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celandeline · 2 months

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The Throne Was Meant For Us, My Dear

Aemond x Targaryen!Reader, mostly canon compliant (yes, people are still dying/getting maimed), heavy on the smut, incest (they are targaryens, obv), a little angst

9.5k words (buckle up)

You were born at the end of a long summer’s day, just as the last sliver of sun was sinking below the waves of the bay. Your sister was born on the same day, just after the sun had completely disappeared below the horizon. Twin Targaryen girls, Helaena and Jaenara, the second and third of Alicent Hightower’s children.

The summer has always held a special place in your heart - not only because of your nameday, but because of the way the heat of the day lingers in the air long after the sun has set. The sound of a warm breeze as it rustles through the courtyard flowers, spreading the lovely floral scent. The feeling of the sun on your skin - the taste of fresh fruit grown outside the city. You’ve always loved the summer. You love it especially now, the only thing making this godforsaken funeral bearable.

Next to you, Aegon snags two more glasses of wine from a passing serving girl, handing one to you with a limp wrist and a sigh. He downs half his glass in one long draught. “I don’t understand why Helaena.” He grumbles, gesturing to where she sits on the ground with his glass, the wine sloshing inside. “If I must marry at all, why not you?”

You take a long sip from your own glass, leaning back against the store railing overlooking the sea. Driftmark, while much more drab than the Red Keep, has one thing going for it - the pleasant smell of salt in the air, and the sound of the waves against the shore. “Our mother thinks that if we were to be wed, I would enable you.” You say.

Aegon snorts, finishing off his drink. “As if Helaena will do anything to stop me from my hedonistic desires.” He jokes, quoting Alicent. “If it’s not to do with grasshoppers, it’s not to do with her.”

You neglect to snicker along with him, simply pressing your lips to the rim of your glass as you watch your dear sister pass a spider back and forth between her hands, muttering under her breath. She’s always been something of a dreamer, your Helaena, something the rest of your family doesn’t seem to notice. But you, always in tune to your sister from the moment you were born, know. Threads of omniscience run through her mutterings, though deciphering them sometimes is beyond you.

“Some could say the same about you, with wine and whores.” You say, glancing knowingly at Aegon. “We all have our compulsions - some worse than others.”

“I only jest.” Aegon says, defensive. You can tell he’s getting drunker, his movements becoming more loose, his words louder.

“Hm.” You finish your glass, setting the empty cup on the railing beside you. “Is it truly in jest if you are the only one laughing?”

“Perhaps it is better that I marry Helaena instead of you.” Aegon says, leaning close enough that you can smell the wine on his breath. “You do have a way of inciting my annoyance, Jaenara. No, I do not think you would make a good wife.”

You lean even closer, all too ready to play Aegon’s game. Your teeth scrape over his ear as you retort, “No, you’ve always liked the ones who won’t fight back, haven’t you?”

The tension breaks as Aegon laughs, tossing his head back as he steps away, putting a respectable amount of distance between you again. You chuckle as well, until another voice - softer, younger - cuts through your chortling. Aemond.

“What’s funny?”

Aegon, not subtle at all, rolls his eyes. “Nothing.”

“We were just discussing Aegon’s betrothal.” You say, shifting so that Aemond can lean against the railing beside you. You’ve never understood Aegon’s disdain for your baby brother - something your nephews seem to share. “Or rather,” You cast a joking look to Aegon. “Aegon was complaining about it.”

“‘Tis your duty.” Aemond says, ever so serious.

Aegon rolls his eyes again, gesturing widely at Helaena. “Look at her.”

“Aegon-” You start.

“I would do my duty, if only mother had betrothed us.” Aemond retorts.

Aegon flaps a hand. “The both of you.” He dismisses, eyes scanning through the thin crowd. “I’m going to get more wine.” And with that, he’s gone, sliding between chatting relatives in the wake of a serving girl, chasing after the wine she carries.

You place a hand atop Aemond’s head with a sigh, gently carding it through the silky silver hair there. “He can be such an ass, our brother.”

Aemond looks up at you with a thin smile. “Mm.”

The blood on your hands is not yours, but your brothers, smeared across your forearms from when you’d clutched his face in your hands, holding closed the gash across his eye with your thumbs as the maester stitched the wound back together. Now, he smears tears and snot across the bodice of your gown, the good side of his face pressed against the thin fabric of your nightclothes as he clutches you with shaking hands.

Your mother is screaming. Aegon is huddled against the wall of the room, no doubt already suffering a hangover from how much he drank. Helaena stands to your left, her eyes fixed on the wall behind the scene before her, gaze absent. You watch in horror as your mother wields a knife against Rhaenyra, spitting insults like venom. Ser Cole is pressed almost chest to chest with Daemon. Your little nephew, Lucerys’ face is bloodied.

You have no idea what happened. But Aemond is missing an eye. And Vhagar is now his dragon, instead of Laena’s daughters. You knew - known, now - that his lack of a dragon had always been a sore spot for Aemond, but you never would have guessed that he would go to such drastic measures to claim a beast of his own. And Vhagar, no less.

You expect him to cry, to whimper in pain, to react, but he just holds onto the gauzy fabric of your nightdress and keeps the unmarred side of his face pressed close to your chest. Hiding, almost.

You soothe a hand down his back, pressing him closer. “It’ll be alright.” You say, your voice lost amongst the carrying on. It won’t be. He’ll be scarred forever, he’ll have to re-learn how to walk, how to write, how to do anything that requires vision. It’ll take him years to recover fully.

“I know.” He says, voice soft. Level. Even.

And it’s his calm reassurance that makes you believe your own words. It will be alright, one way or another.

Hand in hand, you walk your brother through the halls of the Red Keep, towards the training yards, for his swordsmanship lessons. Servants and nobles alike avert their eyes as you pass, some out of respect, some out of disgust. It’s true - the scar across Aemond’s face is nothing delightful to look at, a motley of yellow and purple swollen skin, the scabs leaking pus. But you do not look away. He is your brother, and he receives enough torment from Aegon already.

He clutches your hand tightly, holding it like a bannister as he puts one foot in front of the other, his good eye steadfastly looking ahead. Sometimes his balance sways (especially around turns or on the steps) but he’s getting better. “You’ll be able to come and go as you please again soon.” You say, not bothering to hide the pride in your tone.

He scoffs. “I can’t stay a cripple forever.”

Aemond was never sweet. But the loss of his eye has only soured him more. You roll your eyes, teasing, “You’d do well to save your bitterness for someone who’s not capable of causing you to fall down the stairs at a moment's notice.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, but he doesn’t laugh. “Apologies, sister.” He mumbles.

You sigh. “I only joke, Aemond.” Aegon has ruined him, picking at all of his insecurities without remorse until he bristles at the slightest hint of humor, thinking an insult is coming.

His good eye shifts away from the hall in front of him for a moment to cast you a sidelong glance.

“Not all of us are Aegon.” You insist, rounding the corner with him to step outside into the afternoon sunlight. Ser Cole is already waiting, whirling his sword from hand to hand idly as Aegon straps himself into his practice armor. Aemond lets go of your hand as soon as he sees Aegon, taking shaky steps onto the field proper, alone.

Aegon pays him no mind, his gaze falling on you. “Jaenara. Come help me.”

“Your lack of manners is appalling.” You say, walking over to him anyway, taking the leather straps of his breastplate from him and tightening them over his shoulders. “What would mother say?”

Aegon just grins. “Meet me tonight.” He says, his voice dropping into a more conspiratorial register. He doesn’t have to say where - you’ve snuck out with him before. You know the route. “A traveling troupe has arrived in Flea Bottom, supposedly.”

“Sunset?” You ask, dropping your hands from the straps on his shoulders to the ones near his waist.

“Mm.” He watches you work, still grinning.

“Alright.” You say, stepping back.

His grin widens into a smile as he twirls his sword. “What fun we’ll have.”

The sun has begun to light the sky when you stumble back into the Red Keep with Aegon, giggling under your hoods as you sneak past the white cloaks back to your chambers. Really, it can barely be called sneaking anymore - you know they see you return, you know they saw you leave. The only reason they don’t trail you through the streets of the city is because Alicent doesn’t know, and hasn’t ordered them to, so why do the extra work?

You sway into Aegon’s shoulder as you walk, all the wine that you drank making your head spin. Taking you by the arm, he only makes it worse as he begins to waltz you down the hall, jauntily humming the same tune you’d been dancing to in a tavern earlier. Laughing like a fool, you tip your head back and let him dance you about, until he deposits you against the wall by your bedroom door, caging you in against the stone.

You know he’s going to kiss you - he always does, at the end of the night. Gently, he presses his lips to yours, and you smile into it. He doesn’t kiss you like he kisses his whores - nor do you kiss him as you do yours. It’s a chaste thing, only a moment before you’re both pulling back to look at each other.

“As sweet as wine.” He whispers.

“Mm.” You bite your lip in a grin. “Goodnight, Aegon.”

“Good morning.” He giggles, pushing away from the wall to stumble back to his own bed.

You slip into your own room, dropping your cloak and dress from your shoulders, one after the other, as soon as you are inside. Just in your shift, you turn to flop into the soft comfort of your bed, only to see a lump under the covers that wasn’t there when you left. Slowly, you peel back the sheets to reveal Aemond, face pressed into your pillow, soundly asleep.

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips as you climb into bed beside him, doing your best not to disturb his slumber. He stirs anyway though, good eye cracking open with a jolt, softening when he realizes it’s you. Extending an arm, you make space for him to curl up against your chest, and he does, tucking his face under your chin.

“You were with Aegon.” It’s mildly accusatory, but mostly sleepy.

“Mm.” You don’t deny it, stroking a hand through Aemond’s hair. “And you were here. In my bed.” You press your nose to the top of his head. “What troubles you, Aemond?”

“My eye.” He says. “The pain. It’s more than just the skin, it… it stabs me through the skull, sometimes. Makes it hard to fall asleep.”

“We will see the maesters in the morning.” You say, still gently stroking. “Perhaps they will be able to come up with some tincture to soothe you.”

He lets out a sleepy little hum, and settles more against you. Your own eyes flutter shut, and your stroking hand moves to wrap around his shoulders instead. It’s quiet, for a while, and for a moment you think he’s drifted off, but then,

“Will you take me with you, once?”

“To Flea Bottom?”

“Mm.”

You pause for a moment. “If you wish. Perhaps when you’re a bit older.”

“How old?”

“At least as old as I was when Aegon first took me with him.”

“And how old was that?”

You smile into his hair. “Give it a year.”

“Mm. Alright.”

The quality of Aemond’s eye improves drastically over the course of a year, so that by the time he dons his own cloak and takes to the streets of King’s Landing with you and Aegon, it almost blends into his face. The scar is a long pale thing that trails down his cheek, and the only part of the injury that escapes the eyepatch. Under the shadow of his hood, it’s barely noticeable.

He trails a half-step after you and Aegon, clearly unsure. You don’t blame him, it’s quite a change from within the walls of the Red Keep, but an exhilarating one at that. Arm in arm, you and Aegon lead the way, moving smoothly through the crowds to one of your favorite haunts, a little brothel tucked away near the edge of the city.

You can hear the sounds of pleasure emanating from within before you even step foot in the building, and the area around the door is crowded with hangers-on, men who can’t pay their whores dues. Aegon pushes through them all easily, and you glance back to make sure Aemond isn’t lost before following him inside.

The place reeks of incense, barely covering the smells of sweat and sex, but it’s familiar to you. On instinct, your eyes scan the crowd of the main chamber, searching for your favorite whore, a beauty named Falyse with long lashes and plump lips. You can feel Aemond pull closer to you in the presence of such debauchery, and you glance down at him again, to find him already looking at you.

“This is a brothel.” He says.

“Aye.” You grin, glancing at Aegon.

Aegon smiles wide, clapping Aemond on the shoulder. “Tonight is the night that you become a man, brother! Your first taste of the best pleasure the world can offer.”

Catching sight of a familiar shock of black hair, you turn, meeting Falyse’s eyes through the throngs of men. “I must take my leave.” You say, petting Aemond’s head. “But you are in good hands with Aegon. And I won't be far.”

“Alright.” Aemond says. He’s still unsure, clearly, but there’s no time for hesitation once Aegon’s swept Aemond up in his frenzy. You slip away, weaving through the writhing bodies until you reach the other side of the room, where Falyse is pouring a glass of wine for another patron. She’s barely clothed, so you can feel the goosebumps that rise when you snake an arm around her middle and rest your chin on her shoulder.

“Princess.” She greets you with a sultry purr.

“My lady.” You return, laying your lips in the junction of her neck. “I’ve missed you so.”

She’s quick to pull you away from the main room, behind a thick curtain to an empty bed. It’s a familiar dance that you do - she makes a show of ridding you of your clothes, running her soft hands up and down your body until you’re dripping. Then she lays her mouth on you - her wonderful mouth that could pull honey from even the most stalwart of noble women. She never lets you rest with only one peak, no she delights in working as many from you as she can, until you’re pushing her away. Then it’s your turn to return the favor, licking at her until her sweet moans fill the air and you can feel her clenching around your tongue. You’ve earned her devotion in that way - on more than one occasion, she’s confessed that no man has ever thought of her pleasure, on their own.

“Well, I am no man.” You’d responded.

It’s an exhausting affair, this dance, so it often ends with you curled around her on the bed, listening to her share the latest gossip of the smallfolk whilst you twist her hair into intricate braids, the kind only Targaryens wear, a sign she’s been with royalty. You’ve just finished your handiwork, laughing along to a story about the smallest cock she’s ever seen, when the curtains part, and Aemond slips into the room, clearly close to tears.

Immediately you sit up, paying no mind to the fact that you’re completely bare. “What’s wrong?”

Holding back tears, he hesitates for a moment before climbing into your lap, pressing his face between your breasts with a shaky sigh. You clutch him to you, guilt and regret sinking into your heart. Too young. He’s always been more sensitive than you, or Aegon, you should have waited to include him in your revelry. Too young, too young.

Falyse sits up as well, raising a questioning brow. You shake your head, and run your fingers down your brother’s back. For a while, the room is silent as Aemond’s breathing calms, and then he pulls his face away, sliding out of your lap to sit next to you instead. Looking down, he hides behind long curtains of hair, but not before you catch a glimpse of his expression. Shame.

Gently, you break the silence. “Aemond, this is my friend, Falyse. Falyse, my dear brother.”

