#vulgar looks like vhagar

[dipperscavern]

not to be vulgar but im going to be vulgar. do u have any thoughts on how the stark men would eat u out (other than like a man starved ofc)?!!

YES LETS GET VULGAR. I HAVE THOUGHTS OH YES I DO

okay, so, jon obviously does it to make you feel good. but he also finds eating you out pleasurable. the taste of you, the cries of his name spilling from your lips, the way you tug on his hair, the feeling of your thighs trembling around his head — it’s pleasurable for him. sometimes after a long day, he just needs to blow some steam off, needs relief. and he finds that within you & your warmth on his tongue. ohhh yeah. pulling you to sit on his face, hands locked around your thighs with an iron grip. best believe you aren’t getting up anytime soon.

robb does it because he likes making you feel good. his entire life is in disarray, and everything is going wrong for him. he has to constantly make difficult & sometimes cruel decisions, he likes being able to give someone something good — like making his wife cum as many times as she wants. and i’m sorry i’m about to get lewd on here, but robb seems like a fingering-you-while-he-sucks-on-your-clit typa guy. and truly, being intimate with you is part of his sanctuary. it’s those sacred moments where you’re sharing each others bodies that has his mind drifting from the present war, and you’re both just in your own little bubble.

and cregan….. cregan just does it cause of how in love with you he is. like he’s just so head over heels for you, he has to make you writhe on his tongue. and especially if you were a maiden before you both got married, there’s something about giving you more pleasure than you thought possible. there’s honeslty not much to add, he does it cause he loves you and he wants to. & it’s also his favorite way to warm you up. laying you down on the furs in front of the blazing fire, hands wrapped around the outside of your thighs to keep you in place…. need. don’t worry about the cold, you’ve got cregan.

[flowerandblood]

The Prince and The Fox

[ modern! • Aemond x friend! • female ]

[ warnings: sexual abuse, violence, trauma, panic attack ]

[ description: After the events of her childhood, despite her best efforts, her neighbor and the younger brother of her friend Helaena, Aemond, does not want to know her. This state lasts until a house party organized by his older brother, Aegon, during which an incident occurs that will change their relationship forever. Slow burn, angst, toxic ex-Alys, rough Aemond. This is several anon requests combined into one fic. ]

WARNING: The main plot between the characters takes place in high school. Yes, in high school. The belief that teenagers wait with an intimacy when they are in love in high school is ridiculous to me. Aemond and the character here are the same age. Don't ask me how old they are, in my country you are of the age of consent in your first year of high school and an adult in the last year of high school, so if it is more convenient for you, think about it that way and decide for yourself. In this story, I am not following the trail that they are magically friends right away, but how they become friends and what that even means. I'm writing this fic to give the perspective of young, lost people, not adult women who want to see exactly themselves in everything they read. If that's all you expect, this isn't the fic for you.

I don't want whining about this in my comments or asks. I will delete these and block you. You have been warned.

Aemond + Evans Series Moodboard

This is my first story that has its own playlist, but yes! Get in the mood! Story Music Playlist. Song used in this chapter: Feuer Frei! (Rammstein)

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She wasn't sure how they became friends. Before she met him she played often with Helaena, they lived in the neighbourhood, and there wasn't much of an age difference between them. They often visited each other to play with their dolls, while her brothers existed for her somewhere in the back, busy with their serious, boyish affairs unavailable to girls.

One day when their mother called Helaena home she was sitting on a blanket on the grass in their garden, pretending that her teddy rabbit had just been drinking tea from her pink plastic cup, when their whole elaborately choreographed scene was destroyed by a dog bumping into her and licking her.

"Vhagar! No! Bad dog!" She heard the growl of a young boy, running up to them and grabbing his happy, shiny labrador with big eyes, who just licked her face, panting loudly, pulling her by the collar, trying to drag her away.

She giggled, wiping her face, and it was only when she looked at him that she noticed a large white bandage on the left side of his face, covering his entire eye and part of his cheek, taped up with plasters. She blinked, curious, and cocked her head.

"What happened to you?" She asked lightly, and he threw her an angry, murderous look, tightening his lips and furrowing his brow.

"Fuck off." He hissed, and she turned all red, close to tears, devastated that he had used such ugly, vulgar words towards her that her parents had forbidden her to use, shouting at him that he wasn't allowed to talk like that, that she didn't like him and for him to go away.

This is exactly what he did, dragging his dog behind him with difficulty, and she took her rabbit and ran to her house across the street, no longer waiting for Helaena to return, distraught.

Her father tried hard to get anything out of her, but he understood little of her loud sobbing and babbling, she could see nothing through her tears, she stood and stammered out mere fragments of sentences from which her parent had by some miracle put together a whole. Her father sighed heavily, running his hand over his face.

"Listen. Helaena's brother, I think his name is Aemond, had a very serious accident. I was told about it by his mother when I met her in the supermarket recently, the whole family is going through a lot. He will have to wear an artificial eye and will be left with a big scar. He feels very bad about it and that is why he is behaving like this. Your question was very tactless." He said finally.

She felt a squeeze in her heart and burst out sobbing even louder, this time because she had offended him, that surely this boy now hated her when she wanted everyone to like her.

"− I didn't − after all − uh − I didn't mean to − I just −" She mumbled in despair, not knowing herself what she wanted to say, breathing hard, almost choking from her sobs, her face all red, she was hot with emotion.

"Come here." Her father said to her, so she walked towards him. He embraced her and stroked her head, saying that she should ask her mother to help her bake cakes for him and bring them to him, wishing him a speedy recovery and apologising so they would both feel better.

She decided that this was indeed a good idea and did exactly that.

The next day she knocked on their front door standing with a box of cakes and was opened by their mother, a beautiful, long-haired woman with a warm smile, she was wearing a thick green jumper.

"Good morning, dear, Helaena is just in ballet class." She said to her in a soft, calm voice, and she shook her head.

"No, ma'am, I've come to see Aemond, I've baked cakes for him and I want to wish him quick recovery." She recited with difficulty what her mother had told her to say, hoping she hadn't forgotten anything, waiting with a pounding heart for a response.

The woman smiled broadly with some kind of gratitude and called out loudly to her son asking him to come downstairs, saying he had a visitor.

Her son came down reluctantly, furrowing his brow, having no idea who might want to see him and when he spotted her he immediately pressed his lips together, furious.

He approached his mother, looking at her distrustfully, and she swallowed loudly feeling a tightening in her throat and tears of shame gathering in her eyes again.

"I'm so sorry for asking you about it at the time, in the sense of what happened to you and that I upset you and that you were sad and that I yelled at you afterwards because I was sad too and − and −" She mused, forgetting for a moment what she was getting at in that sentence, swallowing her saliva loudly and suddenly remembering. "− and − and I brought you cakes that I baked with the help of my mother to wish you a speedy recovery."

