#what is our girl vhagar???

[the-insufferable-know-it-all]

In a Modern AU, what would be the equivalent of Aemond “stealing” Vhagar?

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

i’m visualizing a fic where reader goes off to fight with their dragon and comes back to jace being furious that she would endanger herself and feelings are revealed…. can you make that happen? xx🙈

Request: Being dragonseed and getting close to jace during the trainings. Maybe she claimed silverwing or vermithor? She goes to battle while he is not there and jace is STRESSED

Request: Jace sneaking out to check on the girl he secretly loves

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When Jacaerys took it upon himself to teach and train the dragonseeds, he didn’t think his loyalty to his betrothed would be challenged. Since the beginning of war, his bond with Baela became stronger and they got closer, but as he watched you atop Silverwing, hair in the wind and soaring over the water, he felt things he never felt before. 

Was it the blood of the dragon, although thin, that was calling to him? Or was it the sight of a woman on a large dragon? Jacaerys couldn’t tell. What he knew was that he never felt that way when Baela was riding Moondancer. 

‘’What do you mean, she went to the Riverlands?’’ he shouted at his mother, all manners forgotten.

Rhaenyra met his glare with a calm gaze. ‘’The Greens are marching up to Harrenhal. I sent her to meet their army before they reach the Riverlands.’’

‘’And what of Vhagar?’’ Jacaerys continued, his voice rising as he thought of the beast that had devoured his little brother and his dragon in a single bite. ‘’They know Daemon has taken Harrenhal. Undoubtedly, they brought their biggest dragon to fight him.’’

Rhaenyra hummed thoughtfully. ‘’It is a high possibility, but Silverwing is a large dragon, as you said yourself. Y/N will handle Vhagar if Aemond dares showing up.’’

‘’She is not ready to go to battle.’’ Jacaerys’s fists clenched at his sides, making up the worst scenarios in his mind. ‘’You sent her to her death!’’

‘’I needed to send a dragon. It was Silverwing or Vermithor.’’

‘’Why did you not send Vermithor?’’ 

‘’Because I didn’t want to reveal our biggest asset to the enemy,’’ Rhaenyra said, her brow furrowing as she noticed her son’s agitation. ‘’Why are you so agitated? The dragonseeds were your idea, Jace. We have to send them on the battlefield at some point.’’

The reasons the search for dragonseeds began was to get more dragons on their team, but also to not risk their own in battle by using those with blood 'thinner' than their own as fodder. It was selfish and evil, but losses are inevitable during a war. Better be a stranger than someone you love. 

But now, his plan had backfired.

‘’She’s not just a dragonseed!’’ Jacaerys snapped, his eyes blazing with anger and worry. ‘’She’s—’’ He stopped himself, realizing how much he had revealed in his fury and the implication of what he was about to say. 

Rhaenyra spoke his name softly, finally figuring the nature of her son’s worries, but he turned away, unable to look his mother in the eye. 

⁂

When night came, Jacaerys was unable to sleep, tossing and turning in his bed. All he could think about was you fighting against Vhagar…and losing. 

If you didn’t return from the Riverlands, he would never forgive himself for encouraging you to claim Silverwing. 

Finally, Jacaerys could not take it anymore. He sprung out of his bed, changed into his riding clothes and slipped on a cloak. Quietly, he sneaked out of his quarters and started heading towards the hills where he knew Vermax liked to sleep. Rhaenyra would be furious in the morning when finding out he went to the Riverlands without her approval, but he needed to go to you. 

‘’Lyka (quiet), Vermax,’’ Jacaerys said as he mounted the dragon, not wishing to alert anyone of his nightly adventure. The poor thing was whining and confused why his rider was waking him, but obeyed his command. 

They set out into the night, flying towards the northwest. The wind was cold, biting through Jacaerys' cloak, and the darkness was absolute with no moon to guide their way. The only sound was the rhythmic beating of Vermax's wings, cutting through the icy air.

After what felt like hours of flying blindly in the night, Vermax began to screech, a high-pitched, urgent sound that pierced the silence.

‘’Sagon gīda (be calm), Vermax,’’ Jacaerys commanded, trying to calm his dragon. But Vermax continued screeching, his eyes darting around as if he had seen something human eyes couldn’t. ‘’What is it, Vermax?’’ 

Vermax's screeches grew louder, more insistent, and Jacaerys felt a surge of unease. He strained his eyes, peering into the inky blackness, but saw nothing. He knew that dragons had senses far keener than humans, capable of detecting things long before they were visible.

‘’What do you see?” he muttered, more to himself than to Vermax, as he tried to understand his dragon’s distress.

Vermax couldn't understand the common tongue, but his behavior made it clear that something was wrong. He twisted his head, sniffing the air, and let out another screech, this one more urgent and filled with warning.

Jacaerys suddenly realized what it could mean: Vermax had detected the scent of another dragon. 

His heart pounded in his chest as he tightened his grip on the reins, scanning the dark skies for any sign of movement. The thought of encountering Vhagar in the pitch-black night sent a shiver down his spine. He tightened his grip on the handles, trying to steady both his dragon and himself.

Then, through the darkness, he saw a faint, silvery glimmer. Realization struck him hard. 

‘’Silverwing,’’ he breathed, understanding now what Vermax had sensed. 

Immediately, Jacaerys commanded Vermax to descend. He didn’t know where he was, but he knew that he had not reached the Riverlands yet. If Silverwing was down here, it could mean you were injured. Dragons were known to stay by their rider's side and guard them when they were vulnerable — or dying.