Falyse smiles warmly, peering underneath Aemond’s hair. “A pleasure to meet you, my prince.”

“You must tell him what you were telling me.” You say. “Oh, it’s hilarious, Aemond, you must listen.”

He perks up slightly, as Falyse starts her story again - and she does get him to laugh, but the hurt doesn’t leave his eyes, and the guilt begins to pool in your stomach.

The sapphire is weighty in the pocket of your gown, and bounces heavy against your leg as you rise from the dinner table, dipping your head towards your father before you take your leave, following your siblings out of the hall. Aemond’s nameday feast was a small affair, per request of the prince, and he only received books from both of your parents - leatherbound histories of Valyria that look entirely too large in his little arms as he carries them back to his bedroom.

“Aemond.”

He turns at the sound of your voice, and you pluck one of the books from his hold, tucking it under your arm. With your other hand, you pull the sapphire from your pocket, and hold your closed fist out to him. “Here.”

Looking at you curiously, he holds out a hand, and you drop the sapphire into it. “A sapphire.” He says.

“For your eye.” You explain. “I had the masons fashion it so that you can slide it into the socket. I thought it might suit you.” Jokingly, you add, “And perhaps improve your standing with the court ladies.”

He huffs out a little laugh, examining the gemstone with a careful eye. “Thank you Jaenara.”

You smile, reveling in the first laugh you’ve won from him in a very long time.

Ser Cole and Aemond behind you, you lead them through the streets of Flea Bottom in the early morning light. It feels like a bit of a betrayal, showing them all of Aegon’s usual haunts, but the situation is dire, and your brother needs to be found. Your father is dead, and it was his dying wish, your mother said, for Aegon to be king.

The brothel looks different in the daylight, drab and empty. Gathering your skirts in one hand, you bound up the steps to the door and bang the heavy knocker twice on the wood. With any luck, you can get a hold of Falyse - if Aegon was here last night, she will let you know, free of charge.

It is not Falyse that answers the door, but the brothel Madame, Sylvi. A familiar face to you, albeit one that you have not had the pleasure of knowing under more intimate circumstances. Her eyes scan over your face, and then Aemond and Cole behind you. Stooping into a short curtsy, she asks. “And what can I do for you, my lady?”

“I am looking for my brother.” You say.

“He seems to be behind you-”

“My other brother. Aegon.” You clarify. “Was he here last night?”

“I’m afraid not.” She says.

You turn back to face your companions. Cole sighs, glancing around the streets like he might spot Aegon passed out in the mud. Aemond’s eye is on the Madame, a mixture of contempt and something else stirring in his gaze.

“Where else, then?” Cole asks.

“I don’t know.” You wrack your mind, tracing through all of the taverns and brothels you frequent with your brother, all places that you’ve stopped before arriving here, all with the same result. “This was the last place I could think of.”

Cole swears under his breath.

Aemond breezes back down the steps, his mouth set in a determined line. “He must be somewhere. Come, we will try the fighting pits next.”

You murmur your thanks to the Madame before following after Aemond and Cole, worry sinking into your gut. Leave it to Aegon to get swallowed up by the city when the realm needs him most.

Meleys’ breath washes over you as you stare down the dragon’s maw, expecting to see the glow of fire any moment, signaling your end. There is no time for action - in the few seconds you would have before flame reached you, there is no way you could reach your own dragon, Vermithor, to have any hope of combatting Rhaenys. Instead, you grasp Helaena’s arm and try to ignore how your hands shake.

Aemond steps in front of the both of you, obscuring your view of Rhaenys atop her dragon with one hand on his sword. As if something as feeble as that will do anything against a dragon.

You wait, feeling your sister with whom you shared your mother’s womb tremble underneath your grasp.

You wait, watching Aemond’s shoulders rise and fall with each breath in front of you.

You wait, watching as your mother steps in front of Aegon, one hand wrapped around his wrist like a vice.

A tidal wave of relief floods through you as Rhaenys pulls at the reins, and Meleys backs off, slipping through the doors of the dragonpit just before they swing closed, casting the room into semi-darkness. Alive. You’re alive - as is Helaena, and Aemond and Aegon. All of you, alive. You watch your mother almost fall to her knees as the relief washes through her, and then you are wrapped up in Helaena’s arms as she crushes herself to your chest. You return the hug with vigor, your eyes finding Aemond’s over her shoulder.

Alive. Alive. Alive.

Something is happening. They’ve been locked in the small council chamber even since Aemond returned from Storm’s End. It’s been hours since your brother dismounted Vhagar, soaked to the bone and looking more shaken than you’ve ever seen him. You have no idea what happened, or what’s being discussed. Now, more than ever, you curse not being born a man.

Still, there is nothing to do but wait.

So you do, steeping in the burning hot waters of Aemond’s bathtub, idly flipping with damp fingers through a series of poems you’d found in your great-grandfather Jaehaerys’s saddlebag when you’d claimed his dragon. Some of them you recognize as things he’d copied from other poets, some are his own musings about his wife, Alysanne. He wasn’t half bad, in your opinion.

You snap the booklet closed as the door to the bathroom opens, and Aemond slips inside, still dressed in his soaked riding leathers. He stills when he lays eyes on you, obviously not expecting anyone to have been waiting for him. But you just smile, and set your book aside.

“I had them draw a bath.” You say. “I figured you would want a soak, after flying in the rain. Scalding, of course.”

He smiles, and starts on the buttons of his overcoats, the fabric falling to the floor with a wet slap. His trousers are next, and then his eyepatch, set on top of your book before he slides into the bath behind you with a sigh, his head falling back against the edge of the tub.

“Very thoughtful of you, sister.” He says, eye fluttering shut.

“Mm.” You turn around in the tub, collecting a rag that you’d draped over the side and dipping it into the hot water, beginning to run it over his skin that isn’t submerged. For a moment, the only sounds are the echoes of droplets falling back into the tub as you wash him, until you speak again. “What business kept you in council so long?”

A tension settles in his jaw. “Lucerys Velaryon was also at Storm’s End.”

“You failed to win their allegiance?” You ask, surprised.

“No. Lord Borros was easily won when I promised myself to one of his daughters.” You brother opens his eye. “But Lucerys is dead, at my hand.”

You set the rag aside, your mind spinning. Lucerys, dead. As if things weren’t already pointing towards all out war after your father changed his mind about the succession. “How?”

Something in his expression shifts and for a moment, he looks like he’s about to burst into tears. “Vhagar.” He says, his voice cracking slightly. “I only meant to scare him, but she knows my anger… I cannot pretend that I did not fantasize about killing him. I did not think that she would…” He swallows, collecting himself. “Our mother is less than pleased with me.”

“Our mother could never understand the bond between dragon and rider.” You say, consoling. You lay a hand gently on his face, over his scar, and run your thumb under the sapphire that sits in his eye. “You cannot be blamed for your anger at the boy who maimed you. Vhagar cannot be blamed for sharing that sentiment.” You pause. “It is a regrettable accident. And I am sorry for Rhaenyra and her children.”

He takes a shaky breath before wrapping his arms around your middle, and pressing his face into your shoulder, holding you to him as tightly as possible. Already wet from the bath, the few tears he sheds onto your skin make no difference. You say nothing, but pick up a comb from the short table beside the tub and begin to work it through his hair.

You wake up to a sharp pain in the side of your neck, like the skin has been sliced open. One hand flies to the wound, and the other slips under your mattress, pulling the long dagger you keep there free of its sheath in a smooth motion. You sit up, the knife brandished before you, only to find your bedroom empty, the only motion being that of the curtains fluttering from the breeze of your open window.

You pull your other hand away from your neck, expecting to see blood. Your palm is blank, the skin unmarred. In the reflection of your blade, you inspect your neck, only to find nothing. A phantom wound, perhaps from a dream. Anyone else would have simply gone back to sleep. But this is not the first time you and your sister have shared each other’s injuries.

You rise quickly, knife still in hand as you dart from your chambers, heading down the hall at a quick clip. It’s eerily empty - not a white cloak in sight. Something is wrong, you’re sure of it, the echo of your footsteps on the stone only serving to further put you on edge as you approach the nursery. The door stands ajar, flickering candlelight seeping out into the hall from within.

Slowly, carefully, you peer around the door. The room is empty - silent. The door creaks as you edge your way inside, turning to glance at the children’s beds. It is then that you see it - the headless body of your nephew, blood still seeping out of the stump of his neck into his bedsheets. Your blood runs ice cold, and then burning hot as rage fills you. Your gaze drops to the blood spatters on the floor, little droplets lead out into the hall.

Readjusting your grip on your dagger, you break into a sprint, following the trail.

Your bare feet slap in harsh rhythm against the stone, your eyes flicking back and forth from the floor to the hall in front of you as you follow the blood splatters. It is too late now. Jaehaerys is dead already, but you have to do something, you must. You can see candles being lit as you whip past door after door, the Keep slowly waking as the horror sets in, but you do not stop.

You do not stop even when you turn an ankle as you round a corner, because there he is, a tall man in a hooded cloak, a burlap sack tightly clutched in his hand, blood dripping through the fibers. Stumbling, you push yourself back up with your hands, and with a mighty scream, leap at the mans back, knocking him forward.

The bag tumbles to the ground, and Jaehaerys’ head rolls out, jaw slack and eyes wide.

“The fuck-” The man growls, knocking you from his back. You fall to the ground, but force yourself to your feet again, diving forward, your dagger poised to strike. Bigger and stronger than you, he grabs your wrist, bending the bone until it snaps. Tears flood your vision as the pain washes over you, but you do not stop. Gritting your teeth, you drive your dagger into the soft skin of his side, between where his ribs end and his hips begin.

He groans, releasing your wrist, and you leap at him again, clawing at his face as you sink your teeth into the side of his neck, biting as hard as you can. You can feel the blows he’s raining on you, but you hold on, savoring the taste of his blood as it floods your mouth, coppery and strong. His hands wrap around your broken wrist, and you wail again, your voice muffled by his skin in your mouth.

But then there are hands around your waist, and the clank of armor fills your ears. Two white cloaks tackle the man to the ground as Aemond pulls you from his grasp, pressing your back to his chest.

“Kill him!” You shout, eyes locked on the man as the guards beat him into submission before hauling him up to his feet. “Kill him!”

“Jaenara.” Aemond’s voice is low in your ear. “The maesters…”

You try to shake him off, but your brother doesn’t relent, gently steering you away from the guards and little Jaehaerys’ head on the floor, back into the relative calm of the halls. As the adrenaline fades, pain begins to wrack your body in waves, and you find yourself leaning against Aemond as tears fill your vision.

“Helaena,” You gasp, chest heaving as sobs build up in your throat.

“With Cole, and our mother. Jaehaera, as well.” Aemond assures you.

“They,” You say, working around the lump in your throat. “Put a knife. To her throat.” You bring your fingers up to the side of your neck, where the pain had awoken you. “Here.”

“I’m sure she’s being tended to.” He says. Gently, he pulls your arm up, inspecting your wrist, bent at an odd angle and already starting to swell. “We must tend to you too.”

Too exhausted to insist that there are more important things to be dealt with, you let him steer you along.

You watch little Jaehaerys’ body bounce with the movement of the carriage in front of you, slightly obscured by the mourning veil you wear. Helaena sits beside you, pressed between you and your mother, eyes firmly pointed up at the sky. She’s empty, you can feel the echo of it in your own body, as you’re sure she can feel a hint of the festering anger you yourself are harboring.

It will only be a matter of time now, before you don your armor and mount Vermithor for battle. You pity the fool who will fly to meet you.

The wails of the smallfolk fill the city streets as you pass, petals filling the air as they toss handfuls at the carriages, shouting their grief in harmony. The news of Jaehaerys death had swept through the city like fire, just as your grandsire had suggested it would. Now, more than ever, the smallfolk hated Rhaenyra - there would be no public protest of the war that was brewing.

But you cannot help but feel angered by the whole thing as your little nephew’s body shakes with the movement of the carriage in front of you. To be reduced to a martyr, at such a young age. And knowingly, by his own kin. It is an ugly, ugly thing.

Helaena’s eyes finally drop from the sky, and your mother shifts, extending a hand to touch her arm. Helaena shrinks away instinctually, leaning further into you, and you shift, allowing her to press herself against your side, her head falling into the crook of your neck.

You do not need to speak to know what she is thinking. You rest a hand on the back of her head, and let her curl into you, feeling her heartbeat against your own.

“Cole and I will cut them off entirely.” Aemond says, laying another marker on the map, over Rook’s Rest. “And with Rhaenyra confined to Dragonstone, it should be simple enough to take Harrenhal without interruption.”

You let your gaze sweep over the map, stopping at each marker Aemond had put down. “A clever plan.” You agree. “And Aegon also approves?”

Aemond scoffs at that, leaning back in his chair, the light from the fireplace dancing over his face. “What does it matter?”

“He is the king.” You say simply, lifting your gaze to look at your brother. “It is his war that we fight.”

“He is a figurehead.” Aemond says, rising from his seat to circle around the table, coming to stand behind you. “At the hands of our mother and grandsire. His only purpose is to lend them free reign.”

“He is our brother, and liege lord.” You say, standing from your own seat and turning to face him. “You speak treason, Aemond.”

“Mm.” Aemond hums, eye drifting over your face. “I forget, sometimes, that you are partial to him.”

“He is my brother.” You repeat. “And my Helaena is his wife.”

Silence permeates the room, and for a moment, the only sound is that of the crackling fire. But Aemond’s soft voice breaks through again. “Did you ever let him fuck you?”

The question takes you aback, and you laugh. “What?”

“In all your whoring together, did you ever let him fuck you?” He asks again, unwavering.

“No.” You say. “I have no taste for his particular flavor of depravity.” Not that Aegon ever tried, either. That wasn’t - isn’t - the nature of your friendship.

“Hm.” Aemond hums, turning back to the map sprawled across the table. “Vermithor will be needed to secure the Riverlands.” He continues, like the discussion never strayed from battle in the first place. He leans over the map, tracing a long finger over the stretch of the reach.

“Of course.” You agree, confused.

It’s been too long since you last did this.

Wine flowing through your veins, you walk arm in arm with Aegon, leading the way to the old brothel, his friends and squire - the reason for the night - behind you. The crowd parts as you step through the brothel doors, a hush falling over the gathered patrons. The quiet only lasts for a moment before whispers take its place, hushed words about the king himself being a patron tonight.

