's the daughter of a politically savvy man himself who used her for the fulfillment of one of his ambitions, no regards for the way she felt, no resistance met in this girl who is only trying to please her father, to serve her King with kindness. In terms of scheming, Alicent and Otto perfectly mirror each other: they turn to the only ones they truly feel they can spur to their side (their children). The reaction they're met with, on the other hand, not so much: Alicent is compliant since the start, Aegon is extremely rebellious. He evades from her in every way he can.

From episode 6, at first, we see that Alicent does indeed hold influence on Aegon: since it was really necessary to HAVE TY'S ASS ON SCREEN before anything that shapes Aegon into something else other than a bully, there's a scene of him pleasuring himself on the edge of a window, literally for everyone to see. The moment he's apprehended by Alicent, however, he immediately tries to recompose himself in the best way possible, he practically throws himself away from the window, drapes a blanket over himself, tries to speak coherently the moment she questions him. It's clear he wouldn't have even tried if he didn't see some kind of authority in her.

Here is another parallel between Otto and Alicent: assuming their plans will always align with their childrens', not only are they convinced their plans will result in the greater good (although for personal reasons), they are bluntly honest about the consequences the neglect of these ambitions will bring. Otto downright tells Alicent that Rhaenyra will put her children to the sword the moment she wavers and shows to be siding with Rhaenyra, Alicent grabs her son's face and practically yells the same thing at him, saying that their family's survival depends on his compliance.

Both are enormous burdens thrust into these two's shoulders, but they register differently in their minds: for Alicent, it's about survival, to Aegon, it appears to be way more about compliance. Because Alicent has turned so paranoid, so overprotective, that she's perceived as domineering. And because Aegon had ways to run from his duties and responsibilities, Alicent has always been forced to make the best out of them. And this speech DOES affect young Aegon! He looks shocked and even distraught after his mother leaves him to his devices, meekly inviting him to get dressed.

Now how do we go from THIS Aegon, who is indeed fucked up and a bit of a little shit, to the absolute devil incarnate that is adult Aegon? The answer is very simple: Otto's arrival, AKA granddaddy issues arc.

Now there are NO scenes between Aegon and Otto, nor are there scenes in the timeskip between Driftmark and Lord of The Tides (thanks writers) so let's base stuff off of what we know of these two. What do we know about Otto? He's cunning, extremely manipulative, cold, imposing, ambitious, intolerant to any sign of rebellion. What do we know of Aegon? Mainly, I'd say he's extremely defensive and protective of what he believes to be his freedom, which he perceives as something to enjoy alone, or away from anyone who knows him. (mainly, his family) Quite a hellish mix if you ask me.

Otto sees the potential in Aegon, but not as a human being: as a tool, a path to greatness, with protection and survival as a plus. Aegon sees a tyrant in Otto, nothing but a tyrant, something who squashes him and his every defiance. It shows in episode 7 first and foremost: I'd assume it hasn't been long ever since Otto came back to court at this point, because Aegon wouldn't be so STUPID to drink himself stupid while none other than Otto was around. He learns it the hard way, getting kicked awake and dragged to bed while in hungover.

If Aegon in the next episode literally tells us anything, is that Otto's treatment of him had the opposite of his desired outcome: Aegon is even WORSE than before. A LOT WORSE, if Dyana and her telling is capable of telling us something.

Even with how he acts with Alicent, everything's changed: he isn't scared of her authority anymore, it doesn't matter to him. He doesn't wake up when she screams at him, he flinches only when his covers are pulled from him. (thanks for flashing us again HBO) He fights back: no more does he treat her as someone to respect, he disregards her, he tries to go back to sleep, he faces her with defiance,

"Why? What is it today?"

And when she tries to discipline him, using force again, (this time rightfully so, and she should've done more) he talks back: still, he doesn't relent. That's what he sees Alicent as, now: challenge. Obstacle. She isn't something he worries about anymore, but rather who she follows. We all know who that is.

Interestingly enough, Alicent still continues to act according to what her father has out in her mind, although to her own accord. But she doesn't fool Aegon: he knows where it all comes from, which idea spurs in both of their minds. I adore Alicent, but she isn't nearly as demanding, as imposing and as callous as Otto is. They are two halves of a whole in Aegon's eyes, with how similar their words and the reasonings are, but Otto has toughened him up, and has turned him into a man so full of rage that he WILL fight back against anything about him he has a chance to fight back against. And we know exactly who that "thing" is, don't we.

That's part of why he's so ecstatic when he becomes King. He had the chance to turn to the smallfolk the moment the crown was placed on his head, but he doesn't: he waits for everyone, everyone, to bow. He doesn't stop at his mother and siblings, but finally turns to Otto. Only when HE bows as well, is he satisfied. He has power over him too. That's all he needed to know to confirm that he's now unstoppable. He's above everyone, and he'll prove it.

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

What do you think will happen to Rhaenyra? Do you believe that the show will depict her gradually turning into a villain or that it will always be she that is the true heir?

It seems to me that Rhaenyra and Alicent are on opposite trajectories, to where Alicent starts on sorrow and ends on rage, and Rhaenyra starts with rage and ends on sorrow.

The thing is, and Rhaenyra herself almost makes this point in episode 10 of season 1 although it's kind of glossed over a bit, that it doesn't actually matter who the "true heir" is. Tearing the realm apart over ambition is not the action of a queen who actually cares about peace and stability and yes, the stupid prophesy. The reason why Daemon chokes Rhaenyra is because she's considering the prophesy, and whether it might be worth making peace with the greens for the sake of keeping the realm intact to face the greater threat united (remember, the prophesy does not say Rhaenyra must sit the throne, it just says the Targaryen line must continue). Like, even if you believe Rhaenyra is the true heir, someone who puts the realm first is going to need to think about whether or not asserting her claim is worth throwing the realm into war, which includes risking the dragons. And at that point, the onus is on her to back down, and Rhaenyra knows this. She acknowledges it. Aegon has been crowned and anointed and holds King's Landing, and Otto has arrived with a pretty generous treaty offer (I want to talk, at some point, about how the offer of Dragonstone, which gets scoffed at a lot, is actually a really good one). Yes, it's unfair, but she saw the state her father was in and decided to fly off anyway so she was caught at the disadvantage and the greens got the jump on her. So actually considering the terms makes sense if they show wants to paint her as potentially a good ruler. She has to put the realm above her own ambitions if she's a good ruler. If she can't do that, does she have any business sitting the throne in the first place.

