#unnamed strong daughters

[allyriadayne]

do you have any thoughts or headcanons about lyonel's daughters?

yah of course lol

their names are lucinda and alysanne strong. @elcctra and i came up with their names. lucinda for lucinda broome, lady tully during the first years of jaehaerys' reign. lyonel might have wanted to honor his overlords as a sign of peace after harrenhal changed hands to the strongs, from a minor vassal house to one of the most powerful. alysanne well obviously for the queen. more or less the same thought, because it's my headcanon lyonel is low key a social climber and would want to honor the targs that gave the family his seat.

under the cut babyyy

they are very close in age, i would say something like 18 months or around. from the same mother, lyonel's last wife. while they weren't a disappointment, everyone expected more sons that could go over larys' claim but alas. in general the girls are very happy and healthy and inseparable. many think they are twins but not really. i think of them as being older than rhaenyra by two or three years max but to her they feel younger because they are very carefree and girly and giggly. like every annoying teenage girl who laughs at you on the streets. rhaenyra has Responsibilities and she always liked alicent better of course so the girls are only there to entertain the princess and so on. not for serious stuff.

to me they are the opposite of the harwin - larys - alys trio. while they are looking at the horror and experiencing complex dynamics, the girls are making friends with every ghost in harrenhal. the are also very friendly so nobody cares if the cook finds them talking to a third person in a dark cellar <3 this also happened because there is a big age difference between the siblings. not very close. harwin and larys disliked their stepmother, larys hated the girls on principles because he knew they were meant to be his replacement, and alyn doesn't hate them but has complicated feeling about them just like with any strong child she takes care of in the nursery. lyonel also named one of them alysanne to add insult to the injury lol

they loved their dad because lyonel only asked of them the bare minimum and rhaenyra's household is pretty cool and the princess is nice to them. they do wish they were more prominent in there but they don't mesh well in general. they are normal girls in harrenhal but in real society are a justtt a bit off putting. what else???? hm they cried when lyonel and harwin died of course. they went to the funeral with larys' (/larys/ they can't believeeee) leave and they acted as his representatives. they love harwin's children to bits but are gutted none of them know they are family.

very codependent but not in the weird way lol just in the way they don't have a distinct personality from the other. they probably had a double wedding or something and dragged their husbands to dragonstone. felt very betrayed when larys stayed in the capital bc they never understood why he would hate harwin/harwin's children. they feel like it's their duty to continue their house esp after aemond killed the other strongs. larys sends them perfunctory letters here and there like "come here this instant" or something but it obviously doesn't work. he doesn't care about them personally but he's a control freak and can't let them go. they don't care about him /either/ so goodbye.

for one of the girls i have claudia jessie in vanity fair. with darker hair (not in bridgerton...not with those stupid bangs) but for the other i'm still blank. i just liked claudia because i thought she looked A LOT like matthew needham and that was fun. i want the other to have brown eyes because all of lyonel's children have blue yes (fight back lyonel!!) but i haven found a fc yet.

[acewithapencil]

Lucerys meeting his loved ones in the afterlife ❤️🥲

[15-lizards]

mrs. reed i have an important question pls. or two actually. it's for fanfiction purposes and also i am obsessed with ur fashion and hair headcanons and regularly check the tag for updates.

how would a fem!selmy character dress ? also important note she spends a lot of time in braavos.

how would a fem!halfdornish half volantene character dress? she also grew up enslaved so not a big fan of red priests OR volantis.

how would a fem!house strong character dress? it's viserys' court in the late (rotting corpse) stages and she's very ambitious. thankyyy

it's very specific but maybe a challenge considering? idk i love your headcanons and want to know your thoughts but feel free to totally and completely ignore/generalize more :))))

Let me read ur fic!!

Selmy girls, to me, dress very down-to-earth casually, with a preference for golden yellow colors. The top gown she might wear in Westeros, plain and long sleeves gowns that may or may not be fitted to her, depending on whether she has a surcoat/overgown on as well. The left is a mash of Pentos/Stormlands she can wear in either place. It has the cut of an average gown she might wear in Westeros, but the overcoat, the belt, the headpiece, and patterns are inspired from her time in the Pentoshi ports. The right is a full-Pentoshi gown (shout out to the Chechen culture for his one) with a simple cut and silky fabric to wick away sweat. Metal jewelry and accessories like belts and brooches hand crafted by Essosi artisans, and of course a loose veil/scarf/head wrap to protect her head from the sun

For your dornish-volantene girl, she might scorn all finery from or that reminds her of Volantis. She wears long strips of light cloth wrapped around to make a loose skirt or pants, and another bolt to create a wrapped top of some kind, and that’s it. Nothing heavy or golden, just something that can give her ease of movement and also not remind her of her enslavers. If she was ever in Dorne, she most likely would adopt that style of clothing, especially on the coasts or in the sands, where there is far less shade than in Volantis. Simple, square cut gowns of cotton that are decorated by incredibly detailed embroidery and other types of patterns. Again, a veil or headscarf is useful in Dorne, but some situations may require full facial coverage from the sun

Unnamed Strong sister my beloved. Bringing her to court while she’s still a young girl, she is dressed as the innocent she is. White gowns with colorful borders and flowery patterns, short puffed sleeves, ringlet curled hair, and a lace neckline high enough to be considered appropriate for a young girl. As she grows up, she starts wearing finer gowns (perhaps from Rhaenyra’s closet), soft silk with gilded lining, neckline pushed down low enough to get a courtiers attention. Once she’s a grown woman, she is far more comfortable, wearing Targaryen colors to symbolize her favor with the crown (or green, depending on which side she’s on). Off the shoulder necklines and flatter sleeves symbolize that she is a woman now, not a child. Many layered gowns with cloth of gold underskirts show off her new wealth.

[branwendaughterofllyr]

I have made an accidental canon connection in my fic, lol. It was not intentional but I feel so big-brained now.

[requiemforthepoets]

this is me trying 𖦹 OP81

PAIRINGS: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: growing up, the only thing you know is that you need to be strong, provide, and take care of your sister. but being with oscar, it was different, he made you feel things—that it’s okay to not be fine, vulnerable, and to be taken care of.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have this fic finished the other day but i was debating on whether to post it or not, but here we are. it’s been a while too since i last wrote for oscar, and this is like a comfort (?) fic idk lol. also, can i just say that LANDO ON POLE FOR THE SG GP!!! 😭🧡 ok, i hope you guys will have fun reading this one. enjoy! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, eldest daughter syndrome, no use of y/n, cursing, unnamed sister, named friend, and parents death

You were sitting in the living room, surrounded by case files and legal books, trying your best to prepare for the court trial that you’ll be doing soon, but your mind was elsewhere. You can't focus on the work that you’re working on in front of you, no matter how hard you try. Your phone buzzed, and you almost didn’t answer, thinking it’s just another work call, but when you saw Blaire, your friend’s name, flash on the screen you quickly picked up, expecting a casual chat.

“Hey, Blaire, how are you?” You greeted her, trying to mask your exhaustion.

Her voice on the other end was hesitant, not the usual warm tone that you’re used to. “Hey…I really hate to bring this up, but I was wondering when you would be able to repay the five thousand dollars?”

Your stomach dropped. “Repay?” You repeated, utterly confused. “What do you mean five thousand dollars?”

The conversation between you and Blaire unraveled quickly. She explained how she had lent the money to your sister out of need, thinking it was for you or with your approval. Rage bubbled in your chest, your pulse quickened, at this point all you can see is red. You thanked her hastily, barely able to end the call before fury overtook you. Without thinking, you dialed your sister’s number, the beeps echoing in your ear like a countdown to an explosion.

“Hello?” Her voice was casual, completely unaware of the storm coming her way.

“What the actual fuck did you do?!” You yelled, not caring if it was late at night. “You borrowed five fucking thousand dollars from Blaire without asking me!? How could you?!”

There was a pause, a brief moment where you could almost feel her shrug through the phone. “Oh my god, can you relax? It’s not like you can't afford it. It’s not that big of a deal, you can just easily pay for it with how big you’re making, it’s barely a scratch on your bank account!” You couldn’t believe what you were actually hearing.

“Not a big deal? Did you spend the money already? Do you have any fucking idea how humiliating it is for me that you did this without even consulting me? You think just because I make good money, I’ll fix every mess you create?” You were seething.

“Well, yeah,” she responded with a laugh, clearly not grasping the gravity of the situation. “You’re my older sister. Isn’t it your job to take care of me, right?”

Your grip on your phone tightened. “I’ve been taking care of you your whole life! I’m working myself to the bone just to make sure you have everything you need, sending you to that fancy school that you’ve always wanted so you can have a better future, and this is how you repay me? By lying and stealing?”

The silence on the other end of the line felt heavy, but your anger has not subsided. She mumbled something that sounded like a half assed apology, but it was already too late for that. You immediately hung up and slammed the phone down on the table, heart racing, pulse pounding in your ears. Anger still swirling inside you like a storm, the words of your sister still echoing in your mind. You can just easily pay for it with how big you’re making. Her carelessness, lack of respect—it hit harder than anything you had experienced before. It wasn’t about the money, you could handle the five thousand dollars easily, but the way she completely dismissed your hard work, as if it was nothing, as if your sacrifice and years of struggle meant nothing—that was what burned deep. It hurts like fucking hell.

You sat down there on the couch, trying to calm yourself down, tears started to prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back. You didn’t cry. You cannot cry. You have always been strong your whole life—the provider, carer, and protector. That’s who you were. No one had ever taken care of you, not since your parents passed away when you were fifteen and your sister is only ten. It has always been you, alone, against the world, and now, it felt like even your sister was against you.

You didn’t hear Oscar enter the living room until his voice, soft but firm, broke through the silence. “Hey, I heard you from our room. Are you okay?”

You swallowed hard, your body automatically stiffening instinctively and continued browsing through your documents like nothing happened.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry,” you lied, though the quiver in your voice betrayed you.

Oscar walked over and sat down beside you on the couch, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. “You don’t always have to be fine,” he said quietly. “Tell me, what happened?”

You exhaled sharply, your hands trembling as you ran them through your hair. “It’s my sister,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. “She borrowed money from Blaire. Five thousand dollars. Without even telling me. Now, she’s acting like it’s my job to fix it.”

“Five thousand? That’s a lot.” Oscar frowned, his brows knitting in concern.

“I know,” you said, “she doesn’t even care. She just assumes I’ll take care of it, like I always do every time she gets into stupid situations. She thinks just because I earn good money, I’m supposed to fix everything.” Your voice cracked, and before you could stop it, the tears you had been holding back for so long finally broke free. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Oscar. I’m always the one fixing things, I’m always the one who has to be strong.”

Oscar didn’t say anything for a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes filled with understanding. Then, without a word, he pulled you into his arms. You tensed at first, still not used to being vulnerable, but Oscar’s embrace was warm, grounding. Slowly, your body relaxed into his, and the weight of the world seemed to lift just a little as you rested your head against his chest.

“It’s not fair,” you whispered to him. “I’ve always had to be the strong one. I’m tired, Oscar. I’m so fucking tired. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

His hand gently stroked your back, his voice soft and reassuring. “I know. It’s okay to be tired. You don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me.”

You pulled back slightly to look at him, your eyes searching his face, “I just don’t know how to let anyone help me,” you admitted, voice barely audible. “I’ve been doing this for so long, I don’t know how to not be the one in control.”

“I get that. But you don’t have to do it all alone anymore. I’m here. Let me be strong for you, too.” Oscar smiled gently, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The idea of letting someone else carry even a fraction of the weight feels completely foreign to you. But as you looked at Oscar, his eyes full of sincerity, something inside you shifted. Maybe, it’s time you let it all fall down, you didn’t have to carry everything on your shoulders all the time.

“What am I supposed to do about her?” You asked, your voice small but steady now.

Oscar sighed softly, thinking for a moment. “You have all the right to be angry and upset. Your feelings are valid,” he said. “She needs to learn that actions have consequences. But at the same time, she’s your sister. She’s young, and sometimes young people tend to make mistakes. You’ve been doing everything for so long that she probably hasn’t learned how to take responsibility for herself yet.”

You nodded, wiping your eyes. “Yeah, maybe. But I can’t just let her think she can keep doing this.”

“No,” he agreed. “But you also don’t have to do this alone. We can figure it out together.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t alone. Maybe you didn’t always have to be the strong one, the provider, the protector. With Oscar by your side, you could learn how to let someone else carry the weight with you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, leaning into him once more. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Oscar smiled, pressing a soft tender kiss to your forehead. “You’ll never have to find out, I’m not going anywhere, my love.”

The next morning, you stared at the screen of your laptop, fingers moving quickly over the keys as you finished drafting the contract. The legal jargon was familiar, comforting even, but the fact that you had to use it against your own sister left a bitter taste in your mouth. The contract was firm, direct, and laid out the consequences clearly: five thousand dollars, to be repaid in installments, with interest and penalties if the deadline is missed. You hated doing it—your heart never felt so heavy—but you knew it was necessary. You had been too lenient for far too long, if she didn’t learn this now, she might never understand the true value of money and the responsibility that came with it. It was time for her to learn the hard truths you had known your entire life.

Oscar was sitting across the table, sipping his coffee, watching you in silence. “You’ve finished it?” He asked gently. You had told him last night that you need to straighten everything out, and told him your plan, in which he quickly supported you.

You nodded, eyes scanning the contract one last time before saving it. “Yeah. She’s not going to like it, but this has to be done.” You sighed, “I’ve been too lenient, too forgiving. I can’t keep cleaning up after her messes.”

“You’re doing the right thing.” He said as he reached over, placing his hand over yours. “It’s tough, but you’re teaching her a lesson she won’t forget.”

“I hope so,” you sighed, glancing out the window, the weight of responsibility pressing down on you once more. “I’ve never been one to ask for anything back, but she needs to learn that she can’t just treat me like this. I want her to be successful, but she can’t rely on me forever.”

Later that day, you booked a flight for her to Monaco, and notified her about the flight schedule. She was studying in Switzerland, and it would be a four hour flight from Switzerland to Monaco. It was time to have this conversation face-to-face. You couldn’t keep allowing her to avoid responsibility just because you were miles apart. This is a conversation that is long overdue.

A couple of days later, she arrived at your and Oscar’s shared apartment. She seemed different—more subdued, perhaps. You could tell the weight of your anger still lingered in her mind. She greeted you cautiously, her eyes flickering to Oscar, who stood nearby, his presence calm but protective.

“Sit down,” you said, pointing to the couch.

She looked at you, clearly trying to gauge your mood, but she did as she was told. You sat across from her, with Oscar by your side, and the freshly printed contract lying on the table between you. The tension in the living room was thick.

“I had already settled your debt with Blaire,” you began, your voice calm but firm. “But this conversation is not just about the money. It’s about respect, about responsibility.”