Aegon, of course, pays these whispers no mind, dropping your arm in favor of grasping his squire by the shoulders, speaking grandly about the pleasures of manhood. It makes you think of a similar night many years ago, when you’d brought Aemond to this very brothel. Guilt floods you for a moment, but is quickly quelled when soft hands wind over your shoulders, and a sultry voice whispers in your ears.

“Princess.”

You turn, delighted to see Falyse - delighted enough, that with the wine already in you, you plant a wet kiss to her lips before resting your forehead against hers. “My sweet lady, my own heart.” You croon. “It has been far too long.”

She laughs, raspy and seductive, her eyes crinkling at the edges with her smile. “I did not know that all three of you would be joining us tonight.” She says, winding her arms about your shoulders. “Just like when you were younger.”

“Mm.” You find yourself agreeing before her words really register. “Wait, three? Is Aemond-?”

But it’s too late, you know it is as soon as Aegon’s raucous laughter booms through the room. You turn away from Falyse, finding your brother amidst the crowd, having abandoned his squire in favor of sinking next to Aemond on a bed, a wide grin crawling over his face.

You can’t make out what he’s saying, but you can see Aemond shrinking in on himself, curling away from the Madame, who he’d been laying with. Winding Falyse’s hands away from your shoulders, you bring her knuckles to your lips, pressing a kiss there. “Another time, my lady.”

“Of course.” She says, understanding flashing across her gaze.

You push through the gathered patrons towards your brothers, but Aemond meets you halfway, stalking through the crowd naked as the day he was born, clearly fuming. He pauses when his eye falls on you, clearly not having expected you to be here as well, and you watch his lip tremble ever so slightly. But he does not cry.

“Aemond.” You say, unsure how to broach the subject.

“Jaenara.” He returns, icy.

A pause stretches between you, and Aemond turns to leave, but you grab his arm, stopping him. “Come back home with me.” You say.

You think he’ll spurn you, hiss some insult that’s more for Aegon than for you, but he sighs, “Fine.”

He does not speak to you until you stand at his bedroom door. You feel as though you should say something, apologize on Aegon’s behalf in some way, but you don’t get the chance before Aemond is beckoning you into his chambers with a quiet, “Come.”

You do, not realizing what he wants until the door is shut behind you and you’re pressed against it, your brother's lips pressing insistently into yours. You only hesitate for a moment before kissing him back, giving him what he wants. He melts into it, softening as he realizes that you won’t reject him, cradling you into his arms.

When he pulls back, his voice is breathy. “I’m going to kill him.”

It sends a spike of fear through you, thinking of one brother killing the other, but the look in Aemond’s eye leaves no room for doubt. “I’m sure you will.”

Apparently the correct answer, Aemond resumes kissing you with a fervor, steering you away from the door and towards his bed. “I’ll kill him,” He says, rushed between kisses. “And without an heir, I’ll take his place.” His hair tickles the side of your face as he presses his nose into your neck. “Make you my queen, as he had Helaena.” He nips at the thin skin, making you hiss in pain, pulling at his hair.

He lifts his head as he pushes you down onto his bed, crawling over you. “You’re betrothed to another.” You say as he begins to pull at the laces of your dress.

“As are you.” He responds. You bat his hands away from the laces as soon as you hear fabric rip, and begin undoing them yourself. “Both empty promises made by our grandsire for armies.”

You shimmy out of your overdress, and kick it off the edge of the bed, left in your shift. Aemond strips himself of his shirt before tugging at the hem of your slip, urging you to take it off as well. Before long, you’re both naked, and he’s hovering over you again, trailing his nose along the swell of your breast. You take the opportunity to free him of his eyepatch, enjoying the glitter of the sapphire you gave him.

His eye finds yours as he quietly asks, “Will you let me?”

As if you really even have a choice in the matter. “Yes.”

That’s all the permission he needs to lift your hips with one hand and slide his cock into you with the other. You wrinkle your nose as the sting of the stretch as he works himself into you, his eye fluttering shut. With a deep groan, he begins rocking himself in and out, grinding into you slowly. It’s not the most pleasure you’ve ever felt (no, he would be hard-pressed to compete with Falyse), but it isn’t unpleasant.

You relax into the bed as he begins to fuck into you in earnest, whimpering to himself as he takes a breast in his mouth, lost in your body. You suppose you should have expected something like this, eventually. It was odd, that he’d asked if Aegon had ever fucked you, but you hadn’t thought that he himself wanted to. Now, his intentions in asking seem obvious.

He releases your breast with a pop before tucking his face against your neck, words trickling directly from his lips to your ear. “My Jaenara…” He moans. “Always so good to me. So kind, so sweet, so fierce. Hm.” He pants heavy, his hips knocking against yours frantically. “Seeing you covered in that mans blood, the chunk you ripped out of his neck with your teeth… my dragon.” He croons.

You wind a hand into his hair, wincing as your wrist twinges in pain. It’s gotten better under the maester’s care, but it still complains when you move it in certain ways. The pain vanishes quickly though, and you begin to stroke Aemond’s hair just how he likes, pressing your lips to his temple.

He whimpers again, almost like he’s in pain. “I will put us on the Iron Throne.” He swears, voice breathy. “Our dragons will burn Rhaenyra and her armies alive, and it will be our line that continues the tradition of our ancestors.” He all but growls it, snapping his hips with such force that you have to stop yourself from slamming into the headboard. “I swear it to you.”

“Aemond.” You gasp, overwhelmed with the vigor of his thrusts. The last thing you would have expected was for Aemond to get you to peak, but you can feel yourself getting closer, the combination of his rough fucking and devoted words stirring your insides.

“Tell me that you are mine.” He says, demanding and begging at the same time. You can feel him losing his rhythm, pleasure no doubt creeping up on him the same as it is for you.

“I’m yours.” You swear. “I’m yours, Aemond.”

He whimpers, and it’s the whining sound that sends you over the edge, your body tensing in his hold as you clench around him. With a loud gasp, you come, and Aemond’s thrusts reach breakneck speed.

“You’re mine.” He whispers in your ear. “Mine, mine-” He comes with a rough groan, pressing his hips to yours and holding them there. He sinks into you immediately, collapsing onto your chest, his breath coming in pants against your skin.

You bask in the quiet of his room as his cock softens within you, mind spinning as you take in what just happened. “Did you mean it? All that you said?” You ask softly, stroking his hair again.

“Mm.” He affirms, sleep heavy in his voice.

You say no more as he drifts off to sleep on your chest, cock still inside you. He intends to make you his queen. To kill Aegon and take his place.

You love Aegon, you do. He is your brother, and one of your closest friends. But you would be lying if you said he was a good king. Perhaps it would not be so bad, if Aemond were to take his place, especially with you at his side.

But does Aegon really deserve to die?

Aemond is insatiable now that he knows you won’t spurn his advances. You can’t say that you mind too much.

Your elbows resting on the table before you, he takes you from behind as you both pore over a map of Westeros, markers indicating where your forces lay. A letter from Ser Cole sits open on the table beside you, informing Aemond of his most recent conquest as he nears Rook’s Rest. You run your fingers against the wood of the table, moving pieces along the map like chess, the sounds of Aemond’s breathy groans and the rustle of your skirts shifting as he takes you the only sounds in the room.

“You will have to - ah - take flight on Vhagar soon then, if you are to meet Cole at Rook’s Rest.” You say.

“Hm.” Aemond’s hips smack into yours as he leans over your back, moving the piece that symbolizes Vhagar to the edge of the crownlands. “The conquest should not take more than a day. Any longer and I would send Aegon in my stead - I would be loathe to leave you.” He jokes, pressing his nose against your neck.

“Mm.” You hum, letting him stretch you further across the table and angle your hips to better receive his thrusts. Planting his hands on your hips, he pulls you back to meet each snap of his hips, the map forgotten as he pleasures himself with your body. There’s something intoxicating about his unwavering devotion, something rewarding. It feels like all the time you spent comforting him as a child is paying off; after all, he intends to put you on the throne. You wind a hand behind you to caress his cheek.

He melts into the touch, extending his body over your back, pressing himself to you completely. It’s intoxicating, the power you have over him. The simplest of touches, the softest of words, and the most fearsome dragon rider in the world bends completely to your will.

“You must tell Aegon of your plans.” You say, laying your head down on the table to peer at the man behind you.

“He will no doubt find out on his own.” Aemond says. “Either way, they don’t involve him. Rook’s Rest is nothing Cole and I cannot take on our own.”

“And if someone were to show you the same insolence if you were the king?” You retort, biting back a gasp as his thrusts increase pace.

“When.” He corrects, almost growling. “When I am the king. And I would exile them for such an insult.”

“Yet- mm, Aemond, ah - you do not fear such retribution from Aegon.” You say. You know he’s getting close, his soft pants turning into longer whines, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. You clench as tightly as you can, reveling in the breathy moan you pull from him as he stills, hips still pressed against yours, spent.

You feel him make himself comfortable against your back, not bothering to pull away just yet. “Our brother is a fool, not fit for the duties of the crown. How can one be expected to respect such an undeserving monarch? No,” He says, pressing open-mouthed kisses onto any patch of your skin he can reach. “We will be much greater.”

It’s treason, even just entertaining thoughts of taking the throne from the rightful king, but the more Aemond speaks of it, the more you find yourself indulging in the fantasy. Never before did you truly consider what it would be to be queen, but after truly thinking about it, you find yourself enchanted with the idea. With anyone else, you have no doubt that you would have been subjected to the life your mother lived, but as Aemond’s queen, you would have more power than any woman before you.

“You sound so sure already.” You tease, pushing yourself up on your elbows as he slips away, tucking himself back into his trousers and pulls your skirts back down over your legs.

“That is because I am.”

Aegon presses his face into his hands, groaning. While he’s not looking, you slide the wine decanter away from him. Full when you sat down, it’s almost empty now, most of the contents having been poured down the kings throat. He’s been drinking more, in the aftermath of little Jaehaerys’ death. You can’t blame him, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t concerning.

“They plot behind my back.” He says, his face still hidden in his hands, his elbows resting on the table. “Aemond. My own hand - and our mother, she…” He trails off. “They mock me. Think me an idiot. I cannot…” He reaches for the decanter, only to find it missing, and lifts his head out of his hands. “My wine.”

“Perhaps you’ve had enough.” You say, doing your best to be firm.

He looks at you blankly before gesturing for the decanter again. With a sigh, you fold, sliding the container across the table to him. Let him drink himself to death if he wishes - it would be a better end than whatever Aemond is planning.

It’s hard to look at Aegon, knowing that your other brother is plotting his demise. He doesn’t deserve to die, not after all he’s been through. Sometimes, you think you know Aegon better than yourself. You’ve seen him at his drunkest, in the streets of Flea Bottom, at his most desperate before his coronation, at his lowest, after the death of his son. He never asked for any of this. He never asked to be king. He doesn’t deserve to die because of a crown he never desired.

But one cannot simply resign from the throne.

You watch as Aegon empties the rest of the decanter into his glass, and then misses the table as he sets the pitcher down, shards shattering across the tiled floor. He stares down at the floor, eyes blank. “Ah.”

“Aegon.” You groan.

He flaps his hand. “Someone will clean it up. Someone always does.”

“Perhaps it is behavior such as this that deters Cole and Aemond from sharing their plans with you.” You say, utterly annoyed at your brother’s actions.

Aegon scoffs. “As if you weren’t also kept in the dark.” His eyes lazily slide to yours, and you don’t look away quickly enough, it seems, because he catches it in your gaze. “They told you? And not me, their king?”

“I cannot help that our brother seeks my opinion on such matters.” You say.

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Aegon demands, angrily rising from his seat to level an accusatory finger at you. “You are supposed to be my closest confidant, I expect you to be on my side-!” He cuts himself off. “But no. Of course not. As soon as Aemond gets his claws into you you’re just like the rest of them.”

“Aegon,” You try, placating. “I meant no offense. In fact, I urged Aemond to tell you himself-”

“No, no, you cannot fool me again! I am not as stupid as you think me to be, I am not.” He shouts, harshly backing away from the table as you rise from your seat. There’s an anger in his eyes that you’ve never seen directed at you before, and it gives you pause, guilt and shame sinking into the pit of your stomach. What were you thinking, going behind his back like this? He is your brother, one of your closest friends, your king. Curse Aemond and all his sickly sweet words.

“Aegon-”

A loose hand thrown up in the air, he silences you with a harsh glance before stalking out of the room, leaving you alone with the shattered pieces of the decanter for company.

Aegon returns to you on a litter, melted into his armor by dragonfire, barely conscious. The smell of charred flesh and dragon blood fills the hall as the kingsguard rush him to the maesters, and you press yourself as far into the wall as you can to let them pass. There is no rage in you, only shock and despair. You had not thought it would be so soon, that Aemond had his revenge.

“Jaenara.”

You turn at the sound of his voice, and he stops in front of you, pulling off his riding gloves and tucking them into the pocket of his leathers. There’s an energy about him that you haven’t seen before. Leftover adrenaline crackles over his skin, the pupil of his good eye blown wide, almost lustful.

“What have you done?” You demand, cringing at the frightened quality of your voice.

“What I planned to do.” He says, taking you by the arm. “Are you not delighted? Aegon is indisposed, he will be crippled for the rest of his life - however many short years he has left, in this state. None will stand in our way.”

“I…” You aren’t sure how you feel. Aegon isn’t dead, but he will be in incredible pain for the rest of his life. Likely, he won’t be able to walk on his own, or ever ride his dragon again. It is an awful fate for someone you love. But you cannot pretend a part of you - the same part seduced by Aemond’s ambition - isn’t elated at the downfall of the king.

“Come.” Aemond says, tugging you away from your palace pressed against the rough hewn stone of the Keep walls. You fall into pace beside him, stumbling over your own feet as you process how reality is shifting around you at this very moment. Aemond and the council will have to speak on Aegon’s behalf, puppeteering him even more so than before. You are one step closer to ascending the throne. Your brother is half-alive, melted into the armor of his namesake.

You don’t realize where you are until Aemond is pushing you down onto his bed with one hand and rucking your skirts up around your waist with the other. He does not wait for you to react before he scoops your hips up to insert himself into you, groaning in relief as he slides home. “My queen.” He gasps throatily, pillowing his face in the crook of your neck. “Have I pleased you?”

“Mm.” You hum, unable to say the words ‘yes, of course’. It proves to be enough though, for Aemond sighs again, slowly beginning to grind his hips against yours. It’s more fervent than his usual fucking, spurred on by the bloody battle he’s just come from. You can smell the smoke in his hair from where it lays across your face.