She said quickly and held out a cardboard box tied with a ribbon in front of her. Aemond looked uncertainly at his mother, who nodded at him to accept the gift. He did not look at her as he reached out for the package and murmured under his breath, nodding. His mother sighed quietly.

"What should you say now?" She asked him expectantly, and he pressed his lower lip together, looking somewhere sideways, discouraged.

"Thank you." He muttered, turned and headed up the stairs.

"Goodbye." She said quickly, turning and running towards her house, feeling relieved that now she had put things right and now he would surely like her a lot.

She was wrong.

When she came to their house to see Helaena, he immediately locked himself in his room. When they passed each other at primary school he did not respond to her greeting by pretending not to see her even though they were neighbours.

When their parents met each other in the supermarket and started talking to each other, he would approach the shelves and pretend to look at some products, doing everything he could not to talk to her.

He never spoke to her in a bad way again, never shouted at her again, but simply pretended that she didn't exist.

Everything changed when they went to high school and it turned out they would be in the same class. They would then get on and off at the same bus stop, but instead of talking to her he preferred to put his earphones in his ears and browse through the apps on his phone, pretending not to see her.

She tried to talk to him, but he shunned her, treating her like air. She had the painful feeling that from that moment, from the day she asked him the wrong question, she was already crossed out as a person in his eyes.

And then their literary history teacher gave them a homework exercise to do in pairs. Assigning a person to each, when he looked at her he waved his hand as if realising something.

"Ah, Evans, you and Targaryen live nearby, it will be easier for you to work. Next couple −" He said, and she froze, looking at him over her shoulder, his eye wide open, pointed in her direction, he was playing with his pen between his fingers, his lips clenched into a thin line.

He was furious.

She swallowed loudly feeling a tightness in her throat and turned back towards the board, feeling only the loud pounding of her heart.

She ran after him off the bus, seeing him walking towards his house with his backpack thrown over one shoulder, the hood of his dark sweatshirt pulled over his head, earphones in his ears. She grabbed his sleeve to make him stop, and he flinched and looked back, surprised.

"Wait, can we talk?" She asked, breathing fast, and he furrowed his brow, taking the earpiece out of his ear, she could hear some loud heavy metal music coming from it and recognized the song Feuer Frei! by Rammstein.

"What?"

She blinked, understanding that he hadn't heard completely what she'd said. She grunted quietly, letting him go, looking at him expectantly.

"I asked if we could talk."

He looked ahead, letting the air out loudly through his nose with impatience, pulling the other earpiece from his ear, looking everywhere but at her. She guessed he wouldn't say anything, so she started quickly, not wanting to irritate him unnecessarily.

"I know you don't like me and I promise not to annoy you with anything. Let's just go to your place or mine, do this homework and get it over with. Okay?" She asked in a trembling voice and he licked his lips, indecision and frustration in his eyes, something was going on in his mind that she didn't understand completely.

He snorted, shrugging his shoulders and nodded at her.

"Come."

They entered his house greeted by the smell of dinner just being cooked. Their mother welcomed her presence in the company of her son with joy and surprise.

"Will you eat something? The meatballs in sauce are warm and ready." She said warmly, hoping they would stay down, guessing that they were both hungry after many hours of lessons.

She wished he would agree, feeling a burbling in her stomach.

"No. We're going to go do our homework." He said in a low, slightly hoarse voice. He pulled off his shoes, slipped the hood off his head and walked up the stairs without looking at her.

He walked into his room, throwing the clothes and books lying on the floor into the wardrobe, clearly wanting to do a quick tidy up, his whole walls covered with posters of various bands, Rammstein, Electric Light Orchestra, Deep Purple, Guns N' Roses, Led Zeppelin, his bookshelves heaving with books.

"Sit." He said lowly, pointing to the chair he'd set up by his desk, himself sitting down in a comfortable high-backed leather player's chair, spreading out on it comfortably.

She walked over to him, pulling her pastel soft backpack off her back, pulling out her notebook and the book they had just reviewed.

The Little Prince.

She felt that he was looking at her expectantly, so she opened her notebook in which she had written down the exact assignment the teacher had given them. She decided to read it aloud so they could reflect on it together.

"The Little Prince is a metaphorical story. Talk together about a few scenes from the book that moved you most and compare your thoughts, writing down similarities and differences. Analyse at least two scenes in this way."

She glanced at him, tightening her lips, feeling her heart pounding hard. For some reason she was terrified, he was sitting next to her, resting his elbows on his desk, leaning forward, seeming even bigger and taller to her than usual.

She felt strange thinking that he smelled nice, that he used some ordinary, cheap men's perfume.

He sniffed with his nose, not even looking at her, taking a pen in his hand.

"Have you read this book?" She asked, wanting to make sure he knew what they were going to talk about. He threw her a look like he thought she was an idiot.

"Do you have any more stupid questions, or can we get started?" He asked lowly, and she pressed her lips together, humiliated, feeling for some reason that she wanted to cry.

She felt like asking why he couldn't forgive her at last, but decided it was pointless, that he obviously didn't like her because he had such a whim.

She shook her head and he hummed, taking her copy of The Little Prince in his hand and began looking through it.

"Which scene do you want to talk about?" He asked coldly, dispassionately, and she swallowed loudly.

"About the Little Prince and the Fox." She said quietly, feeling him give her a brief glance.

He grunted under his breath, apparently agreeing with her choice, waiting for her elaboration on the matter. She swallowed with difficulty, licking her lips.

"What moved me most was how true this scene is. That the greatest enemy of friendship, or any close relationship, is haste. That only by respecting someone's barriers, only by approaching someone slowly and with understanding, can you really look at them from a distance.

By taming someone, by making that person grow attached to you, you take partial responsibility for that person's feelings, for making them trust you enough to believe that you won't intentionally hurt them with your behaviour. Until we really get to know someone we are just a crowd of people passing each other on the street."

She said in a trembling voice, feeling for some reason tears under her eyelids and a tightness in her throat, her eyebrows arched in pain, her lower lip began to tremble, she played with the material of her white daisy dress in a nervous gesture.

She felt him watching her, an awkward silence fell between them.

She couldn't look at him.

She thought he was going to say something cruel, that he was going to tell her to stop wailing, but he said nothing. After a while he spoke up.

"I see this scene differently. They're both moving towards each other because they're determined to do so. They are both going their separate ways. There is a balance. The Little Prince doesn't force the Fox to approach him, just as the Fox doesn't force the Little Prince to approach him. They do it of their own free will. They tame themselves because that's the decision they made. You can't tame someone who doesn't want it." He said lowly, and she looked up at him feeling tears begin to run down her face.

Was he talking about himself?

Was she the Fox who wanted to tame him even though he didn't want it?

"I'm sorry." It burst out of her chest before she had time to think about what she was doing.