The prince's heart raced as they descended, his mind filled with worry. As soon as Vermax touched ground, he dismounted and scanned the area frantically, searching for you. 

Silverwing screeched loudly when Jacaerys got close, the sound stirring you from your sleep and snapping into alert. You reached for your dagger sheated at your hip, ready to stab whoever would try to get close.

‘’It’s me,’’ Jacaerys quickly said before you could touch him. 

‘’Prince Jacaerys?’’ you said with a frown. ‘’Has Her Grace sent you looking for me?’’

Jacaerys stayed silent. His mother did not care much for you — or any of the dragonseeds. 

The sight of blood on your hands sent his heart into a frenzy. ‘’Are you hurt? What has happened?’’ 

He kneeled beside you, and you let out a small hiss. ‘’I'm not on my deathbed, my Prince,’’ you reassured. ‘’I saw the Green's army marching to the Riverlands. They were definitely surprised to see a new dragon had been claimed by the Blacks. I engaged in battle, burning several of them, but their archers started shooting arrows at us. Silverwing dodged them the best she could, but I received one in my leg…’’ You glanced down where the arrow used to be, blood seeping through your clothes and down your leg. ‘’I know I should not have taken it out, but the pain was too much.’’ 

‘’It’s okay.’’ Jacaerys drew his sword to cut a piece of his cloak to make a bandage for your leg. ‘’All that matters is that you’re alive.’’ He began wrapping the piece of his cloak tightly around your wounded leg, but not so tight it would cause you more pain. ‘’I…I was worried about you.’’ 

You raised an eyebrow at the prince. ‘’Me?’’

He looked at you for a moment, his gaze flickering between your face and your wounded leg. ‘’Don't do that again. Going alone in a battle. What is Vhagar had been there?’’

‘’Why? Because I’m a woman?’’ 

‘’No.’’ Jacaerys shook his head. ‘’No, that’s not— When I didn’t see you at training this morning, I thought you were in the village helping your parents with the sheeps. But Baela informed me that you had been sent to the Riverlands at first light to meet the Greens and all I could think about was Rook’s Rest. What Vhagar did to Luke, and Rhaenys… Gods, if you were the next to fall, I would not handle it.’’

You huffed, not believing him. ‘’Aren’t I just a paw in your mother’s war? I’m not stupid, my Prince. Dragonseeds don’t matter to Her Grace. She just want the power of our dragons.’’ 

‘’I care. I care about you. I care so much about you that I could not sleep without knowing if you were okay. I would not have taken flight in the middle of the night if I didn’t care about you.’’

His words hung in the dark night, the air filled with his confession. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you processed his sudden confession. This conversation felt like forbidden territory. You were a shepherd’s daughter and he was a highborn prince, betrothed to a princess.

‘’You…you shouldn’t say things like that,’’ you finally murmured, averting your eyes from the intensity of his gaze. You tried to hide the fact that his words made you feel things you shouldn’t.

Jacaerys took a deep breath, then slowly reached out to tilt your chin, his fingertips gently tracing over your skin. ‘’I should, because it’s how I feel.’’ He leaned closer. His fingers grazed your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

‘’What of Baela?’’ you managed to ask, your heart beating wildly in your chest, torn between desire and loyalty.

He shook his head, his gaze locked with yours. ‘’I don’t feel strongly for Baela the way I do for you,’’ he confessed.

—

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[nebulaafterdark]

The Succession (Part 2)

Summary: After the battle of Rook’s Rest, Queen Y/N is forced to rule alongside Prince Regent Aemond, in an attempt to keep her children safe and eventually seat her mother, Rhaenyra, on the throne. While attending her husband, on what appears to be his deathbed, she begins to unravel the dark truth of his near passing.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Part 1

Y/N wakes to a knock at the door. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she sits upright. Aegon is still there, unmoving beside her. “Come.”

“Good morrow, your grace.” Her lady in waiting, Chérie, bows her head upon entry; a powder blue gown draped over one arm. “You must break your fast.”

“What ungodly hour is it?” The Queen grumbles, stretching both arms above her head.

“Nearly midday, my Queen.”

Y/N nods, taking her hand. “I need a favor of you.”

“A bath?” Chérie smirks.

Y/N stares down at herself, nightgown stained with blood and gods know what else. She huffs a laugh, “that as well.”

“I will ready the tub.”

“Chérie?”

“Are you seeking comfort, your grace?” She has lost her grandmother and her husband’s good health, “I could tend you.”

“No.” Y/N stares down at her hands.

“Forgive me for assuming.” She takes a step back, “I only want to help.”

Y/N moves forward, closing the space between them. “It was kind of you, Chérie. I appreciate your devotion, more than you know. There is something different I need of you.”

“Name it.”

“You know things…I must know them.”

“What is it you need know?” Chérie wonders.

“The truth of what happened at Rook’s Rest. I do not pretend to understand Aegon’s motivations. Gods willing, I may be able to ask him one day. But for now, I need know what befell him. Cole dances around it, the Hightowers will never be truthful with me.”

“Is there anything you do know? A talking point that might be of use as I consult the servants?” Chérie wonders.

Y/N leans in. “Helaena and Aemond stood at the foot of his bed last night. She asked if it was worth the price. Aemond denied any knowledge of what she meant. Still, Helaena does not speak to cause upset, she speaks when she has something to say. If he’s done this…the whole of our line may be in danger.”