“It will not be long now,” He says, breathy and rough. “Soon, you and I will sit the throne. Have our own heirs - will you give me an heir?” He asks. “Will you give me more than one?”

“As many as you’d like.” You choke out. There isn’t another option for you now, not with Aemond so intent on having you by his side when he takes his place as king. As you’re sure he will.

“We will put Jaehaerys and Alysanne to shame.” He declares, placing his hands under the small of your back, causing you to arch against him. Holding the tops of your hips, he fucks you against him feverishly. It does not take long for him to finish, already keyed up on the high of his plans coming to fruition.

He collapses against your chest with a heavy sigh, and instinctually, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, carding your fingers through his hair.

“I love you.” He whispers against your skin.

It’s the first time he’s said the words aloud, though you’ve known it for a very long time. Of course Aemond loves you.

“As I, you.” You return.

What you can’t decide, is if you feel the same.

#aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd smut #hotd x reader

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ofstarsandvibranium · 4 months

Text

Precious Truths: Part I

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you've been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month's time.

Ever since you were little, you found solace in poetry. Your mother highly encouraged your governess to have you read any and every poetry book that was ever made. The imagery and feelings it produced was something you never experienced before.

After your mother died, your father forbade you from reading poetry. He forbade you for ever mentioning your mother again. Their love was strong and true. As a result, it caused your father deep heartache. He became cold, heartless, and cruel. A drunkard and a gambler. Fortunately, his sister, your aunt, had moved in and became lady of the house. She became your mother figure, but she could only do so much.

She snuck you poetry books when she could. The words now being the only part of your mother you had to connect to.

Because of this love, you began to write poetry yourself. You only ever shared it to your aunt and friend, Kate Bridgerton nee Sharma, another lover of stories and poetry. Both having expressed their hopes of you publishing your writing some day.

"Maybe some day," you'd always say.

What they didn't know was that you did publish your poems. You went under a man's pseudonym, Arthur Talbot. His poetry books were becoming popular among the ton and it brought you joy and a sense of thrill whenever someone mentioned his name to you.

You'd recite your his poetry readings held at Lady Danbury's often. Everyone was always in awe of how the words poured out of you with intense and deep emotion.

But the one who was most taken with them and you, was none other than Benedict Bridgerton.

_______________________

The small group break out into applause and you curtsy. Lady Danbury walks up to you with a proud grin on her face, "Another splendid performance, Miss L/N. I can tell you deeply resonate with Talbot. "

You bow, "Thank you, Lady Danbury. His words mean a lot to me. It's as if he and I are one." You hold back a laugh as you express your gratitude to the hostess.

"Well, I think this calls for a break," the older woman turns to face her guests, "Everyone please enjoy some refreshments."

People begin to disperse, leaving the sitting room for other parts of the Danbury estate.

You're standing off to the side, watching those around you, when your dear friend, Benedict, approaches you. You smile wide at him, "Ben!"

"Another splendid performance, Miss L/N," he lifts his glass to you.

You chuckle, "Thank you. But I think Arthur Talbot deserves just as much praise. They're his words after all."

Benedict nods, "Yes, but you perform his words so beautifully."

You look away, feeling a heat crawl up your cheeks. Benedict clears his throat, "I take it you still have no marriage prospects since you haven't mentioned anyone courting you."

You look back up at him and snort, "Ben, this is my fourth year in society. I highly doubt I'll ever find a man willing to marry me at this point." You cast your eyes down to play with a thread on your skirt, "No one wants to be married to someone who has gambling drunkard father. Doesn't matter if he's a Lord or not."

"If my brother, Anthony, managed to find love and a wife, you will to, Y/N."

You scoff, "How dare you put me in the same category as Anthony."

"I agree," you turn to see said brother and Kate, approaching you, arm in arm, "You're much better than my husband," Kate says with a smirk.

"Still disgustingly in love, I see," you arch a playful look at your friend.

"Very much so, I'm afraid."

Anthony unhook his arm from Kate's and moves towards Benedict, "Come, brother. Let us let the ladies socialize." He takes Benedict's glass and downs it in a gulp.

The younger brother frowns, "I was drinking that."

"Then we shall grab another and drinks for the ladies," he pats his brother's shoulder and Benedict groans, following his brother out of the room.

You and Kate take a seat on the couch and catch up while the men grab drinks.

_____________________

"So, have you finally decided to court Miss L/N?" the eldest Bridgerton asks.

"We are friends, Anthony. Nothing more."

"So you don't love her anymore?" Anthony asks with a curious gaze, taking a sip of brandy.

"...I didn't say that. Besides, you originally didn't want me involved with her because of her father. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, well, we are the not the sins of our parents. Miss L/N is a lovely woman. She's smart, well-read, not to mention she laughs with you even when your jokes aren't funny."

Benedict's brows furrow, "I am funny!"

Anthony takes another sip of his drink and sighs, "What I mean to say is that I think you two would be a fine match. Besides, it's not like any other man is interested in her."

Benedict immediately clenches his jaw and takes a leering step towards his older brother, "Don't talk about her like that."

Stunned by the sudden change of his brother, Anthony takes a cautious step back, "I meant no harm, brother, but is it not true? It's been years since she's stepped into society and very few men have made an effort to court her."

Benedict lets out a deep breath and apologizes, "I'm sorry."

Anthony clears his throat, "All I'm saying is that you've had several chances to be with her. If you don't take the opportunity, you may lose her."

_________________________

"I apologize for missing another one of your recitals," Kate says, grabbing your hand and intertwining her fingers with yours. Ever since she married Anthony, you two have become acquainted due to your paths crossing whenever you came to see Benedict.

You shrug, "You've heard it all before, Kate. Just another one of Talbot's poems."

"You're quite smitten with this poet, it seems."

You laugh, "I can't help it! His words are as if he speaks to my soul!"

"Maybe I should write to this Talbot and see if he'd like to ever attend a Bridgerton ball."

You shake your head, "Oh no. Please, don't. People say never to meet your heroes, so I don't think I would want to meet him."

Kate shrugs, "As you wish."

Anthony and Benedict come back with drinks in hand. Anthony hands Kate a glass and Benedict hands you one.

"Thank you, Ben," you give him a grateful smile and he smiles back, "Of course."

He sits in the chair beside you and you two fall into discussion about the poem you recited, all the while Kate and Anthony give each other knowing looks.

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton imagine #f!reader #female!reader #fem!reader

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neil-gaiman · 1 year

Note

Dear Neil, on the off chance you see this, I wanted to share a story with you. Four years ago, through the wonders of DNA, I found my only sibling, a half sister I never knew existed. We are remarkably alike in temperament and taste, but had wildly different upbringings and experiences. While discussing our favorite authors one day, she showed me her pile of Neil Gaiman books (none of which I’d ever read) and I exclaimed, ah! He’s the dude that wrote that Good Omens tv series with one of my fave authors, Terry Pratchett (whom she had never read, though she’d picked up a copy of GO years ago with best intentions). WELL, my sister declared, you take these, and loaded me up with instructions to begin softly with Stardust and go from there. I prodded her towards GO and Discworld (especially those featuring Granny Weatherwax). I’m visiting her this week, and happened to choose American Gods as my travel reading. My sister picked me up from the airport with my 9 year old niece, who was also deep in Gaiman land, half way through Coraline (in fact she’s so engrossed that she read it through recess today and got very teased). Now that school’s started again, my sister has time to watch GO 2, and I’ll finally get to scream with her about the finale. I guess I just wanted to say a very heartfelt thank you. It’s funny how fate works, and how threads meant to be woven together always find a way. It’s ineffable, maybe?

It's marvelous.

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b1ravenclaw · 3 months

Note

Azriel has a mate and when he starts spending time with Elain. She becomes distant.

She sees the almost kiss with Rhys and she leaves and Rhys doesn’t say anything for her.

She eventually comes back and is in “fuck him. I’m a bad bitch” era and Azriel has to grovel hard cause she isn’t taking any shit.

You can end it however you want.

Relief

note: I hope I did it justice :)

warnings: unedited, angst

The almost kiss was just the cherry on top of the fucking cake.

It started slow, of course, but it went at a slow steady pace. Always there to nag at my insides, something so silly and small I could not complain, really. So what if he was befriending the High Lady’s sister, it was expected she made some friends considering her abrupt start at fae life. What was not expected was Azriel would altogether stop making time for you. His mate. His fucking mate.

The lingering glances he once shared with you were now hers, his attention once solely yours was now solely hers. And you did not want to believe, when you clinged to hope on those cold nights alone that he may only be distracted because of his harsh work. You supposed he avoided your touch because his insecurities of not being enough may have crawled and found its way inside him again.

But, alas, it was not it. It was just her. Fucking Elain, and she was not to blame. He was. How could he neglect his mate? His other half. How could he be so vile and cruel, not only to you, but to himself as well. He did not expect you to forgive him, did he? Or to never find out?

You did not know what was worse. That, until you saw the look on Rhysand’s face, when his violet eyes left anger daggers at Azriel, to you they only emanated pity. Pure pathetic pity. His mouth opened and closed a few times, the High Lord of Night at a loss of words, congratu-fucking-lations Azriel.

The walk to your room was shameful, glamouring yourself as to not be seen by no one, not wanting to wait for him, to hear what Rhys had in store for him. You just wanted to go away, your things were quick to be packed, and Kallias and Vivienne were not alarmed to see you at their palace doors unannounced. However they were alarmed by the sad glimmer in your eyes, tears refusing to be dropped and, instead, freezing. Your lashes starting to become white with the cold.

“Oh Dear.” Was all Vivienne, your cousin, said. Your only family member alive. The family you would have now that Azriel fucked everything up. Your hopes of having a family crushed right before you, and you let it happen. Had you fighted him would it have changed anything? Would his interest in Elain have died down or grown further more? You felt your heart growing colder. Vivienne had asked if you wanted company sleeping tonight, but you refused. You did not want her to see how much you could cry about it, and when you thought it was over you felt it. Over the bond you felt it, his feelings, and it wasn’t remorse, it wasn’t sadness or even anger. He felt nothing, almost as if he was feeling contemptment. As if he was fucking relieved you left.

You cried until sunrise, shame sent you to sleep and hunger woke you up the next morning.

Your stomach was empty and growling, and you were in desperate need of a shower. But the first thing you did that morning was neither bathe or eat. You looked in the mirror at your disheveled image, at your red puffy eyes you focused on your feeling of emptiness and hopelessness and sent that perfectly destroyed image down the golden thread connecting you to the winged male, and closed it. You looked your heart and mind at seven keys, never to be opened again, never to be toyed with.

That morning after bathing and brushing your long hair you cut it at shoulder length, you found your best dress, one that had a high detailed neckline and went past your feet.

“Y/n.” Said Kallias, surprised, “Good morrow.”

“Good morrow, my lord.” You said with a courtesy. “My lady.”

“Y/n, your hair… it’s different.”

“And so am I, I thought it would be fitting. Don’t you?”

“Of course.” Her voice was soft, as if she was scared if she spoke too strongly you would break. But you could not be broken, not anymore.

“I was…”

“You don’t need to say what happened if you do not wish to y/n, you are always welcome at our home. Your home.” Kallias said, ever the High Lord.

“Thank you, Kallias. But I wish to, just to clear things up. As I suppose they will want to contact me.”

“Rhysand may have sent word, as well as your mate.”

“I would appreciate it if you called him by his name, as he is no longer my mate.” They both inhaled sharply, the food at the table left untouched. “I supposed I saw it coming, he… Well, he took interest in another female. It has been quite sometime. The final straw was, well, his lack of respect for me and self control.”

“Oh, y/n.” Vivienne was at my side, but it was Kallias voice that made my heart warm.

“Do you want me to end him?”

“As much as I would appreciate it, I know it would not be good, politically speaking.”

“We can find our way around it.” “I’m sure you can. But… part of me wants him to live with it, see if he will suffer even if it’s a little.”

“Your call, Vivienne’ family is my family. You know it.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

It was a week later the day you left, that Rhysand’s letter arrived. It was sealed and it smelled of the home you once cared for, one you did not wish to be in anymore.

Dear y/n,

I can not begin to imagine how you are feeling, I am writing to you to make sure you are safe and well, as well as one can be in your situation. Kallias sent word you are with him and Vivienne, but alas please tell me if you need anything I can help with.

We all miss you dearly, unfortunately word got out faster than I could contain, we are all mad at him, and I forbade him to contact you.

He would like to speak to you, but you owe him nothing.

I hope to see you soon.

Your dear friend, High Lord of Night, Rhysand.

You answered the letter a few days later, letting him know Azriel was not to contact you, or else he would die. You didn’t think they believed it, you could never kill Azriel, even now. It was a month after that you saw Feyre and Rhysand, and how you missed them. All of them, they were your family once too and as if sensing your insecurity Feyre whispered in your ear as she left that you were still family, and as much as you would like to believe it, you knew they would never turn on Azriel.

Eight months later you felt strong enough to return to the night court, Vivienne and Kallias held you as much as possible, but when you were strongly inclined to retrieve the rest of your belongings yourself they hugged you goodbye. And when the inevitable happened, when you crossed his path despite Rhysand telling you he made sure Azriel had left before you arrived. When you looked into his almond eyes, that once gave you immense joy, you felt nothing, almost contempt. You felt relieved, that he could not affect you anymore, would not affect you anymore.

“My love…” “Azriel, it’s Y/n to you. Or Winter Court emissary.”

“Y/n, please, don’t do this, let’s talk.”

“I will do as I please, Spymaster. Just like you did all those months ago.”

“I made a mistake.”

“And I hope it was worth, I hope you at least got to fuck her.”

“I didn’t. I lo-”

“Oh, that’s a shame. So you did really throw it all away, over what? A silly kiss? It truly is pathetic, Azriel.”

“Y/n, I should never have allowed myself to be lured away from my mate, I see that now.” “Lured away?” You scoffed, you could hear heavy footsteps approaching the room, probably Cassian’s. But you did not care for it. “Is that what you call it? Did she poison you?” “No?”

“Did she give you a love potion?”

“No, she didn’t.” “Did she enchant you with a spell?”