He pressed his lips together and swallowed loudly, clenching his hands lying on the desk into fists, his nostrils moving restlessly in accelerated breathing.

She covered her face with her hand, embarrassed that she just couldn't stop crying, feeling pain in her heart and feeling sorry for herself that she just wasn't able to give him a break, that she kept seeking his attention and interest when he just clearly wanted her to leave him alone.

She couldn't bear the thought that she wasn't liked by every man she knew.

She felt ashamed at the thought that she had been so selfish.

"I can't stand that you don't want to talk to me. That you don't like me, that you pretend not to see me. I think it's driving me crazy and you're right to think that I'm an attention-seeking girl. I'm ashamed and I apologise to you for that because it's not your problem. I promise I'll stop." She said between laboured breaths, shrugging her shoulders, lowering her gaze.

He just looked at her.

"You exaggerate everything too much. You care too much." He said finally, his voice calmer as was his gaze.

She saw him fidgeting involuntarily with his fingers in a nervous gesture, the cuticles around his fingernails peeled and red, they must have caused him pain, but he plucked them nonetheless.

"Stop." She whispered and placed her hand over his, his fingers froze in mid-motion. She heard him swallow loudly, completely taken aback, his healthy eye open wide, his whole body concentrated. She stroked his palms with her thumb, and he didn't push her away.

"I'll leave you alone." She said softly and took her hand away, not believing she had dared to do so, and he just nodded and grunted, looking in her book for the quote he wanted to talk about.

They wrote down silently next to each other what they had talked about, and when they had finished she took her books, packed up and left without saying goodbye to him.

She no longer sought his gaze when he stood next to her at the bus stop, when he sat behind her in class, when she passed him in the school corridor. She realised that she had been conceited and vain in thinking that she would make him like her. She thought there was nothing wrong with someone not fancying her, not wanting to talk to her.

She had to get over it.

She attended extra volleyball classes, loved this sport and had good results at inter-school competitions. The captain of the men's team was Cregan Stark, a tall, well-built, funny black-haired boy who caught her eye from the start.

He would occasionally wink at her from afar seeing her gaze, and she would blush, lowering her eyes.

They were good mates, chatting sometimes during breaks and laughing. Cregan often approached her between classes, throwing in any topic, sometimes accompanied by his colleagues who were also fond of her. She felt butterflies in her stomach when he invited her to a house party that Aegon was organising.

She knew that Aemond would certainly be home at that time, but she figured that he would lock himself in his room and not go downstairs to them anyway, so she readily agreed, glad to see Helaena there as well.

She dressed in her favourite suede black dress reaching mid-thigh with a boat neckline, not revealing her breasts but showing her shoulders, and she wore her favourite shiny black boots. She let her hair down, deciding that she looked the prettiest this way, and literally ran out of the house when she heard a knock on the door.

She and Cregan hugged each other as if they were friends and moved arm-in-arm across the street hearing the loud music in the distance. When they entered she saw a crowd of people, most were her friends from the estate, so she greeted everyone around her, one of the guests handed her a cup with probably the cheapest wine possible.

She took a sip, glancing at Cregan and he winked at her as he always did, this time embracing her, pulling her close.

She felt the heat in her lower abdomen and the flush in her cheeks.

For most of the time they sat together on the couch, talking about everything and nothing, she saw no one around him but him, looking into his big dark eyes as if enchanted. She swallowed loudly when she felt his hand on her thigh, trailing up and down, and pressed her lips together, unsure if she liked it or not.

However, she didn't reject his hand, not wanting to offend him, some part of her happy that he reciprocated her interest, that he liked her too, that he found her attractive too.

"Shall we go to the garden?" He asked loud enough for her to hear him, and she nodded with a smile, feeling her own heart beating fast, happy that he wanted to be alone with her.

They walked out into the garden through the kitchen, through a back entrance she knew very well, on the way she felt him grasp her hand in his, she had a feeling her heart would leap out of her chest. They sat down on the terrace bench, he embraced her and hugged her close, and she snuggled into his chest.

She wondered with a blush on her cheeks if he would want to kiss her.

She swallowed loudly and a shudder went through her as, from her shoulder, his hand slowly began to move up to her neck, slipped under the material of her dress and touched her bare breast. She squeezed his wrist, terrified.

"N-no." She mumbled, but instead of stopping, he tightened his fingers on her flesh.

"No, stop." She said terrified, aggressively pulling at his hand, feeling tears in her eyes, cold sweat on the back of her neck, her whole body screaming for him to let her go, wanting to run away, but he wouldn't release her.

"Didn't you hear?" She heard a firm, low voice beside her, and Cregan jumped away from her suddenly, rising from the bench.

Aemond stared at him with his lips tightened, an expression of disgust on his face, his healthy eye wide open, his hands clenched into fists.

"Don't you fucking understand what 'no' means?" He asked him again, louder this time, furious.

She was just sitting and shaking, breathing hard, looking down at her shoes, tear after tear running down her cheeks, she was unable to move or get anything out.

Cregan grunted back.

"Fuck off." He growled, wanting to get past him, but Aemond grabbed him by his shirt and pressed him against the door frame with all his strength.

She stood up quickly, terrified, and covered her mouth when Cregan hit him on the forehead with his head and he took a few steps backwards, Aemond's fist hit his face in return, Cregan half-curled and coughed. They moved away from each other, panting heavily.

"Fucking bastard." He hissed, holding his red cheek with his hand and walked back out into his house, loud music, screams, laughter and conversations of people inside around them.

She sat down on the ground, feeling her whole body shaking, clenching her eyes shut, a strange, high-pitched sound and a sob came from her throat as it finally dawned on her mind what had actually happened.

That he touched her in a way that made her uncomfortable and made her unable to breathe, that she had asked him to stop and he hadn't, how bad it made her feel, how frightening and humiliating it was.

She felt so dirty.

She wasn't sure if what came out of her mouth could be called crying, she felt like she was whimpering and howling, holding her hand to her mouth as if trying to shield herself from what was happening, to no avail.

She heard the rustling of the grass beneath his feet, she felt the gentle touch of his large, warm hand on her back, casual, tender, friendly, comforting.

She snuggled into his black sweatshirt and cried out loud, disappointed, distraught and devastated that she had trusted him, that she had believed him and he did something like this to her.

Why?

Was it because she didn't push him away when he touched her thigh, that she went out with him alone?

Did he think that was what she wanted?

"Shall I go and find Helaena?" He asked in a trembling voice clearly not knowing what to do, how to help her, horrified by what he had seen and her condition. She shook her head quickly, feeling ashamed, she didn't want anyone to know.

She heard him swallow loudly.

"If you want I'll go with you to his parents tomorrow. I'll tell them what I saw. He's been groping you all evening." He said low with some kind of tension, and she froze, drawing in the air loudly at the thought that he must have come downstairs, that he must have seen them as they sat on the sofa, watched them.