Chérie sighs, “somedays I am glad to’ve been born a commoner.”

“For that I do not fault you.” Y/N forces a smile.

Chérie steals a glance at the king. “Will he live?”

“We’ve no way of knowing. I pray to the gods for his recovery, but it is a long road. He will never be as he was, so long as he lives, it matters naught to me.”

————————————————————————

“There’s been word from King’s Landing.”

Rhaenyra’s head snaps up.

“Aegon has fallen, the stranger looms over his head. With Vhagar weakened in the attack, now is the time to act.”

“And what of my daughter?” The Queen ticks a finger against the table. “Has she been spotted since Aegon’s coronation?”

“We believe the princess lives, your grace. But upon second hand testimony, smallfolk in the streets, we cannot say for certain.”

“What was she doing?” Rhaenyra wonders, “my girl, when they saw her in the streets?”

The lords look to each other, “she marched beside the carriage with Aegon’s body.”

“That is proof enough. I must send word to her, she cannot think we have turned our backs on her. With Aegon gone, she may very well be Aemond’s next attempt.” Rhaenyra is sick over it.

“You must trust, as we have, that Aegon will care for her.”

“He cannot care for her, upon his deathbed. Should he pass, we leave her to whom? Aemond and Alicent? She will be put to the sword.” Rhaenyra shakes her head.

“Meleys was our largest dragon, your grace.” Ser Alfred reminds her.

“Which is why I must go.”

“You cannot, my Queen. You are the crown.”

“I will go.” Jacaerys fists the hilt of his sword.

“No,” Rhaenyra scoffs. “It is out of the question. You will be taken or slain.”

“Would you rather my sister or me?” Jace squares his shoulders. “Those are your choices.”

————————————————————————-

Y/N forces her meal down, spending the evening in her children’s rooms.

“Mama,” Visera calls to her, “I’ve made something for father.”

“I helped!” Dahlia chimes in. “Laenor wanted to, but he rubbed his hands all over it. The painting was nearly ruined.”

“Say it isn’t so, my loves.” Y/N lifts her eldest son onto her hip. “Shall I kiss his head off?”

“Yes.”

“Do it.”

Y/N smiles, peppering Laenor’s sweet face with kisses as he squeals, thrashing wildly in her hold.

Dahlia and Visera giggle, entertained for the moment.

“And you, my prince, best have learned your lesson.” Y/N says, releasing her son onto the floor.

He scampers away, still screeching with glee.

“Mother?” Dahlia tugs at her mother’s skirts.

“Yes, my darling?”

“When will we see father?”

Y/N sighs, “come, sit with me.” She pats the cushions on either side of her.

Her daughters look to each other, then join her on the settee.

“Do you remember what Papa told you about sickness? How it is a war we wage alone, within our bodies?”

“Is he ill?”

“Not exactly,” Y/N explains, “nevertheless, his body is at war now. Battling to repair itself from great wounds, some we cannot see. Every hour, he is fighting his way back to us. But he must remain abed for now, in a state of sleep.”

“May we watch him sleep?” Visera wonders.

“I fear you might be saddened by it.”

“Why, Mama?”

“He looks a bit different, on the outside. But on the inside he is the same.” Y/N says, fighting for composure, “we mustn’t touch him, lest we cause more pain. And it is hard to keep our distance, when all we truly want is to wrap him in an embrace.”

“Mayhaps when we see him, we might hold each other instead.”

Y/N looks to her eldest daughter. “On the morrow, after his bandages are changed, I will bring you. And if it is too much for you, there is no shame in saying so. We love him dearly and he knows it.”

“That is what matters, I think.” Visera says, “if I were waging war, I would want to know someone loved me.”

————————————————————————

Y/N sneaks down to the kitchens for a bit of cake, heading to Aegon’s apartments to eat it. The doors open onto Aemond, leaning over Aegon’s body.

“What are you doing?” She has no weapon, if she’s to kill him now, it will be with her bare hands or a serving spoon.

Aemond turns to her, with sly smile. “My brother was asking for you. He woke in pain, I was merely supplying him with milk of the poppy.”

Y/N forces her mouth to turn upward, “very kind of you, I thank you for looking in on him.”

Aemond nods, setting the empty cup on the bedside table. “Of course.”

“When he asked for me, what did he say?” She wonders, lying her plate of cake beside it.

“Only your name.”

Y/N nods.

“You have been a good and faithful wife to him. Aegon is blessed to have you.”

“Aemond,” Y/N breathes, “might I ask you something?”

His eye flickers about her, “of course, sweet niece.”

“What do you think was his undoing?” She motions to Aegon, “if you had to say?”

“Vanity…pride.”

“It would be suited,” Y/N forces the awful words past her lips, “for someone to take that from him.”

“You should not say such things, my Queen. The thought alone is truly depraved.”

“Of course, forgive me.”

“What befell my brother is nothing short of a tragedy.” Aemond purrs, “you must keep your wits about you.”

“Were they locked in battle?” Y/N asks, “when my grandmother gave Meleys the order?”

Aemond purses his lips, “when dragons fly to war, it is men who burn. Aegon is not the first, he will not be the last. You should be grateful he returned to you.”

“I have lost a brother to war.” Y/N says, as if he needs reminding. “I know its cruelty.”

“A shame, indeed.” Aemond hums.

“I hope it was worth the price.”