“No, and it does not matter, I shouldn’t-” “Then you were not lured Spymaster, maybe by your own lust and desire, but it was nothing you were physically weak against. She did not force you. You chose to betray me the moment you chose to spend time with her over me. “

“And I am so sorry.” His voice was broken, but you couldn't care less. You wished for him to hurt. “As you should be, and I hope Elain ends up being happier with Lucien than I ever was with you.” And as he tried to call you, tried to tug at the bond you once cherished with all your heart, it was much too easy to drown it all out, to distract yourself catching up with his family, your friends. You slept peacefully, the weight lifted off of your shoulders. The next morning it was much easier to put on the Winter Court colors and behold the tasks ahead of you, to serve your new High Lord. Your new court.

#azriel x reader #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #angst #azriel angst #elain archeron #winter court

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thebadboyfanclub · 6 months

Text

Together As One (Daemon x Reader)

So this is more a twisted love type of hype, I hope you guys like the way I portrayed this request cause I wanted to give it more of a dark edge since Daemon is definitely a gray character. Hope you enjoy!

Mothers love their children, everyone could agree upon the unconditional love mothers held for their kind with no doubt in their hearts, songs, poems, plays, and any type of art one can think of have attempted to portray such devotion. None, however, could predict that some mothers have a certain type of fear for their child, like some whisper in the back of their heads warning them about the little glimpse in their eyes that was not like the stars but more of a scorching fire threading to burn everything.

That was the exact feeling Rhaenys had for her beloved daughter, the twin sister of Laenor, it would often baffle her how her husband could not see what was clearly there, (y/n) was always in competition with everyone about everything, the finest clothes belonged to her, she had to ride a dragon first, learn Valyrian faster.

Whilst Rhaenys prayed for her daughter's thirst to settle, the others praised her for her bravery, her determination, and her intellect, something that made (y/n) yearn for more.

“I would like to raise a toast to my dear brother, a married man to our future queen, may your wedlock be blessed with numerous children and a road paved with nothing but joy and success, Prince Daemon, hopefully you are next”

(Y/n) stood with a smile of triumph dancing on her lips before she raised her cup to gently take a sip, as she sat down Daemon's eyes followed her, he was well aware of her game, though he seemed unfazed and almost amused by her comment the truth laid somewhere deeper than the surface, not a single soul in this room would have been able to guess that the delighted twin of now future king consort was playing a game of cat and mouse with none other than prince daemon behind closed doors.

(Y/n) had been relentless in her ways to seduce Daemon, sneaking out at all hours of the night, sending people after him so she could know his whereabouts just so she could magically appear, the combination of sweet wine and her alluring voice was enough for Daemon to stumble and fall right on top of her, taking her for a ride to the addictive roads of lust.

She was stunning, flawless, a true Targaryen that screamed opulence and elegance with a face sculpted by the gods, the common folk would gush over the “oceans Angel” a nickname given by the realm for her angelic features, how would they know how dark her mind could get in order to make everyone yield before her?

“Mother”

“Dearest, how are you on this fine morrow?”

“I am well, the little one finally decided to let me get some rest”

“When I was pregnant with you I remember thinking you would kick your way out of my belly, the Apple does not fall far from the tree”

(Y/n)s daughter, Leora, leaned as much as she could to kiss her mother's cheek before she sat down next to her to break her fast, queen Alicent had already taken her seat along with her daughter Heleana and (y/n)s other son Elion, Alicent and (y/n) enjoyed each others presence, a mutual bond based on respect had been build over the years that was sealed by marrying Leora with Aegon and Elion with Heleana.

“The maester said you should drink more orange juice, it will help with the fatigue”

“As well as eat more meat, pregnancy is no easy task, you must be as strong as ever”

Alicent chimed, the birth of her second grandchild was one of the most important events, Alicent adored her first grandchild, beautiful Hael, a strong boy who was just now starting to learn how to walk, still, he had everyone wrapped around his finger.

“I appreciate your concerns but I am fine, healthy as a horse”

“It wouldn’t hurt, let us not risk it dearest”

“I thought once I get older I wouldn’t have to listen to my mother”

“Well I am sorry but that will never happen, drink”

(Y/n) had stepped up and appeared as the perfect mother, loving, kind, and caring, she did love her children, however, what she loved most was the things they could do for her, her firstborn daughter was now the wife of the king first born son, and her son was a strong, skill full knight that served the realm and came back in triumph, how could she not adore her perfect creations?

“How is the king?”

“I am afraid his health is decreasing, the maesters advise him to remain abed for the day”

“Rhaenyra will be questioned, he won’t sit this one out I am afraid”

“Ugh the precious Rhaenyra, I wish I could stay in my chambers until those god-forsaken days pass”

(Y/n)s smile was wiped from her face and in an instant it was replaced with an angry scowl, in a split second her hand had grasped her daughter, Leoras' eyes went wide with fear when they met the angry hues of her mothers.

“You mustn’t speak in such a way, I’ve taught you better”

Leora only nodded frantically, (y/n) had her own opinions over Rhaenyra, she however, knew better than to voice them, not even in such a secluded area of the palace, (y/n)s hold turned from forceful to a caress before she directed her eyes back to her friend and queen Alicent.

“Besides, the king will do as he wishes and if the gods bless him with the strength to stand he should be there, isn’t it right Alicent?”

“I couldn’t have phrased it better, my dear”

(Y/n) and Alicent were each other's shadows, one compelled the other and in the end one way or the other the result was one of their favor, (y/n) was disciplined and had mastered the act of a gracious and lovely princess, Alicent was strict and slipped under everyone’s nose as she cloaked herself with the act of a pious queen, the two of them had years up on the horse of being able to maneuver their way around the kingdom so the men would not suspect a damn thing.

Viserys had seemed to get worst which made him unable to attend even when Daemon and (y/n) went to his room to assist him, the king could not even sit up let alone walk, Daemon was disheartened, thankfully for him his dutiful and beautiful wife let him rest on her shoulder and like a soothing salve her encouraging words went over his wound of his beloved older brother nearing his end.

“My Love”

“(Y/n)? What- what has happened?”

“I apologize for waking you up my dear, it is your brother”

“Viserys? What about- no”

“My dear husband, you must be strong, I am so sorry”

(Y/n) grasped Daemon's hands tightly before she brought them up to her lips to kiss his knuckles, of course, she was one of the first to know, Alicent had rushed to her chamber and delivered the news herself, she had waited patiently as the king took his last breath, Alicent told no one, not even the maester, (y/n) had to know before anyone.

“Viserys”

Daemon had been taken over by his thoughts, they’ve always had their differences but at the end of the day, they shared the same mother and father, a bond that could never be broken, no matter how many times Daemon has run off he always ended up by Viserys side.

“My love, I understand that this is too much for you, however, we must prepare our daughter”

“What does Elora have to do with this?”

“She is to be queen, she needs her father”

“Queen? Have you gone mad?”

(Y/n) bit her bottom lip in combination with her head tilting to the side, as if nothing but a mere candle lit her face Daemon could still identify the features that he so adored but now he could not wrap his head around what was his wife suggesting.

“My lord husband, King Viserys has left us, it is only natural for his son to succeed him”

“It is expected for his firstborn, Rhaenyra, to do so, not Aegon”

“Where is the princess? But in a place where she could have visited if she wished, when has she even attempted to come and visit her beloved father who was in agony all these years? She only came when her privilege was at risk and then blamed Alicent who has served by the king's side for his illness”

“This is not a matter to discuss”

“But it is, the gods know I loved Viserys and he had been good to me, but let us not forget he killed his first wife in his desperate attempt for a male heir, he remarried and Alicent gave him an heir and a spare and still it was not good enough, he passed by you and his sons to bury his guilt by calling Rhaenyra the heir, it wasn’t because he trusted her or because he saw something in her, he passed the title on to her because he did not trust you and then because he wanted to wash the blood of queen Aemmas from his hands”

Silence fell upon them, (y/n) pulled away from her husband and headed towards the door, as his hand rested upon the handle she turned her head back to lord husband who was visibly shaken, (y/n) might appear disheartened but she could detect that her monologue had started to creep on to Daemons heart.

“I love you with all my heart, that is why I shall leave you to grieve, if you wish to run to her I will…. Understand, it is not like I ever doubted the unconditional love you have for the realm delight, now might be your chance to pursue it”

Her tone was drowning in sorrow leaving Daemon with an unwavering sense of guilt in a dark room as his wife had disappeared to place her hand over a war of fire and blood, (y/n) was correct, Daemon did love Rhaenyra, still, he did not place his flame for her over what he had built with his wife over the years.

(Y/n) walked away with a smile of triumph, she had done her part flawlessly and now she was certain that Daemon would be by her side before the crown was placed on Aegons head, however, she did not have time to waste, Alicent and (y/n) were the ones to wake the new king and queen, preparing them for what they had destined to be.

“You may enter”

“Prince Daemon is asking to see his daughter and wife, alone”

(Y/n) stopped brushing her daughter's head, carefully placing the golden brush down before she looked down at her daughter who nodded in approval.

“Let him in, do not allow anyone to disturb us”

“Right away”

The girl curtsied as quickly as possible before she disappeared only to be replaced by none other than Daemon. (Y/n) took a sharp inhale through her nose once he entered the room, preparing herself for a mental battle, surprisingly when her eyes scanned for his she was met with a certain lightness, an ease to him that caught her by a pleasant surprise.

Instinctively a small smile played on her lips, her Daemon was dressed in his black attire, leather suited him, and his hair was pulled away from his face the way she always told him to do it.

(Y/n) was not made of stone, she might play like she is though her heart skipped a beat every time she was near her lord husband, Daemon was one of the very few people that (y/n) would throw herself in the fire, even though their love felt like the flames licked her back, that sweet pain of admiration and devotion that the poets would sing and the common folk would go mad.

“My dearest loves”

Daemon declared, that their daughter rose from her chair and ran to her father, she was always the one known to succumb to emotions and this time (y/n) could not scold her over it, Leora was her father's daughter, (y/n) might not have spoken over the matter only to allow the young girl the solidarity of her feelings, inside Leora was always waiting for her father to walk through this door.

“You look beautiful, a perfect gown for the queen”

“Father I-“

“Before I handed you over to Aegon I made you a promise, do you remember it?”

“I will do anything to see you happy”

“I will put myself through war if you tell me that this is what you want, all you have to do is say it”

Daemon was no fool, he was certain that the second that crown graced his daughter's head a war would nip their heels, Rhaenyra would not go down without a fight and that meant that Daemon would have to face her in battle, a battle he was willing to put for his lovely Leora.

“I want to be queen, I want Aegon to be our king”

“Very well, I wish you a fruitful reign, may the Gods smile down upon you”

‘May the Gods have mercy on us’ he thought, with a smile he brushed away those dark thoughts only to place a kiss on his daughter's forehead, a small part of him screamed that this was the right thing, his brother never thought he was good enough, now his brother was on the ground and his daughter was crowned queen and would carry on the legacy of the Targaryen name.

“Go on now, I want to have a word with your mother”

“I will be waiting for you”

Leora informed them before she gave them the privacy Daemon desired. (Y/n) stood as still as a statue, her heart pounding on her chest as her throat grew dry and scratchy, she was the master of composure up until now, faced with the only person who could make her waver.

“My beautiful, sweet lady wife, you spoke harshly last night”

“I spoke nothing but the truth”

She threw back in a cold tone. Daemon only smirked as he started to approach her, she did not dare to move, (y/n) was comforted by his light-hearted manner though there was an underlying mischief, Daemon was playing something, and (y/n) was left trying to catch up before it is too late.

Daemon stood before her, his arm finding her forearms and giving them a gentle squeeze, his eyes gazing back at hers with a glimmer that (y/n) had grown to yearn for, she despised the fact that she had to manipulate him like this, she was left with no other choice but to do this, a side of hers cursed the day Rhaenyras and Daemons fates met, this would have been so much easier had (y/n) been the only women Daemon loved.

“You are so bright, I am almost disappointed that you didn’t foresee this”

“The war?”

“No, me, you think I have not caught wind of all the scheming against Rhaenyra? The upbringing of my daughter to become the wife of my brother's firstborn son, putting our son on the sea the minute he was born to have better knowledge of anything driftmark related to gain the favor of your father, every step you so amazingly calculated with Alicent so you can get our family here”

“You have gone mad”

“I saw behind the facade and that makes you nervous, I was there with you every step of the way you mustn’t be frightened, I let you do all this for only one reason”

“Alright, let us entertain this absurd claim of yours, what is the reason?”

“Because I love you”

(Y/n) mouth slightly parted in shock, Daemon had professed his love for her on multiple occasions but the weight on this one was different, he had pulled what she thought was the perfect cover, leaving her bare in front of him, uncovering her thirst that she had kept away from everyone.

“I love you so much that I will let my daughter become the target on Rhaenyras mind, I will go against the woman that you think threatens your position in my heart, I will put myself in the sword before I let her even get one strand of your hair because you and our daughter want this”

“And you don’t? You always held a grudge over the fact that Viserys never declared you as his heir”

“My brother is dead now and because of you our child wishes to be a queen, I picked you as my second wife because I saw your strength, your determination, you need to come on top, that is the Targaryen fire through and through”

“You truly mean all this?”

“You are my lady wife, you gave me a home, now it is time to show the realm that we are the rightful heirs of the throne, together as one”

(Y/n) reached daemons lips for a passionate kiss, his hands slid down to her waist and pulled her as close as humanly possible, sharing this moment meant everything to (y/n), she had him devotedly by her side, he saw her true nature and walked straight into her fire, surrendering in her and even shielding her and her family.

“Let us find out daughter, I want us to be the ones to place the crown on her head”

“I wouldn’t dare let anyone else have that honor”

Requests are open!

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lady-ashfade · 10 months

Text

The Snap Of Thread.

—£ Yan!Aemond Targaryen x Maid!Reader. (Slight Yan!Alicent & others)

—£ Ask!“Hi. Can i ask for yandere aemond with lowborn/maid reader? They have a friendship and one day she tells him that she is pregnant, even trough they never even share a kiss he starts to believe in his mind that the baby is his.”

—£ Warning: Spiders, Yandere behavior, Violence, Killing, Stalking, Being held captive of some sort, Pregnancy, Reader having a baby out of wedlock, Pregnant!Reader, Dead Dove Do Not Eat.

—£Taglist: @watercolorskyy

You had been working in the castle since you were just a child. You and your mother had come to Kingslanding for work and you found it right away. Thankfully the work load was easier on you since you got placed under the Young Princess. You washed her clothes, made sure to prepare her bed and room to the way she likes, even running around the castle with a few extra tasks for others.