But then Aemond goes off and kills Luke and that all goes out the window. And here's the thing, at this point, although it would hurt, Rhaenyra still can back down. The greens are not going to make the next aggressive move, it's up to her, and so far there have been no pitched battles, the conflict is still a family conflict, and with Luke's death Rhaenyra can probably make some more demands. But the rage takes over (and this is understandable, don't get me wrong, who wants to treat with the family that's responsible for your son's death?). "Alicent's son sits on my throne," and "I mean to fight this war," she says to Jace, Baela, and a table full of dragonseeds, several of which who will end up betraying her. And I think in the S2 trailer, this is what Rhaenys is warning against. She says it very explicitly, "when the desire to kill and burn takes hold, and reason is forgotten, we will not even remember what began this war in the first place." Rhaenyra is, of course, not going to heed those warnings, because the desire to kill and burn has taken hold.

What I hope will happen is that we'll see Rhaenyra in her kill and burn era, and then she takes King's Landing. She's "won," she's the one sitting the throne and "Alicent's son" is missing, maybe dead for all she knows, it should be the triumphant capstone to all this rage and -- it feels empty. It doesn't bring her children back. Daemon's love turned out to be fickle, and she and her remaining children are living in the same keep where her nephew was killed by her husband's order, and her advisors don't seem to have her best interests at heart, but she's too beholden to say no to them. She doesn't feel safe, or secure, or triumphant. And now she has to govern, and the people show her no grace. While they cheered her arrival, now they blame her for their losses. It's not like being Lady of Dragonstone and she doesn't know how to do this, how to manage this realm and fight this war and keep more of her children from dying. This, I think, is where it turns to sorrow for Rhaenyra. Because it turns out it was all empty. In fact, it's just as Rhaenys warned, she can't even remember why it was so important to sit the throne in the first place, but it's too late now. Even if she wanted to end the conflict, she couldn't. When she flees, she flees to Dragonstone because it's the one place that still feels safe. Maybe she can go home, regroup. Let Aegon III get a bit older. Maybe her allies will come. Maybe she can hatch a new dragon. But it's too late. Even her death doesn't stop it, her supporters literally keep on fighting after she's dead, such is the extent to which the fighting has spiraled out of both Aegon and Rhaenyra's control.

If I was writing the show from this point on, this is what I'd do with Rhaenyra. I'd also be working hard to disabuse the viewership of the notion that asserting your position as the "rightful heir" is something that's worth sacrificing all those lives. Like, one of the issues with OG GoT was that D&D failed to do this. Instead they had people anticipating Dany's triumphant return for 8 seasons and then when her story turned tragic at what felt like the last moment, people felt cheated. HotD has to do a better job with the tragedy of Rhaenyra's character, because the tragedy is not that she had her throne stolen, it's that her house cannibalized itself, ended the dragons, and threw the realm into chaos and destruction over a conflict that was ultimately meaningless.

[sansacherie]

glass houses

"Yet you toil still in service to men."  Princess Rhaenys' voice was flat, and she narrowed her eyes at Alicent.  "Your father, your husband, your son."  

 

If Alicent Hightower was still the girl she had been when she first wed Viserys,  she'd wilt.   The way she had that foul night at Driftmark when she understood how little regard the king could promise his own blood.  When her blood understood the same thing.   Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond.  Aemond, most of all.

 

 

But she is not anymore.  Alicent has long shed the skin of that lost girl.  The girl who once loved Princess Rhaenyra, but what was left behind by the ruins of such affection was enough to not want the woman reduced to ashes.  The woman who honored Viserys in everything, but would not in this one thing.  Alicent could not give Rhaenyra the crown no matter how long it may have been promised her, for it was not her right to give.  It was the right of the Seven, and if they had wished Rhaenyra to rule, they would have made all of Alicent's children daughters and Rhaenyra's bastards trueborn.  But they did not.  While Alicent did her duty, Rhaenyra shirked hers.  And now the consequence was that of Rhaenyra's five sons, only the youngest two were legitimate.  Daemon's sons.  They might be behind their half-brothers in the line of succession and thus far from the throne, but Alicent knew better.  That it did not matter how far Daemon was from the throne, he would cut through everyone in his way to seat his own son on it.   His own line.   Even if he never desired Rhaenyra, she would always be necessary for that dream to happen.  By contrast, Alicent was likely viewed by Daemon in the same light as the Lady Rhea, and her children were only necessary murders to him.

 

 

Alicent lifted her chin and did not look away from the handsome older woman. 

 

 

"When you were not long a wife and with child, you objected to King Jaehaerys' decision to appoint Prince Baelon heir in the wake of his brother's death.  But you and Ser Corlys did not object for your sake, did you?"  Rhaenys goes rigid, and Alicent strikes. "No, you did it for your unborn child.  The son that turned out to be a daughter.  A daughter whose rights you did not defend later at the Great Council of 101.  You fought for her brother, though. How do you reconcile that person with the woman who would one day let her only son be shamed because you would not defy your husband's will? You say that I toil in service to men, my lady, and perhaps there is some truth in that.  I have given so much of myself to the men in my life. My father, who served your grandfather before the time of Viserys.  My husband, your cousin and king. My son, your rightful king.

 

 

I ask you this, Princess. How can you look down upon a woman for wanting to secure the rights of her sons, when you wanted to do the very same thing, but for a child that had not yet drawn breath?"

 

The princess does not answer, as the queen knew she wouldn't.   What can you say in response to the truth?

[cherryheairt]

Hidden Truths was so good!!!

I literally imagined an entire story for what could possibly happen after part 2.

Imagine an ending in which Aelys leaves him because at the end Cregan chose Sara and his nephew over her and their marriage once again but, eventually somehow the truth about Sara’s son is unconvered and the entire realm learns the truth about the parentage of the child (maybe a servant heard Cregan and Sara speaking and spread the rumor or maybe a secret letter from Sara or Cregan is intercepted) and then the entire North and Cregan’s council refuse to have a bastard who is not even their Lord’s child as their future lord and Warden of the North.

Then Cregan will realize too late that destroying his marriage and losing his loyal and dutiful wife just to help his selfish sister hide from the responsibility and consequences of her own actions, was not worthy because in the end the truth will always come to light. So he will live in regret for the rest of his life because he so easily sacrificed his marriage and future of his house as well as the reputation of his kindhearted wife to save the reputation of someone with no honor who doesn’t care about destroying other people’s relationships and happiness just to save herself the trouble of solving her own problems.