“Y/N.” Alicent calls, “Aemond, what are you doing here?”

The prince looks to his mother, “I was merely checking in on our king.”

“You are kind to do so,” Alicent swallows, “as his wife is now here, you are relieved of said duty. Unless you wish the three of us to hold vigil.”

“Perhaps another time, mother.” Aemond nods, “I’ve more pressing matters to attend.” He brushes past them, closing the door to Aegon’s bedchamber behind him.

“What were you thinking?” Alicent demands, in a hushed whisper. “My son pleads for your life and you stand here tempting the very man who-”

“The very man who what?” Y/N dares her to say it. “Killed my brother? Or are you referring to some other atrocity I am not privy to?”

“Your children are in danger, my grandchildren, let me help you.” Alicent reaches for her.

Y/N bats her hand away, “don’t you touch me! My children are in danger because of you.”

“You know what Aemond is.” Kinslayer. Alicent swallows, hard. “My only concern is keeping you safe. What is to stop him from taking out the whole of Aegon’s line to make room for his own? The smallfolk riot in the streets, demanding we open the gates. Even they wish to flee, it is all going to ruin. They need to see you.”

“They will see me as you parade my body through the streets after my murder, not a moment before. I will not betray my mother or her claim.”

“I am not asking you to stand against Rhaenyra, I am asking you to stand for my son. Before it is too late. You owe him this. You forced him onto that saddle as much as I forced him upon the throne.”

“I?” Y/N snaps, “I am the one you blame for this? You think I would have my husband reduced to ash over a fucking chair?”

Alicent presses her lips together, “all Aegon has done is in your name. He rose and he fell for you alone.”

“I wanted this to be peaceful, you know. I truly did and my mother did, then again and again I was taken for a fool.”

“Aegon loves you. He went to meet Rhaenys for you, in hopes of creating new terms with your mother. Mayhaps others have used you, like a pawn to carry out their own agenda, but not Aegon. He never plotted, he never wavered, even in his condition, you are the agenda.”

“And I love him for it, but please know I did not ask him to meet with her. I would have gone myself rather than risk his life. That is why I have not fled, or stole away with my children to Dragonstone. Aegon is equally important to me.”

“You must ready yourself then, in the color of our house.”

“No,” Y/N narrows her eyes, “this is for my husband, who hangs precariously in the balance of life and death. I will attend this procession in the color of mourning, not Hightower green.”

————————————————————————

In the absence of Daemon, Rhaenyra turns to Mysaria for counsel. “You know the ins and outs of King’s Landing better than any. I need an in.”

“Criston Cole made a mistake, parading a dragon’s head through the streets, like a prize of war. The people see an ill omen.” Mysaria tells her.

“Yes, as do I.”

“They are afraid, bread is scarce. The king has fallen, they whisper to each other that when Viserys lived there was peace.” They question the succession.

“But will whispers tear down stone? Break shields?” Save my daughter?

“Do not underestimate them, to the discontented, rumors are feed.” Mysaria continues. “What you cannot do, let others to do for you. There is more than one way to fight a war.”

Part 3

Series Taglist: @oh-you-mean-me @barnes70stark @lovelyteenagebeard @niyahnotnia @narwhal-swimmingintheocean

[bumblesimagines]

Blood of The Dragon

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Still reeling from the death of Lucerys Velaryon and the failed assassination attempt that resulted in the death of Jaehaerys, Aemond seeks out his closest kin.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

TW/CW: Typical HOTD warnings, spoilers for S2, brief Targcest (Older Brother-Younger Brother), (Y/N) is the twin of Helaena, mentions of the deaths of children (Luke and Jaehaerys), blatant manipulation but Aemond is touch-starved so, potentially ooc Aemond im still figuring out how to write him, kinda short