Helaena was a delight to work under since she was not cruel or demanding. She just wanted to be alone and lifted to her wonders and insects. Of course, you never really spoke with her since the maids above you had made sure to be near her at every moment. The only time you saw her was when you took trays full of food to her or cleaned them up but most time she was out when you worked.

Much like any other night you had gone to her room to clean, other maids helping around and you had gotten done pretty fast. The sweet princess not being messy at all. When things got done the others left but you stayed to finish up. That’s when you saw a spider with long legs cling to the wall. Your first instinct was to kill it but you remember the princess. This spider was from your hometown and not harmless at all, not even a bite.

So you catch it in your hands and when you did the panic set within you. Where would you put it? You couldn’t throw it out the window, couldn’t kill it, and it was over extreme to walk to the ends of the castle to release it, so you move around the room in panic looking for a place.

The princess came back and wondered what you were doing, seeing you in such a state confused her. When you told her she grew a smile and reached out her hand to take the creature and you gladly gave it over.

“Many people are scared of spiders, they fear what is small to the eye. But you did not kill like others,” she looked at you. “I like that.” You had told her you knew from your hometown of the spider and couldn’t kill it, she was overjoyed. That’s when you two started to hang out more and she called for you. You listened to her when she would talk about all the creatures she had, she liked you.

It was natural for you to met aemond when you hung around his sister so much and he usually was too shy to say anything. So you both only shared a few glances and only talk to heleana. And seeing you so nice and sweet to his dear sister, it mesmerize him to no end. He was taken aback by your kind natured and looked at her like a normal person or as normal as she could be for a princess. And you never look at him like someone weak among his kin but only as a boy.

Aemond started to follow you around when he would see you around the castle and watch you closely. He noticed the wrinkles in your fingertips when you washed clothes for long periods of time. He noticed how you worked like it was a passion and left nothing undone. How you helped the elders when they needed it. And how tired you worked yourself and had to take a breath but look around for anyone before doing so.

It was only a few times you both actually spoke. When he asked for something when helaena wanted cakes or anything, he always joined in even if he didn’t want anything. He wanted your gaze, your focus and pretty eyes on him.

Soon that sweet and shy boy was replaced with a ruthless man who was not shy. He was cold and sat back quietly knowing he could take anyone in the room or fed them to his dragon. He was a warrior now. The boy you had known died and was now a man..

A man who was obsessed with you.

He called for you now, making you clean his rooms or fetch him someone to eat. He’d just sit in his room as you replaced the “Scratchy” bedsheets and claimed only you knew the right ones. But he kept his eye on you the whole time as you would bend over or a stretch yourself over his bed.

At dinners you stood close to Helaena because you had moved up in ranks now you were a young woman and stayed close to her. So he got to see more of you.

Aemond was always hiding in the shadows while you worked. He was much more sinister with his watching now and did it every second of free time. And would get angry when you weren’t where you usually were.

When you looked at him he saw it as you taking him in and being deeply in love with him. You’re just shy, nervous the prince wouldn’t like you make. Oh, boy is he just so delusional about you. Once you laughed at his joke that he made to helaena and he was just stunned. In his mind you were giving him hints. Everything you do is to get his attention.

Through all these years you both spent much more time together so much that you watch him when he trains, he walks with you when you have a pile of clothes in your hands. You considered him a friend.

So when the words. “I’m pregnant, I have not bled in mouths.” He was frozen.

Aemond first reaction was to hunt down the man who had done it to you. Then something snapped within him as his mind was lost, all reality was rewritten. He had done it. That was his child.

He bowed down to the floor and hugged your waist and leaned his ear to the stomach, “Our child.” He whispered and your eyes went wide. His words and actions made no sense and you were slightly afraid to move from his hold.

From there he dressed you in the finest clothes and demanded you were to be kept in his room at all times, or Helaenas. The only time you could go out was with him by your side. And everyone had to agree, he had already killed five people who spoke wrong of you.

Alicent didn’t like the idea but her son made her with his actions saying he loved you so much. Of course she liked how sweet you were to her daughter so she was more than welcome.

Aemond would fall asleep holding your belly, he’d whisper to the child in your womb. He truly believed he was the father. Going as far as to say he took you months ago in a passionate night in the moonlight. And it freaked you out how he knew about all the skin details without seeing you without your clothes.

You become a bird in a golden cage. The life you always wished you had was now given to you but with no escape or freedom.

The child was born and aemond forced his way into the room when he threaten to cut off the maesters fingers. Aemond could never forget when he saw his son for the first time, bloody…

And with white hair.

His held his son and cradled it with a loving smile. Saying the name you had picked out, saying he was going to be such a brave warrior.

But the other prince only smiled at the news when he heard of the white haired son “born” to his brother.

#helaena targaryen #helaena the dreamer #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #yandere aemond targaryen #yandere aemond targaryon x reader #aemond targaryen #yandere house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #yandere house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #yandere alicent hightower

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nxttheendxfthestxry · 2 years

Note

"Hey James, some girl was poking around earlier asking about you. Is everything okay?" Ciri leans up against the bar, concerned. - (@storystartsanew )

"Some girl? You're gonna have to be sliiiiiightly more descriptive, Ciri." James frowns a bit, glancing to her as he finishes the drink he's pouring, moving and passing it to the customer seated at the bar before going back to her.

@storystartsanew

#i try i try to be a good kid || james #&ciri.#thread: some girl #dear sister || you're still alive and that's not a mistake

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sabinemorans · 2 months

Text

Nightly Fantasies

Aemond x Aegon (Aegond) fic

Word count: 1765

NSFW Warnings: targcest, dominant Aemond, submissive Aegon, male breeding fantasy, some humiliation, praise

It would be bold of his half sister-probably too bold-but it wasn’t impossible. More than likely it was his Uncle who had sent this person. It was much more his style.

He lay there pretending to still be asleep as he listened closely to hear the movements of the shadow. He kept his breathing even but also shifted a bit. Even going so far as to softly groan to sell the illusion. After his grown he thought he heard a soft whine-peculiar.

His bed dipped a bit with weight. The sheets and quilts covering him were hoisted up just enough for a body to slip in beside him. A hand he knew so well cupped his cheek, the one with the scar and a warm, naked body pressed his side.

Aemond let go of the dagger and wrapped his arm around his brother, who eagerly pressed even closer; his already semi hard cock rubbing against his thigh.

“What’s your excuse this time?” Aemond whispered, firmly but not unkindly, his long fingers tangling in Aegon’s hair.

Aegon groaned fussily and pressed his nose to Aemond’s neck. He breathed in deeply and his greedy hands roamed all over Aemond’s chest before one slid down to cup a lower cheek.

“Now now, use your words. You don’t smell of drink so I know you can.” Aemond pressed a few kisses to Aegon’s hairline, the action so sweet it made the other’s cock twitch in need. The younger brother smiled.

“Had a dream,” the older brother nearly whined, his hand squeezing the ass cheek in his hand. “Woke up hard and I rubbed it but it wasn’t enough…I needed you…”

Humming in a pleased manner Aemond brought his other arm around Aegon and pulled him half on top of him, so his thigh was between Aegon’s.

Aegon whimpered and automatically began to rut against Aemond’s muscular thigh. All his hours of sword swinging and dragon riding had toned his already lean body to have hard muscle. Aegon was softer around the middle due to drink and bouncy in the behind from sitting all day. The difference between them always excited Aemond, just another funny joke of fate’s to make the younger brother taller, stronger in mind and body and the older-now the *King* of the realm, shorter, softer, and easily maneuvered by the younger. Despite the abuse he had suffered at Aegon’s hands when they were younger and his own volatile feelings during the day Aemond loved his brother. When this…had started between them, it had almost felt like a way to make up for their past, Aemond would take it. Anything to feel the love they both craved.

Aemond let him go at it for a few minutes, his eyes still closed as if he really was too tired but that smirk was on his face. The one that Aegon said made him look like a mischievous feline. He didn’t moved at all until Aegon began to pant his name in between the word for please in High Valyrian. Aegon knew very little that was appropriate for the day time in High Valyrian. Aemond’s smirk deepened.

“There now,” he purred, finally opening his eyes and blinking to adjust his eyes to the dim light, He gripped the soft skin above Aegon’s hips and lifted him up so he could straddle his cock instead of his thigh. Aegon let out a whorish moan and kept rutting. He could see Aegon’s desperate look only a little but it made his longer, thicker cock throb at the sight.

“Is that what you wanted my dear love?” Aemond cooed, voice calm even as his breath was quickening. Their cocks were slick with Aegon’s freely leaking precum and it felt so fucking good his control was hanging on my a thread. For now he would just grip Aegon’s hips and rock their cocks together randomly.

“Not,,,not enough,” Aegon panted, leaning down further, his head now bowed towards Aemond’s shoulder to rub together harder.

“Oh? Did you need something specific?” There was only one thing, one thought or one fantasy that would get Aegon this riled up. Aemond felt his own cock start to leak. He suddenly gripped Aegon’s throat and squeezed, forcing his movements to stop.

Despite the dark he knew they were making eye contact and their dicks twitched in unison. “Tell me…tell me what you wish. It’s my duty to give you what you command to the best of my ability.”

Aegon’s answering moan was deep in the back of his throat. A raw, primal need. “I want-I *need* your child inside me.”

And the control Aemond had suddenly snapped, as Aegon knew it would. Aemond’s answering kiss was forceful and Aegon melted into it, allowing the other’s tongue into his mouth with relish. Aemond sucked on his tongue hard and then pushed him off.

It was easy to get Aegon into his favorite position. Sometimes Aemond thought Aegon enjoyed being fucked prone because of the way it made him feel helpless. At the mercy of his bigger, meaner, *younger* brother. One day he’d make him admit it.

Aemond reached into the nearest drawer for the jar of thick stuff he used to pleasure himself sometimes. That was what the maester’s only assumed it was for when he asked for it, they didn’t know it was also used for their new king to be prepared for cock.

Aegon was moaning openly, the pillow nearly strangled to death under his fists as Aemond massaged the stuff around his hole and began to press inside, Aemond hummed appreciatively as he bent to watch, pressing kisses to one cheek.

“Such a good boy Aegon…taking it so good. A bit tight though aren’t you? Perhaps you need more regular practice…” When Aegon moaned and pressed himself further on his slender finger Aemond grinned and give the soft ass cheek a harsh nip. “More practice it is.”

He kept up a delicate balance of soft humiliation and praise as he prepared him. Once three fingers had the King popping his ass up in need, his knees wide open but his cock still against the sheets Aemond nipped at the opposite cheek and then pulled his fingers out. He placed his heavy cock against the loosened hole and Aegon had a fully body shiver.

“You’re ready now aren’t you? Mmmm yes I can feel it…” Aemond leans down, kissing and licking up Aegon’s spine before nuzzling his nape clear of hair and giving it a kiss. He kisses it more, slowly, sucking softly and then biting just hard hard to leave little indents but not a bruise. “You’re a bitch in heat, and I’m going to give you what you crave,” he whispers, before pressing his wide tip inside.

Aegon clenches around him but then relaxes, knowing exactly what he has to do. “Gods,” he whimpers, “so good…nothing like it…more…?”

The sweet little question mark at the end made Aemond’s heart flutter and he pressed in further, his naked chest now against Aegon’s naked back fully and the skin on skin contact had them both groaning in pleasure. It wasn’t long before Aemond was fucking deep inside Aegon, his cock now sliding easily in and out, the his tip nudging that special spot that didn’t seem to have a name despite Aemond’s anatomical research. When he pushed it even further his fat tip slammed into it and Aegon had to have his face pressed into the feather pillow to quiet him.

“Shhhhhhh!” Aemond hissed between heavy pants. “Don’t want the guards to hear you do you? Don’t want the white cloaks knowing their King wishes he could carry a child do you? Mmm…we are gods though aren’t we? Perhaps the ancient blood magic in our veins will make it possible somehow…”

Aemond was in that frenzy he entered when he was close to spilling. Aegon was panting, mumbling with delirious happiness. He had cum already from the tightening Aemond has felt during a particularly rough few thrusts perhaps a full hour ago. Though Aemond may have better stamina Aegon could certainly take it.

“Yes, please,” Aegon panted, looking back at Aemond with that slack mouthed, near fucking *drooling* with pleasure look that drove Aemond crazy. Even if tomorrow Aegon called him names in front of his knights Aemond would think back to this moment and let it roll off him. Or perhaps he’d remember it, and use it against Aegon the next time this happened.

“Breed me, Aemond,” Aegon Targaryen’s second of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Realm begged of his brother. His hands reaching behind him to spread his ass cheeks wider and allow the cock inside at a dizzying angle for them both.

Aemond nearly bit off his own tongue trying to stifle his cry as he came, pressing as far as he could go inside Aegon and spilling everything he had. He collapsed on top of Aegon, who with a few more thrusts cried out into the pillow again as he spilled more onto the sheets. They throbbed in near unision, Aegon’s pulses causing his hole to tighten at the base of Aemond’s cock, milking him more.

It took awhile before their breathing returned to anything nearing normal, and Aemond pressed his lips close to Aegon’s ear before he pulled out. “You may call me your loyal hound, my King, but you’re my bitch in heat aren’t you?”

Aegon whined, nodded, and seeming to know Aemond would ask for words he whispered his assent in their mother tongue.

Aemond licked at the bite he’d given him on his neck, Then moved to the side to settle back in to sleep as the twilight of the early morning began to chase away the dark of the night.

“I must…get back to my chambers…” Aegon mumbled, half asleep already it seemed. Aemond pulled Aegon against his chest, spooning around him protectively and placing one hand on how softly rounded lower stomach. “no need…my door is barred. You can leave through the passage you came. Don’t worry, my dear, dear love. Our secret is safe.”

Aegon was snoring already. Aemond smiled, and fell asleep quickly. In the morning…they would try breeding again. He’d heard it was more likely to take the more you tried.

#aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon the second #aegon ii fanfic #aegond #aemond one eye #aemond x aegon #house of the dragon #HotD #HotD fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #aegon x aemond #targcest #prince aemond #aemond smut #Aegon smut #HotD smut #house of the dragon smut #king aegon

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scorpioriesling · 3 months

Text

Jealousy, Jealousy

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Lucien x reader

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Oh the joys that come with being Rhysand's sister... and the priveledges, or lack thereof.