I can also imagine the council forcing Cregan to remarry with the purpose of having a legitimate heir for house Stark and even though his first intention was to remarry Aelys, she was already happily married and with a child or two. So Cregan is forced to marry someone he doesn’t even like out of duty and turns out that his new wife is actually barren or even better, he is the one who can’t have children, so it doesn’t matter how many times the council forces him to annul a marriage and remarry again, blaming the wife for not giving him children, the real problem is him, meaning that he stays childless and unable to produce an heir for house Stark, and because in those times men were never blamed for the inability to have children, him and the north will see the lack of an heir as a punishment from the gods against house Stark for his dishonorable actions against his first wife (this will probably happen after forcing him to annul the marriage and marry again just to have the same results.) And seeing Aelys giving so many children to her new husband, the people will realize that the problem was never her and they’ll certainly believe the gods are punishing Cregan with barren wives after discarding a perfectly fertile wife who could have given him many legitimate children.

And Sara would be shamed and hated amongst the entire north for bringing the destruction of house Stark because of her sinful actions. The north will definitely see that two Starks lost their honorable reputation because of the same bastard (Rickon for fathering said bastard and Cregan for wanting to pass said bastard’s bastard as his legitimized heir). What a terrible blow for house Stark. Sara will definitely be treated like trash after this. If she was complaining about how she was treated before for being a bastard, she would yearn for those days when people start treating her worse than she could ever imagine for not staying in her place and trying to stain the legacy of house Stark with her blood. The realm will not see a mother trying to protect her child from rumors, they will not even see a selfish coward who was afraid of taking responsibility for her actions, the realm will see a cunning, selfish and entitled bastard trying to elevate her blood by making her bastard son the future lord of Winterfell at the cost of the honorable Stark line, by taking advantage of her poor brother’s oath and sense of responsibility for his bastard sister.

Meanwhile, Aelys gives many legitimate children to her new husband and maybe one of her daughters can become the future wife of King Aegon’s son and heir, making Aelys the mother of the future Queen. There’s no better revenge than one you don’t seek and falls upon the people who hurt you because of their own actions while you just dedicated yourself to be happy and live your life as far away from them as possible.

Sorry for the long comment but this story has my head spinning and I can’t help but think of so many possibilities. Of course none of them end with Aelys forgiving Cregan. There’s no space in my mind to think of a possible ending in which she forgives him and goes back to him after the great humiliation he made her go through.

Thats so good and messyy 🤭🤭 All the lies and effort would be all for what? Just for him and Sara to be exposed and pretty much discredited until he has an official heir. His bannermen and Maester would keep a close eye on him and the new wife, ENSURING it is their trueborn kid.

the bastard's bastard im dead 😭

QUEEN MOTHER AELYS 🤭(not the official title for queen consort moms but who cares, still would be the King's MIL)

Love this, I love being petty and spiteful, no peace for liars and cowards

[aphrodisiac-siren]

Lowborn!Aemond x Highborn!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of Prince Daemon and a close friend of Prince Aegon who, like your father, is notorious for sneaking off to the streets of flea bottom. The one time you decide to join him on his nightly endeavours, you run into a charming yet mysterious someone who’s as beautiful as the sapphire that’s replaced one of his eyes.

Warnings: Indecent ogling, catcalling, harassment, foul language.

Part 1

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" You asked in a hushed tone, following behind Aegon as he led you through the dimly lit passageways of the castle "If we get caught-"

"I've done this a thousand times and I’ve never been caught" He waved you off as he assured that there was nothing to be so concerned about.

With Aegon, it did not matter even if he was caught sneaking out the castle after dark, drinking away in ale houses or found in some brothel. It was you who would be ruined. Being born a woman came with a list of terms that you were told you had to oblige to if you wanted to survive in this hostile world; rules that did not apply to men.

Aegon had instructed that you should keep the hood of your cloak on at all times, to avoid anyone seeing the pearly white hair you had in common with all Targaryens.

The streets he led you through were bustling with people selling trinkets at their little stalls, children laughing and chasing after each other. A few drunk men ogled at you which made you a touch uncomfortable, to which you responded to by clutching Aegon's sleeve a bit tighter. The cloak only shielded your hair, not your pretty face.

Aegon noticed and protectively wrapped an arm around you, shooting a sharp look at the men who dared to stare at you with the gaze of a hungry animal.

He led you toward an alehouse from which he wished to purchase a flask of spiced wine. The establishment was filled with men much similar in nature to the ones you'd seen on the streets only minutes ago and you were uncomfortable by the thought of having to waltz in the midst of them.

"I don’t think we should go in" you meekly told Aegon, pulling his arm slightly "I don’t have a good feeling about this place"

Aegon did not wish to drag you into an environment in which you felt unsafe but his response was not one you were expecting.

"Why don’t you wait there, across this street?" he pointed into the distance toward a cart which held a few vegetables "I'll only be a moment"

"You are leaving me alone? Here?" you were taken aback by how he didn’t even think twice before suggesting this. The place was flooded by men who seeked for an opportunity such as this. A frail girl in a foreign environment who could easily be subject to their animalistic wants.

"I promise I won’t take too long"

And with that, he turned and walked into the alehouse, leaving you with no other option besides having to stand by the little cart in the near distance. Your heart was pounding in your chest but despite the nerves, you tried to mask your anxiety as you pulled your cloak tightly around your frame.

'She’s a pretty one, ain’t she'

You ignored the comment that someone made followed by a cackle that made you shiver. Gods Aegon, come back already.

'The money I would pay to have her warm my bed'

'Money? I ain’t paying no one. I simply take what I want'

Your breaths became more ragged when you heard the voices get louder, signalling the people who it belonged to, were getting nearer.

"Lovely thing like yourself shouldn’t be out here in the cold" one of the men grinned as he eyed you from top to bottom, making your skin crawl "How bout we taken you back to ours, warm you up"

You ignored them.

"He asked you something" the second man snapped, making you jolt with the sudden spike in the volume of his voice "can’t you talk? Perhaps I ought to open that pretty mouth of yours with my cock"

"Leave me be" you managed to speak, the tremble in your voice giving away the fact that you were afraid of the situation you were in "I am expecting someone"

"I can be quick" the first guy laughed as he dared to caress your cheek, the touch made you sick to your stomach "In fact, by the time I’m done with you, you won’t be willing to leave for y-"

"The lady said to leave her be"

You were too stunned out of fear to bother turning around to see who it was who had intervened. You were fearful that perhaps it was another drunk who approached to claim you as his property for the night.

The men stood before too seemed to think the same before they tore that lustful gaze away from you and looked toward whoever was standing at a fair distance behind you. Their expressions were hard to read. They seemed disappointed, angry and partly afraid of prolonging their conversation with you. Yet, they did not leave, glaring daggers until the mysterious person spoke again.