WFMF may take a bit to come out y'all! I'm waiting to get my hands on the book again so I can finally decide if/what I'll change from the show and what I'll keep.

~~~

Aemond scarcely paid the Small Council meeting any heed, his gaze shifting between staring at his brother's exhausted, dead-eyed expression and studying the golden coin pinched between his thumb and index finger. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the design etched into the coin and felt a strike of dread squeeze around his throat. The coin continuously served as a reminder of how close Daemon's vermin had been to stealing the air from his lungs, and how cruelly they'd taken his little nephew's head instead. 

Aegon looked ruined, his anger and grief coaxing him into sinking further and further into his cups until he could no longer comprehend the words fleeing his mouth. Aemond found it pathetic most days, for the 'rightful' heir to be a whiny drunk, but now he found it in himself to be sympathetic toward him. Aemond knew little of losing a child but the death of an innocent child he watched grow up still struck pain in his gut. He never expected their older half-sister to be so cruel. 

With the meeting ending swiftly after reaching nothing new or useful, Aemond retreated from the room in long strides that took him down the many halls of the Keep. His thoughts continued in circles, reminding him of young Luke and the horror that'd washed over him when he watched Vhagar snap her jaws around him and his dragon. The younger dragon had fallen to bloody bits from the sky and into the vast ocean below, washing up on a beach or so he'd heard. He hadn't desired such an outcome but he knew his words would fall on deaf ears when everyone whispered 'Kinslayer' behind his back. 

Before he knew it, his legs had taken him to his older sister's room and he entered with some hesistance, unsure of what he could possibly say or do that'd ease the pain of losing a child. He immediately spotted Helaena seated on the floor with her skirt spread around her and her hands occupied with finishing an embroidery. Her fingers moved automatically, muscle memory from all the times she'd spent doing needlework. Her pale eyes remained distant, however, and red from constant weeping. Aemond always knew Helaena to be the most sensitive out of all his children but he'd never seen her cry before. 

"Aemond," Helaena's twin, (Y/N), greeted him, his head tilted downwards from his spot on the couch as he brushed out the knots in Helaena's hair until her silver hair was smooth and detangled enough to braid. He set the brush aside and began braiding, a process he'd long become acquainted with when young Helaena refused to be touched by the maids. "Do you require something?"

"I wished to see how our sister was doing," Aemond replied and clasped his hands behind his back, grimacing when his words brought no reaction out of their sister. She'd always been a girl of little words but she never failed to at least offer acknowledgment with short words or glances. Helaena merely continued to thread her needle through the fabric.

"She is tired, Aemond. We all are." (Y/N) spoke, finishing the braid and letting it rest along Helaena's back. He leaned forward and pressed a fleeting kiss to the top of her head, his hands sliding down to cup her elbows and help her rise onto her swaying feet. Aemond made no move to offer his help, for he knew it'd be rejected whilst Helaena remained in such a state. 

Aemond lowered his gaze to the floor and stepped aside, his head bowed as (Y/N) led Helaena to her bed and helped tug the covers up to her waist. He offered quiet words of comfort before peeling himself from the edge of the bed and approaching Aemond, casting him a brief glance as the two stepped outside.

(Y/N) lingered until the doors to her bedchambers shut and the guards resumed their positions, his arms folding over his chest and face unreadable, as was typical of his brother. The twins had always been an unpredictable sort, no one ever truly deciphering what went through their minds. Aemond found it troubling at times, being unable to read him as he did Aegon, but he trusted him regardless. 

"Where was Cole, I wonder." (Y/N) simply said, his feet moving and voice devoid of everything but a flicker of annoyance that tugged Aemond's attention toward him. The one-eyed prince caught up with his older brother in quick strides, the direction they headed in being toward (Y/N)'s own chambers.

"He claimed to be abed." (Y/N)'s lips pressed into a line at his response. Aemond's brow twitched upward. "Cole is-"

"Cole is but a child surrounded by toys yet desires the prettiest one, one that belongs to another and should never be allowed into his foolish hands." His brother looked him directly in the eye when the doors to his chambers were opened for him, violet eyes as cold as ever. "He is pathetic."

Aemond swiped his tongue over his dry lips and followed his brother inside the room, his fingers tightening around his wrist. "Do you speak of Ser Criston... or me, dear brother?" He asked once the doors shut, leaving them in the silence of (Y/N)'s bedchambers, the air as chilly as the attitude of the older Targaryen. (Y/N) scoffed quietly and poured himself tea that'd no doubt gone tepid in his absence. "Have I not served our King faithfully enough?"

The prettily decorated teapot clattered against the wood of the table it'd sat upon, (Y/N)'s head raising to stare at Aemond. "Ao tymptan Jaes se vēttan aōla iā mittys." Aemond could hear the anger in his tone, barely contained but somehow pushed back to slowly drip through. "The boy you needlessly slaughtered was no Velaryon but he was our sister's child. Īlva ānogar. They killed Jaehaerys to avenge that child, Aemond. Helaena paid the consequences of your actions."

"Would you have preferred they kill me instead, then?" Aemond bristled.

"I would have preferred hearing of your success at Storm's End and how the princeling returned to Dragonstone without an alliance." (Y/N) snapped back, curling his fingers around his teacup and sipping from its contents. Aemond inhaled deeply, his jaw clenching and unclenching; teeth slowly grinding together and the tension in his shoulders easing into a sag. 

Aemond walked forward, his hand lifting to tug the eyepatch from his face and letting it fall onto the table as he took a seat. (Y/N) followed his movements with keen eyes and a deep frown, one of the few times his brother so outwardly showed his disapproval toward him. They stared at each other for a few quiet moments, the coin searing a hole through Aemond's pocket. 