SR’s Note: Ughhh this isn't very long, but it was cute and gave me all the little feet-kicking feelings I needed. <3 Per @hardcoremarvelfan 's request to use prompts #5, #9, #28, and #49 -- enjoy! xo

“So you’re telling me you weren’t staring at Feyre’s chest during the meeting?” You accuse. Lucien rolls his eyes, chuckling at the implication.

“Please, Y/N — you know she’s just a friend, she always has been.” He coaxes. You halt your stride, folding your arms over your chest. A cool, Autumn breeze ruffles your hair over your shoulder, and Lucien gazes lovingly at you. Unfortunately, you can’t return the sentiment.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t look at her sometimes,” you know you sound pathetic, but you know what you saw. “I saw you, Luc. Your eyes were peeking.” Your mind races to the image of Feyre, her chest perfectly sat beneath a thin, lavender gossimer gown that left little to the imagination. Anddddd Lucien’s eyes hovering for a moment too long.

“Dear,” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “With all respect, you weren’t even at this meeting-?” You swat his hand away.

“You do forget my brother allows me to know and see things going on that I’m not technically “invited” to.” You seethe. Lucien’s mouth flattens into a straight line. “You could fix all this, you know,” you imply.

Lucien quickly snakes his hands around the backs of your thighs, fingers clinging to the juncture where your ass meets your legs, drawing you close and gently kissing up your neck. You hate how he can get to you so easily — a soft moan slips from your lips before you push against his chest, his legs braced on the wooden fence line behind you. You growl, looking menacingly into his eyes.

“If you don’t wanna kiss me, I’ll find someone who does.” With a little hmmph, you continue your path, strutting along the fence line, arms crossed over your chest. Lucien’s large hand grasps your bicep from behind, spinning you to face him once more.

“I’d never let another man touch you,” he stares deep into your eyes. “Let alone do this.” His soft lips are on yours in an instant, moving in a rhythm you both know so well. His hands hold your waist tight, and you finally give in, uncrossing your arms and holding his face in your hands.

“Why so worried today, hm?” He asks, pulling back an inch. You sigh — you know he’s right. He didn’t look at Feyre for more than a few seconds, definitely not ogling her as you’d overdramatically accused him of doing. His gaze never even really dipped below her chin, if that.

“Lucien…” you start. His fingers trace up and down the sides of the soft tunic you wore. He places another soft kiss to your cheek before attentively staring into your eyes again.

“I’m sorry Lucie. I’m just… I don’t know. I’m just…”

“Are you jealous?” He tries. Your shoulders sag, and he continues comfortingly tracing lines down your arms.

“It’s not that… well, okay maybe it is.” You start. “It doesn’t matter that I’m the Rhysand’s sister, or a member of the Inner Circle, I’m just… I’m always forced to sit things out. And Feyre, who just got here, gets to wear pretty dresses and sit in on every meeting…” Lucien kisses you once more as you trail off.

“I can give you something else to sit on?” He grins cheekily, and you roll your eyes.

“Lucien! Seriously, I mean I’m trying to be real with you right now and explain-“ He cuts you off by smushing his lips onto yours once more, and you groan under his touch, pulling back moments later.

“Stop trying to kiss me when I’m trying to yell at you!” You say, a hint of playfulness in your tone. Lucien holds you close, threading his fingers through your hair as his lips find your ear.

“Yell at me all you want — no dress that Feyre or any other female has ever worn has brought me to my knees quite like the sight of you, my love.” You melt at his words, allowing for the roaming of his hands to find the underside of your bum, lifting you to wrap your legs around his waist. He sets you gently atop the fence, continuing to kiss down your neck.

“And don’t ever,” he breaks the assault for only a moment, to peer into your eyes. “…feel like you need to be sorry for your feelings. I’m always here to listen, dear….” another soft kiss to your jaw. “…and I love you just the same.”

#a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #acotar #lucien acotar #acosf #acofas #acotar smut #a court of frost and starlight #lucien vanserra #lucien x reader #lucien x y/n #lucien x you #lucien smut #lucien vandaddy #acotar series #acotar fanfiction #acowar #a court of wings and ruin #a court of mist and fury

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penspolin · 5 months

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POLIN JEALOUSY/ADVICE ONE-SHOT

Colin fights his jealousy after watching Penelope and Lord Debling dancing together at a ball, is teased by Benedict, and seeks advice from Violet.

The silver beads threading Penelope's hair seemed to glow like tiny moons. If he'd had parchment and pen, Colin might've noted the perfect juxtaposition of fiery red locks and sparkling silver. He noticed everything--the way her dress swayed so effortlessly against the floor despite her stiff grip on Lord Debling. Was it only Colin's imagination, or did her gloved fingertips hover an inch from his shoulders?

…perhaps he was only imagining it. He reminded himself that Penelope's stiffness was for the sake of propriety. Of course she’d want to touch Debling. He was a gentleman, for one, and even Colin had to admit that he had his own upper-class swagger. A little posh for Colin’s tastes, but from the looks being cast his way across the ballroom floor, Colin knew the lord had made a lasting impression on this season’s eligible debutantes.

Colin hastened for a sip of wine, only to discover that he had drained his glass. He turned away as a certain red-headed beauty twirled across the floor (more gracefully than he had ever allowed himself to notice). He nearly dropped his glass as he struck Benedict in the chest.

“Steady there, brother,” Ben said, putting a hand against Colin’s heaving chest. “What’s the hurry?” He cast a glance over Colin’s shoulder, and the pieces seemed to fall into place. “I’ll say, your friend seems to be enjoying herself. If ‘enjoying yourself’ is best expressed by a scowl, that is.” He tipped his glass. Colin shot him a glare, even though his heart lifted a bit at this last sentiment.

“Oh, don’t be such a grouch,” Ben said, pushing his glass into Colin’s available hand. “While you’re at the table, fetch me another drink, won’t you?”

“I’m not your waiter,” Colin huffed, stifling the urge to turn back to the dance floor once more. It was like an itch, only scratching it burned like a rash.

“You could do with a break. Somehow my ‘sturdy’ little brother has spent the night looking quite pathetic in the corner.”

“I’m not pathetic,” Colin said, and pain tightened his chest.

Ben rolled his eyes, still looking across the dance floor. “Say, maybe I ought to have a word with this Debling fellow. See if his eye for art is as keen as his eye for a wife.”

“Give him my best,” Colin grumbled, sounding more pathetic by the second.

Benedict gave him a sturdy pat on the shoulder. “And you, give Ms. Featherington your best while I do it. Now, hurry along now and get those drinks before the dance is over.” With a wink, he rejoined the sea of lords and ladies.

Colin gazed across the open floor once more. The waltz was approaching its conclusion. Pen’s hair looked on fire in the torchlight. His mind wandered to the fragments of a dream—Pen in the garden, her eyes twinkling a magnetic blue, her lips a luscious pink. He had leaned in just enough to catch the scent of her hair—like the wisteria garden, only…newer, fresher, somehow, and then—

“Colin, dear. Are you feeling alright?” His mother’s voice stopped him in his tracks. Her brow furrowed, and he hurried to right himself, as he had taught himself to do long before Penelope had pounded her way into the forefront of his mind.

Some things, it seemed, had not changed. He had a guard up, and even his beloved mama could not crumble it.

“Very well, mother,” he managed, swaying slightly on his feet. “Merely...looking for a refill.”

“Not feeling up to a waltz tonight, I take it?” The look she gave him suggested she knew there was a particular reason for it—Colin was not one for skipping dances.

He had been avoiding his mother, he realized. Was that a flicker of hurt in her eyes? More than his brothers or sisters, Violet Bridgerton had always had an eye out for these things. And if that was the case, should he not be using her knowledge to his advantage?

“Mother,” he began, aware of the blush suffusing his cheeks. “Forgive me, I know we are in company, but I must ask. Do you believe the best foundation for love is friendship?”

She smiled, crinkling the skin around her eyes. Lovely eyes, so open and trusting. He suddenly hated himself for having avoided her, even if it was unintentional. Perhaps it was because of this conversation that he had kept himself from her.

And something told him that she knew this as well as she whispered, “I think you already know the answer to that.”

#bridgerton #polin #bridgerton season 3 #polin bridgerton #lord debling #polin fanfiction #polin one shot #one shot #Penelope featherington #Colin bridgerton #polin fanfic #Bridgerton fanfiction

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saphirafoxgirlspost1 · 1 year

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(Open Rp) Danny Phantom: The Ultimate Enemy in “The Angel and the Devil”

It all Started, after the Explosion of the Nasty burger. Saphira’s Good friend Danny Lost his sister, his parents, his friends, and His teacher...She was in the Human Disguised..at the Funeral..She sees danny upset and heartbroken..She hugs him and tell him that she’s sorry for the loss as a comfort..but then week later, Saphira Visit Vlad masters home where danny is now living with him...She sees danny Being strapped on while asleep with a sleeping gas mask on it...She looked at him and she change into a Goddess form and said..

Saph: “What happen to danny??” Vlad masters:” He..wasn’t so well..he’s in pain emotionally...now i have to tell you..I’ve decided to remove his ghost...I don’t want his burden to Dragged him down.” Saphira: *gasp*” Vlad Don’t!..His Ghost is pretty unstable and IT Will attack you..or worse...*Sighs* but if you insist..” Vlad: “Thank you my dear friend..” Saph:” But Be warned Vlad Masters, If you Proceed to remove his ghost..there’s going to be consequences...and trust me..you’re going to be shocked..”

She said as she began to leave the manor and began to Ride her horse Out of there...but Half way far...She hears the Screams Of dannys Ghosts as she gasp..and began to Ride off her horse In fear..She close her eyes..and sees him as she gasp..and said “Oh shit...we are serious trouble...I must leave and return in 10 years..” She began to ride off to the swamps right passed the amity park..She called valerie to keep an eye out on fentons home and she will return when 10 years is up...Then Saphira Disappeared into the Shadows...

10 years later..

The Night where Saphira returns to Amity park..Saphira Spotted the city Where it was Domed and Protect by the ghost shield..

her eyes:

Part Of the cities Is turn into ruins...as she rides off quickly before “He” Finds her..as she made it to the city after she went through the Ghost shield..She Rides to fentons Home while wearing a Lovely White Angelic Cloak made of White fur and gold threads..She dismount her horse and began to go onto the Front Door and Knock on it and she said,”Valerie...valeria are you awake? I’m here..its me..Saphira..may i Come in?..” When the Door is opened and Valrie was suprised that saphira was still young and beautiful..So she lets her in..and she said to her” How’s everything for the past 10 years since i vanished? what happen to the city?” then..She told her that it was Horrible when that ghost destroys the part of the city and saphira realized he was looking for her and she said,” He’s been Looking for me...and he thought i was here..but i wasn’t..If he finds out i’m here..He’s going to break the ghost shields one way or another..” She was scared...But the next day..Valerie gave her the watch just to communicate with her..Saphira thanked her very much..but then During the day.She got called by Someone, She answers..and she saw darkness with two red eyes..She went pale...It was him..and he said With a calm and Seductive voice.....

#Open Rp #Romance #Drama #Dp #the Ultimate enemy

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moodywyrm · 1 year

Note

Lets talk about how hot Lin Beifong is bc she's dreamy tbh. I can't decide if I imagine her as a gentle or rough lover, maybe she's a little bit of both? I do hc that she wouldn't be vocal until she orgasms, and that it would take lots of time and trust for her to let you get her there

absolutely based off of my lil conversation with pink heart nonnie. chubby gf implied.

I'm thinking about Lin being stressed beyond belief on a trip to Zaofu that you and the gang convinced her to go. She didn't really care for the urging of the over-enthusiastic young adults, but she really couldn't deny her wife. Especially not when you mentioned that she'd have you all to herself, instead of having to share your attention with Korra and Asami as they plan their next excursion to the Spirit Realm. She'd be able to spend a full week with you, no obligations and nothing but free time to spend being fawned over by her pretty little wife. Now how could she say no to that?

Except, now that she was in Zaofu, she remembered why she didn't want to come in the first place. She loves her sister and her nieces and nephews, she really does, but she can only deal with them so much before she snaps.

Your being as attentive as you can, but when she starts getting extra unreasonably snippy with Su at dinner, you know you have to act fast. With a few quick words and stern hands, you guide her out of the dining hall and back to your rooms. By the time you close the door behind you, Lin is sitting on the bed, huffing and grinding her jaw.

"Don't do that, you'll hurt yourself," You chide, walking over to her and standing between her spread legs, threading one gentle hand through her silver hair. She hums, running her hands up your thighs, resting on your waist and tugging you into her.

With her forehead pressed against your tummy, her words are muffled. "Mmmm, I know, I know. Always looking out for me."

"It's my duty as your wife, honey, just like it's my duty to stop you from damaging your relationship with your sister again," You grumble, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and wrapping her in a hug, letting her push her face into you. Her grip on your waist tightens and then releases, softly rubbing at the flesh. She exhales, relaxing under your touch until she looks up, pressing her chin into you as she looks up at you.

"Thank you dear, it was a good idea, getting me out of there. I'm sorry I've been so stressed this whole trip, ruining our only vacation in who knows how long," She sighs, eyes apologetic and hands clinging to you as she tugs you into her lap. Your thighs are pressed to her sides, warm, soft flesh grounding her as she wraps her arms around your waist.

You bring your hands up, cupping her face and stroking a thumb across her cheekbone, looking at her with so much softness she nearly tears up. "You're not ruining anything, Lin. You're just stressed, it's okay. I get the same way around my family."

"I just get so frustrated, I try not to but sometimes I just can't help it," Lin sighs, pressing a kiss to your palm and tugging you into her a little more, accidentally rocking your hips against hers. The intimacy of the situation, the combined tension from being so pent up for so long, and the desire to ease your wife's worries, cause a little pearl of an idea to build in your head.

"You know, you could get that frustration out in a more ... productive ... fashion," You murmur, running your hands down to rub at her tense shoulders.

Lin's eyebrows go up, immediately catching the hint as she runs her hand down to grip at your ass. "Oh yeah? Care to share what you mean by 'productive'?"

You whimper at her rough hands gripping you, slowly starting to rock you against her. "Mmhm, you can take your frustrations out on me. I mean, there's no better stress reliever than an orgasm, or two, or three."

"You know, you're absolutely right my dear," Lin murmurs, moving one hand up to tug you into a kiss, keeping her rough, calloused hands against the nape of your neck. She presses her lips against yours in a rough, passionate kiss, bruising your soft lips as you whimper against her. One of your hands trails down to her chest, past her tummy to grip at the hem of her tank top, impatiently tugging it up her body.