"The last man who challenged me was found the next morning without his cock" he said in a monotonous voice "perhaps you two would like to join him? Start a little club of your own, rant about how life was before your little friend was chopped off"

Under different circumstances, you would’ve found this comment slightly comical but in the present, all you cared about was leaving this horrible place.

Without another word, the two men walked off, still quiet disappointed that someone had walked in on their fun.

"Are you alright miss?" The mystery man walked around you until he was stood in front of you, not too close though "They didn’t do anything, did they?"

His tone shifted from cold and heartless to soft and gentle when he spoke to you. He too had his hood pulled over his head and an eye patch covered his left eye. He had sharp features and you could see a few whisps of dusty blonde hair sticking out from under his hood.

"N-no, I-" you were still a bit shaken up from before but you answered him "I'm alright"

"Because if they did, wouldn’t take me long to slice their hands off" he spoke and even though you seemed to take it as a joke, he was being quite serious.

"That won’t be necessary" you told him. I could order for their heads if I wanted to, you thought, I'm the blood of a dragon "Thank you"

"T'was no problem miss" he politely spoke and you could swear you saw a hint of a smile but it vanished just as soon as it appeared "You aren’t from here"

"What makes you say that?" you asked even though you knew his observation was spot on.

"The only women you'd find around these streets are the ones who work in pleasure houses" he stated as he crossed his arms "and you most certainly aren’t one working for any establishment"

"What gives it away?" you curiously asked and saw him heave an amused sigh.

"Apart from the fact you were absolutely mortified by the approach of those two men, quite the opposite reaction a whore would have; you’re wearing silk velvet beneath this sad excuse of a cloak. Fine material like that shows that you are not one of us townsfolk" despite him stating his observations of you, his eye never wandered over your body and stayed fixated on your face "and if that wasn’t reason enough, you’re far too pretty and perfect. No circles beneath your eyes nor crows feet, as if you’ve never had to work a day in your life"

Even though you'd heard it many times before, hearing him call you pretty made you smile ever so slightly. It shouldn’t have made your chest flutter, after all, he was a lowborn.

"Did my honest comment of your beauty make you smile, princess?" He chuckled as he grinned at your adorable reaction.

What- Princess?

"The hood only covers your unique hair" he seemed to understand what your next question might be based on how your smile instantly vanished as your eyes widened "but you failed to realise that your disguise did absolutely nothing to conceal your lavender eyes"

He did make an excellent argument. Still, it surprised you he’d unmasked exactly who you were within a few moments of your encounter. Perhaps the others might’ve too if they weren’t so busy raking the rest of your body with their indecent stares. Despite this man being short of one eye, he by far had the sharpest vision.

"I must commend your sharp and rather accurate observation" you told him in a hushed tone "your act of kindly rushing to my aid won’t go unrewarded"

"I didn’t do it with hopes of gaining any coin, my lady" he politely told you "I do not tolerate men treating women as some plaything they can use and abuse when they see fit. Besides, I only realised you were the princess after they'd left and I moved from behind to speak with you. Though I do beg your pardon, for I do not know which Targaryen princess you might be"

Sharp and respectful, you thought. This was a man you'd met only moments ago and yet he was by far the most courteous person you’d conversed with. He was polite with an authoritative undertone. In fact, you’d go as far as to say he was far more interesting and pleasant than most of the suitors you’d met.

"Y/N" you sweetly introduced "and may I ask your name, sir?"

"Aemond, my lady" he gave you a curt not, taken aback by the respectable endearment you’d used whilst addressing him. He'd heard many terms used while being spoken to: arseling, freak, rat; but never sir.

"Aemond" you repeated. You liked his name, it suited him "you need not use formalities, call me by my name"

"Alright then, Y/N" he called out, offering you a boyish grin at the mention of your name "might I be so bold as to ask what you are doing by yourself in a place like this?"

"Oh I wasn’t-" fuck, you’d forgotten about Aegon "I was here with my cousin. Who promised he'd be here as quickly as possible"

"If you are referring to the prince Aegon, I'm afraid he’s wasted away in that ale house over there" he pointed behind toward the same building into which Aegon had wandered into "I don’t mean to sound pushy, but it would be best if you headed back"

You knew he was right but for some reason you found yourself wanting to spend more of your time in his company. He was polite enough to walk you back toward where one of the castle passageways led to. You wondered why and how he knew of this but you did not bother asking, you were too engrossed in the lighthearted conversations you both were having on the walk back.

Aemond wasn’t much of a talker, he instead liked to listen. He did make a few comments and asked a few questions here and there that let you know he was invested in the conversation.

"Forgive me if I sound like I'm being intrusive" you spoke as you kicked away a small pebble. Aemond was thoroughly surprised by how politely you spoke to him whilst you yourself were a dragon and he, a mere nobody. For some reason, even his scarred face with the absence of an eye did not seem to bother you nor change the way you treated him "might I ask what happened to um.."

He found it slightly adorable how you failed to put your question into words, simply pointing to your eye to hint at what you were asking. Aemond did not like talking about it, simply because the only time people asked him was when they stared at him like he was some circus animal, put up on a stage for the eyes of others to judge and poke fun at his maimed state. But he could sense nothing of that sort coming from you. No, you were just a girl, curious about this mysterious man who came out of nowhere to her aid and was now walking her back home.

"I got into a fight a few years ago when three men tried to inappropriately lay their hands on my younger sister" He earnestly told her as he reached up to take off the leather eye patch "I stole a gemstone a few months after the wound healed, had the sapphire replace the empty eye socket in an attempt to seem less frightening, it did not work"

Aemond didn’t know what possessed him to reveal the sapphire eye to you. He himself was quiet proud of how it looked and for a fleeting moment he was eager to show you as well, momentarily letting his guard down and almost instantly regretting it. He'd just mentioned the stone did absolutely nothing to fix his appearance, then why did he find the need to show you? Furthermore he internally winced upon confessing that he'd stolen the gem, to the princess.

Either you had not heard him or you did not care about his thievery.

"It's beautiful" you smiled as you leaned in slightly to admire the gem before you blurted out "you’re beautiful"

With each passing second, you seemed to surprise him more and more. You, a lady of noble birth, a Targaryen- someone who was closer to the gods than to men had just called him, a commoner with a flawed face, beautiful.

"You’re too kind" he could feel his cheeks heating up as he quickly reached up to put on his eye patch once again. He couldn’t believe that this delicate little princess had managed to make him, the man that most of flea bottom feared, blush.