“I said I was sorry.” She crossed her arms, trying to play it cool.

“Sorry doesn’t fix this,” you snapped, your patience was already running thin, barely hanging on by a thread. “I have been providing for you because I want nothing but the best for you. But what you did was careless, and you disrespected everything I’ve done for you. You didn’t even ask me before borrowing that money, and then you just blatantly assumed I would handle it. You do this every time to me, you always get me into awkward and humiliating situations.”

She bit her lip, her attitude wavering. “I know, but you make so much—”

“That’s not the point!” You cut her off, about to lose your cool but Oscar had managed to calm you down by softly caressing your back. “Yes, I make good amount of money, but that money just doesn’t magically appear. I have worked hard, harder than you can imagine, to get to where I am. Do you want to know what’s worse? What’s worse is that you’re not even thinking about how hard it is to earn that money, how I burn myself off everyday. So I’m making you earn it back.” You slid the contract towards her.

“What’s this?” She looked down at it, then back at you, looking all confused.

“It’s an agreement,” you said. “I’ve decided to give you the five thousand dollars. Consider what you bought from that money as a gift, because I know you’ve been doing well in school, and it’s been a while since I’ve given you anything. But this will never happen again. You owe me that money, and you're going to pay it back. Every cent of it, with interest.” Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to protest, but you cut her off before she could even speak.

“This is not negotiable. I’m still going to support you, I’m still going to pay for your tuition, but you need to learn how hard it is to earn this kind of money. You’re going to work for it, and I'll expect proof—payslips, records—everything. If you miss a payment, there will be penalties added, and if you refuse or try to make a fool out of me, I’m not afraid to take legal action.”

“You’d sue me? Your own sister?” She stared at you in disbelief.

“Yes, I would,” you said coldly. “I don’t want to, but you’ve left me with no choice. You are already eighteen and will turn nineteen in two months, you are already capable of knowing what’s right and wrong. You need to understand that I’m not going to bail you out every time you mess up, this is your responsibility now.”

For a long moment, she didn’t say anything. Her face was a mix of shock and anger, but you could tell the gravity of the situation was already starting to sink in.

“I’m not trying to be harsh,” you said softly, leaning forward. “But I’ve been in your shoes, and I know firsthand how hard life can be. I have shielded you from that, and maybe that was my mistake. But if you’re going to succeed in this world, you need to understand that nothing is free, nothing in life is free. Everything comes with a cost.”

Oscar then leaned forward, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “Look, we’re not doing this to hurt you,” he added, tone gentle but firm. “But this is a wake-up call. You need to understand how your sister has worked so hard, and how important it is that you start contributing. No one’s saying you have to do it alone, but you have to start doing something.”

Your sister’s eyes shifted between the two of you, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of guilt in her expression. She glanced back down at the contract, and you handed her a pen.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll do it. I’ll pay you back.” Her attitude and defiance slowly faded from her face.

“Good.” You nodded, “then sign it.”

She hesitated for only a moment before scribbling her signature across the bottom of the contract. You felt a strange mixture of relief and sadness, knowing you had to be this tough, but also hoping it would be the turning point she needed.

“You can stay with us while you’re in Monaco,” you told her, “but I expect you to find a job as soon as possible. If you fail to keep up with your end of the deal, there will be consequences. Understood?”

“Understood.” She nodded, though her expression was still a mix of resentment and defeat.

You exhaled, feeling a small sense of relief wash over you. This wasn’t easy, and you hated having to be this strict with her, but it had to be done. Oscar wrapped his arm around you, his touch grounding as soon as you watched your sister head towards the guest room.

“You did the right thing,” he said quietly.

“I hope so,” you whispered, leaning into him. “I just want her to grow up.”

“Don’t worry, she will.” Oscar assured you, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head. “With you as her sister, she doesn’t have much of a choice,”

Later that evening, the apartment finally fell quiet, dinner was definitely awkward and quiet, but with your sister already tucked away in the guest room, the weight of everything you had said and done began to settle in. You were sitting at the edge of the bed, heart heavy and mind replaying what had happened earlier over and over. The way your sister had looked at you—hurt and angry—it cut deeper that you were willing to admit.

You had always been strong, but this strength had come with a cost. Now, sitting in the stillness of the night, the reality of your actions hit you like a tidal wave. It wasn’t just the contract or the money, it was the fear—the fear that in trying to teach her a lesson, you might have pushed her too far. That in being the disciplinarian, you had damaged something that might never fully recover or heal.

Oscar entered the room quietly, sensing the shift in your mood. He sat beside you, his presence had always been comforting, but it wasn’t enough to stop the flood of emotions you had been holding back.

“Was I too harsh, Osc?” You whispered, voice barely audible.

He frowned slightly, tilting his head to look at you. “No, you weren’t. She needed to hear all of it.”

“I know,” you replied, voice trembling. “But what if I lose her because of this? What if she hates me for it?”

You felt your tears welling up again, but this time you couldn’t stop them anymore. They spilled down your cheeks, unchecked, as you finally let go of the tension and frustration you had been carrying.

“I’m not being harsh to punish her, I just want her to understand how hard life is, how much I’ve sacrificed. But what if all she sees is me being cruel?”

Oscar pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you as you broke down. You rested your head on his chest, sobs coming in waves, guilt and fear crashing over you. You had always been strong for so long—too long—and now, it felt like everything was unraveling.

“She’s my baby sister,” you choked out between sobs. “I don’t want to lose her. But I don’t know what else to do. I don’t want her to think I’m just some heartless person who only cares about money.”

Oscad held you tighter, his voice calm and steady as he spoke. “She won’t hate you. Not forever. She’s upset now, sure. But she’s young, and right now, she probably doesn’t understand why you’re doing this. But she will, trust me. One day, she’ll look back at it and realize that you did this because you love her.”

You shook your head, your chest tightening with the weight of your emotions. “I feel like I’m always the one who has to be the bad guy. I never get to be the one who’s just there for her, to support her without judgment.”

Oscar stroked your hair gently, his voice soothing. “You’ve done more for her than anyone else ever could. You’ve given her everything. You’re not the bad guy, you’re her protector, even when it means being tough on her. Yeah, maybe this will cause a rift for now, but it won’t last. She’ll come around, she’ll see that you’re doing this because you care.”

You pulled away slightly, wiping at your tear-streaked face. “What if she doesn’t?”

“She will,” Oscar said firmly. “But even if it takes time, you can’t keep beating yourself up for doing what’s right. You’re teaching her a lesson that no one else will. You’re giving her the tools to grow up, to be responsible. Sometimes, that means being tough. That’s tough love.”

You nodded, but the guilt still gnawed at you. “I just wish I didn’t have to be this person all the time. The one who fixes things, who keeps everyone in line.”

“I know. But you’re not doing this alone anymore, okay? I’m here. Whenever it feels like it’s too much, rest on me. You can always rest on me.”

You leaned into him again, his warmth easing the ache that you’re feeling inside of you. “I just hope she understands someday,” you whispered.

“She will,” Oscar said softly, kissing the top of your head. “And until then, you’ve done what you needed to do. You’ve set her on the right path, and that’s what matters.”

As the tears slowly subsided, you felt a flicker of hope, knowing that even though this was hard, it was necessary. Even if your sister doesn't see it now, you could only hope that one day, she would understand that everything you did was out of love.

The weight on your shoulders became a little lighter, knowing that Oscar was right. Even if it took time, even if there were still battles to fight, you knew you weren’t facing them alone anymore, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to breathe. You had done what needed to be done. Now it was up to your sister to follow through.

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (16/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece •female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex content, dirty talk, smut, the angst, murder, character death, miscarriage and the trauma associated with it, panic attack, mafia stuff, brutal violence, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn’t let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father’s mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra’s husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin’s brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She was pregnant.

Although, according to all moral and social norms, she should have been crying in despair, she was happy: touching her belly with her hand, she felt nothing but love for this little being that was slowly growing inside her.

The fruit of their warm, deep, sincere affection.

The knowledge that she was not alone helped her when it was time for her to meet the staff for whom she was to be responsible from now on. Aemond insisted on being with her, fearing for some reason for her and the baby, she, however, knew that this was something she had to do alone.

Their stares when she walked into the VIP room in which she had ordered the meeting told her everything – grown men and women who looked as if they had seen far too much in their lives watched her in disbelief.

She knew they thought with disapproval that she was just a little girl, a whore who had been given this place as a gift by their boss that she wouldn't know what to do with, pestering them with her stupid bullshit.

She sat down in one of the empty armchairs, a few people lit cigarettes and grunted, other than that, complete silence all around her.

"I know what you're thinking and you're right. The fact that I have taken over these premises is a form of security for me. In true, not only for me, but also for you. Aemond will stop the flow of drugs through these and two other places that used to belong to my father. I have no intention of changing managers or leadership, quite the contrary – I want to talk to you about what you need. I want this to be a clean, legitimate business that is profitable. No drastic changes." She said, looking at them expectantly, feeling her heart pounding like crazy.

A few people twisted in their seats, others looked at each other.

Silence.

Obviously they didn't trust her.

"Think whatever you want about me. It doesn't matter. Know, however, that my stepfather no longer threatens you, and Aemond will still protect this place. All I ask for is loyalty. If there is a problem with something, come to me with it, not to my uncle, or he will be furious. Now get back to work, I want to stay with the manager." She said calmly.

All but one man who could easily be her father got up from their seats and walked out, leaving them alone.

"This is not a toy you can just pick up and have." He said finally, firing up the lighter, leaning over the flame with his cigarette.

"I don't see it as a toy. We can all gain something if we accept each other. Would you rather keep wallowing in this shit and selling ecstasy to young kids? Don't you have children of your own?" She asked coolly, and the man snorted under his breath, the corner of his mouth twitching in a smirk.

"I do. Three. Two sons and a daughter. Each of them works here. The sons as security guards and the daughter behind the bar." He said dryly and she swallowed hard, feeling the cold sweat on her back.

Fuck.

Had she just insulted him?

"You let your own kids do drugs? Do you want them to be arrested with you if the police come by here, as part of family integration?" She asked, and he sighed heavily, taking a loud drag on his cigarette.

"I didn't say that." He replied, letting the smoke out through his mouth.

"And I don't want that either. Help me protect you." She insisted, and he looked at her finally, as if he had made up his mind.

"You're just like your father."

She exhaled loudly, in an involuntary reflex she'd been holding back for the last few hours touching her lower abdomen as soon as the car door closed behind her.

"And how was it? Everything okay?" Her uncle asked, immediately grasping her hand in his, looking at her expectantly, tense.

"They are difficult people. Difficult, but tired. They don't want problems. They get used to it." She said quietly, exhausted and sleepy.

She looked at him, a worry in his eyes but also a tenderness from which she felt warm in her heart.

"Take me home."

The road to the sea was getting terribly long, perhaps because once in a while she felt an unpleasant twinge in her stomach, indicative of what was about to happen.

"– no – no, stop the car, stop the car –" She muttered, and he immediately pulled over to the side of the road – she only managed to open the door before she vomited on the grass, panting heavily.

"– oh, baby – why don't you lie down in the back seat? – you'll be more comfortable –" She heard his voice, his broad hand stroking her back.

Ever since they'd found out they were going to be parents he'd been so tender, so good, so sweet.

Exactly like he had been back then.

"– okay –" She mumbled and swallowed hard, wiping her mouth with her handkerchief. She unbuckled her seatbelt, climbed out and opened the door in the back, laying down on both passenger seats, closing her eyes.

"– sleep, little one – I'll drive slowly – we're not in any hurry –" He said, looking at her in the rear view mirror, and she nodded.

She flinched when she felt the car finally stop – she heard someone open the door, the fresh air and his familiar hands enveloped her, lifting her up, and she clung to him like a small child. He carried her into the house, to a room that belonged to him, where they had set up their makeshift bedroom for the time of renovation.

She felt him lay her gently on the bed, taking his place beside her a moment later, embracing her from behind.

"– you're tiring your mummy terribly –" He whispered, stroking her belly with lazy, calm motions of his hand. "– you need to let her rest –"

She smiled, allowing herself to fall asleep again, this time in his embrace. Her uncle often addressed their child as if the baby could already understand him – he was making a connection this way, realising that he was really going to become a father.

He was involved in everything about preparing for the arrival of their child into the world – they decided to dedicate the room she slept in that summer holiday to their future offspring and repainted it together, sticking cute glow-in-the-dark stickers on the walls in the shape of various planets and stars.

With some things, they had to wait because they didn't know if the baby was going to be a boy or a girl.

"It cost me a lot of money, but I made it. I have written permission from the Archbishop. Rhaenys, we can marry." He said to her one morning, holding a piece of paper in front of him that was to change their lives.

A dispensation for a church wedding.

"We need witnesses." She muttered, gripping his hand in hers. Her uncle nodded, as if he knew she'd said it.

"I know, Helaena agreed. I didn't want to decide about another person for you." He said, and she smiled, feeling grateful.

He became more open, more affectionate, always thinking of her and her needs too.

She knew who she wanted by her side.

"I know I'm asking a lot and that I'm not entitled to it. I know your father will be furious if you say yes, but… you have always been close to my heart. You didn't judge me. I wish I had you with me on this day." She mouthed in a breaking voice, standing alone in the bathroom with her phone pressed to her ear, wiping her face wet with tears.

She heard Baela swallow hard, shocked by her words.

For a long moment, they were both silent.

"– I – God – I've always felt you were in pain – only now I know why and I'm sorry you've been alone with this for so long – I don't want you to not have your bridesmaid on your wedding day – just tell me when and where –" She muttered and she burst out into a quiet sob, feeling relieved.

"– forgive me – forgive me for being such a disgusting person –" She choked out, whooping, feeling that she had finally described herself truly.

She had fucked her own uncle and was going to have a baby with him.

She was sick.

Baela drew in a loud breath.

"– stop – if he was your own birth brother, it would be much, much worse – on the positive side, he's actually only half your uncle –" She said, and for some reason she burst out laughing.

God.

"– right – it's a good thing I didn't choose Jace –" She mumbled, and Baela snorted.

"– exactly – let's stick to that –" She said.

"– it would be funny if the police burst into the church and arrested us –" She sneered, fiddling with the soft towel hanging on the rack, imagining commandos with guns ordering them to fall to the ground.

"– for what? – for drug dealing or for incest? –" Baela scoffed, and she giggled under her breath.

"– for everything – the list of crimes is long –" She said with a smile, for some reason feeling lighter.

It was the first time she had ever talked to someone about it completely honestly.

She shuddered when she heard a loud knock on the door.

"Rhaenys? Are you all right?" She heard his concerned voice.

Ever since he had found her in the bath then, he had been afraid if she stayed in the bathroom too long.