"I only meant to frighten him. I did not wish such harm upon him; I did not want him dead or gravelly injured. I... feel sorry for how things occurred between him and I. I did not... I did not mean to bring pain upon Helaena or Aegon." Aemond leaned forward, broad hands pressing into the back of (Y/N)'s thighs to pull him closer gently whilst his forehead rested along his lower stomach. He exhaled softly when (Y/N) placed his palm upon the back of Aemond's head, fingers running through his hair. "I allowed foolish emotions to best me." 

"Foolish emotions you've stewed in for years, Aemond. You are man-grown and a prince... a third-born son who will never sit the throne." His nostrils flared with a sharp inhale of air and he leaned away, back pressing into the chair and lips pressing tightly together. (Y/N) watched him, palm pressing back the strands that went astray with his movements before he curled his fingers around Aemond's chin and forced him to keep his head tilted upwards. "I am the King's heir, now that they've killed our poor nephew, just as you killed the other. Aegon had potential, Aemond, whether you believe it or not." 

"He is a drunk-"

"Yes, but he pleased the smallfolk before sinking into his cups. They were happy and eager to accept him as their ruler. He will now ignore them, and with the ever-impulsive Cole at his side... it will not be long before we are ruined by one or the other, Aemond." (Y/N)'s thumb delicately stroked along his cheek, his eyes softening but the coldness tittering at the edges. Aemond leaned into his touch, his knitted brows easing as he soaked in the words of his brother.

"Aegon cannot rule, and neither can Cole," Aemond murmured, pressing himself further into (Y/N)'s hand when his brother gave a nod. "What is it you believe we must do?"

"Rook's Nest. Our sister will not be allowed to turn her cheek away when Cole and Uncle's army descends upon it, and neither will Aegon. He desires to prove himself, you've seen it. He'll try to in battle... and when he does, he must.. fall to injury. Vhagar knows the taste of war, and with you as her rider, Cole will have no choice but to ignore whatever it is you do. The Council will favor me over Mother as regent whilst Aegon recovers."

"And what will you do once you are named Prince Regent?" 

(Y/N)'s lips curled upward and he bent down, both hands cupping Aemond's face to press their lips together. The action caught him by surprise, but the twinge of longing for a loving hand shot through his veins. The teachings from the septas and maesters told him it was wrong, but Targaryens were no ordinary men; the blood of the dragon coursed through them. Aemond pushed into him, rising from his chair to encircle his arms around (Y/N)'s waist. (Y/N)'s grip tightened and he forced Aemond to lean back.

"You... will be named Hand." (Y/N) told him, and Aemond's shoulders straightened, his single violet eye gleaming. He'd always be meant for such a position, and as much as Cole had been a father to him, he was still the mere son of a steward; someone hardly meant for the position of Hand.

(Y/N)'s grip loosened into a gentle touch, coaxing Aemond to lean into it once more. "I will not risk the fall of this family, Aemond, not like this. Enough of our sacred blood has been spilled. I will do what our mother and brother and grandsire failed to do. If Rhaenyra has withheld as much as she has in search of peace, I will test how desperate she is to obtain it."

[propheticbride]

Lamb to Slaughter I

𐙚 Following Aegon's crowning of King, you attempt to settle into your new reality, with absolutely idea of what is happening around you. Your only company? The one eyed Prince himself.

𐙚 Aemond Targaryen x Reader (tw: manipulation, slight non-con, incest)

The nights following Aegon’s coronation were chaotic, whisperings of Rhaenyra’s claim lay about plainly as others argued the whore was not the rightful heir after all. Doors remained closed tight, no one talked too loud, servants kept to themselves. War was brewing, that was for certain.

You remembered the night your father died, your mother had snuck into your room and had gently woke you up. Cradled you as she gave you the news, you being the only Viserys doted on after Rhaenyra. And in some sick way, Alicent was sure you were her favorite too.

At first you did not comprehend how he was dead. He was not in good health, but to die so suddenly had left you confused.

‘My sweetling, he was not well. You saw. So weak, so poor in health.’ she spoke as she pet your hair.

Tears caked your face, hair matted to your skin, ‘I just don't understand.’

She sighed, ‘My poor girl.’

When Alicent had left that night, you had felt a void inside. Heartbroken and scared at the news. You found yourself in a familiar place, slipping out of your own chambers and into Aemonds. You wouldn't bother Aegon at that hour, him too drunk to even wake or want to comfort you. So instead you slipped into your more understanding brother’s space, the one who gently held you when you were scared and kissed you so gently.

But now, everyone's attention had been guided to Rhaenyra and her war. Everyone in the keep insisting she would come with fire and blood. And where you would seek Aegon’s affections, it would now be shunned upon. He was married after all, with two children and now king. He could no longer lie in bed and keep you entertained with his flea bottom stories.

✮⋆˙

“He's too busy now brother, too busy for me.” you complain, stitching at Aemond’s ripped attire. “He drinks a lot, I know this. But never stops by my chambers anymore. He must be so occupied with being king.”

Aemond doesn't reply, just makes an agreeing sound as his one eye watches you sew.

“How is Helaena? I know you two spend time together, she will not speak to me either. I wish she would, I get so lonely.”

“I talk to you.” Aemond reminds you.

You nod, giving him a gentle smile, “You’re always so good to me brother.”

His hand finds your arm, gently rubbing you to calm you.

“No one tells me anything. It’s…” tears form in your eyes.

“My love…”

“No!” you slam his arm away, getting up and begin to pace. “You are not to call me that! You are gone for days, on that beast you claim to be a dragon. Mother will not come visit me, Aegon has completely shunned me. Cole will not look at me and my dear sister will not speak to me. I am going insane in my room. Please. Please, what is happening?”

Aemond studies you for a moment, as if he were examining your outburst.

“I’ve never known you to yell. At all people, me.” he finally speaks.

It hurts you. The pain that settles in your chest after his words are enough to make you sick.

“I did not mean-” you return to him, placing your hand on his shoulder. “Please forgive me. I cannot stand if you are mad at me. I am losing my sanity. I'm so lonely.”