The two of you finally reached the place where you both would depart from each other. You, back to your warm castle and Aemond, back to his hostile slums.

"I hope you find your way back safely" he gave you a curt nod.

"Will I see you again?" you quickly asked, not wanting this to be your last encounter with the lad.

"Well that depends on the frequency of your visits into the city, though I do not recommend the place where we met" he raised a brow as he smirked, reaching out to gently hold your hand "Maybe the princess would care to meet me right here tomorrow, after supper so that I might take her to a place suitable for a dove as yourself"

Aemond knew he was making a bold move, asking for the princess of House Targaryen to leave the serenity of her castle to meet him, a man who lived a pauper’s life. He looked down at her with an equal measure of nervousness and hopefulness.

You smiled at him.

"I would like that very much" you accepted his invitation.

He brought his lips to your hand, placing a tender kiss to your knuckles without looking away from your striking eyes "until tomorrow then, princess"

"I told you," you chuckled lightly "call me Y/N"

"Of course" he smiled.

Right before he could let go of your hand, you took a step forward and going on your tip toes, you placed a soft kiss right beneath his scar and you could swear you heard a faint gasp escape his lips.

"Goodnight, Aemond" you bid him farewell one last time before you turned to sneak through the concealed entrance of the passageway inside the stone building.

"Goodnight Y/N" Aemond said in a whisper, almost like he was talking to himself. He stayed put, gingerly reaching up to touch the spot on his cheek that your lips had touched- no, kissed, only moments ago.

Part 2 >>

[hllywdwhre]

Excerpt from the unnamed Daemyra x reader fic

Sorry for any errors, this is just a rough draft. This scene wouldn’t leave my head and I needed to get it out before I exploded.

-

-

Tessarion landed on the beach of Dwarfstone a moment after Ser Addam’s unfortunate introduction to Daemon’s anger. It was her’s and Viserea’s landing that distracted Daemon and allowed for Ser Addam to be pulled away from him. Viserea felt the eyes of the Westerosi army on her as she walked up to the stone slab being used as a makeshift table to hold War Councils, but she did not allow for their gazes to intimidate her. The anger she felt was written clearly on her face, no matter how much she felt the anger was stupid. She was a princess, and she knew that part of her responsibilities were to be wed and have children; she wasn’t angry at her responsibilities. She was angry at Viserys for claiming she and Rhaenyra would have their choice only for her own choice to be rejected immediately.

“We don’t need any help from the King.” Daemon said, his tone sharp and almost offended at her arrival.

“Do you really believe the King allowed for the Princess he views as another daughter of his to leave the safety of the keep and enter a war ground?” Viserea replied, mimicking his tone.

“Then why are you here?” He asked.

“I’m here to fight.” Viserea said, and before she could reply, a knight in the Velaryon colors whose name Viserea didn’t know spoke up.

“You’re a Princess. A war ground is no place for you, you need to be back in King’s Landing where it’s safe. You’re much too valuable.” His tone showed sincere worry for her, but it only made Viserea’s blood boil more.

“You’re correct, I am a Princess. And Daemon is a Prince. Our titles are of equal importance and he is allowed to fight. There’s another Princess who’s your future Queen still back in King’s Landing where it’s safe. If Daemon is allowed to fight, I see no reason why I should not be allowed. It’s not like me and my dragon would hurt your cause.” Every word Viserea spoke was laced with confidence, anger, and determination.

She wasn’t going to just be led away peacefully. If they wanted her gone, they could knock her out, tie her up, and drag her back to King’s Landing.

“We could use another dragon, especially one of Tessarion’s size. She’s grown since I was last in King’s Landing and she looks to be the same size as Caraxes. Her dragon alone could turn the fates.” Corlys’ support wasn’t what Viserea expected, but she looked towards him and gave him a small nod in thanks to which he returned.

“That’s too bad, she’s going back to King’s Landing.” Daemon said, leaning over the stone table as if to say the conversation was finished.

Viserea grabbed hold of his armor and turned him so he was forced to look at her as she spoke,

“No matter what the whispers in Flea Bottom are, my father did not name me Viserea because of the supposed favoritism he showed towards one brother. My mother and father named me after the great Queen Visenya who fought alongside Aegon the Conqueror, placed the crown upon Aegon’s head, and was the first to hail him as King. My dragon was named to honor the goddess of Old Valyria that makes dreamers such as myself. I understand the honor in being given these names and I do not intend to bring them dishonor by lying around King’s Landing when there is a war to be fought.“

Violet eyes met violet eyes and Viserea noticed a change in Daemon’s that she couldn’t name. It did not match the smirk that came across his face as he spoke again,

“Alright then, Princess. You’ll fight.”

[jimblejamblewritings]

Your Moniker Should Be Cruel | part 3.

Summary: How do you win a war between the Greens and the Blacks? Take what you want.

Warnings: 18+ THIS IS A DARK FIC. (Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, for those who use this term) Non-con and violence and death. Do not read if that makes you uncomfortable (and do not hate on my readers that enjoy this escapism)

Pairing: dark!Aegon x reader, technically Cregan x reader (his romance doesn't really get focused on for any of the story)

Word Count: 2.9k

Previous Part | Series Masterlist

Your entire arm felt dead. Not even the sharp pain of a limb falling asleep but purely nothing. The maesters had poked at it with acupuncture needles but you could only move a finger after everything. They packed up the needles, deciding to give you time. Moving a finger was a good sign. You walked towards your table once they had left. 

With a frown, you turned over the jug of water to find it empty. It was time for another trip to the kitchens after breakfast. With your arm out of commission, you finally decided to let the cooks start making your food. You took in a deep breath and opened the door. Ser Criston, who was basically your Queensguard now, gave you a small bow of his head. 

“How are you doing this morning, Princess?” 

You didn’t say anything and began to walk towards the dining hall. Everyone was already there, including Aegon and Helaena’s children. You refused to call them your stepchildren. A servant put your food on your plate for you. Everyone talked around you, discussing your mother’s war which had slowed down significantly because of you. You never talked. After Alicent had made it clear you couldn’t leave, you didn’t try speaking to anyone. 

“I want Y/N to take care of us.” 

You looked up from your plate in shock. Helaena didn’t understand your face at all, being happy at the suggestion instead of realizing you didn’t want to. Your chair squeaked as it scraped against the floor when you went to stand up. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Aegon asked. 

You ignored him and turned. Aemond grabbed on your arm and pulled until you were forced to the floor. 

“Your king asked you a question.” 