"Yes. I'm talking to Baela. She agreed." She called out to him.

"That's great." He said with sincere relief, as if he was afraid she would suffer another disappointment and rejection from her family.

They hadn't planned to invite any guests to the event, have a dinner together or anything of the sort – they knew that most of their family felt there was nothing to celebrate, and for them, as it wasn't a state wedding, it only had symbolic significance.

Helaena helped her choose the right dress – she wanted to look special that day, because even though their nuptials were going to be bittersweet, she was, in the eyes of God, going to be his wife.

"– oh – look – this one is lovely –" Helaena hummed, taking from the rack a long, white gown with a cut-out back and lace at the neckline and the ends of the delicate, long sleeves.

"– you're right – it would match the flowers in my hair –" She said, in her perfect image of herself that day wishing she had daisies woven into her curls.

Helaena dropped her off in the car at a shop near their house and they said their goodbyes – she needed nothing so much as a walk and some fresh air, however, she wanted to cook them dinner too, knowing that her fiancé would be back late.

Since he had started telling her about his affairs, what he needed to do and where he needed to go, she felt calmer and his absence no longer frightened her so much.

Besides, he wasn't leaving her alone anymore, she thought, touching her stomach happily, looking curiously at the shelves full of different kinds of pasta, searching for the perfect one for spaghetti.

She shuddered, having the feeling that someone had rubbed against her by accident, but then she felt that person holding something against her back.

"Be quiet and leave the shop slowly." She heard a cold, unfamiliar voice behind her and froze, feeling her heart leap up into her throat, a cold sweat on her back.

She looked to the side, wondering if she should scream, if anyone would help her, not knowing if this man held a gun or a knife against her body.

"Don't try anything or I'll butcher you like a pig." He said, as if he was reading her mind, and she swallowed hard, feeling burning tears of terror under her eyelids, her body involuntarily began to tremble.

She simply moved towards the exit, and the man she was afraid to look at put his arm around her like he was her boyfriend, clamping his hand firmly on her waist to make sure she didn't try to escape.

As soon as they left she sprang up to throw herself into a run, but the man grabbed her waist and clamped his hand over her mouth – she bit him with a loud squeal, but he only hissed, not letting her go, hiding behind the wall of the shop, two other men got out of the car.

One of them, a blond man with a beard and blue eyes had a scars on his left cheek.

"– come on, what the fuck are you waiting for – faster –" Tyland Lannister growled, and the man who was clearly his bodyguard forced her to bow her head and forcibly shoved her into the back seat, closing the door behind her.

She burst out crying, curling up as Tyland sat down next to her and the two men took their seats in front, driving away with a squeal of tyres.

"– shut the fuck up – be a good girl and no harm will come to you – I need to clear up a few things with your uncle –" He said lightly – only when she looked at him did she notice that he held in his hand a gun pointed towards her.

She pressed her body against the car door, looking at him with big eyes and shook her head.

"– please – please let me out, I'm pregnant – I –" She mumbled out and squealed, leaning forward, feeling a sudden, penetrating pain in her lower abdomen, and then another and another.

She began to pant loudly in terror, and wailed as Tyland slapped the back of her head with an open palm.

"– stop pretending – I told you to fucking calm down, I won't do anything to you – I won't –" He muttered and fell silent, looking with her at the drop of blood that ran down her thigh from under her dress.

She covered her mouth with her hands and screamed loudly, falling into sheer hysteria, the man in front cursed, telling her to shut up, and Tyland just stared at her, his mouth wide open.

"– stop –" He muttered. "– fuck, God, stop, stop, stop –"

"– here? – boss, we're in the middle of a country road –"

"– STOP, I SAID –"

The car stopped at the side of the road with a screech of tyres in a way that made her hit her head on the seat in front of her – Tyland opened the door, grabbed her ankle and dragged her out of the car like an animal, leaving her on the grass, then got back inside.

The car drove off.

She just breathed, whooping with tears, looking at the grass around her and the tree trunks, feeling a horrible warm stickiness between her thighs, twitching all over, not having the strength or the will to get up.

After a while some other car stopped beside her, the people inside screamed in terror and got out, a woman who could have been her mother ran up to her and covered her mouth with her hand.

"Good God, I think they raped her."

No, she thought.

They took something much more precious from me.

She heard his loud, frightened breath as she lay in the hospital bed, the policemen standing beside her grunted at the sight of him.

"Are you her family?" Asked one of them.

"Y-yes, I'm her uncle. Good God, what happened?" He mumbled in a breaking voice.

"Your niece was found by a woman on a country road, thrown out of some car. She immediately informed us, suspecting that a rape had taken place, however, the cause of the bleeding was a sudden stress-induced miscarriage. The victim does not speak and does not want to say who did this to her. Could you please…"

The man did not finish as she heard him burst into a loud, mournful sob, felt the touch of his hands on her body, his face pressed into her hair, his broken, heavy breath.

Her eyebrows arched in pain, a single, lonely tear ran down her face.

Daemon had warned her.

The hours, the voices, the smells merged into one for her – she heard her uncle's voice, her mother's voice, she smelled their scent and touch, she heard their weeping and despair, but she herself felt like she was dreaming awake, feeling and experiencing nothing.

She felt herself awake when she heard another familiar voice.

"Did she say something?"

"No. She's silent. There's no contact with her. She's in shock." Her mother muttered, and Daemon embraced her, looking her straight in the eyes.

She felt something – she felt her heart hit harder in her chest, her eyebrows arched in misery, her breath caught in her throat.

"– baby – baby, please, say something to me –" She heard her uncle's whisper and only after a moment did she realise that he had been lying next to her on the bed all this time, that he had been stroking her head, that he had been looking at her, that he had been crying like a little baby.

"– get out for a while – leave us alone –" Daemon said – her uncle opened his mouth, furious, but she spoke up before he could say anything.

"– I want to talk to my dad –"

Everyone around her fell silent – Rhaenyra walked over to her brother and took his hand, explaining to him in a whisper that they would be back soon, that she was no longer in danger, that everything would be all right.

She felt herself quivering all over when Daemon took the chair and sat down beside her bed exactly as he had done then, after she had tried to take her own life.

She looked at him, into his bright, piercing eyes, and thought that this was what he was trying to protect her from.

"I wanted this child, dad. Very, very much." She muttered and closed her eyes, feeling the blissful emptiness she had surrounded herself with begin to crack, the pain that pierced her body, her heart so strong that she sobbed.

"I know." He replied.

"Is the baby…is the baby still inside me?" She choked out with difficulty, whooping with her own tears, feeling like she couldn't catch her breath.

"No. I'm very sorry, but no. It was too early, the baby was not yet formed. Nothing could be done." He said and she clamped her hands on her lower abdomen, thinking she felt like ripping out her uterus and other entrails because they were useless.

She was full and suddenly empty again.

She felt her father's hand on her arm, his fingers strong, his embrace giving her a sense of security.

"I have abandoned you. I chose my own pride. I knew he would want to take revenge on him. If I had given you my protection, it would never have happened. Forgive me." He said, and she closed her eyes, thinking that she wanted to become nothingness and disappear.

Despite Daemon continuing to speak to her, she fell into a state of half-sleep again, unable to think about it – her mind was repressing everything that had happened and waiting, although she didn't know what for.

What was she actually waiting for?

For her baby, she thought.

Little girl or little boy will be born in a few months.

No, she realised.

Not any more.

Tears ran down her face, but no sound came out of her mouth.

She saw him – her uncle stood in the doorway of her hospital room drenched in tears, trembling like a small child, just like she had been when she came into his room then, terrified of the darkness.

Darkness surrounded him, and he was frightened.

She didn't want him to be afraid.

He cried out loudly when she reached out her hand to him – she realised it was already dark around him when his body snuggled against hers, when he embraced her and kissed her cheek, when his face snuggled into her skin.

They lay, just breathing, holding hands – there was something comforting about that – in his silence. The fact that he knew there were no words of comfort, of justification, of absolution for them.

What did exist, however, were their bodies, warm and familiar, clinging to each other to find shelter.

She fell asleep, wrapped in his scent.

"I know you think this is my fault. That you will never forgive me." She heard his voice as if from a distance – she blinked, surprised to see that it was already daylight all around her, that her uncle was sitting beside her in a chair, looking at his hands.

Days flew by between her fingers.

How long had it been since that incident?

Since when had she been empty?

She pressed her lips together, feeling nothing but rage.

"I want Tyland Lannister." She hissed in a cold, shaking voice, and he looked at her in shock.

They stared at each other for a moment – his lower lip twitched when he suddenly realised what had happened, something in his gaze that had always frightened her, but now pleased her.

Aemond

Emptiness.

It seemed to him that he had simply gone through all the phases of grief – from despair, through denial, to a state of complete indifference.

His child, whom he had so desperately wanted, was no longer there.

He thought it would help to give the baby a funeral, even though they had nothing to bury – that's why they put the glowing stickers they had stuck on the walls of the room that was to belong to their child in a small box and buried it under a tree in the garden of their house.

She wanted the thing that would remind her of their loss to be close by, so that she could look at it every morning from her window.

It was an ordeal they lived through together, and although they suffered, they found relief in each other's arms.

She let him take her for the first time two weeks after it happened.

Lying in front of him in his embrace, she took his hand in hers and slowly guided it down under the material of her panties – she surprised him with this, because he was convinced that the vision of him touching her like this would be something disgusting to her – she, however, was wet.

He couldn't hide how much he missed her, and after a moment they were both naked from the waist down, fucking each other like animals with loud smacks of their hips, wanting nothing more than to feel fulfilled and relieved – the release he felt when he finally came inside her was like a revelation, her body hot and sweaty in his embrace, her little cunt pulsing on his erection, sucking his seed.

I'll give you another baby, he thought tenderly, kissing her long neck, not saying it out loud though, not wanting her to think he had already reconciled himself to their loss.

I will give you another baby, and then another and another.

We will be a big, happy family.

If he could say that anything good had come out of this awfully sad situation, it was that their families had begun to talk to each other again – Otto and Daemon couldn't forgive the murder of their grandchild, and Alicent, Rhaenyra, Jace and Baela had watched over his niece in his absence, looking after her.

Even Aegon asked him for a meeting, which was strange and downright comical. His brother put a hand on his shoulder and looked at him in a way from which he felt a squeeze in his throat.

"We're going to catch that son of a bitch."

The only person who was afraid to meet them was Helaena, blaming herself for what had happened despite the fact that neither he nor his Rhaenys resented her.

"She said she wanted to go shopping. Your house and the beach was across the street. I-I had the security guards go and take her dress to your house. She wanted to take a walk, she insisted. I…"

"Stop. You are not the one who did this to her. No one is blaming you." He said calmly, staring dully ahead, sitting in his car, feeling that his heart, his skin, his body, his breath were cold.

I want Tyland Lannister.

He licked his lower lip when he spotted his silhouette in the distance, coming out of one of the clubs surrounded by a few of his thugs, surely for protection.

Jason helped his brother move to another city, hoping they would never find him.

But he was wrong.

"I have to go." He said and hung up, starting the engine, dialing another number.

He never thought that he'd talk to him of his own free will.

And yet.

"He just left."

He followed him for a few streets, driving a few cars behind him, feeling strangely calm and patient – he had the impression that there were no more tears he could cry or screams he could shout.

His persona had come full circle, becoming again exactly who he had been before she had called him that evening for the first time in eight years.

He smiled, seeing that they had realised that someone was following them, trying to change direction suddenly – as he had predicted, they had fallen straight into their trap, and hundreds of loud gunshots rang out around the corner.

He pulled over to the side of the road and stepped out of the car, watching as Daemon's men slaughtered Tyland's men one by one, surprised by the manhunt from both sides, unprepared for such a sudden, merciless attack.

"– please –" Tyland mumbled, crawling on the ground at Daemon's feet – his sister's husband held a baseball bat in his hand, all dirty from his blood.

He thought with amusement that Lannister's face looked like a squashed tomato.

Together with Daemon, he dragged him, moaning and crying, to the boot of his car, locking him in there, and together they set off without exchanging a word.

By the time they reached the house by the sea there was only an hour left until dawn – Tyland had passed out in the boot from a lack of oxygen, and a strong kick to the liver revived him, making him draw in air loudly and cough, spitting up blood.

"– no – no, no, no, no, please, no –" He whined as they began dragging him along the ground towards the door, leaving a trail of his blood on the ground behind them.

When they walked into the house they threw him to his knees in front of her – his Rhaenys looked at his hunched, pathetic figure sitting in front of him on the couch in a white dress he was seeing for the first time, a knife in her hand.

Was this supposed to be her wedding gown?

I have taken away your purity and innocence, he thought with pain, looking at her with adoration.

Kora was no longer there.

Only Persephone was left.

His Queen of the Hades.

He longed to lie down at her feet and simply abide.

"– I lost someting because of you –" She said and raised herself up, touching her lower abdomen. "– my baby didn't even manage to take their first breath –"

He closed his eyes, feeling the squeeze in his throat, the pain he felt in his heart unbearable.

"– I didn't know – I didn't know, I'm sorry, I didn't know –" Tyland mumbled, because of how swollen his face was his words were indistinct and difficult to understand.

Standing over him, in her white dress, with a knife in her hand and with her beautiful hair loose, she looked like a ghost.

Like Death.

"– you threw me out of the car like an animal – you left me to die and drove away –" She whispered, tears one after another rolling down her beautiful, tired, pale face.

She had waited so long for this.

For relief.

For justice.

But no more.

"– please – please –" He begged, and she took a step towards him and knelt before him, looking straight into his eyes.

"– let me, Rhaenys –" He muttered, not wanting her to burden herself with this, to dream nightmares like him, to suffer like him because of what she had done.

"– no – I want to feel the life drain out of him – as it did out of me, then –" She said, and the knife she held in her hand stabbed into his side like butter.

Tyland wailed, grabbing the hilt, but Daemon held him down, preventing him from moving – he saw her slide the blade out, a huge bloodstain spilling down his shirt, dripping down his leg straight onto the foil-lined floor.

"That's enough. I'll take care of the rest. Take a bath and burn everything." Daemon instructed, laying Tyland's barely alive body on the ground, his breathing shallow until his eyes went blank.

His soul had left his body.

"Come." He said to her, taking the knife from her palm, placing it on the floor. He nodded at Daemon and grabbed her hand, leading her upstairs to the bathroom where the bathtub was.

Her entire dress and hands were in blood.

"Come here, little one. Come, let's wash it all off. It's okay, honey." He whispered, hugging her close, sinking his hands into her soft, smooth curls, and she reciprocated the embrace, sighing, closing her eyes as if relieved.

"Thank you."