Follow them out.

She wondered if he had done it to make sure he wouldn't do anything to her against her will.

It was her fault.

She did not push him away when he touched her thigh.

She went off with him herself.

"No. They won't believe me. He'll say I wanted it myself." She mumbled in a trembling, weak voice between one shattered breath and another.

She could feel his heart pounding hard, that he was nervous too, that he didn't know what he should do. He put his arm around her in a friendly manner, feeling subconsciously that she needed it, that she was terrified.

They both stood up quickly when they heard some girls come out for a cigarette. They raised their eyebrows, looking at them with amusement, one of them waved at them.

"Hey, Cyclops, do you have a girlfriend now?" She asked, the second girl laughed out loud, the third looked at the others disapprovingly, lowering her gaze, pretending she hadn't heard this.

"Fuck off, you stupid bitch!" She growled at her so loudly and with such fury that the girl froze, it seemed to her that she had never called anyone that out loud before in her life.

In a frenzy of desperation, anger and humiliation, she pulled her boots off her feet and, one by one, started throwing them at them until all three of them fled inside the house screaming that she was insane.

"Fuck, calm down! Jesus." He called out to her in shock, grabbing her by her arm. She raised her eyes at him, breathing loudly, his gaze softening a bit.

"Do you want to go home?" He asked lowly, almost indifferently, and she nodded, feeling that she wanted to cry again at the thought of Cregan's touch on her chest.

His hand tightened on her bare breast, refusing to let her go.

An unpleasant shiver ran through her, she felt like she was going to vomit.

First, though, she had to find her shoes, one of which had ended up in the bushes, the other behind their barbecue, all dirty from the coals. She put them on anyway, she was already indifferent to everything.

He didn't even ask if she wanted him to walk her away.

He just followed her.

On the way out they came across Cregan and his mates smoking a cigarette on the road, some of his friends whistling at them, laughing out loud.

"Are you guys going to fuck?" He called from a distance in amusement, she felt that her whole body was shaking, that she was afraid of them and she thanked God that he had gone with her, that he had not left her alone.

She wondered if this was what he experienced all the time at school.

Humiliation.

He stood with her in front of her door with his hands tucked into his black trousers, his face turned in profile.

She knew she shouldn't do this, but she needed it.

She walked up to him and hugged her face to his sweatshirt, standing in front of him like that. She could feel his warm breath on the top of her head, she knew he was looking at her.

She swallowed loudly as she felt his forehead pressed against her hair, he let out a loud breath, something in his voice that she could call sympathy.

"Try not to think about it. If you change your mind and want to go to his parents, I'll go with you. Hm?" He asked lowly, and she nodded.

"Are you going to keep seeing him?" He asked coolly after a moment, and she shook her head, feeling that it made her sick at the thought.

"Good." He muttered, raising his head. She pulled away from him and looked at him, swallowing loudly.

"Gonna give you my phone number. In case you decide to do it." He added quickly, wanting to make sure she didn't understand his proposal ambiguously. She nodded her head.

He dictated a string of numbers to her, which she typed into her phone and added him to her contacts under the name 'Prince'. He saw this and lifted his gaze to her, but made no comment.

They looked at each other for a moment in silence.

"I'm sorry." He said finally. She nodded her head in understanding.

"Thank you for everything. That you… you know. Have a good night." She said softly, without looking at him anymore, and disappeared behind the front door of her house.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy

[the-darkness-does-not-bargain]

Say what you would about Corlys Velaryon, he was nothing if not an adaptable man.  Alicent assumed it was a skill he learned as a sailor.  After failing to entice the King into a marriage first, he shunned the court and capital for years, acting much like a spurned lover and playing the part well.  And yet, Rhaenyra’s cock had scarcely developed when he arrived from Driftmark to put his daughter on it.

(She winced, the vulgarity of her own thoughts taking her by surprise.  Her mind was vicious today, and it spared no one.)

Laena was at least no longer a child this time.  A stunning beauty of ten and seven, she wafted into the capital as if on a cloud to vye for the princess’s hand.  One year ago, the King invited a cavalcade of highborn omegas to woo his alpha heir, from pups to maidens to yet fertile widows, until the Red Keep was fit to burst at the seams.  For a time, the haze of their scents was so thick that even mated couples became antsy, and every party and function within the walls was spoiled by collective stress.  The competition had been fierce.  There had even been fights, but at the end of it all, the Siren of High Tide stood victorious.

It was easy to see why.  Charming, intelligent, and witty, Laena was a walking honey-trap for Rhaenyra.  She had claimed the dragon Vhagar at the tender age of three and ten, and was said to spend more time up in the skies than she ever did on the ground.  She was good-humored, rambunctious even, and cared little for the drudgeries of court, preferring instead to escape to the beaches or down into the city.  She would pull Rhaenyra along on these many excursions, luring her away from her responsibilities until no half-hearted scolding from Viserys could call her back.

Even now, their heads were bent together, no doubt discussing all the things they’d rather do than attend their own wedding announcement.  They made her blood boil.  How could they stand there and be so openly disrespectful?  If Alicent had so much as sneezed in front of the court, she would've been denied supper, yet there they stood, whispering shamelessly.  And the way they looked at each other?  It was borderline indecent.

The righteous hue of her anger burned bright, but brief.  There was a traitor in her mind, one that reminded her how she used to look at Rhaenyra the same way.  With wanton affection, fond and more than fond.  The long and secret looks, which weren't secret enough to stop her mother from suspecting things, or from dragging her to the Sept to pray the unholy thoughts away.  Truly, she had no room to judge them for the sins she herself once committed.

But perhaps their enemies were right.  Maybe Reachmen were naturally envious folk.  Maybe she was doomed by her heritage to look upon the happy pair with roiling anger, to grind her teeth behind a smile and curse them inside her head.

[heliophytes]

Fic Author Self Rec

Tysm for the tag @7thchevronlocked 😁

When you get this, reply with your favourite 5 fics you've written, then pass it on to at least 5 other writers. All of these are explicit and tagged with DD:DNE so proceed with caution :3

1 - Marlboro Reds - Jacaerys Targaryen/Cregan Stark, Modern AU, 4.2k words.

Jace meets Cregan at a party. or The one where Aegon trades Jace without his knowledge.

2 - Baby's Blood - Rhaenyra Targaryen/Viserys I Targaryen, Canon Divergence, 5.8k.