He chuckled when you couldn’t pull away since he grabbed the arm with no feeling. His hand darted out to catch your throat. Your good hand hit at his arm as he squeezed tighter. He ignored the shouts of Alicent and Otto to let you go. Aegon stopped the Kingsguard from coming to your aid. Aemond only let go after his brother told him to stop. 

You looked at Otto and Alicent. “Why won’t you let me go?” 

No one answered you. You locked yourself in your chamber for the rest of the day, not coming out for dinner. You were still planning on how to murder everyone. You just didn’t know how to do it. You also didn’t know who to kill. Aegon and Aemond were obvious. Even though they were nice, Otto and Alicent probably had to go as well.

You were unsure about Helaena and her kids. Your thoughts were interrupted by Aegon and Helaena coming in. You hated that the one place that should have been off limits to them wasn’t. Helaena sat next to you. 

“Aegon has requested us both.” 

Helaena began undoing your dress without waiting for any of your response. You figured it was only a matter of time before your husband wanted both of his wives for a night. You checked out and let them do what they wanted, deciding in your thoughts that you would give Helaena a choice of exile in Pentos or death. 

“Can you move your wrist?” The Grand Maester asked you.      

You moved your hand that laid at your side. The Grand Maester nodded as he took notes.

“Good. Now your elbow.”

Nothing happened. After Aegon stabbed you in the shoulder, you had lost feeling in your right arm. Little by little you were gaining movement back. The Grand Maester stopped you after your arm kept twitching as you strained to move.

“You couldn’t even move your wrist last week. We’ll continue this slow but good progress.”

He nodded once more and left your chamber, reporting to Alicent and Otto who were just outside. They watched the Grand Maester walk away. Alicent looked at her father. 

“How long do you think we will have until they come back?” 

Otto sighed. “A while. They won’t risk her life but if they think she’s dead for even a moment, Rhaenyra and Daemon will rain fire on the entirety of Westeros.” 

They waited outside your chamber for Aegon who didn’t care about his actions. The only good thing about the maesters realizing the severity of your injury was that Aegon didn’t go near you. The Grand Maester didn’t recommend any more activity until you could at least move your hand properly. Reluctantly, Aegon listened.

He waited two entire weeks, being forced to go down to brothels for his relief. Coming from one of those brothels, he finally met his mother and grandsire outside your chamber. Aemond and Helaena weren’t far behind him. Otto grabbed his grandson’s arm. 

“Do you realize you’ve made this war worse?” 

“They can’t do anything as long as I have her,” Aegon said with absolutely no care in the world. 

Otto was exhausted. “Aegon. This will not end until someone is dead. Not if you don’t fix it.” 

“Fine.” 

He pushed open the doors to your chamber. Alicent and Otto were a bit concerned when you didn’t move at all. You just sighed and wiped at your eyes. They bit their inner cheeks when you jumped as Aegon sat down on the bed right next to you. He gently grabbed your hand. 

“I have taken a great amount of consideration and come to a decision. I will allow you ravens. They will be checked but you can send letters to your family. And you will be moved to my father’s old chamber. It’s very nice and large, you should be comfortable there. They’ve already prepared it for you.” 

Aegon led you to Viserys’ old room. It was like you remembered before he had died. The only thing gone was his old model of King’s Landing. The doors were closed after you were inside. You practically flew to the desk with parchment and ink. 

~~

Lord Corlys came into the main hall where everyone was gathered. They spent most of their days in the hall, trying to think of a way to get you without causing your death. Corlys threw some parchment down on the table. 

“She’s managed a letter.” 

Rhaenyra ran from the other end of the table to grab the letter. She didn’t read it, choosing to clutch it to her chest and then her cheek as she tried to breathe in any lingering scent of you she could get. The letter was set down on the table. 

“That’s her handwriting,” she said, voice cracking. 

Daemon carefully took the letter to read. “They’re reading her letters… There’s something hidden in these words.” 

“How do you know?” 

“Jacaerys, where is your sister’s chamber in relation to yours?” 

“Right across from mine. It always has been.” 

Daemon held up the letter. “Then why would she write that it was next to yours?” 

Jacaerys took the letter to read. “There’s something in my brother’s room I would like you to send me. It’s just a teapot but Lucerys made it for when we’d have tea in Jacaerys’ chamber. If Jace isn’t at Dragonstone then just go into his room. It is right next to mine.

"Please bring the teapot. I won’t be able to see you but I might be allowed by a window if you send someone on dragonback. If the maesters at Dragonstone have dried out any Sheep’s Vine for winte— I know what she wants.”  

Everyone looked at him as Jace explained. The letter was for him, not Lord Corlys like you had written. He suspected all your letters would be like that. Addressed to the wrong person with a detail that only the correct person would know. The rest of them stared at the letter while Jacaerys ran to his room. He came back with a bag of things. 

“Lord Stark,” Jace said as he began stuffing a bag with straw. “Where does Sheep’s Vine grow?” 

“Winterfell…” Cregan laughed along with Jace. 

Lord Corlys cleared his throat. “Do one of you care to share with the rest of us?” 

“Sheep’s Vine has two kinds. The one we sell to the rest of you and the one that’ll kill you. I think this is Y/N’s way of telling us she has a plan.” 

Rhaenyra nodded. “We listen to Y/N only. We figure out her letters and do as she says.” 

Everyone agreed. Cregan went back to Winterfell with Jacaerys on dragon back. They landed in the Godswood in the dead of the night. Only Cregan’s most trusted watched the dragon as Lord Stark and Prince Targaryen foraged for the Sheep’s Vine that was deadly.

It looked the exact same as the harmless one. The only difference was deadly Sheep’s Vine had a slight fuzz that went all the way down the vine instead of being only on the leafy part. 

True to your word, you were in the window when your brother appeared on Vermax. You waved at Jacaerys who kept his eyes on you as Otto Hightower approached him. After Aegon and Aemond’s mistakes, they knew Jace was one of the only people that could be sent and not kidnapped.

Even though the Greens wanted to keep it silent, the Blacks had spread letters after they received your raven. It wasn’t just King’s Landing that knew the truth. It was all of Westeros that knew of Aemond’s kidnapping and Aegon’s assault. Public perception of the king was losing his favor. 

Otto took the bag from your brother, handing it to a servant to be checked over before you were allowed the package. You had begged Mara to not let them take your tea because it reminded you of home. Even though she and Ser Criston preferred for you to drink the moon tea they prepared, Mara agreed to be the one to check your stuff. 

Jace squinted his eyes as he looked up at you. You were alone — another one of Aegon’s acts of kindness by only posting guards at the end of hallways instead of right next to you. You looked around your brother, no one was near him. And more importantly, no one was facing the window. You held up a large piece of parchment. 