Again she lay in the bath red with blood, again she was pale, however this time he felt that the life was not escaping from her, but returning to her – with each passing minute her cheeks flushed, her eyes wide as if her mind had returned to reality.

"Is he dead?" She muttered, and he swallowed hard, washing away with his hands any trace of what they had done from her beautiful, innocent body.

"He's no longer here. He's disappeared. He was just a monster from the wardrobe, nothing more, my love." He said quietly and she sighed, her hand touching his face.

"Do you still love me?" She asked in a trembling voice, and he looked at her, shocked.

"You are the love of my life. You need to rest. You are very tired. You haven't slept well in a long time. You're daydreaming." He replied, taking an unruly strand of hair from her face, her gaze warm and tender, meant only for him.

"Are you not disgusted with me? I've done something monstrous. I think I killed someone." She whispered, her eyes full of tears.

"– shhh –" He hushed her, pressing his forehead against hers, stroking her hair as if she were a small child. "– I forbid you to say such things – it will be our secret – mine, yours and your dad's – only we will know about it –"

"– about the monster from the wardrobe? –" She mumbled, and he nodded.

"– yes –"

Rhaenys

"– I'm scared, mummy – can I have my little lamp lit today too? –" Aemma muttered, but before she could answer her anything, she heard a voice from the bed above them, belonging to Visenya.

"– no, I can't sleep then –" Her older sister hissed, looking down at them, the bright curls she had inherited from her father in disarray.

"– I'm afraid of the monster from the television – the one from the horror movie that Aegon was watching –" Her daugther said in a breaking voice, and she furrowed her brow, shaking her head.

"– I told you this is not a film for small children –" She said sternly, and Aemma lowered her gaze on the verge of crying.

Vinseya groaned in frustration and climbed down the ladder, lying down under the duvet next to her little sister.

"– move along, coward – I'll kill any monster that disturbs my sleep –" Her daughter muttered, and she smiled and stood up, turning off the lamp.

"– good night –" She hummed and left, closing the door behind her.

She sighed, seeing the light on in his office, and moved lazily in that direction, finding him bent over documents. He glanced at her, then at the silhouette of her naked body hidden only beneath a soft silk bathrobe, and licked his lower lip with his tongue.

"– I'll come soon – give me a moment longer –"

"– talk to Aegon tomorrow – he mustn't let Aemma watch horror movies with himself because she is afraid afterwards – she's too little –" She said.

He shook his head, signing a few things.

"– I'll try, but you know him – he'll find a thousand excuses and explanations –" He grunted, and she laughed under her breath.

"– he resembles your brother –" She said amused, leaning her hip against the doorframe, and he snorted under his breath, the corner of his mouth lifted upwards.

"– indeed –" He said and looked up at her, his gaze again escaping down to her breasts and then even lower.

"Come here. Sit on the desk." He said, leaning back in his chair, and she obeyed his command with a smile, walking closer with a lazy step.

He stood up as soon as her buttocks touched the tabletop, spreading her thighs apart, making her have to reach back with her hand to catch her balance.

"– ah –" She gasped as his fingertips sank into her fleshy, warm womanhood, collecting her sticky wetness.

"– since when are you in this state? – hm? –" He hummed, pushing her closer to him with an impatient tug of his hand on her ass, the other digging warningly into her delicate skin, trailing it around her swollen clit.

"– since this morning – since I saw you come out wet and naked from the bathroom in our bedroom – I've needed you, and you haven't touched me –" She mewled regretfully, feeling her walls clench greedily around nothing, craving him inside her.

What he heard was enough for all his foreplay, and with her help he quickly undid the belt of his trousers, his breath heavy and hitched.

"– after all, I fucked you last night – I had to drive Aegon and Visenya to training – you could have joined me in the shower –" He exhaled, impatiently releasing his long, hard erection from his boxers.

She sighed and tilted her head back as, without even waiting for her response, he directed the head of his cock against her slit, opening her wide on his fat length, filling her with himself with one, lazy thrust.

"– uncle – o-oh, fuck, uncle, yes, yes, yes –" She cried out, resting her hands behind her back, letting the material of her bathrobe slide off her shoulders, revealing her breasts full of milk, bouncing each time his hips pounded against her buttocks.

"– God, be quiet – shhh, be good or I won't let you come – is that what you want? –" He breathed out and she bit her bottom lip with her teeth, looking up at him pleadingly, something in her gaze from which he began to slam into her like mad, himself struggling to restrain himself not to moan.

"– that's what I thought – you come to me – ah – begging with those big eyes for my cock – and then you can't even fucking behave –" He growled and sighed, feeling her struggling to stifle a sob of pleasure when another thrust against that same sweet spot made her fall apart in front of him, panting heavily along with him, the next few loud, sticky slaps of their bodies were enough for him to cum with a sigh of relief.

They knew each other's bodies all too well by now and, with amusement, found more and more that they had trouble holding back from coming too early.

It was just too pleasant.

"– I'm pregnant –" She whispered, and he blinked and looked at her, as if he needed a moment to start thinking soberly after such intense fulfilment.

"– what? – but –" He exhaled.

"– I'm sure – I went to the doctor today –"

"– you lied to me –" He said with irritation in his voice.

"– Criston drove me there – I told you I would go shopping with him and we did after the appointment – no lies –" She said with a smile, touching her belly affectionately.

Her husband sighed, placing his hand on hers, the expression on his face calm and gentle again.

"– it's the sixth – what a big family indeed –" He hummed, and she laughed, nodding her head.

"– yes, my love – another child to drive to training –" She said amused, and he kissed her forehead with tenderness, from which a pleasant warmth spread over her heart.

"– don't sit here too long –" She sighed, jumping off his desk as soon as he slid out of her.

"– I won't –"

On her way to their bedroom, she walked into their youngest child's room and smiled, covering her little son more tightly with the duvet. Aemon's leg immediately pushed the bedclothes off him with his mutter of displeasure, so she gave up and left him alone.

She froze, spotting a silhouette in the corner of the room, thinking it was a man, with bright eyes, blonde hair and a beard, but was relieved when, after a moment, she noticed that it was the only shadow cast by the wardrobe standing nearby.

When she walked into their bedroom, she immediately turned on the lamp by their bed and waited patiently for him to return.

She knew she wouldn't fall asleep anyway.

When she was alone in bed, she saw his face and her hands sticky with blood.

When she heard her uncle's footsteps, when his warm body finally lay down beside her and his lips placed a soft, sticky kiss on her neck, she turned off the light, his whisper next to her ear like the calm hum of the wind.

"– now I will let you moan as much as you wish –"

"– Aegon – don't let her swim out into the deep water – Daeron, Visenya keep an eye on her, after all you can see she can't swim well yet –" He shouted to their children the next day, lying in front of her on a towel on the beach, little Aemon, sitting next to them, was building a sandcastle, the hot sun burning their skin.

"– okay, Dad! –" She heard Daeron voice behind her, lying on her stomach in her black one-piece bathing suit with her back cut out, reading a book, her husband's doctoral thesis on an excavation he had run with her in one of the cities the year before.

"– what do you think? – it's the last time for corrections – I've read it hundreds of times and it already makes me want to vomit when I look at it –" He said disapprovingly, turning his gaze towards the sea again.

"– it's the best doctoral thesis I've ever read – really –" She said softly, turning the page, amazed at how effortlessly her husband wrote.

"– look, mummy – it's a fortress, and here's the moat – and there's a dragon on top –" Mumbled Aemon, forcing the Mighty Vhagar figurine that had once belonged to his father onto the top of the tower.

"– beautiful, darling – it looks like the real thing –" She said with warm approval, and Aemon smiled broadly, satisfied, busying himself with creating a bridge over the moat from sticks.

"– Aemma, don't swim so far away – how many times do I have to tell you? –" Her uncle called out, raising himself angrily on his elbow, and she sighed heavily, throwing him a look full of pity.

"– she has swimming sleeves that are full of air that will float her even if she stops moving her arms and legs – she won't drown –" She said, and her husband sighed heavily, looking anxiously towards their children playing in the water.

"– I prefer to be sure –" He muttered.

She looked at him tenderly for a moment, feeling nothing but warmth in her heart.

He was such a good father.

Such a good husband.

She knew that one day they would have to explain to their children why they only had a church wedding and were not married before the state.

But not yet.

"So let's make sure. We should swim with them." She said, extending her hand to him, and he looked at her, apparently recalling their conversation in his car then, many years ago, when he had described his fantasy to her.

He licked his lips with his tongue and grinned in a way she loved.

"Come."

______

Author's note: The child that Rhaenys lost was Viserys: I decided that this story, because it is so dark, could not end differently, and the decisions of the characters had to lead to tragedy sooner or later. Something dies in Rhaenys, but thanks to this she can finally fully join her husband in their Hades, crossing the border of innocence and naivety, maturing in a kind of cruel way. However, the rest of their children, who appeared in the original series, are born. After losing Viserys (in this version they did not know that it would be a boy), they decided that they wanted to have as many children as God would give them, since he took one away from them (in their eyes one too many). Visenya and Aegon will definitely become mafia bosses in the future, just like their father, lol. Their children have the same characters and looks like in the original series, which you can see here.

[novaursa]

Omg! Omg! Omg! I loved A flame torn and its second part! I love it! I love it! I love it! After reading both parts, an idea popped up into my head! Maegor and Visenya arrange a tourney for the reader's nameday.

They desire to find a suitor for her, a strong man, a capable warrior and one who can help provide reader with genetically strong children- ( if she's to be her father's heir when he takes the thone)

A lone knight whose identity is hidden bests all the competition and wins the tourney takes off his helmet and it is none other than Prince Aegon, the crown Prince ☺☺☺

A Flame Torn (unworthy)

- Summary: Maegor and Visenya organize a tourney for your nameday, so a worthy match is found for you. But instead of gaining something, you lost it anew. 

- Paring: cousin!reader/Aegon (The Uncrowned) Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: a year too late

- Next part: broken

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @callsignwidow

The sun shone bright over the tourney grounds. The air was filled with the sounds of clashing steel, the rumble of hooves on packed dirt, and the cheers of the crowd. This tournament had been called in honor of your nameday, but its true purpose went deeper than mere celebration. It was no secret to anyone present that Prince Maegor and Dowager Queen Visenya sought a suitor for you—someone strong, capable, and worthy of your lineage.

You sat on a raised dais beneath the fluttering black and red banners of House Targaryen, the Valyrian blood of Old Valyria represented by each stroke of the dragon emblem. On one side of you sat your father, Prince Maegor, his armor gleaming even in the heat of the day, his ever-watchful eyes scanning the field for any sign of weakness in the competitors. His presence was a wall of power and menace, casting a long shadow over the tourney proceedings. On your other side sat your mother, Lady Ceryse of House Hightower, her demeanor as stiff and formal as ever, though her sharp gaze rarely left you, a constant reminder of the duty you bore.

Further along the dais sat your grandmother, Visenya, her piercing eyes calm yet observant. She said little, but her presence was no less commanding than Maegor’s. She had long been preparing you for this moment—the choice of a match that would shape your future, strengthen your claim, and ensure your power.

Further down the line, separated by more distance than blood, sat King Aenys I Targaryen, with his family: Queen Alyssa, their daughter Rhaena, and the young Prince Jaehaerys and Princess Alysanne. Aenys, for all his softness, had no choice but to yield to Maegor’s demands for the tourney, especially with Maegor seated as his Hand. There was an unspoken tension between the two brothers, though Aenys' gentle nature seemed to make him oblivious to the true intent behind today’s spectacle.

As the first rounds of the tourney unfolded, you kept your gaze fixed on the field, trying to mask the disinterest gnawing at you. Knights from all over the realm competed, their skill and strength varying. Some jousted with grace, others with brute force. But none had managed to spark even a flicker of interest within you. You had learned well the lesson of strength from your father, and none of these knights seemed worthy of the legacy that your blood demanded.

Then, as the next round began, a knight rode onto the field. His armor gleamed, but unlike the others, he bore no sigils, no house markings. He was a mystery, his identity hidden behind the polished helm. His horse was well-bred, moving with the precision and ease of a steed that had been trained for battle. There was a collective murmur in the crowd as this unnamed knight took his place, facing down his first opponent.

Your attention was drawn to him immediately, curiosity sparking at the way he moved with a grace that belied his size. He bore himself like a man with something to prove, each of his movements deliberate and calculated. When the charge began, he met his opponent’s lance with precision, unseating the knight with such force that the crowd erupted into cheers.

Beside you, Maegor’s gaze narrowed, his hand curling around the arm of his seat. He leaned slightly toward you, his voice low. “That one fights like a warrior of true skill. He has strength.”

You nodded, though your thoughts were tangled. Something about this knight unsettled you, though you could not place why. His anonymity, his silence—there was a quiet intensity in the way he fought, as though he had something to hide. And yet, you could not tear your eyes away.

The knight continued to win his matches, cutting through the competition with a ruthless efficiency that made the other jousters pale in comparison. After his third victory, he dismounted to fight in the melee, where he proved himself even further. His sword flashed like lightning, parrying and striking with a fluidity that left no room for error. Every opponent fell before him, and soon, whispers began to spread through the crowd. Who was this knight who bore no sigil and yet fought like a dragon reborn?

“I want his identity,” Maegor muttered to Visenya, who nodded imperceptibly, her sharp eyes already narrowing on the mysterious knight. Your grandmother was not a woman easily impressed, but even she seemed intrigued by this man who fought with the kind of skill and ferocity that had made her a legend.

As the final round of the melee approached, the unnamed knight stood victorious against the last of his challengers, his breastplate dented but his stance unbroken. The crowd roared its approval, but he remained silent, offering no salute, no acknowledgment of the accolades. He simply stood there, waiting, like a shadow cast by the dragons circling overhead.

From where you sat, you felt the weight of his attention shift. Though his face was hidden behind his visor, you could sense his gaze fixed on you, burning through the metal of his helm. It was a strange sensation, unsettling yet thrilling. You refused to meet his gaze, keeping your eyes on the field instead, your hands gripping the arms of your seat.

Your father glanced at you, noticing your shift in posture. “Do you like what you see?” he asked, though there was an edge to his voice. His words were less a question and more a challenge.

“I do not know,” you replied, your voice calm. “I cannot judge a man’s worth when I do not know who he is.”

Maegor’s lips curled into something like a smile. “A name does not make a man worthy, Y/N. Strength does. And this knight—whoever he is—possesses both.”

Visenya leaned forward slightly, her voice as cold and sharp as the blade she once wielded. “A nameless man who fights with such purpose often has something to prove, or something to hide. Either way, we will know soon enough.”

The final bout was announced, and the nameless knight stood in the center of the field, awaiting his last challenger. You watched, your heart beating faster than it should have. This tournament had been meant to find a suitor for you—a man strong enough to stand at your side, to secure the bloodline of House Targaryen. Yet this knight, this shadow in shining armor, had unsettled something within you.