“Am I not enough to keep you happy?” he questions.

“I miss our mother, and our brother.” you admit. “When father was alive I wasn't so…lonely.”

“Because he kept you company.”

“I just want Aegon to visit again. Or mother. Or even Haelena. Please just ask them. Ser Kavvin does not let me leave ever. It’s like I am a prisoner.” it’s almost as if you were praying to the gods. Gentle and begging. Please please please.

Aemond is silent again, until he rises and kisses your head, “I’ll tell mother and brother to visit you my sweetling, it must be so awful for you to be cooped up in here, I am sorry Vhagar has my interests as of late. My priority has always been you.”

You beam at his words, the remembrance of your outburst a memory it seemed. Although the court was terrified of Aemond, you were not. Perhaps some of you was, but he was gentle and sweet to you, you almost had no reason to be scared. He took care of you, bringing you jewelry and new gowns, dining with you in place of your mother. He was the only human interaction you had gotten as of late, everyone else so preoccupied with Aegon.

“Is it?” you ask. Out of place, and you know it, but you cannot help yourself.

“I always thought we’d marry. Aegon had Haelena, but who has you, but me.” Aemond begins to cup your face. “I enjoy our time together, but there are matters I must attend to this afternoon. But don't worry, I will have mother or Aegon visit you.”

You struggle to understand his words, “What do you mean. Have me?”

He smiles and shakes his head, giving you a kiss on the lips before finding himself out of your chamber.

✮⋆˙

If anything Aemond does well, it's keep a promise. As he said, Alicent finds herself in your chambers a little after nightfall. She had maids run you a hot bath, your white hair gently slipping through her fingers as she brushed it.

“Why haven't you visited me?” you finally ask after too much silence.

“Aegon is being prepared to finally rule, I have been attending to it.” she says. “I am sorry, I haven't seen to you. I do feel bad.”

“Why must I be confined to my chambers.” you turn to her, violet eyes looking up at her.

“I do not trust…” she tries to collect her thoughts, not sure how to word it for you to understand best. “Aegon thinks it’s best if you are under protection. He thinks you might be a target for Rhaenyra’s anger.”

“Rhaenyra.” you say your sister’s name. “Rhaenyra is upset that father replaced her as heir?”

“Yes my sweet. She is upset that your father changed his mind about the succession. He decided he wanted Aegon on the throne after all.”

“I miss him.” you say after a while. “He was very sick…but he kept me company.”

“I am sorry, I am. I know it is no excuse but you must forgive and understand how daunting this has all been. So much has been done and needs to be done, the realm may be at war soon-”

“At war?” you interject, worry in your tone. “War? Why war?”

Alicent catches herself, she has slipped.

‘Do not mention the mess with Rhaenyra to her, I would not have her worry’ Aegon’s voice played in her head.

“No war my sweet, I only forget myself. I am sure Aegon will come to peace with Rhaenyra, and maybe she will even be seen back in the keep. You’d like that, right? I know you were fond of her son, Jacerys, I know you two were close.” Alicent goes back to braiding your hair, scared her words have put unrest in you. You did scare rather too easy.

“I don't want anyone at war.” you murmur.

“No war.” Alicent nods. “Aegon will be a good king, and make peace. I know it.”

✮⋆˙

If you were honest, you were close to Jacerys, spending time in the garden together and studying. Rhaenyra had taken a liking to you, mostly due to your shared father also taking a liking to you. You were not close with Lucerys, you did not know him well. You did not spend time with him nor were you very thoughtful towards him. No time truly spent between you.

So news of his death broke the in the red keep, you found yourself indifferent. No tears were shed, but your heart hurt for Jacerys.

Aemond had returned from dragon back, Aegon so delighted of his brother's victory, the murder of a child, that a feast was thrown. You were allowed in your finest green silk and finally allowed out of your chambers, where you sat among several counsel members and your family along with some court attendees. Aemond had been silent for most of the feast, ignoring the praise he had received, most of them insults for Rhaenyra. You watched him closely, hoping, begging he would make eye contact with you. But he did not.

For hours it went on like this, Aemond slowly sipping and eating at the feast presented in front of him, not truly present at the party that was all for him and his victory.

Aegon, ever drunk, was quite present. Too present.

“My sweet sister!” his voice calls, and you turn to him. “Where have you been hiding?”

“My chambers, on your ruling.” you murmur.

“My ruling? Why would I ever…” he hiccups and slams himself down in the chair beside you. “I have missed you soooo much. Your absence has been noted, why do you scorn me so?”

His words don't make sense to you. Your mother’s words and now his, dancing in your head. You hadn't noticed, not truly noticed, until you briefly look at him, that Aemond is staring at you. For the first time in the entire night, he simply stares. But his gaze is far from comforting.

“I’ve been in my chamber, lonely.” you admit, looking back at Aegon.

“Well…I have missed you my girl, so much. It's so lonely…” he whispers the next part, “my bed… has been rather lonely.”

Aemond stands, everyone quickly glancing at him. He excuses himself from the table, with Aegon’s hand on you all you truly can do is watch.

“He’s upset” you mention.

“Ah yes. He’s been so moody since that business with the dragons. Don't know why though. They're all traitors. I’ll have all of their heads.” Aegon smells like alcohol, a smell you’re familiar with but still sensitive to.

“Aegon!” your mother’s voice rings. “I do wish you would not speak of such things with her, you know better.”

Alicent attempts to pull Aegon up from beside you, but he is quick to shove her away. You stand, shocked at the whole ordeal.

“I think I will head to bed.” you insist.

“I think that would be best, sweetling.” Alicent nods.

When you enter your chambers, you don't notice Aemond at first. He's facing the bookshelf, one your late father filled with stories of old and history. The one thing you both bonded over.

When you do notice him, it’s when you're half naked, pulling your sleeping slip on.

“Your skin is always so beautiful.” his voice startles you.

“Aemond!” you jump, clinging to your fur blanket, attempting to cover yourself.