Bring Cregan’s Wolves. Name Day. 

You quickly took down the parchment and crumpled it up before stuffing it in your dress. Jace gave a small nod to Otto and left. You hoped your brother was able to read your message. He didn’t need to understand it.

He only had to relay the message to the others. You trusted Cregan to know what to do. At least he was still on your side. If you had gotten Sheep’s Vine then that meant he was still on your side. 

You waited in your chamber for Mara to come. How long could it take to check your stuff? Did she recognize the type of Sheep’s Vine you had requested? Was she from the North? You sat up on your bed when she came in. Ser Criston wasn’t far behind her. You swallowed your spit when he closed the door as Mara held up the bag. 

“Princess? I couldn’t help but notice your tea…” 

You shook your head, tears in your eyes as Mara explained she was from the North. Criston came closer to the bed. Taking his sword from out of its sheath, he laid it down on the edge of your bed. Criston looked you in the eye as he kneeled down. Your mouth dropped open slightly. 

“This tea isn’t for you. Is it, Princess?” Mara set the bag down on your bed. “We have an idea of what you are doing.” 

“The Kingsguard have to stand outside your door every night and watch Aegon come into your chamber. We hear what he does to you and you crying when he leaves. I let my relationship with your mother blind me. I turned an eye to all the wrongdoings done against her and her family because of my feelings. That is not an honorable man.” 

“Ser Criston?” 

“I cannot support the King anymore. I swear allegiance to Queen Rhaenyra and her family. I will aid you in any way necessary… But I will not kill children.” 

“I wasn’t going to. I wanted to offer Helaena refuge in Pentos to be with her children.” 

Your Kingsguard smiled at you. “Then I would be happy to help you handle Aegon and his family.” 

~~

Daemon held up two letters. “We have a message and something else that has been intercepted.” 

Everyone crowded around the table. Everyone minus Cregan. They had put together your message to Jace without a problem. You wanted Cregan’s direwolves sent by Aegon’s name day. He was back in Winterfell to get them.

The others were looking at the letter from you, reading over the line: Ser Criston has been assigned to me by Queen Mother Alicent and he watches my every move. I am afraid he will accidentally let everyone know when I visit the Godswood. It is my only sanctuary in this wretched castle. 

Rhaenyra held up the second letter. “Isn’t this seal like the sigil of House Cole? She’s done it. I think Y/N has figured out how to properly write us.” 

Your instructions were very clear. You wanted Aegon dead before his Name Day. A Name Day as king would solidify him in a way that could be hard to destroy. You were going to poison Aegon and Aemond.

Alicent and Otto would be left to Cregan’s wolves. Ser Criston would help escort Helaena and her children to a boat with a man ready to take them to Pentos. Or he would kill Helaena if she refused. Either way, her children would be sent away. 

“She knows a man in Pentos?” Jace asked. 

“Your sister has made a lot of friends in the Keep,” Rhaenyra said. 

~~

Leaning over your bed, you grabbed the sleeping gown that had been thrown onto the floor. You walked to your table as you put on the clothing. You poured some tea for Aegon as he slowly got off your bed. He grabbed your chin and turned your head to face him, causing some of the tea you were pouring to spill. 

“Isn’t it easier for both of us when you just do what I want?” 

“Can I go to the bathing room?” 

“No. Is that why you’ve stopped crying all the time? Is that what all this tea is for?” He asked with a laugh. 

You sighed. “I was just hoping to go somewhere nice.” 

Aegon reached out to grab your throat, making you wheeze as you tried to push him off. “Is the Godswood not nice enough for you? Do you think I haven’t given you enough? Don’t be selfish, Y/N.” 

You were pulled closer to him. He finished the rest of the tea in his cup before letting go of your throat. You dropped to the ground, trying to take in breaths. You focused on the ground and ignored the tears burning in your eyes. Aegon crouched over you. 

“You can use the bathing room whenever I come back from dragon riding.”  

You always asked for something little after pouring tea for Aegon. It was important he associated the tea with you making stupid and little requests. When it was time, he would let his guard down and take poison. Sometimes you would drink the tea and other times you wouldn’t. You wondered if all this effort meant anything because Aegon seemed oblivious anyway. 

He came back from dragon riding when the sun was still high in the sky. Even though it was just to keep his suspicions down, you did go to the bathing room with Aegon. It was a large tiled room with a sky light. Almost the entire room was a warming pool.

You let your muscles relax in the warm water as you thought. You knew that Ser Criston had sent another one of your genuine letters yesterday. Hopefully, your family did as you instructed. 

It was too dangerous for you to write multiple parchments that detailed what Aegon had done to you. You wrote one very detailed and very long parchment about what you had endured. It was sent under Ser Criston’s seal. Dragonstone was to copy the story onto as many parchments as they possibly could. They would be handed out before Aegon’s Name Day. Approximately, two days before. You knew that you would pay a price when it got out but that was what you hoped for. 

The warm water felt good. You were actually glad you asked for it. Despite Aegon’s comfortable nakedness, you wore fabric. A large strip of fabric wrapped around your breast and another strip that mimicked underwear. You didn’t even pay attention to Aegon’s eyes on you the entire time, choosing to just enjoy your time. Eventually, your lazy swimming brought you to rest in front of the man. 

Your head turned when you heard footsteps. Immediately, you returned your gaze back to the front. The entire royal family used the bathing room but you still didn’t want to see a naked Aemond. His focus on you was more intense than his brother. But he never said anything. You couldn’t take it anymore, choosing to get out of the water. You paused when Aemond called you, turning ever so slowly. 

“I hear you like to have tea parties with my brother. I think I will start attending.” 