Viserys drank deeply from his cup. Aemma had been dead for a fortnight, and already his council was pushing ladies on him, most notably Corlys Velaryon putting forth his own daughter, Laena as an option. Unbeknownst to them, he had already decided who he should marry, the only issue was doing so without causing an uproar. It was vulgar but he felt as if there were no other choice. Even in their family’s long history of intermarrying there had never been a time when father and daughter were together. ~~ OR the one where Viserys decides to marry Rhaenyra instead

3 - Light the Lamp - Jacaerys Targaryen/Cregan Stark, Modern AU, 17.6k words combined. (technically a series but I'm including it as one)

Puck bunnies are a standard fixture in any hockey game — take some time to look around and you are certain to see a sign promising some sort of sexual favour (that they are often taken up on) to whatever player they find the most attractive. There is general acceptance of them, as well as an acceptance that they are at the bottom of the hierarchy when compared to the more stable position of a player’s partner or spouse. Jacaerys didn't consider himself one, or at least he wouldn’t have if it weren’t for the existence of Cregan Stark. ~~~ Jace gets with his celebrity crush -- defenseman of the King's Landing Knights, Cregan Stark.

Cregan Stark was a man who was used to getting what he wanted. Very rarely did he bother to ask permission to do things — once his mind was set on something he was going to do it no matter what anyone said. So it is no surprise that he often got in trouble because of it. All too often did a coach pull him to the side and tell him he had to get his act together before it bit him in the ass; even now all he did was scoff in response. He was Cregan fucking Stark — he wasn’t about to fall in line if it wasn’t absolutely necessary, and even then it’d take some convincing. His first loyalty was to himself and his goals. ~~~ Puck Bunny from Cregan's Point Of View + him reassuring Jace's insecurities.

4 - Bedroom Hymns - Alicent Hightower/Aemond Targaryen, 3.4k.

“Come to bed with me, I miss when you would come and nestle against my side.” Alicent tugged Aemond towards the four-poster bed, the sheets already pulled down in preparation for her turning in for the night. Aemond huffed out a laugh, he hadn’t crawled into his mother’s bed like that since the night he claimed Vhagar — but that did not mean he was going to turn her down. ~~~ Aemond does whatever his mother asks of him.

5 - Lust for Violence - Aegon II Targaryen/Aemond Targaryen, 2.9k.

A simmering heat curled in Aemond’s stomach as he took in the smug look on Daemon’s face as he wiped the Valyrian steel sword clean while walking away from the commotion as if he hadn’t just killed a lord in the middle of the court — glancing at Aegon he saw that his brother was staring at the body as well, a mix of shock and a barely-there glint of amusement in his eyes. He knew his own were much more wanton than they should be. ~~~~ Aegon indulges Aemond's fantasies.

Tagging @k9rage, @evangeline444 and anyone else who wants to do it!

[lullaebies]

Ormund uplifting Daeron's spirit whenever he misses his family.

A/N: I really really love how this one turned out! I hope you will enjoy it as well <3 this turned out to be a longer oneshot, too, so you can tell I had fun. —

He watches Tessarion from the height of the Hightower, the salty smell of the sea piercing his nose as a wave crashes against it.

Tessarion hunts fish as if she’s a marine boat casting a net, wide jaw gathering the prey she trapped with the currents her wings made on the sea surface. Any blue flame of hers mixes with water, burning her food and leaving only steam to rise with her to the air. He thinks he can almost see her ripping off a big fish’s head, letting the rest of it fall.

“A vulgar sight to stare at, is it not?” A voice calls from behind Daeron, pulling him from his thoughts. It’s Lord Ormund, his brown-eyed gaze ever-knowing. “Though I supposed even Lyonel and Bethany seem to cheer for the beast, too.”

“‘Tis the way of dragons, milord,” Daeron answers back, ever protective. Even the sweetest of cats requires the taste of meat. He would not ever consider calling Tessarion a pet, but she hardly is any different than those who feast on freshly caught salmon and halibuts during dinners. “They are hunters. One might say they are some of the best there are to witness.”

“Surely better than I, lad,” Lord Ormund replied, coming by him on the white rail of stone, and putting a hand over his shoulder. “And I’m sure a young dragon would like to learn from another, but I have never known you to be studious while being so somber.”

Daeron’s eyes widen at him, but quickly return to gaze at the sea. He hasn’t realized his mood has been so apparent. “I’m alright, Lord Ormund,” he says quickly, drawing a thin smile on his face and trying to spare himself of the discussion. “No need to worry.”

“I shan’t worry when I can wholeheartedly write Her Grace her son has not a concern in his mind,” Ormund says. “Speak, lad. Elsewise I may be forced to bring Bethany to interrogate you.”

Daeron cringes at the thought. Three years younger than him, Lord Ormund’s daughter always had unrelenting energy and insistent desire to not be left out from anything. She’d run circles around him until he spoke, and Lyonel may as well aid her in that pursuit, not above egging her on and poking at him for the truth himself. 

He smiles slightly at the thought; the two are kin and his friends, ones that he will always cherish, but they are not quite… Daeron sighs, lifting his face to look at the horizon.

“I always thought dragons are marvelous hunters to witness,” he says softly, his fingers fidgeting together over the rail. He says this, but those are not his words, but Aemond’s, from days long past. “When I was still at the Keep, there were days where the dragonkeepers let out the dragons to hunt at the sea. To make sure they still spread their wings properly, and didn’t lose their skills, or whatnot.”

Ormund hums at him to continue, giving a pat to his shoulder as further affirmation. Daeron licks dry lips.

“When Aegon claimed Sunfyre, he used to make us go see whenever he hunted. We’d go to the Tower of the Hand, and he would point Sunfyre out as he descended over the waters of Blackwater Bay. He would hold me up because I was too short to see properly beyond the buildings in the way.”

“You did come here a small fellow,” Ormund recalls, some amusement in his voice. Daeron snorts and continues.

“And then Helaena claimed Dreamfyre, and they’d argue over which one is more impressive, or who’s fastest, or anything and everything. Aegon always tried to make me and Aemond choose his side,” he said, and paused, looking back up at Ormund as the fond memory played in his mind. “We always chose Helaena’s.” 

“Wise men since you were boys, you and your brother.”

“Grandsire said the same,” Daeron nods. “But even he got tired of us in The Hand’s tower. After Aemond claimed Vhagar, there was greater competition, with only me left to vote. Grandsire would usher us out because we made too much noise. Aegon and Aemond wouldn’t let up, though - they still urged me to pick a favorite.”

“Did you?” Ormund asks. Daeron shakes his head.

“Helaena told me to let them try to convince me,” he says. “I’ve got many extra pastries, those days.”

Ormund lets out an abrupt, hearty laugh. “Shrewd thing, the princess.”

Daeron nods, and then looks again at Tessarion. She wasn’t big or well-behaved enough to be let out of the dragon pit on her own. Now, she’s a huntress of her own, making a show of herself; the people of Oldtown also watched from the docks. His mouth falls into a tight line, and he looks down, when he feels the burn of a tear trying to form on his lash line.

“I wish they could see, too.” He says quietly, the twist of lips inevitable. Lord Ormund’s hold on his shoulder becomes more encapsulating, and he squeezes on it.