Lin lands one rough smack on your ass in response to your impatience. "Calm down, brat."

"Fucking need you Lin, 's been too long," You groan, nipping at her bottom lip and pulling at her shirt. Lin huffs, placing both hands on your ass to flip you over and throw you down on the bed, crawling over you and yanking her shirt off, her bra following suit.

"Happy now? Couldn't have just been good for me, now I gotta fuck the brat out of you," She snaps, grabbing your roaming hands and pinning them above your head with an always-attractive show of metal-bending. She's done it so often now, it's second nature to be gentle with you, making sure the metal is rounded and dull, leaving you room to wiggle but not to escape.

"Wasn't being a brat, just wanted to see you," You huff, bucking your hips up into her as she shoves your shirt up above your tits, exposing your soft mounds – and distinct lack of a bra – to the cold room. She grunts, roughly pawing at your chest with one hand while the other yanks your pants down. In a matter of minutes she has you right where she wants you, nearly naked and almost completely exposed.

"You're a fucking brat, now where is my strap? I know a pretty little slut like you would've packed at least one of them," She teases, landing a rough smack to the outside of your thigh, laughing when you squeal.

"Shit, it's in my bag, the green one," You pant, spreading your thighs even wider in anticipation. Lin hums and slides off the bed, stripping off her pants and underwear before walking over to your bag and pulling out the girthy, six-inch, forest green strap attached to a worn-in harness.

She knows this is your favorite strap, with just how thick it is, the detailed veins that drag against your sensitive walls, and the pretty mushroom tip that she loves to press against your gushy little spot. Not to mention the fun little feature it comes with: another side, which presses into Lin as she fucks you, leaving her shaky and determined to make you cum. She's smirking as she pulls it on, sliding her side into her, tightening the harness around her hips and making her way back to your writhing form on the bed. You watched her little performance whining at every inch of exposed skin and muscle, the soft groan Lin let out when she slip it inside, the way the harness tightened around her ass and thighs.

You're basically vibrating with excitement when Lin climbs back onto the bed, sliding between your legs and tugging your thighs up around her waist. You know she's not gonna fuck you just yet but you try anyway, bucking your hips against the veiny silicone.

"Quit fucking moving," Lin barks, placing one sharp smack against your clit before sliding her fingers down to your leaking hole. She spreads your slick all over your cunt, slicking up the dildo with your juices before pushing one finger into you, followed by two more.

You're melting under her touch, hips twitching as she fucks three fingers into you, curving up into your g-spot just to see you cry out for her.

"Lin, Lin please, honey, need you," You plead, bringing your bound hands down to claw at her stomach. It pulls a groan out of her, seeing you so needy, knowing it's been too damn long since she last had you like this.

"Well since you said please," She teases, gripping her shaft and lining it up with your needy cunt, slowly pressing in. You choke out a moan at the stretch, trying to keep still as Lin pushes all the way in, the base of the harness grazing your clit. It causes the other side to push deeper into her, brushing against her sensitive spots and making her shaky.

She gives you a moment to adjust – also giving her a moment to collect herself – before pulling out and slamming back in. She sets a brutal pace, wanting to fuck the frustration out of her body and give you what you asked for. Lin hikes your hips higher on her thighs, trying to get the perfect angle as she fucks into you with no mercy.

"Ah- fuck, Lin, 's perfect, you're perfect," You moan, hands pressed against her lower tummy as she works you over, finally finding your spot when you wail and tremble against her, scratching your nails against her.

"Right there? Yeah, I know honey, just let me take care of it," She grunts, doubling her efforts and snapping her hips against you even harder. You're crying, moaning out her name and squealing with each punch of her strap against your spot, getting closer and closer to the edge. Lin's not much better, only working the other side into her even harder as she tries to get you to fall apart.

Without saying a word, she pushes your hands down from her tummy and onto your clit, letting you rub at the neglected bud as she keeps you spread open. It pushes you over, creaming around her strap as you cry and try to keep playing with your clit, feeling it twitch beneath your finger tips. You're shaking, bucking against Lin's hips as you cum around her strap, but she never lets up, fucking you through it.

You have no chance to come down, letting Lin fuck you into another beautiful high, this one more intense than the first. She would usually be kinder about it, but the way you tightened around her strap made the other side grind against her just right, pushing her into an orgasm.

"Ha-ah, shit, dear, mmh," She grunts, pressing all the way in and grinding into you as she shakes above you. It's all made more intense by the way you tremble beneath her, leaking around her strap as you whiteout for a split second.

You two stay like that, shaking against each other as your orgasm course through you, all the frustration and tension leaking out of Lin.

By the time your breathing returns to normal, you're still shaky, but Lin is slipping out of you as gently as possible, pulling the strap off and throwing it across the room. She's up in an instant, grabbing wet wipes and clean towels to clean you two up. She's so unbearably gentle with you, massaging your hips to eliminate some of the soreness, cleaning you up enough so that you could comfortably sleep.

It takes a second, but she finally slides back into bed, pulling you into her chest. "Thank you dear, I needed that."

Her words are uncharacteristically soft, or at least they would be to anyone but you. She's pressing soft kisses and caresses to your skin, soothing you to sleep in her arms.

Before you drift away, she hears one last, gentle little murmur.

"Mm, I love you, my sweet wife," with a soft kiss pressed to the divot of her chest. It melts her down to her core, letting her drift off to sleep with no worries.

lin beifong I love u I would treat you so right please please please ,,, also I was watching TLOK as I wrote this and I got to Book Four and Kuvira ...... kuvira juvira kyvir akuyvir avkrui my baby I need her

#anon #lin beifong #tlok smut #lin beifong x reader #lin beifong smut #lin beifong x reader smut #tlok x reader #tlok x reader smut

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bookofbonbon · 2 years

Text

the fool who thought he could kill his wife - aemond targaryen.

Pairing/s: Aemond Targaryen x Reader; Aegon Targaryen x Reader (slight).

Warnings: cheating. mentions of character death & murder.

Summary: based on this request but, I took it one step further as usual lol

Word Count: 1774.

A/N: This is my first time writing in this style - I quite like it. The final line is one of my absolute favourites from the movie 'Troy'. I wasn't going to write this request but, it got stuck in my head.

You didn’t notice until it was too late.

Too caught up in the midst of war to notice that slowly, slowly, your dear husband Aemond’s affections toward you began to wane.

You had chalked it all up to changes caused by the war.

The shorter trips at home in turn for longer trips around the Realm.

His avoidance of you when he was home.

The lack of intimacy.

The change in his scent.

The constant arguments.

Then came the attempt on your life and when you told, Aemond… he did not even show the tiniest bit of emotion toward you.

Neither seeking to comfort you or pursue the one who attempted to murder you.

It was then that you knew that these were not changes caused by the war at all but, it was easier to believe that they were when you had no proof.

Until supper one night, when Aegon's drunken stupor finally opened the door to answers you were looking for.

“Aemond has been gone for some time,” Alicent worried aloud, turning toward you. “Have you heard word from him, my dear?”

“I am afraid not,” you shake your head, eyes downcast in false despair.

Truthfully, you could care less of Aemond’s whereabouts or if he had sent word to you or not.

Alicent however, places an anxious hand to her neck and, swallows thickly so, you continue with your performance and place a comforting hand over her other one.

“But he is in the Stormlands after all, my Queen. You know how the weather does not bode well for the ravens.”

“The Stormlands?” Aegon drunkenly burps. “Aemond’s not in the Stormlands. He’s been overseeing our war effort in the Riverlands for the better part of the past year.”

The threads that hold you together threaten to snap but it wasn’t enough, you needed more.

So, you play a lustful game with Aegon, the only one who could give you the full truth behind the answers you seeked.

More giggling, less eye rolling.

More indulging him in his love for the cup, less scolding him for it.

Stolen looks, lingering touches, kisses on the cheek that grew nearer and nearer to one another’s lips and wanton glances from across the room.

Until finally, finally, finally… he innocently invites you to his quarters under the guise of wanting to go over battle strategy with you before your trip to the North but, with the true intention of bedding you.

It was easy from there.

Aegon longed only for women and wine and so, you used both of those things to your advantage – plying him with glass after glass and drawing him in with your body.

Allowing his hands to wonder over every curve and dip of your figure.

His hand cupping your cheek, lips brushing against yours and then you pull away.

“I cannot,” you croak, false tears springing to your eyes. “I- Aemond is my husband. He is your brother, and he is out there fighting for us and protecting us. Loyal and dutiful and I-I am here being a-a… a whore.”

You allow your tears to fall most dramatically from your eyes, a harrowing sob falling from your lips.

Aegon scratches at his head, annoyed by your sudden outburst but, still hopeful of a pleasure filled night so, he brings you into his arms and wipes at your tears; the faint outline of his cock pressing against your lower stomach.

“Oh, my dear, sweet, sister. The true picture of loyalty and duty toward a husband who does not do you the same kindness,” he tuts, thinking out loud.

You sniff sadly, lips pouty and eyes shining innocently as you stare up at Aegon, baiting him.

“W-what do you mean?” you ask, voice wobbling.

Aegon studies you for a moment, thinking about how pretty your lips would look wrapped around his cock.

Thinking about how your thoughts of Aemond were now preventing your pretty lips from being wrapped around his cock so, in his lusty, wine filled daze Aegon confesses Aemond’s sins.

Of the bastard Alys Rivers of House Strong with whom Aemond now lay with, taking her up as not just his whore but, his lover.

"A witch," Aegon tells you.

A witch who had been aiding them in their war effort for she could see what had not yet happened but was certain to come.

A witch who Aemond plotted with to rid you of life.

Aegon only confirms what you already know but, still it hurts to hear and so, you spend the rest of the night weeping into an irate Aegon’s chest as he holds you in awkward comfort.

He was hoping to get his cock wet not his shirt.

The next morning you are gone. Taken to the skies on the back of your dragon Vermithor.

Those in King’s Landing assuming you had left for your assignment in the North but, only going so far as Dragonstone.

Aegon unsuspecting and forgetting of the words he had spoken to you the night before.

“Rhaenyra,” you bow your head to your niece.

“Daemon,” you turn your nose up at your cousin.

“I should slice you from the opening of your cunt to the opening of your mouth for even showing your face here,” he hisses at you.

“You should but, you won’t,” you shrug.

Your arrogance provokes Daemon forward until Rhaenyra's hand wraps itself around his bicep.

“And you won’t because you know I can help you,” you finish.

“In what world would you think that I would want your help after your husband murdered my son?” Rhaenyra seethes, tears lining her eyes.

“A world plunged into war and forcing those of us who stand to gain nothing from it to take sides,” you bite back coldly. “I can help you win.”

“Why help us win if you stand to gain nothing from it?” Daemon studies you, slowly connecting the dots. “What has our foolish nephew done that turns you away from him?”

“My dear husband conspires to have me killed with a witch by the name Rivers. A bastard of House Strong. I’m sure the irony of who Aemond has taken to whore is not lost on either of you.”

“So, you do stand to gain something from it,” Rhaenyra looks at you smugly. “Her head.”

“You are sorely mistaken, niece,” you chuckle darkly. “It is not the head of Aemond’s whore that I want but, the head of Aemond himself.”

You lie in wait, perched atop of a mountain as Vermithor bristles beneath you.

You instructed Daemon on what to do – Aemond saw Daemon as the biggest threat to Aegon’s throne and so, you knew he would respond to a challenge issued only by Daemon.

His unwavering need to constantly prove that he was the better, that he was the best had always been his downfall and now he would pay for it with blood.

The undeniable flapping of wings that could only belong to a dragon bigger than your own reaches your ears; signalling the arrival of Vhagar and her rider and with that you take to the skies.

Vhagar glides through the sky, Aemond’s keen eye searching for the lithe red dragon of his opponent as he calls out taunts in High Valyrian; completely caught off guard by the colossal spew of fire that engulfs him and Vhagar.

A thunderous roar spills from the she-dragon but, it’s cut short when she’s suddenly attacked relentlessly over and over again by a barrel of bronze hurtling into her, sharp teeth, fiery breath, and large claws ripping into the older dragon in a loud clash above the God’s eye.

Aemond desperately clings to Vhagar’s reign, trying to regain control of Vhagar to steer her from where the onslaught of attacks had come from.

He only just manages, hair whipping around wildly as Aemond searches the sky frantically. Shock becoming him when his gaze settles on the Bronze Fury that emerges from above the clouds – the Bronze Fury that was sired to his dear wife.

Aemond freezes, the icy glare you level him with telling him everything he needed to know and before, he can realise what’s happening, Vermithor locks his jaw around Vhagar’s neck.

The older dragon too slow and too injured to counter Vermithor’s attacks as the Bronze Fury rips out the she-dragon's neck, sending her spiralling into the water below with a tidal wave splash.

Aemond emerges from the water with a sharp gasp, taking in mouthfuls of air.

Adrenaline pumps through your veins, giving you the strength to drag Aemond’s battered body across the wet sand, your hand fisted in an ironclad grip around the neck of his armour as you use up the last ounce of your strength to heave his body against a nearby rock.

Aemond stares at you from his position, each breath burning his lungs.

“How, how,” Aemond pants, violet eye piercing into your own.

“Aegon,” you answer, kneeling beside him. “He has only taste for women and wine so, I am sure you can imagine how easy it was to withdraw the answers I needed from him.”

“I do not under- understand. Alys- Alys only saw Daem-”

You tut disapprovingly at Aemond, pulling a necklace from beneath your armour, the blood red eye-shaped pendant swinging back and forth.

“Protection from her wandering eyes. No matter how far or clearly your beloved Alys could see into the future, she could have never foreseen me,” you brush silvery strands from his head, gripping his chin between your fingers.

“The Targaryen bloodline is rooted deeply in fire and blood magic, dear husband. You might have done better to remember that if your mother had bothered to keep to the traditions of our House whose sigil you wear so brazenly on your chest and name you call your own.”

Aemond glares at you with the hatred of a thousand burning suns. He should've killed you himself.

“But, not for long,” you pull the Catspaw Dagger from the sheath holstered to your side, dragging the tip along the side of his face.

“I will not beg you for my life,” Aemond spits through gritted teeth.

“But you will beg me for your death,” you smile saccharinely. “For when I am done with you, you won’t have eyes tonight; you won’t have ears or a tongue. You will wander the underworld blind, deaf and dumb and all the dead will know. This is Aemond. The fool who thought he could kill his wife.”

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aegon targaryen x reader #aemond x alys

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