(part 4)

THIS FIC TAGLIST:

@minttea07

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[bbygirl-aemond]

What would've been a better way for everyone to handle the whole vagar, eye, kids fighting, my mom's dragon scene

yes, i've thought a lot about this! i really think that if the adults explained to the kids the potential dangers of the different things they did, rather than blaming them for their actions or punishing them for it, they could have avoided all of this. this can happen while also making sure the kids learn to take responsibility for their actions and to foster empathy rather than resentment.

for example, alicent could explain to aemond that it was really mean to throw laena's death in her daughter's faces, to throw harwin's death in jace's face (she can do this without saying she thinks harwin is jace's bio dad), and to throw being dragonless in rhaena's face (especially when he knows how much that hurts). daemon could explain to rhaena and baela that dragons are sentient beings with free will, and that they aren't objects to be inherited. all parents could explain to all children that it's dangerous to sneak out at night, and that you should always get an adult instead of running off to confront potentially dangerous strangers. someone should also have explained to baela that it's not okay to turn a verbal exchange into a physical fight, and to the children of team black that a 4v1 fight just isn't fair or honorable. all of the kids should be made to apologize to each other for all of these things.

now this leaves us with the three truly tricky things that still need to be addressed: (1) aemond threatening to kill jace, (2) aemond calling jace and luke bastards, and (3) luke cutting out aemond's eye. i still think all of these things could have been handled without heavily punishing the kids AND without letting them feel completely blameless just because their intent was good, ignoring that actions also have impacts. i'll go through them one by one:

(1) the adults need to dig deeper into why aemond brought out the murder threat, which will reveal the bullying/resentment that he's built up. then they can address this and have the strong boys AND AEGON apologize for it. and then they can tell aemond that hurt feelings are NOT an excuse to threaten murder and that an exception will be made this time because he's family and also a child who has just been terribly injured, but that this kind of behavior will have harsh consequences if he knowingly repeats it in the future. i also do think it would be good if there was some (still relatively benign) consequence for this, like aemond being forced to spend more time around jace so the two could develop more empathy for each other.

(2) the key here is NOT to focus on the truthfulness of the rumors. instead, it's to focus on the fact that publicly using the word bastard puts children in danger who are very much innocent regardless of whether you think the rumors are true. to focus on the impact, and to not ask the greens to lie but to ask them to avoid saying it in public unprompted the way aemond did.

you might think it would be dangerous to avoid outright denying the accusations, but i'd argue less so than in canon: aegon saying "everyone knows" and viserys being completely unable to refute him is why the rumors got so out of hand in the first place. if we don't make it about the truth, we avoid that scene that proves to the court it IS true and even the king can't deny it, which is far more harmful.

(3) the most important thing here is to acknowledge that intent does NOT negate impact. i think this is also an amazing opportunity to teach luke a very important lesson about leadership: you should be prepared to accept the responsibility for every action you take, no matter how justified. a great way to do this would be to make luke aemond's companion throughout his recovery. this way, luke would be forced to bear daily witness to the long, painful healing process, and then the difficulty of learning a new normal.

this wouldn't make luke feel like he was being punished for defending himself, but rather that he was being asked to remain aware of the way it irrevocably changed and damaged aemond's entire life's path. this would also, i think, help to foster more empathy between the two; i can very much see luke caving first and growing to empathize with aemond since he's a more sensitive boy, and if he's more sympathetic then aemond's resentment will never build up in the same way.

tldr: no one was fully right in this situation, and no one was fully wrong, either. even if you think they were, they're very young children, and these actions shouldn't damn them for the rest of their lives (which is part of why aemond's injury being permanent is so unfortunate). apologies should be made everywhere, and any consequences should be more positively framed (spending time together to learn empathy). taking action like this would have prevented aemond from becoming so resentful, and probably would have saved luke's life. it would also have helped alicent and her children to feel like aemond's injury was taken seriously, making them feel more safe and therefore making them less susceptible to otto's manipulations.

but noooo, we get the adults on both sides doubling down that their kids are 100% the victims and 0% to blame for anything. and that's how we get the dinner scene where rhae's kids are completely unremorseful and actively antagonistic, with alicent's kids resentful and antagonistic in return: with each side intent that they've never done anything wrong, ever, all while hating the other side for thinking the very same.

[terrorofthetrident]

I have an awful feeling this confession is about to become a reality:

tumblr.com/fandomlife-confessions/745965162908057600

idk this seems like a stretch.

i don’t think alicent was ever really hopeful about or viewed the greens/crowning aegon in a super positive light to begin with, so i don’t think there’s much for her to be disillusioned with..she was doing what she felt she needed to do to keep her children safe. though, from the trailer, we do see that she’s overwhelmed with how things are turning out and questioning if the sacrifices she’s made were worth it..

she might feel horrible about the deaths of rhaenyra’s children, but i couldn’t see her helping rhaenyra defeat and kill her own children. no matter what they do. and i don’t think jace is gonna die in season two.

i doubt she would express regret over not marrying helaena to jace since that never would’ve solved anything..

so, i think we already know that alicent and rhaenyra will meet in the season finale, at least from the leaks i can recall, but i don’t think it’s going to end well ?

as of right now, i don’t think this would happen, but we’ll see after season two. i’m definitely not trying to say you or others don’t have any reason to be concerned, but i personally don’t see this happening…at least i hope not (choosing to not be so pessimistic).

sorry if my response seems all over the place.

[darkestspring]

Out of all Baelon ii’s children. Argella is no doubt gonna have that rebellious streak. It’s probably be caused by the bastard rumours about herself and that’s just how she copes. The only people she’d listen to is her mother and younger two sisters since they’d help her about. Probably grow from being easily provoked to being the provoker:

For example, if aegon were to say something, her noncholant response is: “you’re only king because you have a cock, no one actually likes a perverted drunkard.”

Don’t get me started whenever she’d talks back to her own father and older siblings whenever nobody takes her side.

If Ilysaendra were to prod at her vulnerability, oh boy, she’s toast and not in a good way, Argella’s response: “at least my egg hatched from the cradle and yours didn’t. And whatever egg that replaces the other just keep turning into stone and that pretty much says a lot about your stony heart.”

I’d personally headcanon that her egg hatched from the cradle and Ilysaendra’s didn’t, and no matter how much eggs that gets replaced, they just turned into stone.

Bby girl ‘Ella. had been a walking target for vile rumours and vague insults since birth due to her lack of Valyrian features. She just wants someone on her side and to love her unconditionally.

Well, at least she still has Gaelithox.

oh don't get me wrong, the rumors don't last that long. because baelon ii is just a responsible and family-oriented person, you don't really get to see him angry often unless rhaenyra, her family or daemon is involved but baelon's anger burns cities to the ground.

i think a point i don't across much is that despite the fact that he didn't choose his marriage, baelon DOES love Maris, and any rumors and malicious speech directed towards his family are stomped out immediately, even coming from aegon, aemond and helaena (and even alicent). argella is his daughter just as rhea is. just as Marleina is. Just as Vevienne is.

i think baelon would get the rebellious phase and even laugh at some of her retorts and shrug off aegon's complaints.

we're all forgetting that baelon ii, son of daemon and rhea royce, kind of had his own rebellious phase. i think to call it his "run off to runestone" arc. he ran away when he was 15 and didn't come back until he was seventeen.

his father literally murdered his mother, he's no stranger to rumors, but baelon would literally go for the throat for his children.