“I have met many sailors in my life, lad,” Ormund says when Daeron sniffles back the emotions. “They say looking at the sea’s horizon is a beauty, but this beauty can only charm for so long. You either grow seasick, or homesick, until you find yourself ashore, and recover to set out again.”

Daeron wipes at his eye, and turns his face to the lord, who smiles at him.

“I can only assume it is not all that different, for those who watch the horizon from the height of the skies. But worry not, you’ll be at your shore again, to gather your strength. Your sister’s with child once more, is she not?” 

Rubbing at his nose, Daeron nods. “Yes, milord.”

“Then celebrations are due to come, and we are due to visit,” he tells Daeron, completely assured. “You’ll go from one tower to another, and in each you will be met with a warm welcome. And when you’ll watch your she-dragon from the Red Keep, there is no doubt your little nephew and niece would be the ones casting their votes for their favorite, this time.”

Daeron smiles at him. Mother always said to trust Lord Ormund as he would trust her; he trusts none more than his mother, and none more than the kin in front of him, an almost father in his own way. “I’d have to prepare some gifts for their convincing,” he jokes, the sniffles almost completely gone with the wind.

“Hah! You’d be a proper courtier, my boy,” Ormund returns. “Let us go to Lyonel and Bethany. Between us four, we can surely devise a plan to win the little ones’ favor. Your siblings, too, will surely marvel at the young dragon that returned to say hello.”

Daeron nods, most fervently. He’ll return proud and bright as Tessarion, to fit amongst his siblings, as she will fit amongst the dragons hunting at Blackwater Bay.

[itsgameofthronesimagines]

Kinslayer

(Gif not mine)

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary: Aemond returns home after the events of Storm’s End and his wife demands an impossible request. 

Word Count: 1,874

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, betrayal, faith-based delusion, implied rape at the end

Author's Note: Fine. Since no one has requested anything for Aemond, *cue Thanos impression* I'll do it myself. Sorry but I’m obsessed the the ‘our violent delights’ ao3 fic atm and I’ll be damned if I don’t write about Aemond myself.

(I do not consent for my works to be reposted/copied)

The council room is quiet after Aemond arrives and reports his crime. No one moves or even dares to breathe until Alicent finally rises from her chair, admittedly shaken as she smoothes down her dress. She can’t even look her son in the eye as she turned her body in his direction, instead watching her hands wringing together, “Aemond... does anyone else know of this?”

Aemond shifts his footing, fists clenched, but he keeps his chin held high, “Borros Baratheon might be an idiot, but he forbade blood to be shed on the floors of his home. I left soon after Lucerys did, so I can imagine Lord Borros knows. He truly would be a fool if he thought dragons could dance without death.”

“And you must truly be a fool if you thought you could start a war in the name of your missing eye!” The Queen Regent screams back, the whole room ringing with her voice and overpowering Aemond’s attempt at confidence. The whole room stills, lingering in Alicent’s proclamation until she fills the silence with gasps of breath. She crumbles slightly, holding her gut in disgust while trying to hold back the tears. Fear was evident in her eyes, and suddenly Aemond was no longer confident in his stride. When she finally locked eyes with his, Aemond felt himself cower in the ferocity of his mother’s gaze, “Go to your chambers.”

Guilt overcomes Aemond in tenfold compared to how he felt flying over Strom’s End. He’s used to Alicent’s anger being directed at Aegon, not him. He was truly his mother’s son, after all, “Mother...”