The horn sounded, and the final match began. But as the two knights clashed, your thoughts were elsewhere—on the man behind the mask, and what his presence here might mean for your future.

The roar of the crowd rose to a fevered pitch as the final blow was struck. The last opponent crumpled to the ground, defeated by the skill and ferocity of the nameless knight. The cheers echoed through the tourney grounds, but the knight remained still, his breath heavy beneath the gleaming helmet. He stood in the center of the field, victorious.

Your heart raced as you watched, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach. There was something unsettling about this moment, something you couldn’t place, but you knew it wasn’t over yet. The knight slowly raised his hands to his helmet, and the crowd fell into a hushed anticipation.

With a fluid motion, he removed the helm, and gasps rippled through the audience as his face was revealed.

It was Prince Aegon.

A stunned silence followed, and then murmurs began to ripple through the stands. Your father, Maegor, stiffened beside you, his eyes narrowing in cold fury. Farther down the dais, King Aenys leaped to his feet, shock and worry etched on his face.

“Aegon!” Aenys called out, his voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and fear. “What is the meaning of this?”

Aegon, helmet in hand, stood tall in the center of the field, his gaze briefly flicking to you before settling on his father. “I fought in this tourney, as any knight would. I have won fairly, and I seek no dishonor in doing so.”

But your gaze faltered, unable to meet his, your heart torn between the boy you once loved and the man standing before you now. Visenya’s sharp eyes cut through the tension like a blade, her gaze locking on you for a brief moment before shifting to Aegon. She could sense the storm that was about to break.

And then, before anyone could react, Maegor stood and leapt down from his seat, his heavy boots hitting the ground with a resounding thud. His presence alone was enough to silence the growing whispers from the crowd. He drew Blackfyre, the Valyrian steel sword of your ancestors, the blade gleaming darkly under the midday sun. The metal hummed with power, the threat of violence clear in the way Maegor gripped it.

Aegon took an instinctive step back, his posture stiffening at the sight of his uncle approaching with murderous intent. His hand dropped to the hilt of his own sword, though his hesitation betrayed the uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

“Uncle,” Aegon began, raising his voice so it carried across the grounds. “I won this tourney, fairly and with skill. This is not—”

“You have won nothing,” Maegor snarled, his voice low and dangerous. “You think parading around in armor, hiding behind a mask, earns you respect? You think this pathetic display makes you worthy?”

Aegon’s jaw clenched, his grip tightening around the pommel of his sword. “I earned this victory. I do not seek your approval—”

But before he could finish, Maegor charged. The crowd gasped in shock as the mighty former Prince of Dragonstone bore down on Aegon, Blackfyre flashing in the sunlight. Aegon barely had time to draw his own blade before Maegor’s attack collided with him. The clash of steel echoed through the grounds, followed by the sound of gasping onlookers.

King Aenys rose from his seat, panic in his voice as he called out, “Maegor! Stop this madness! He is your nephew!”

But Maegor paid no heed. His face was twisted into a sneer of pure contempt as he swung Blackfyre again and again, each strike heavy with brutal force. Aegon struggled to keep up, parrying blow after blow, but the difference in their strength was evident. With each clash, Maegor drove Aegon further back, his attacks relentless.

“You are weak,” Maegor hissed between strikes. “Pathetic.”

Aegon grunted as he barely blocked another vicious strike, his feet stumbling on the uneven ground. He tried to counter, but Maegor was faster, stronger. And then, with a swift and merciless slash, Blackfyre found its mark. The blade cut into Aegon’s side, and he cried out, staggering back as blood began to seep through his armor.

The crowd was silent, too shocked to react. Queen Alyssa stood with her hands pressed to her mouth, Rhaena frozen in her seat, and Aenys, helpless to intervene, called once more, “Maegor, stop this now!”

Maegor stood over Aegon, his chest heaving, the bloodied tip of Blackfyre gleaming in the sunlight. He looked down at his nephew with cold disdain. “You are nothing, Aegon,” he said, his voice like ice. “You always were.”

Aegon clutched his side, his breathing labored, but he met his uncle’s gaze with defiance. “I… I fought for her,” he rasped, his voice barely audible.

But Maegor didn’t flinch. He simply sheathed Blackfyre and turned away, his voice echoing through the silence. “You will never be worthy of her.”

As Maegor strode back toward the dais, healers rushed to Aegon’s side, but you could not bear to watch any longer. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest as you looked at him—bleeding, broken, and still fighting for something that could never be. The love you had once felt for him was buried now, beneath years of heartache and betrayal.

You gave him one last, strained glance, your eyes betraying nothing but a quiet sadness. And then, without a word, you rose from your seat and followed your family, leaving Aegon behind in the dust of the tourney grounds. The sound of your footsteps faded into the growing hum of whispers from the crowd, but you didn’t look back. Not this time.

Visenya and Maegor walked ahead, silent but victorious in their own ways. They had given you what they believed you needed—a suitor strong enough to command respect, or a lesson in what weakness truly looked like. You, however, felt only a hollow ache, knowing that, despite Aegon’s defiance, he had lost something far greater than a tournament. And so had you.

[huramuna]

downpour - oneshot.

modern aegon ii targaryen x nanny reader minors dni, you will be smited.

this is for @targaryen-dynasty sleepover challenge 🤭 i got the babysitter au + the prompt 'why so shy?' i had so much fun with this, modern aegon is a menace and also a sopping wet cat.

word count: 4.5k

content: smutty smut smut (specifics under cut), aegon being a little shit (we love it), saltburn spoilers (lol), allusions to drug / alcohol abuse and rehabilitation, mullet aegon, jaehaera and jaehaerys are hel's kids but they have an unnamed / unrelated father, gratuitous use of song lyrics, probably a touch of power imbalance because of her job

murder on the dance floor - sophie ellis-bexter

warnings: oral (m receiving), face slapping w/ cock, degradation, dirty talk (this man never shuts up), face fucking / deepthroat, cum on face

“Jaehaerys! Jaehaera! Please don’t run in the house with muddy boots!” you called fervently, trying to collapse the umbrella with one hand, two teddy bears slung in the other. 

“We won’t!” they both called in unison, followed by the unmistakable sound of muddy galoshes squeaking over the marble floor. You suppressed the urge to groan as you entered the exquisite home through the french doors that led to the backyard. 

“Boots off, little ones!” you called again, kicking off your own shoes in a haste to catch the gremlins before they tracked grime all over madam Alicent’s home. You had been working at the Targaryen estate for the better part of a year as a live-in nanny for Lady Alicent’s two grandchildren– twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. It was a wonderful job for the most part, as the twins were a delight and you had grown to have a strong friendship with their mother, Helaena. She was a bit dreamy-eyed and wistful, but was a wonderful mother nonetheless, even if she did have her melancholic days. 

The estate was huge and ancient, passed down from generations through Helaena’s father’s side, which was apparently a near royal bloodline from days long foregone. Viserys Targaryen, the father in question, was hardly ever home. He managed the family business (whatever it may be, you didn’t find it in you to ask– all you knew is that they were dirty rich) with his other daughter, Rhaenyra, from his first marriage. He had four children with Alicent, Helaena being the only one of the brood to still live at home.

 You’d met two of the others as well; Aemond, a lawyer in the family business who was, in short, all business and no play. He never regarded you, really, besides a quick glance or stiff nod. He had, however, slipped you a eight-thousand dollar bonus at Christmas time with a simple card that read;

Thank you for taking care of the twins and my sister. And keeping my mother sane.

- A.T

The other sibling, Daeron, was the youngest of the bunch, visited usually during holidays, as he constantly was studying abroad. ‘Sowing his wild oats’, as Helaena had put it. He was cordial to you and very much had a boyish charm, and Helaena loved to joke that he had a crush on you. When he had come home for New Year’s, he brought you a souvenir from Iceland, an authentic lopapeysa sweater, made from wool and sewn with a beautiful geometric design. 

“Awh, Daeron wants you to stay warm, lovey,” Helaena teased. 

“I-It’s just– her hands are always so cold, a-and the wool is supposed to help keep warm! The inner layer is insulating.” Daeron had stammered, the tips of his ears growing red. 

“Uncle Daeron has a brush!” Jaehaera squeaked, her words whistling through her tooth gap, she’d lost her first baby tooth just the week before.

“A crush, he’s got a crush!” Jaehaerys corrected softly. 

Alicent thought the whole thing very amusing.

That left one child you hadn’t met. You didn’t know much about him aside from small bits of conversation you’d picked up on between the rest of the family. Aegon. The eldest of all of them, and apparently the troublemaker of the bunch. You knew what he looked like from the portraits– blonde hair like the rest but with severely more bags under his eyes. Upon entering the home, one would see the chronological order of family portraits. 

It starts with Viserys, Alicent, and baby Aegon; the latter of whom is happy and chubby and bubbly. 

Then, it moves to the three of them, plus baby Helaena, with her wide blue-eyed stare at the camera. Aegon is still happy.

The next one adds the addition of baby Aemond– there is a glint of sentience in Aegon’s eyes, but he hasn’t experienced the crushing blows of reality yet.

You weren’t exactly sure, but as he got older, he became more morose– more bags, less light in his eyes. Then came the ear piercings, the tattoos, the head shaving, the bloodshot in the whites of his eyes. The portraits ended with this past year’s Christmas photo. Aegon was noticeably missing from it. You’d heard during one of Alicent’s phone conversations with her father that Aegon was in rehabilitation for a myriad of issues, and looking at his photos, you could only guess which one was the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

A particularly harsh clap of thunder broke you from your thoughts, coming back to yourself. You scooped up Jaehaera before she stepped on the carpet with the muddy shoes. “C’mon, let's get cleaned up for lunch, yeah? What do we want for lunch today, lovies?” 

“Grilled cheese n’ tomato soup.”

“No! I want mac n’ cheese.” 

The squabbling ensued, the twins arguing back and forth for a few moments before you butt in. “Alright, how about– whoever gets the floor the cleanest and puts their galoshes by the washroom the fastest gets to pick?” 

The twins squealed in delight as they absconded from your sight, effectively going to do your bidding for you. You would, however, just end up making both meals anyway. As you moved to the kitchen, the sound of the doorbell rang. You bustled to the door, not sure who to expect– there weren’t many roving visitors in and out of the estate unless Alicent was explicitly expecting company– which you had triple checked the calendar when you woke up that morning.

You opened the door, expecting to see a debutante or someone of Alicent’s social circle– ‘twas not the case. You recognized him immediately, seeing his mother’s face in his own. Aegon. He was muddy, dirt flecks splashed on his face as he stood under the stoop trying to get away from the pouring rain. His face was a bit healthier than you’d seen it, the dark circles were still there, but not as prominent. It was like a gloomy day, rather than a full blown storm under his eyes. He had the wisps of a beard starting on his jawline, and his hair was cut into a makeshift mullet, longer in the back.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked, hands in his pockets. 

“Erm– the… the nanny. For the children.” you stammered, his tone catching you off guard. You glanced behind him, seeing a beat up dirt bike caked in mud– that was probably how he got here. 

“A nanny? You’re a bit young for that, yeah? My nanny’s were all wrinkly old prunes.” 

“Oh– uhm, come in, Mr. Targaryen.” 

He perked a brow at the name, but didn’t say anything. He beat the bottom of his boots on the doormat, which didn’t accomplish much. He immediately began to track mud on the floor. “Mum home? Hel?” 

“Lady Alicent is… upstairs,” you offered, following behind him at a quick pace. “Helaena is taking a nap– the storm–” 

“Yeah, I know ‘bout Hel’s issues with storms. Don’t need to tell me twice. So, you got a name, or are you just the nanny?” 

You gave him your name as you glanced at the clock– it was almost time for the children’s lunch and you hadn’t even put it on the stove yet! 

“Got any food around here? Fuckin’ famished.” he added then as he nosed around the kitchen, hands still in his pockets. 

“I’m just about to make lunch for the twins– uhm, I can make you something too if you’d like.” you walked past him, quickly putting some pots on the stove and starting the gas. You and the twins were on a strict schedule, and if they didn’t get their lunch on time, they would turn into hellions. 

“Sure. Whatever the kids are having. I’m not picky.” Aegon waved his hand behind his head as he disappeared from the kitchen and clomped up the stairs, likely to speak with his mother. You fretted for Alicent’s mental state once that was done, and you felt even guiltier for not giving her a heads up.

As the tomato soup heated on the stove and the water began to boil for the macaroni, you unlocked your phone– you were curious about Aegon and why he’d come back, exactly. Well, of course, besides the fact that he lived here (or did, at some point) he was still supposed to be in rehab for another three months. You went to instagram, rolling your eyes as you saw that his profile was on ‘suggested for you to follow!’ 

You clicked to his most recent photo, the first that he’d posted in over a year.

“Jesus christ,” you muttered under your breath as you put down your phone on the counter to stir the soup. 

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” Aegon teased behind you. When the fuck had he gotten there? “Soup n’ mac and cheese?”

“Tomato soup and grilled cheese for Jaehaera, mac and cheese for Jaehaerys.” you responded plainly, trying not to notice that he was practically breathing down your neck. You glanced over as he leaned on the counter, where you had left your phone. Unlocked. Like an idiot. On his instagram page.

“Curious about me, are you? I’m surprised you haven’t heard enough about me from my mum.” 

“I don’t like to pry into Lady Alicent’s affairs–” 

“I wouldn’t consider myself an affair, more like a one time fling, eh?” Aegon snorted, grabbing your phone. It took every fiber of your being to not break all sense of decorum you held to snatch it back from him. “You’re not following me– let’s change that,” he mused, beginning to scroll through your page now. “Lots of pictures of the kids here– ooh, a trip to the seaside. There’s no pictures of you on here, eh? Only of… my family n’ other stupid shit, like the ocean.” 

“I’m a live-in nanny, sir,” you grit out, stirring the soup with more force than necessary. You consider yourself a patient person, and have become accustomed to how people in the Targaryen’s circle made their jabs. High society and filthy rich people had their own language of insults– ones that you wouldn’t realize they were insulting you until much, much later. It was like a game with a slow burning poison. But Aegon, apparently, was different. There was nothing meticulous about his jabs, no filter, no slow burning poison. It was all punch and sting, like a bite from a rabid dog rather than a viper. “I usually attend family trips.”

“Live-in, huh?” he drawled, his arm leaning over the counter in such a laissez-faire manner that you could feel yourself scowling. “Don’t get much action then, I take it? Let’s see if there’s any nudie judies on here, then…” 

“N-no!” you broke then, all sense of manners flying out of your body as you struggled to take back your phone.

“Why so shy? Got something on here you don’t want me to see?” he staved you off, a hand planted firmly on your shoulder as he scrolled through your photos, making all sorts of gaudy faces. You didn’t really have anything overtly scandalous, maybe a few lingerie shots for an old boyfriend.

“Aegon, leave her alone. Give her back her phone.” Alicent’s voice cut through the room like a knife, stunning both of you.

He sheepishly gave you back your phone as she crooked a finger to her son, ushering him to a room on the farther side of the house. 

As you fed the twins their lunch, you overheard some yelling, arguing and heated voices. You only saw Aegon later when going to your room to get ready for bed. His eyes were teary and red. 

— 

The next few weeks went by with some normalcy— everything was as usual, except it was like you had a third child to care for; Aegon. Except this child didn’t listen at all and had terrible habits. He was constantly flirting with you, but also would weave in jabs at the same time— you couldn’t quite tell if he even liked you or not. Not that it mattered, anyway.

You were sneaking in your own lunch one afternoon, eating scraps from the twin’s lunch while they napped— basically just the crust you cut off of the grilled cheese and the small bit of soup left in the pot. 

“You eat like a mouse.” Aegon said, always managing to be there to annoy you. 

“Too much food makes me tired— I won’t be able to keep up with them if I’m sluggish.” 

“Could always drink a red bull or a monster, instead.” he offered, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it in the kitchen. 

“You shouldn’t do that inside. It’s bad for the children’s lungs. Lady Alicent says—,” 

“Well, it’s my fuckin’ house too, innit? I can smoke in here if I well and bloody like,” he growled, exhaling a puff of smoke into your face. “My mum must be paying you extra to be my nanny too, then? The way you’re up my ass all the time.” he flicked ash in your direction. 

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest. He was goading you, baiting you into a reaction. He was being insufferable on purpose. You could tell by his pearly white smile he currently had plastered to his face, like a smug little— 

“Never had a nanny so pretty, though,” he continued. “If I asked real nice, would you feed me soup? Dress me up? Give me a bath if I’m real dirty?” he got closer and you could smell him— the smell of marlboro reds and cheap aftershave that had become synonymous with Aegon blew out your senses until it was all consuming.

Your mouth parted as you tried to think of some witty response, some barb, some jab— but nothing came out. You just huffed and turned away from him in an attempt to hide your red cheeks. Why were you blushing? 

You could practically hear the cockiness ooze from him, his mouth perked into a cheeky smile as he stole one of the crusts. He knew he’d gotten to you. 

—

It’d now been over a month since Aegon moved back home and the building tension between you two hadn’t let up a bit— you constantly felt trapped and elated all at once. When you saw him, your chest fluttered slightly in anxiety and anticipation. What was wrong with you? 

It was a dark, gloomy day. The seasonal storms were in full swing, pelting the estate in rain and hail. Alicent, Helaena, and the twins were out on an escapade to Alicent’s father’s house— you guessed Aegon hadn’t gone. But, it was a huge house, so surely you could enjoy some of your time off without seeing him? 

A rumble of thunder shook the house, rattling its constitution— and then the lights flickered. Flickered… flickered… then… out. It was dark, then, even with your window shades open. You turned on your phone flashlight and tiptoed out of your room, going to see if perhaps you could smack the backup generator into working. 

You hadn’t expected to work today, nor see anyone, as Alicent had given you the day off. So, you were subsequently dressed in your pajamas— a hilariously oversized Bass Pro Shop shirt (a gift from your dad in America) and cat-patterned sleeping shorts. Your toes cracked and creeped on the floorboards with each movement, and to your chagrin, as you passed Aegon’s door, it opened. He was wearing a shirt that said “MILF: Man I love Fishing”, with just his boxer briefs on, which didn’t seem to bother him at all. 

“Oh. You’re still here.” 

“Yes?” 

“Sorry, thought you were gone with the rest. Sad, I can’t do the Saltburn thing now.” 

“The… what?” 

“The Saltburn thing? Dance around the empty mansion to myself with my cock out.” 

“What.” you responded with the most deadpan tone.

“Dance… with my cock out?” he repeated.

“No– I know what you said– but why?” 

“Why not?” 

You rolled your eyes, shifting the conversation. “So, the power is out– uhm, do you know where the backup generator is?” 

“In the wine cellar. Nifty, huh?” 

“... the… wine cellar. I can’t say I’ve been down there yet.”

“I know it like the back of my hand, c’mon then. I’m sure I can kick the old gen in the nads and get it to work.” Aegon said with surprising confidence, turning on his phone’s flashlight and half blinding you. 

You followed behind him, to which he hummed ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ while doing a half-assed dance, apparently from some movie that was definitely something you hadn’t watched– you don’t remember the last time you watched a movie that wasn’t geared towards the twins. 

“So basically… he had the whole mansion to himself, and then he dances through it with his cock out, hanging massive brain, y’know? It's murder on the dance floor, you better not kill the groove,” he imitates the dance, sprawling his arms out in the doorway to the wine cellar and shaking his bottom a bit, which was, admittedly, nicely fit in his snug boxer briefs. You felt a strange heat flush to your cheeks.

“And this… is a… what? Comedy?” 

“Well, categorically no– I’m not a film aficionado. I guess it could be considered a psychological thriller, but I thought it was pretty funny,” he stopped before continuing into the cellar. “It gets pretty hairy in here, so stick close, okay? Ever seen The Conjuring?” 

“... yes, actually. Horror movies are kind of my favorite.” 

“Ah, a girl after my own heart,” he mused. “Well, think of the basement in that movie, but instead of a bunch of old useless shit, it’s a bunch of old wine.”

“And… instead of ghosts?” 

“Oh, there’s definitely ghosts.” 

“... what.” 

“Yeah, estate is haunted. You haven’t noticed?” 

“Shut up.” you murmured. You were a huge fan of horror movies while simultaneously being a huge chicken shit when it came to scary things– you were prone to hiding your face before the big jumpscare or running up the stairs from the kitchen when it was dark, just in case something was chasing you– and your feet had to be covered by the blanket at all times when sleeping.

“Aww, you scared?” Aegon teased, turning to you.

“I mean– ghosts are scary. Of course!” you offered sheepishly, pulling up the collar of your oversized shirt to cover your nose and mouth in an almost hiding manner– a nervous habit of yours. 

“I’ll keep you safe, love, no worries about that.” 

“... that’s what they always say, right? Then they totally leave behind their girlfriends to get stabbed by the killer or… eaten by the monster.”

“You my girlfriend now?” he asked, that stupidly annoying and somehow charming smug energy exuding off of him in waves. 

“Shut up.” you grumbled as you both approached the generator. It was covered in dust and hadn’t been touched or tended to in a long time, it looked like. “Do… you know what you’re doing?” you asked Aegon tentatively, watching as he inspected it.

“Me? Oh, fuck no. I never know what I’m doing, honestly,” he shrugged, giving the metal box a kick and haphazardly pressing some buttons. “No dice, sweetheart. ‘Spose you’ll have to dance in the dark with me for a bit longer, huh? But, if there's a ghost, you'll be... ghost food, or whatever.” 

You pinched your brow in annoyance. “I don’t understand you.” 

“What’s there to understand? I’m a pretty open book, you know.”

“No– you aren’t. You flirt with me but also… insult me? I don’t get it.”

“It’s called teasing– picking? Picking on? Getting the goat?” 

“What? So, like a little boy pulling a girl’s pigtails on the playground because he likes her? That makes absolutely no sense, Aegon.” 

“If you spend your time trying to find a reason for it, you’ll go insane. Why not just enjoy the point of it? I like you.” he breathed, suddenly very close to you. He set his phone aside on top of the generator, flashlight up. It illuminated the walls of wine and cast shadows of cobwebs and dust all around the both of you.

“What?” 

“Are you deaf– I. Like. You.” he repeated, his knees bumping yours as you were practically glued together, your back now against the ancient stone wall.

Your lips parted as you inhaled a breath– okay, you weren’t exactly expecting him to say that, or even like you at all– you figured the flirting was all hot air, a defense mechanism, something for fun, not… real. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you became all too aware of the fact that you hadn’t been touched since you got this job, maybe even before that– and your previous boyfriends never made you feel… flustered like this. You couldn’t form words as he, uncharacteristically cautiously, put his hand on your cheek. He was so close, so close– his body heat mingled with your inherent coldness and warmed you instantly. You weren’t sure what came over you, but you leaned forward, slotting your lips against his. What the actual fuck were you doing– you were kissing your boss’ son, her notoriously bad mannered, foul mouthed, sloven slob of a son, and you liked it. Your hand instantly went to the back of his head, fingers grazing through his choppy curls– even giving them an experimental tug, which he seemed to enjoy, by the indication of something poking you in your thigh. 

His lips moved against yours like a dance, and you couldn’t get the fucking song he was singing earlier out of your head– It’s murder on the dancefloor– you grasped at his hip, it was fleshy and pleasant, the tips of your finger slipping under the elastic of his briefs– But you better not kill the groove– his hands were exploring, too, under your stupid Bass Pro shop shirt, groping at your breasts with reckless abandon – If you think you're getting away, I will prove you wrong – the heat rose in your body until you couldn’t take it any longer, the two of you were practically eating each other alive in this dank, dusty cellar and it was undoubtedly the hottest experience of your life – I'll take you all the way, boy, just come along – your lips parted for a moment, still connected by a string of saliva, bridging the gap between the two of you – Hear me when I say, hey –

“On your knees for me, love?” he asked, his voice suddenly so deep and husky, his thumb skimming over your collarbone. 

You fell to your knees for him so quickly– how pathetic. He wriggled down his briefs, already leaking at the fat tip of his cock. He wasn’t overly long, but he was girthy, like a beer can. Your eyes widened, which he must’ve noticed, as his face was plastered with a shit-eating grin. Your mind immediately went to an image of a so-called ‘American delicacy’ (your father’s words, not yours) called Beer can chicken, in which a can of beer is shoved in the ass end of a chicken and grilled. It is apparently as delicious as it is horrifying. Your throat bobbed as you surveyed it, a tentative hand around the base. He shook his head, prying your hand from him.

“Nope, mouth only. Open up, be a good girl.” Aegon muttered, looking down at you, the light of his phone flashlight illuminating him from below– he looked like a God. Or maybe a devil. 

Your mouth parted as his hand guided you forward. You wholly expected him to nestle in your mouth, but he surprised you with a slap to your face with his cock. It didn’t hurt, just caused you to yelp in surprise. He smeared some of the pre-come across your cheek, then slapped the head of his length on your waiting tongue. It was somewhat degrading, what he was doing– but it lit a goddamn fire under your ass, the neurons of depravity in your body, wherever they may lie, were alight with each nasty little gesture Aegon gave you, before he finally slid home. It stretched out your mouth, prodding at the back of your throat. 

“What would everyone else think, hm? If they knew you were such a fuckin’ slut.” he growled, gathering your hair in his fist like it owed him money, beginning to fuck himself into your mouth, careful to pay attention to your body language to make sure he wasn’t working you over too much. He made sure to be extra careful with his toys, rather than break them.

Tears welled, spilling down your face as you let him use you, degrade you– and yet, he also praised you.

“–such a good girl for me–”

“–you can take a little more, there you go–”

“–prettiest throat I’ve ever fucked–”

You felt like you were on fire, set ablaze by arousal you’d never experienced before– was this what they sang songs about? Dirty, borderline pornographic songs but the point still stood.

You had to chalk it up to the barometric pressure of the storm, right? Aegon wasn’t your type— your type was… well-adjusted, non-addicts, non-bad boy, non-troublemakers. Aegon was the antithesis of what you were into. 

And yet— you were into him. You were into him in a pathetic, pitiful way. It made you cringe to think about but you couldn’t resist his puppy dog eyes, nor could you forget the way he was whimpering— fucking whimpering! You squeezed your thighs together slightly at the sound of it, at the blurry-eyed, teary sight of him looking down at you on your knees, eyes half lidded. 

He pulled out with a particularly throaty grunt, painting your face in his unnaturally warm seed, somehow careful enough not to get it in your eyes– small mercies. Your lungs inflated with oxygen once more as you caught your breath, trying to gather yourself. You felt the swathe of cloth over your face as Aegon cleaned you up with his ‘MILF: Man I Love Fishing’ shirt, which he had apparently taken off. 

“You good?”

You nodded slowly as he helped you to your feet, brushing off your knees with the clean part of his shirt. 

“Um– so,” he still held onto you, as if he was afraid you’d run away. “Do you want to watch a movie with me later, when the power is back on? Like, actually watch it– I won’t fuck your face, I promise.” 

“... are you asking me on a date?”

“Umm… yeah. I think.”

“Maybe we could watch Saltburn?” you offered with a shrug.

–

“Your mum texted me,” you whispered. “The bridge is temporarily washed out from the storm, they won’t be back ‘til tomorrow.”

“Do you know what that means?” Aegon said, suddenly giddy. You both had just finished watching Saltburn, and you finally understood what the ‘Saltburn thing’ was. 

“You know your mum has like ten security cameras set up around the house, right?” 

“Okay… and?”

“I’m not dancing naked in the hallway, Aegon.” 

“How about just in my room? Please?” 

You gave a sigh, beginning to take your clothes off.

“Siri, play ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ by Sophie Ellis-Bextor.”

‘Okay. Now playing ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ by Sophie Ellis-Bextor, as featured in Saltburn.’

It's murder on the dancefloor!

But you better not kill the groove, hey-hey, hey-hey!

It's murder on the dancefloor.

But you better not steal the moves.

DJ, gonna burn this goddamn house right down.

[yeetskeetstreet]

Accusations and Words | Daemon x Reader

I AM A SIMP FOR DAEMON RN.

S/N = son’s name

D/N = daughter’s name

if anyone wants me to make this a series, feel free to name the kids!

(Laena never married Daemon, their kids exist with an unnamed father, obvi no Rhaenyra & Daemon.)

This piece has no identifying features for reader other than a non-blonde hair colour, and is NOT of targaryen descent.

CONTENT WARNING: swearing, blood, child abuse, fighti- honestly, its game of thrones, lets be real here.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N and Daemon burst into the hall, the doors flying open, (a knight behind said door was startled by their entrance).

Rhaenyra looked almost relieved as her uncle and his wife arrived after the handmaiden had been sent to fetch them. Luke was to her left, Jace in front of him, while Daemon and Y/N's son, of age ten, and daughter, of age seven stood to Rhaenyra's right. S/N held his sisters hand, as she hid behind him, her face buried into his back.

"S/N! D/N! What happened?" Y/N ran directly to her children, placing a hand on the side of her son's face, looking at his bruised eye and bloody nose. Her other hand briefly grabbed Rhaenyra's, squeezing it in thanks, for protecting her children.

Daemon, on the other hand, stood next to his wife, narrowed eyes aimed at Queen Alicent, taking in the sight of her enraged expression, and the Maester stitching up his beloved nephew.