“Go!”

~~~~~~~~~

The walk to his wife’s chambers was dreadful, each step heavier than the last. His stomach felt like lead, weighing him down with his shame and his guilt. Already, servants walked around him in a wide berth and whisper to one another, as one usually does when rumors spread fast in King’s Landing. Aemond pretends not to hear them, but he hears the one word, nevertheless, stabbing him in the back as he walks past the whisperers.

‘Kinslayer.’

If Aemond could be honest with himself, just for a moment, he would much rather people whisper about his appearance instead of weighing him down with such a shameful title.

He opens the heavy doors to his wife’s chambers, and tonight the doors weighed heavier than normal. His young wife, Y/n stood by the fire until she heard him, then whipped her head around with dread evident in her eyes. Aemond cringed at the sight. He had hoped to explain to her what had happened. Y/n is a proud woman, powerfully faithful to the Seven and the laws of the Seven Kingdoms. If she had only married his brother, she would be a mighty queen who instills justice in all those who dare to break the law. He had hoped by being the first to tell her what he had done, Aemond hoped to calm her growing anger.

“What...? What did you do?” Her voice cracked between words, her tone harsh and likely shrouding her rage. Her eyes blinked back tears of disbelief, willing her husband to speak the truth before she could make any assumptions.

He winced, but kept his explanation short, “I lost control of Vhagar.”

Her sneer is vengeful, striking terror in Aemond One-Eye’s heart. Her justice rings true and strikes swiftly with her vulgar words, “Horse shit! I may not bear the privilege of a dragon rider, but I know of the bond between man and beast. Everyone knows.”

“A dragon is not a slave,” he tries to defend.

“No, but it is a companion,” she rounds the furniture and beelines for him. It took everything in Aemond not to retreat, “One who is so deeply bonded with its rider, they could feel each other’s sorrow. I couldn’t possibly imagine what Vhagar must have gone through in order to do what she did to Laena Velaryon. A dragon knows the intent of its rider. Some maesters even speculate that a dragon knows its rider’s inner thoughts and desires. Laena wanted to die by dragonfire... And you wanted Lucerys Velaryon dead.”

Aemond’s head snaps up, denying her accusation with every breath, “I would never--”

“Even if you didn’t command it, Vhagar knew it to be true. She only did what your heart truly desired. And even if you did lose control of Vhagar, would you admit it to the people of Westeros?”

Aemond tightens his jaw, refraining from voicing his inner thoughts and angrily looking away. Y/n’s disdain for him grows as she straightens her back, unimpressed as she watches him pout at the wall, “I didn’t think so. You’re too proud for that. Imagine the fear it would instill in people if Aemond Targaryen admitted to losing control over the largest dragon in the world. Tell me, husband, would you rather be shamed for losing control of your dragon or be shamed for murdering your nephew?”

He hadn’t realized she was standing directly before him until he felt her hot breath lightly grazing his neck. And yet, he refused to look at her. If he had, he would’ve seen betrayal etched in her eyes, grief, and anger wilting her beauty as she forced herself to choke back a sob. Rectifying her composure when she didn't receive an answer, her eyes glance down at his torso while strengthening her words, making sure to turn her expression into a blank slate, void of emotion.

“Then there’s nothing else to discuss. You have turned yourself into a Kinslayer. It’s dishonorable and unlawful. You can do nothing to redeem yourself other than go North and take the black.”

His long, silk-like hair whips around him like a silver flag as he spun his one-eyed glare to direct at her. Even as he towered over her, imposing and intimidating, she bravely held her ground as he yelled in her face, “You’re asking me to cower in exile?! To run to the Wall and shame my family name?!”

“You had done that already by murdering your nephew for a child’s revenge,” she retorted, adding the venom in her voice to act as a whip, further damaging her husband’s pride, “Whatever you decide now will decide whether or not you continue to shame your family.”

“There’s no honor in running.”

Another quick lash of her whip, “There’s no honor in killing a boy on a peace mission either.”

“I would not fly North on Vhagar--”

“No, you wouldn’t. To sentence her to a cold, bitter exile when you alone are at fault for her actions is cowardice at best. Vhagar will remain here. You alone must take this journey.”

“We’re at war!” He finally roared, “I cannot leave with war at our doorstep!”

“War is only brewing because you made it so!” She screamed back.

“I will not take the black!”

“If you loved me, you would."

Her voice breaks, the emotions now rearing their ugly heads. Aemond’s rage pauses momentarily as he watches her face crumble with tears and breathless sobs. She relents her stiff posture, stepping away from him as she tries to find something to do with her hands, her heart practically bleeding out with her words, “If you value my honor as your wife and as a servant to the gods, you will not stain me with this shame.”

Aemond slowly relents his rage as well, letting the room fill with Y/n's gasps and cries as he hangs his head. The words stung as he knew they would. He may be proud as a dragon rider and as a Targaryen prince, but his wife is an equally proud religious woman; a true believer in purity, honor, loyalty, and justice. Up until this point, she was proud to have him as a husband, believing that he valued her morals and beliefs. In a way, he did. Aemond valued Y/n for all she is and for all she held dear, even if they had vastly different opinions. In her eyes, he was a faith-militant, much like his mother who he had doted upon. Aemond said his prayers and was dutiful to his family. He avoided sin and only slept in his lawful wife's bed. Even though Aegon was King, Aemond was the closest thing to The Father reincarnated. Whether or not he did these things to please her, Y/n was overjoyed when she married him, believing the gods spun the two of them out of the same cloth.

Delusional, perhaps, but Y/n was once a young girl who had to believe in something whilst living in a world that wasn't made for her, or else she'd go mad. Faith was the only thing she had, even when she married Aemond. She had nothing to her name besides her faith, all other pieces or belongings she owned were either lost to her father or gained by her husband. In her eyes, nothing was actually hers, not even the clothes on her back. The only thing she knew no one could take away from her was her faith.

And yet, even now, she felt that faith waver, ever so slightly. She loved Aemond, and if she could, she'd love to keep him. But her faith compels her to be estranged from him after the crime he committed. Y/n felt torn in two, disgusted with herself for even entertaining the idea of keeping Aemond as her husband, knowing the gods and all those with strong faith would shame her for it.  

Aemond knows this. He knows his wife as well as how strongly she kept her virtue close to her heart. He valued that in her, and yet could not even look her in the eye as he takes that from her, too, “... I will not take the black.”

He hears her suck in a sharp breath, before letting out a meek whisper, “Then you do not love me.”

He hears her footsteps turn away from him, so he spares a glance. Y/n had turned and walked away from him, stumbling slightly in her grief and pain. She paused at the foot of her bed, turning her head back in his direction, resigned and defeated, "Leave me, Aemond, or do you mean to shame me more?"

The question both shocks and disgusts him. Getting over the initial slap to his ego, all Aemond wanted to do is to continue screaming at her, demanding why she thought he would stoop to such a low, disgusting sin. He wants to shout up to the gods and to his wife how he is nothing like his brother and he would never do such a thing to his wife of all people--

The anger is too much, and if he were a dragon, Y/n would be in ashes. To avoid further conflict, Aemond storms out of her chambers, only to rip apart his own once he got there. Guilt and shame were no longer at the forefront of his mind. Instead, they are replaced with the might of a prince and the rage of a dragon. Without any fire, he instead rips apart his pillows, turning over his desk, and breaking the spine of his books. In the distance, he hears Vhagar roar, and he wishes that his wife's words weren't still crawling through his ears.

“--One who is so deeply bonded with its rider, they could feel each other’s sorrow. A dragon knows the intent of its rider."

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I love shower thoughts. I know it’s short, but I really, really love this. Please support and leave a request in the ask box!

[ladybug023]

Dornishman’s Wife

(This was supposed to be a short little drabble but it quickly turned into a complete one-shot. Daeron loves his baby nephew and goes down memory lane with Aemond. He feels so guilty and abandoned at the same time. I want to thank @houseofpendragons and @arcielee for helping me with ideas and dialogue! I've never actually written for Aemond and they were lifesavers! Daeron calls Aegon “Aeg.” Lastly, Aemond is like 18-17 and Daeron is 16 or 15.)

Daeron’s POV:

“~The Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun and her kisses were warmer than spring. But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel and its kiss was a terrible thing~”

Maelor’s constant crying had been driving everyone in the family insane. So, I decided to try to put him to sleep. I figured if I could put Tesserion to sleep with my melodies, then why not babies? Although, I did not expect Maelor to be so picky. I cycled through multiple lullabies, none of which pleased him. Until I remembered a dirty ballad called "The Dornishman's wife." It turns out Maelor shares Aeg’s love for vulgarity. He was giggling and cooing with joy as I serenaded him. I smiled lovingly at his adorable little face. He looked so much like Helaena. Speaking of Helaena, my sister passed out from exhaustion in the nursery’s rocking chair.

“~The Dornishman's wife would sing as she bathed. In a voice that was sweet as a peach. But the Dornishman's blade had a song of its own and a bite sharp and cold as a leech~.”

Poor girl, she is too young to be a mother, let alone a mother of three. Guilt crept into me for the hundredth time since I had returned from Oldtown. I should’ve been there to help with the children. All Seven Gods knew Aeg was anything but a helpful husband. I should have been there the day my nieces and nephews were born. It was not my choice to leave. I was barely thirteen when Otto sent me away. My guilt quickly turned to bitterness. My grandsire was so quick to discard me. It was because I am the third son. Otto already has an heir and a spare, so this made me just a useless pawn in his game. Whimpering shook me from my spiteful thoughts. Maelor looked ready to bawl again, so I continue on with the song.

“~As he lay on the ground with the darkness around, and the taste of his blood on his tongue, His brothers knelt by him and prayed him a prayer, and he smiled and he laughed and he sung, Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done, the Dornishman's taken my life, but what does it matter, for all men must die, and I've tasted the Dornishman's wife!~”

Once I finished I was delighted to see Maelor fast asleep. A triumphant grin spread across my face. As I placed the little Targaryen back into his crib, I let out a sigh of relief. It felt as if I’d just won a battle.

“What would our dear mother say if she saw you singing such a vulgar song to her grandchild?” I could immediately tell who that sly voice belonged to. I looked up from the crib to see none other than Aemond Targaryen. He was leaning against the doorway while wearing that wolffish smirk of his. He was known by many names. The One-Eyed Dragon, Kinslayer, but I only call him brother.

“Lower your voice. It took four songs to get him to finally sleep. Besides, mother will never know because you would not tell her…right?” My voice was hushed as I carefully tucked Maelor in. Many people saw Aemond and me as complete opposites, but I don’t see why. Sure, Aemond has become a bit more intimidating in recent years, especially with the eye patch, but we still have many things in common. Such as our love for Dragon riding and swordsmanship.

“Hmm, and what do I get in return for not informing her about the sinful sonnets you sing to the babe?" Aemond quirked a brow and tipped his chin up expectedly. I rolled my violet eyes at him. I wonder what he’d have me do for his silence. Shine his boots or maybe shovel Vhagar's shit? In his dreams.

"Now brother, I have only been back for a few days and you are already trying to blackmail me? Here I thought I was your favorite.” I feigned a hurt voice but my silly smile remained. Aemond shook his head and glanced at Helaena, who was still asleep in the rocking chair.

“You should know by now that Helaena is my favorite. How long has she been passed out anyway?” Aemond walked over to Helaena and gazed down at her.

“I’m not sure, I lost track of time. She is a heavy sleeper though.” I replied with a shrug.

“It is not good for her to be sleeping in a chair like this. I’ll take her to her chambers.” I watched as Aemond picked our sister up into his arms bridal style. He was so gentle with her. It was as if she was glass and he was afraid she’d shatter. This was the side of Aemond that most did not get the fortune to see.

“I’ll go with you then.” In truth, I had nothing else to do and I didn’t want our conversation to end. He nodded in reply. I followed him out of the nursery. As we made our way across the Red Keep, I noticed that it was now evening and the corridors were virtually empty.

“You were worse than him, You know.” Aemond started.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“ You were a worse babe than Maelor. You drove nine of our nursemaids to madness with your wailing.” He taunted.

“That is not true.” I scoff back.

“I swear by all Seven Gods. Even Aegon didn’t give our poor mother as much trouble as a babe.” He insisted. That crooked smirk of his had graced his lips once again. Sometimes I just wanted to slap it off his face, but I knew better than to try. Aemond’s face seemed like it was made of stone.

“Yes, and I’m sure you were such a little Angel.” I sneered.

“Better than you.” He quipped back.

“Well, you know, the small folk have a saying. Bad babes make good children, and good babes make bad children. Ah, would you look at that! I believe they’re right.” Our banter continued as we reminisced about our childhoods. Such as how we used to play hide and seek in the Red Keep and how Aemond always cheated. Or that time when Helaena put a bunch of spiders in Aeg's bed and he went screaming for Ser Cole like a helpless maiden. When we entered Helaena's chambers, Aemond placed her in her bed. She murmured sleepily while clutching the satin sheets. We left her room and were now walking the halls aimlessly.

“Do you remember when Aeg vomited all over the High Septon?” I asked, referring to the time when we all attended service together at the Sept, and even though it was morning Aeg was already three sheets to the wind. This was not uncommon, though it was unfortunate that the High Septon chose that morning to call upon Aeg to lead us in prayer. To his credit, Aeg made it halfway through the prayer before spewing his breakfast everywhere.

"Hm, I remember grandsire chasing him around the altar. He is quite spry for an old man." The two of us laughed. For once, his laugh was not sardonic or mean spirited, it was genuine. I haven't seen Aemond smile like this since before he lost his eye.

“Ha, ha, yes! That reminds me of this one time when Lucerys blew milk from his nose when that fool Mushroom..." My sentence trailed off once I realized. How could I be so careless to say his name? To my dismay, Aemond had stopped walking with me, and when I looked at him, that genuine smile had vanished. It was replaced with a dark scowl as the atmosphere between us became tense. When I heard what Aemond did to Lucerys at Storms End, I refused to believe it. I could not believe it. Just apologize and move on. I told myself.

"I-I'm sorry, I..." I stuttered.

"Why are you apologizing?" He snapped petulantly.

"Because it was absent-minded of me."

"You have nothing to apologize for. It is not like you were the one who killed him." Aemond turned his back to me. He did his best to hide it, but I could still see how the death of Lucerys haunted him.

"You did not mean to.. like you said, it was an accident." I knew how naive that sounded but I just wanted to ease his guilt.

"That does not change the fact that he is dead, or that I am a Kinslayer."

"You are a good man, Aemond." I argued. "You would never-"

"-How do you know?" He whipped around to face me again. I did my best not to flinch away from his withering gaze.

"What?" I asked flustered.

"How could you possibly know that I am a good man, as you claim? " He growled

"Because I am your brother, Aemond." I answered, my voice firm.

"Yes, and where have you been these last few years, brother? Living blissfully in Oldtown while your siblings have been drowning in misery; Aegon in his cups, Helaena in her mindless riddles, and I...well we both know what a monster I have become."

I did not know what to say. What could I say? The taut silence between us was suffocating.

"I-I did not wish to leave…" I stuttered. My doleful eyes looked down in defeat. "You are right… everything has changed." My voice was remorseful. I wondered if things would have been different had I been there. But no, I neglected my family for jousting tournaments and maidens. Aemond's scowl had softened at the sight of my crestfallen face. I have always been the more emotional brother.

"Daeron-" He tried.

"-No. It is my fault. I was not there for you or my family and look at what happened.” Tears pricked my eyes."I left you all to suffer alone. I am s-sorry."

I saw Aemond's jaw steel at my words. His eye flitted over me before he reached out his hand. He paused for a moment, then rested it on my shoulder.

"The fault is with me, not you, little brother." His tone was mild now. I felt his hand squeeze its hold."It was unfair for me to blame you for my sins.”

I let out a shaky breath and quickly rubbed away my tears. My cheeks flushed from the embarrassment of crying like a child in front of him.

"I do not hold this against you. Perhaps the Gods favored you to leave this inevitable mess." He assured me. I nodded and sniffed. I do not know what came over me, but I threw my arms around him and pulled my brother into a tight embrace, causing him to let out a “Oof”

"I will never leave again. I swear by the old gods and the new!" I vowed to him. Aemond was stiff as a board in my arms.

"Yes, that is good … You are crushing my ribs, Daeron." He patted my back awkwardly. "Alright that is enough." He pushed me off of him. The fact that he was so flustered from a simple hug made me chuckle. He glared at me as he smoothed out the creases I caused in his tunic.

“The hour grows late, you should go get some rest too. Is it not past your bedtime, baby brother?” He teased.

“You know, you are only two years older than me.” I reminded him.

“Two and a half.” He corrected. “Sleep well, Daeron.”

With that, Aemond made his leave down the dark corridor. Our conversation left me feeling relief and hope. Maybe my family wasn’t as far gone as I thought. Even the most broken things can be fixed with enough effort and I will make good on my promise to Aemond.