D/N didn't move from behind her brother, while (S/N) looked at his mother, speaking to her quietly, "Aemond took Vhagar, he hit Rhaena and was going to kill Luke. He- He.." S/N looked down at his feet, "He called us bastards. Luke, Jace, Me and D/N. It was Jace's knife but I cut him I swear."

Y/N just nodded and sighed quietly, looking at her son before standing, S/N standing in between his mother and Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra spoke calmly, "There was an incident involving the children. Jace and S/N... defended their siblings and Laena's daughters."

"Defended? Defended you say! My son has been maimed. Your sons are responsible. They were trying to kill him." Alicent almost squealed towards the family, Aemond refusing to turn to look at anyone, even his mother.

Y/N simply directed her daughter towards her father, who simply plucked the small child from the floor, tucking her head into his neck, holding her tightly.

Rhaenyra stood tall, "it was our son's who were attacked and forced to defend themselves. Vile insults were levied against them."

Y/N looked to Daemon who stood close to her right, it was an easy guess as to what these insults pertained too. Alicent had always whispered and questioned the legitimacy of both Rhaenyra and Y/N's children. While Rhaenyra's sons were clearly that of Ser Harwin Strong, (a fact Rhaenyra had been honest about to both Y/N and Daemon) they had all agreed to keep it a secret for the safety of her family.

Daemon was always angered by these rumours, his son carried her hair, both his children carried his pale complexion and his daughter had inherited his Targaryen locks. It was clear D/N was his child, a spitting image of Daemon with her mother's face. His son took Daemon's face, even his expressions the young boy had yet to learn to hide.

Viserys finally limped into the room, moving forward slowly away from the throne with his cane, "I will have the truth of what happened. Now."

The children in the room burst into words, Aemond yelling how he was attacked for no reason, Rhaena and Baela accusing the prince of stealing their mother's dragon, Luke and Jace backing the girl's claims, throwing out accusations of Aemond's attacks.

Y/N's children stayed silent, her daughter still clutching at her father, and her son had his eyes trained fiercely at the King, almost refusing to let his resolve crack under the pressure.

The adults in the room simply stood and watched, until Viserys called for silence. "Aemond. I will have the truth of what happened. Now."

Alicent quickly turned to her husband, "What else is there to hear? Your son has lost an eye!"

Viserys simply ignored his wife, "It was a regrettable accident."

"They meant to kill my son! Prince Lucerys and S/N brought a blade to the ambush."

Y/N was quick to add her piece, "Not only was Rhaenyra's integrity questioned, but mine as well. The Prince Aemond called our children bastards, Your Grace. To question the legitimacy of our children's lineage? That is the highest of treasons, Your Grace."

Viserys addressed his brother's wife, "Prince Aemond will be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders."

Alicent scoffed "Over an insult? Over training yard bluster?"

Viserys stepped towards his youngest son, "You tell me boy, where did you hear this lie?" The boy avoided eye contact with his father.

"Aemond. Look at me. Your king demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?"

Aemond hesitated for a second, his eyes raising to his mother, before is voice sounded out in the room, "It was Aegon."

Viserys flung his attention to his other son, and almost hissed out at the gob smacked Prince.

"And you, boy? Tell me the truth of it!" Viserys was quickly losing his patience.

Aegon simply looked at the floor "Everyone knows. Just look at them."

Viserys stepped back to his throne, addressing the room "This interminable infighting must cease. All of you. We are a family. Now make your apologies and show good will to one another."

Alicent held her chin high, her eyes watering, "Good will cannot make him whole again. There is a debt to be paid."

Y/N, Daemon and Rhaenyra watched the exchange between the two monarchs with baited breath, each hoping that Viserys would not backing down from his rage-fuelled wife.

Daemon handed his daughter to Corlys, who had left his grand-daughters with his wife. He could feel the tension in the room arise again, and was waiting for it to peak.

However, Alicent had already made up her mind, "If the king will not seek justice. The Queen will. Ser Criston, bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon and S/N Targaryen. They can choose which eyes to keep, a privledge they did not grant my son."

As Ser Criston took a step forward, Viserys was quick to halt to knights progress. Rhaenyra pushed her sons behind her, as Daemon stepped forward, slightly in front of his wife and son. Corlys was quick to grab the rest of the Targaryen children and muster them away from the commotion towards his wife.

A handful trusted knights who were loyal to the two Targaryen's and their families had stepped closer to Rhaenyra and Y/N. The knights priority was the two women, Daemon's hand rested on the hilt of his sword. (Every man and his dog knew Daemon could handle himself if it came down to a fight.)

"Alicent. this matter is finished. Do you understand." Viserys addressed the room next, "And let it be known, anyone whos tongue dares to question the birth of my grandsons, nieces or nephews, should have it removed."

Rhaenyra stood tall, "Thank you, Father."

Daemon simply made eye contact with his brother, and nodded firmly silently thanking his brother for protecting his family. Viserys gave his brother a small nod in return.

Y/N turned to her husband, grabbing his hand off the hilt of his sword, holding eye contact as they began to communicate without words. Daemon sighed, nodding his head sadly squeezing his wife's hand.

Rhaenyra had turned around, her back to the rest of the room, and took a few steps to move closer to the children, still huddled together behind them.

Yelling made Rhaenyra stop in her tracks, turning in horror, "Y/N! Behind you!"

The next few seconds were chaos, one second, yelling from Viserys and Ser Harrold filled the room, "Alicent!" "Hold your approach". "Stay your hand, Cole!" "Stay with the King!" "Mother!" "Y/N! No!"

The next, Y/N was hold Alicent's forearms as she brandished the Kings valyrian steel knife towards her.

Y/N could see the knights surround her and the Queen, as well as he husband intercepting Criston Cole from moving closer to the two women.

Alicent looked at Y/N in horror, and almost whimpered out her words, "What have I done but what was expected of me?"

Y/N was almost sympathetic towards the women, "Alicent, You've gone too far."

"You take my son's eye, and to even that, you feel entitled."

"Exhausting, isn't it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now - now they see you as they are."

Alicent cried out and pushed Y/N away, dragging the blade down Y/N's forearm. Blood pouring down her hand, gathering into a puddle on the floor.

Y/N gasped and pulled away, gripping her arm, she fell backwards, and was caught by Rhaenyra, a deathly gaze on her face, directed at Alicent. "Are you proud of yourself, 'Your Grace'?"

Daemon moved quickly over to his wife, his face showing no emotion, and attended to her arm, ripping fabric from her dress to wrap her arm tightly, trying to stop the blood that was still flowing down her hand.

The King was yelling at his wife in the background, who was swiftly removing her children to their chambers, the other bystanders in the room heeding the King's warnings, making their own exits and dispersing into the castle.

Y/N rested her head on her husbands shoulder, shaking slightly in his grasp. Daemon was whispering comforting words in her ear, trying to calm her down.

Rhaenyra had pulled her two oldest children close to her, watching as Daemon picked his daughter up, while Y/N held her son by his shoulders.

Y/N looked at her daughter in her husbands arms, Rhaena and Baela holding themselves close to Rhaenys, Jace and Luke who watched their mother with tears in their eyes.

She took a shaky breath, "We need to be careful, I always knew Alicent was trying to get us, but the events of tonight have finally revealed the lengths she will go too. Rhaenyra, I know his your father, Daemon, your brother, but we can no longer rely on Viserys to protect us any longer. Corlys, Rhaenys, I must apologise to you, your grand daughters don't deserve to be dragged into our mess."

The group was quiet as Y/N's words sunk in. Corlys ushered his wife and grandchildren from the room, Rhaenyra following behind after embracing Y/N closely.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

S/N grabbed his mothers hand as the four walked back to their chambers, Y/N looking at a worried Daemon, "I know I wanted to stay in King's Landing, to be near our family, but maybe it would be safer for us and our children to go to Dragonstone. We should ask Rhaenyra to come with us."

Daemon barely reacted, looking up to look at his distressed wife. He pulled his daughter closer, and briefly looked at their son. "Let the children rest, we can speak to Rhaenyra first thing in the morning. For now, let us ignore the issues within the walls and be with our family."

[deathmetalunicorn1]

RoR x Lu Bu’s Daughter Reader?

Lu Bu has an unnamed daughter, only it’s Reader!

Reader is a mighty warrior who’s second only to her father, despite being rather short

However, Reader is actually a huge softie and a total daddy’s girl! (She adores and looks up to her father highly)

Reader is known for her incredible beauty, much to her father’s displeasure since many men came to ask him for her hand in marriage (He would beat them to a pulp)

Reader however has a violent side if the ones she loves are hurt or insulted (She becomes a demon from hell with murder and violence on her mind to those ones who pissed her off) her aura gives the feeling of death if someone foolish was to get in her way

Reader has a soft spot for cute animals, like bunnies but she also loves Horses, however she’s a total baby and wuss when it comes to bugs and runs to her father in fear (Her one true weakness alongside her sweet tooth)

Lu Bu while gruff is actually very protective of his daughter (He trained her to be strong and to protect herself)

-It was very surprising to many that Lu Bu had a child, more so that it was a daughter as nobody could really picture him as a girl dad.

-However, just like your dad, you weren’t to be underestimated. You were raised by your father to take care of yourself, from survival skills like hunting and fishing to combat.

-Lu Bu trained you himself in combat, not letting you quit and not letting you give up, turning you into a powerful woman that could handle anything thrown at you, so you could be safe. In his time, women weren’t treated the best and he refused to let that happen to you. He protected you, but he also gave you the skills needed to protect yourself, something you came to appreciate as you grew older.

-You both ascended to Valhalla, him first and you arrived several years later, arriving like him, in your prime and while shocked to see each other, he showed one of the rare moments when he was soft, only for you, and hugged you close.

-Many of the friends he had made in Valhalla were stunned to meet you when he introduced you as his daughter. To be honest… your mom’s genes were very strong, as you didn’t look a thing like your dad, besides your strength and skills, but you did have his eyes.

-You were quiet like your dad, but you were more approachable and many of your dad’s friends became your friends, especially after they learned how strong you were. You were proud to tell them that Lu Bu was the one who trained you and while he didn’t look any different, you could tell he was beaming in pride, proud of you.

-You trained just as hard as Lu Bu and you would never turn down a challenge, enjoying battling against strong opponents and always striving to push yourself further.

-You were a daddy’s girl, wanting to be just like him, being able to take care of yourself and many told you and Lu Bu both how similar the two of you were and how they respected you both.

-Lu Bu didn’t say it often, but he was proud of you, of your accomplishments and your drive. You were perfect in every way in his eyes.

-Was that a spider?

-Your girly shriek of fear was a surprise to many after you saw a spider and you immediately ran, “Daddy!!” panicking like a normal girl and leapt into your father’s arms, hugging him around his head as you were wrapped around him like a koala, pointing at the ‘fearsome’ beast, silently demanding your father to destroy it.

-Try as he might, for some reason the one thing he could never help you with, either with exposure therapy or ways to keep them away from you, you couldn’t handle spiders, even the tiniest ones make you freeze or take off running in fear.

-Many thought it was cute, seeing you react to something like a normal girl, but many were also smart enough not to mention it, as you were quite sensitive about it, willing to beat the ass of whoever mentioned it, and Lu Bu would be right behind you- nobody made fun of you- not on his watch!

[baddestbittyontheblock]

rhaenyra targaryen fic recs

you are responsible for the content you consume‼️

✧*:·˚ hi everyone!! here is a list of all the fics that are my favs with tagged writers/authors ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each writer!! ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ also, if you'd like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ✧*:·˚

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

 ೇ unthinkable fate by @thesithdiaries rhaenyra targaryen x female!reader | petty fights, its enemies to lovers and y'all know my inspo is kanthony from bridgerton, angst, arranged marriage, incest right?,

-“you will wed lady y/n velaryon, and you will do so without protest.” 

 ೇ illicit affairs by @laenordeservedbetter rhaenyra targaryen x female!reader platonic!Daemon targaryen x fem!reader, harwin strong x fem!reader (unrequited love) | angst (rhaenyra and harwin aren't together in this and rhaenyra has kids with someone else, but the father of her children is unnamed.), canon divergent, viserys slander?

-love is a battlefield and you are a warrior. years you’ve been traipsing around the battleground, expecting to not be maimed.

 ೇ if only you knew by ^ rhaenyra targaryen x reader | internalized homophobia (it gets resolved quickly), fighting, language

-You demand an answer to why the princess has been meddling in your affairs.

 ೇ nsfw drabble by @writingsofwesteros rhaenyra targaryen x reader | smut

-“shh, rhaenyra.” you giggled out with a shush as you looked over your shoulder at the closed door.

 ೇ you called by @buggyswritingcorner rhaenyra targaryen x reader | angst

-"you came."

"you called."

 ೇ nsfw alphabet by ^ rhaenyra targaryen x reader

-rhaenyra likes to be taken care of, that is not to say she won't treat her partner properly and wash their hair for them in the copper bath.

 ೇ my sweet girl by @newcaptainofsquad9  rhaenyra targaryen x fem!velaryon!reader | hurt, romance, comfort, smut(18+ only ,smut, dirty talk,  mommy kink, slight queen kink), 2.5k

-you’ve been distant from your wife, rhaenyra ever since she was crowned queen of the seven kingdoms, going back and forth from driftmark to kings landing all while growing quiet at small council meetings. rhaenyra decides to take matters into her own hands, flying you to dragonstone with her to give  of you the space you deserve while pleading with you to tell her what the issue is. 

 ೇ rhaenyra headcannons by ^ rhaenyra targaryen x reader

-being corlys’ bastard daughter in a secret relationship with rhaenyra would include...

 ೇ milf rhaenyra by @barbiedragon rhaenyra x wetnurse!reader | smut (f*ingering, l*ctation, n*pple play, mommy k*nk, and oral)

-where reader is a wet nurse for rhaenyra’s babes over the years. perhaps one night she is in pain, maybe a clogged duct or the babe is not latching right and making her rather upset. rhaenyra goes to visit her and assists her.

 ೇ milf rhaenyra by ^ dom!rhaenyra x sub!reader | lactation kink, mommy kink, fingering, praise kink

-“sweetling, are you going to use your words or just stare at me all day?”

 ೇ overprotective soft rhaenyra by ^ rhaenyra x little!gn!reader

-your hand is always in hers, fingers laced together as she keeps you close

 ೇ five ways to make cum by @whosdragon rhaenyra targaryen x reader | smut & fluff | wlw, mentions of oral sex, exhibitionism, mama kink, playing with nipples, sitting on face, mentioned homophobia, overprotective!rhaenyra, use of vibrators, sexual fantasies, mentions of voyeurism, wet and hot kissing, lots of physical touching, mentions of menage, praise, ordeal of orgasm.

-kisses are a trigger for her, wet kisses, with sloppy tongue, with her face dripping with saliva and slobber, she remembers the first time she simply got aroused just kissing you,

 ೇ a princesses order by @sl-ut rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader | descriptions of sex, slight hints homophobia, arranged marriage, 4.4K

-rhaenyra tries to come to terms with the fact that y/n is betrothed and will soon be leaving king’s landing, but it is much more difficult than she had anticipated.

 ೇ tension by @sleepparalysisdemon112 rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader | made up house, some unrealistic things for this time period (keyword FICTION) just fluff

-ever since you two met, you’ve always been more than friends

 ೇ you get hurt reactions by @milliesdiary hotd x fem!reader | "who did this to you?" trope, blood, kind of gory (?), fluff

-you get injured one day and your self-proclaimed "rival" has a problem with it.

 ೇ horizon by @delicrieux rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader

-grief is just love persevering

 ೇ daydream by ^ rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader

-rhaenyra always considered you her closest friend

 ೇ show me love by @aerysa-targaryen rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader | enemies to lovers

-at the start, in your younger years, you and rhaenyra were best friend, you almost consider her as the sister you never had. but everything change when your sister, allicient, marry viserys, of course, you were happy for your sister! she'll be queen, but because of that, rhaenyra start to avoid you, she does not understand how you can agree with this.

 ೇ black moons in those eyes of hers by @lotties-ashwagandha rhaenyra targaryen x redpriestess!reader | 1k+

-you listened as the church bell chimed above the red keep. it taunted you, mocking your greatest fears and greatest prides.

 ೇ gods and masters by ^ rhaenyra targaryen x reader

-rhaenyra being jealous of alicent cause she thinks she’s into reader

 ೇ goddess of the skies by ^ rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader

-the deep sapphire abyss of the sky hung above you. you watched as soft clouds made their way across its endless expanse, their pace slow and steady, peace engulfing them completely. 

 ೇ pleasure by @artemiscrocksgf rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader | mature, explicit 18+ (minors DNI) nsfw (smut, some explicit language, fingering (receiving and giving), oral female), 2.5k

-“there are other means of pleasure”

 ೇ hers only hers by @rhaenerystargaryen rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader | mentions of being harassed

-rhaenyra comes to your rescue after an awful encounter with a knight, but can't help but feel a certain sense of possessiveness over you.

 ೇ little dove by ^ rhaenyra targaryen x mute!fem!reader

-rhaenyra wants your attention, so the two of you play a game

 ೇ rhaenyra fic by @marvelcriminalhoe  rhaenyra targaryen x handmaiden!reader | power imbalance (which could lean towards dub con but reader is entirely willing.) talks of political marriages. oral (Fem receiving.) kissing, groping, declarations of love, 3.2k

-“touch me there. right there.”

 ೇ the archer by @epiphany-of-a-madwoman rhaenyra targaryen x reader | angst and comfort

-all of rhaenyra's enemies started as friends and she's terrified you'll be next.

 ೇ rainy mornings by @gtgbabie0 rhaenyra targaryen x reader

-you and rhaenyra enjoy a peaceful morning together

 ೇ yes, my leige by @scarletwidowsbaby rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader | fluff, bit of smutverbal fighting, blood, Rhaenyra tries to kill you in annoyance, light smut, groping, breast play. 18+ only, minors dni.

-after seeing the new caretaker for syrax, rhaenyra decides she wants her.

 ೇ three-headed dragon by @arabellasleopardcoat rhaenyra targaryen x reader | Implied smut. dance of the dragons. canon character death (Not Rhaenyra)

-three times rhaenyra marked you, and one time you did too. or snippets of the love story I so wanted to tell but didn’t feel confident enough to write.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Poetry Analysis: "She walks in beauty, like the night"

She Walks in Beauty by Lord Byron

British poet Lord Byron is recognised as one of the most prominent figures in Romanticism - an artistic movement which swept the poetry and literary sphere during the late 18th and early 19th Century. 

‘She Walks in Beauty,’ is one of his shorter but most famous poems that seeks to capture a sense of and celebrate the beauty of an unnamed woman.

The opening line - and perhaps the two most famous poetry lines that Byron has ever written; ‘she walks in beauty, like night’ - sets the scene for the rest of the poem, comparing this unknown woman to the awe and beauty that comes from a clear night sky:

‘She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes…’

Using the simile, Byron indicates that her beauty is not purely physical either; instead, it is almost an aura, an innocent unawareness that surrounds her. 

It is interesting to note here that the poet is describing his beloved’s beauty as comparable to night, rather than daylight. In fact, later in the poem he describes the daylight as “gaudy.” This is a common aspect of Romantic poetry, where writers would compare people not just to nature, but to ‘bright nature.’ In this line especially, Byron is comparing his lover to the ‘bright’ night sky. 

This association can be a nod to the historic Greek ideal, where beauty is so strong that it can almost be catastrophic. For example, Helen of Troy, daughter of Zeus, was one such beauty; a divine being whose enchanting looks were an indirect cause of the Trojan War. 

Byron seems to be describing his beloved’s love comparable to the highest of the high - indicating the strength of his feelings and adoration of this unnamed woman’s looks.

If this inspires your writing, do tag me. Or send me a link. I'd love to read your work!

[huckleberryblossom]

rue macnamara and her currently unnamed daughter (ill think of something eventually, rip)

(a whole lot about wotb under the cut)

the way wotb handles disability is um. not great. i think lasky tried to balance an empowering take (multiple times in the series a gnaw wolf's greatest talent is somehow related to/because of their disability, they just dont ever get the chance to utilize it because of Wolf LawTM) with the "accurate" representation of wolf pack structure, but in today's day it really just comes across as a tired representation of disability. and also i just dont think it was ever very good to begin with, because it was just introduced as the way of the world and nothing was done with it, beyond faolan's identity struggles (and edme's, later). and as far as ive gotten in the books, he simply escapes his problems by going to the watch, and iirc, he doesnt feel at home there either. hamish didnt, and says as much to coryn, all he'd ever wanted was to be an equal. which is like, fucked up! and could have been interesting to explore further, but isnt ever. instead theres a bear war, i guess

im not fully finished with my reread of wotb, so my opinion on this might change a little, but man. i think it was a big missed opportunity to set up what is actually just eugenics and then try to navigate around it by slapping a few "your disabilities make you strong :)" here and there on top of it. like! the macduncans couldve revered faolan for jumping the wall of fire, if shadow wolf was about faolan earning his "place" in the clan then they shouldve been behind him after that, his strength was recognized but never utilized. maybe they couldve gone hey, maybe its a little fucked up to send newborns to designated places to die like its an artform and then banish both of their parents, and if they happen to survive we let them stay but only as the lowest ranking member of the pack forever. its made even worse by the fact that faolan SEETHES about it! he recognizes that he's better than this treatment, he just gets used to it! its upsetting to see these threads just let go in favor of other plotlines, because faolan is so passionate of a main character, and horrible injustices are introduced and just forgotten about, because theyre accepted as the way things are.

so idk. i think that conflict is interesting and as someone with disabilities that make my daily life fucking harder, i kind of dont want to just wipe away all those parts of the culture, even as shitty as they are. but im not about to rewrite wotb or anything, so im just going to make some ocs and let them do it. theres some things ill probably get rid of completely (like the ember healing the watch, and the obeas) but for the most part i think i want to tackle the society naturally, within the story of the ocs. also, this doesnt have much to do with the rest of this post, but lasky loves to do "evil family" and its very apparent with the wolves, bc hundreds of years later the macheaths are still naturally evil! so i probably will be addressing that as well, in the way wolves move from clan to clan

i just felt like it needed to be addressed if i was going to start posting wotb ocs, since its just. well its just a mess all around

[sien-ten]

chapter 100 is short, but loud

spy x family spoilers ahead

short summary: martha and her female comrades were put out on first lines. they're going down, martha is covered by heavy smoke that BlackBell Ind. artillery produces while shooting, so westalis soldiers doesn't see her. it seems that they were a strategic move to distract an enemy. they retreat in frenzy, martha is bleeding and tired. while escaping westalis soldiers, martha shoots and slips down in river, losing her consciousness. she's awake at westalis' side, a dog found her. dog's owner - mrs. anabel, cures some of martha's wounds, feeds her, gives her late daughers clothes (who it seems was a medic) to wear. she tells martha to hide and leave, so young girl does just that. while crawling in search of ostania' s side, martha finds a map and hand-knitted scarf in her pack. mrs. anabell received only a leg of what was left of her daughter, but she sent off someone else's child safely.

I was honestly afraid, that we'll receive some kind of funny chapter with Anya's antics as a 100 chapter. as much as I love Anya, doing something like this in the middle of PAST-arc is very anticlimactic.

I feel that ch. 100 would be much longer, If Endo-sensei could (or wanted to) write more about what happens on other side of war. how not everyone want to play an "agressor" part, how there's fathers, mothers and kids on all sides of battlefield, how hard is to stay human while living in literal hell of war. But I want to thank him for what we have. He's an amazing writer, so we can only imagine how this practice will help him in making of Spy x Family finale.

interesting details: BlackBell Ind. maschinery is already on battlefield, and it works a bit bad - they produce to much smoke, which they shouldn't do; in a moment of weakness Martha internally calls for her parents and Henry; mrs. Anabel is living alone, but her family seems to have strong connections to military - there's photo of her daughter in uniform similar to W2 red cross, there's an unnamed man in marine uniform; mrs. anabell seems to be sick, she has scars and marks on her face, but she also has big medical knowledge - she healed Martha's wounds on her own; the doggo - Baron - is well fed and happy to have new company; Endo doesn't tell us how much time Martha spent on westalis' side - there's only a hint that battlefield frenzy happened "a few month before" Henry heard of Combat Battalion's wipe-out.

this frame of Martha is my favourite in this whole arc.

[theresa-of-liechtenstein]

fandot listenalong 2024: games/wrong

on the occasion of newcastle (yayyy), a flightdeck scene, in which herc teaches his boss’s daughter a familiar game that’s ‘rather fun on passenger flights’.

a few thoughts below the cut…

for a character who is never seen or mentioned again in canon, and for a working relationship that is barely even implied in the source text—i can never stop coming back to linda and these two, can i? but how tantalizing a history finnemore teases in an episode remembered primarily for other things. herc, douglas’ old friend from air england who wound up driving wee scottish buses around the highways of short-haul sky; linda, the best candidate for the job, desperate to grow out of the shadow of a father whose title, at the very least, drives aspirants to press CVs into her hands. two pilots put together on a positioning flight to another hub. maybe they were thrown together by circumstance and the scheduling department, as pilots the world over find themselves every day; herc’s conviction that he can find a way to get arthur’s CV into consideration indicates otherwise. it is the chief pilot, after all, who oversees hiring in an airline.

these two are fascinating to me. the experienced aviator who has inexplicably chosen to spend what is certainly the downward slope of his career not at the formidable air england but at what is all but implied to be a budget airline. the young pilot who has been in the sky for long enough and yet is still sitting on the right side of the flightdeck. why?

is it workplace politics? is she unwilling to seek promotion because of the optics of her father’s position? or is it because she believes she still has something to learn from the man on her left?

(the unnamed chief pilot fairbairn, or herc. take your pick.)

i like to think herc gravitates toward oranges for the flightdeck game. he’ll take any fruit he finds, but if there’s an orange, he’ll prefer it. when you’re done with it, you can peel the skin, split the fruit; you can offer slices to a friend, a colleague, a companion.

i come back to them so often, not least because of the strong feelings i have with regard to intergenerational connection and the capacity of old and young to learn from one another—a running theme that resounds through the source text.

i don’t expect i’ll stop thinking about them anytime soon.

[adeptune01]

alright sorry to go on a supernatural rant in 2023 but...

it makes me feel insane.

Not to beat a dead horse or anything but like destiel will be it for me. Nothing else will ever compare to it. Like a man is raised by an absent father- a father who demands to be obeyed without question. A father who praises guilt, who tells the man that he is his brother's keeper. That he is responsible for all of his actions and those actions affects on others. The weight of the world is on his shoulders and he must bear it alone.

This man, the one that is single-handedly trying to save himself along with everyone he's ever crossed paths with, fails. He sacrifices himself to save his brother and he dies. He's sent to hell, a land of eternal punishment. 'No less than I deserve' he probably thinks.

But then he is saved. Not because of anything he's done. Not because of a deal he or his brother or his father has made. He is saved by a cosmic being of unfathomable power because of his nature which has been deemed by THEE Abrahamic God as being fundamentally good. The man who has hated himself his whole life for not being enough, not doing enough, is declared to be good.

And he feels guilty as hell. He didn't deserve this. Of those hundreds of people he's helped over the years...one of them...ANY of them is better than him. If he's God's strongest soldier then God is going to lose. He is going to fail God just like he failed his own father.

The man spirals while the heavenly power that saved him watches from afar. The power understands the man. He understands what it's like to hold Father to the highest esteem. He understands what it's like to blindly follow orders, hoping for the best. He also understands that the man has the brightest hope-filled soul he has ever seen.

So the power decides to help, and to do so he breaks away from the rest of heaven's contingency. He grows into his name- Castiel. The shield of God (I am not joking that is what Castiel means), created to protect humanity. AND become a pair with the Michael Sword- the man who believes he is unworthy- DEAN.

Through the years- DECADES- there's ups and downs. Divots and cracks in the Almighty's plans. But nothing they can't handle. They grow close and become more than allies in the fight against ghastly horrors beyond comprehension, they become best friends.

They have wild west movie marathons in the basement room designated as Dean's own "Fortress of Deanitude". They hang out late at night at crappy diners eating crappy pie. They go out cruising the town. They listen to the same music. They play pranks on each other. They learn about and remember each other's interests.

Their relationship grows deeper.

They fight. They lie. They attempt to kill each other. They raise a son together. They try to mentor a daughter. They leave. They come back. They mourn. They celebrate.

Together.

Two beings- one human, one angel- who were alone- whose defining characteristic was who their fathers were- prove that it's possible to break free from predestination, from circumstance. Their love, first as friends, then as something more, is as strong as the force that binds the universe- stronger, even.

And then they die.

Separately. Both convinced that the one thing they've wanted, the unnamed thing they've been fighting for, is the one thing they can't have. Because their fathers said so.

Despite everything, in the end, their fathers won. Dean died on the job he couldn't quit from an accident he couldn't help. Cas died obeying the first and most important commandment his Father gave him- to love and protect humanity.

THAT story is what I will never be able to get over. Not mentioning the gothic Americana aesthetic, the clear Protestant 'for by faith' message, the criticism of hyper-masculinity, the exploration of the 'American Dream'.....