“I've seen you already, have you forgotten me already?” you're not sure if he's as drunk as your other brother was, but his voice is calm and almost soothing.

“You should be in bed, the hour is late and I know you are upset.” you try to reason with him, knowing that when he is upset he is easiest to get to.

“But you always grant me so much comfort.” Aemond steps towards you, allowing his hand to cup your face, thumb lining your lips. “Do you remember the night I lost my eye. I was in so much pain. And you found me, alerted the guards to me. And that night, before we left, you let me in your bed for the first time. And we laid there together in peace.”

You watch his face as he talks, there's always been a certain amount of devotion you showed Aemond. That night you had found your cousins and him, screaming at the top of your lungs that alerted the guards to the situation. And he was not wrong. That night Aemond had been restless, in pain over his lost eye. Where your mother usually slept beside you, she had taken a leave of absence from your bed that night, allowing Aemond to replace her.

“You were always so sweet to me, where they laughed, you had always welcomed me. For dolls, for tea…for anything. So gentle. So kind.” Aemond sounds breathless, like he was praying.

“Aemond-”

“Shhhhh.” he licks your closed lips, causing you to gasp.

Aemond was always strict with the affection he gave you; always keeping his hands to himself, always to be careful that your mother did not catch a glimpse of how hungrily he would stare at you. But never this brazen. You did not know what to make of it.

“Please.” you beg. “We can't-”

“Can't what. You have no husband, and I have no wife. This is right. We were born to be together.” Aemond presses his forehead towards you. “Ever since that night I lost my eye, and you welcomed me so warmly into your bed I have wanted you since. Why won't you let me take you?”

“We can't…Aegon…he-”

Aemond’s face twists in anger, “Don't mention him! Do not speak of him!”

The outburst scares you, taking a step back and clutching your fur tighter.

“Drop it.” his face changes, as does his voice. His entire demeanor shifts. He unclips his cloak from his armor, letting the fabric fall to your chamber floor. “I said…drop it”

You drop the fur immediately, standing there almost bare for him. He looks over body, with a hungry gaze and a curious eye. Your slip was a thin silk, something your mother would die if she ever found you dressed in. But the sun had been hot as of late, and her nightgowns were too heavy. The several slips had been a gift of Aemond, now you had known why.

“I have waited years for you. Years for you to come to your senses of what I am to you. What you are to me. I am sick of waiting my sweet, I need you now. And I will have you now.” Aemond’s hands gently pull your slip down, allowing your naked body to be in full view for him. “You’re mine. You always have been. I just need to prove it to you."

[asumi2020202]

The Right Choice

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader(slight), Daeron Targaryen x reader

Summary: After everything that has happened, you thought he would change. Only for him to inflict a bigger scar as your hope for this marriage vanishes into thin air.

A/n:Thank you for reading.

Alternate ending of: Everything has a Price to Pay

_______________________________ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ__

War was at its peak. It had been almost two weeks since the last time you met Aemond in your shared chambers. Your wounds had healed leaving behind just some aches.

You knew that he didn't speak the truth. The informer of the green, Larys Strong had informed them that Aemond had returned to Harrehal. And that his whore was pregnant with his bastard.

You knew he would do so. You knew he would not be able to keep his word. Because if he truly was faithfully, then he wouldn't had slept with her in the first place.

You didn't really feel anything. You were disappointed,Yes, but you wouldn't hold him back if he did love her. You had your son and your family.

Instead of being dissatisfied with his actions and crying over it, you thought of asking your eldest brother to annul the marriage.

Aemond had broken the gentle girl you once were. The pain and betrayal numbed your mind. No longer did you care of what the others would say.

_________________________________________

Word had been sent to the Red Keep from Harrehal that Prince Aemond would bring back his whore to the Keep.

Your numbed soul hurt. Alicent didn't even want to call him her son but she couldn't deny it.

He had stated that a room should be prepared for... Alys. The name of his whore.

You simply couldn't stand the thought of being with him again. Not when that perpetrator would also stay with his whore inside your very home.

You asked the maids to shift your belongings and your son's to another room. Your mother, the dowager queen had told you to stay with Helaena since Aegon doesn't sleep with her.

She thought that since both of you had the same fate, you could find comfort in each other.

You had agreed. Hastily leaving the room along with your son to find your eldest brother, the king.

_________________________________________

Aemond had landed near the dragon pit. He got off of Vhagar before carefully taking Alys off of Vhagar as well.

Alys had tried to touch Vhagar. Trying to pet her like Aemond does but Vhagar gave a loud and angry growl. And almost tried to bite her before Aemond intervened.

Alys fearful of the dragon, hid behind Aemond.

He turned and saw Moonfyre giving a very angry and loud scream towards them before both the female dragons flew off in the sky.

Aemond, turning his gaze back to Alys, guided her inside.

_________________________________________

As he walked through the garden and inside the corridors, he could see you talking to someone. It was a man. He too had white hair like him and was tall like him.

Aemond asked a passing maid to escort Alys to her room before he saw you coming towards his direction. The man going the opposite direction.

As you tried your hard to walk past Aemond and avoid him, he grabbed your hand.

"Y/n.." he started.

You turned to look at him. He felt a pang of hurt in his chest. Your eyes looked hollow unlike the way it shined when you conversed with the other man.

" It was just one night . I didn't think she would get pregnant. I couldn't leave her there, knowing our enemies might attack any time. I really am guilted. I didn't wish to hurt you love. Please forgive me." He spoke, looking at your face as you looked outside.

"I'm sorry I couldn't satisfy you. That you sought out another woman for pleasure." You said. He was about to speak but you didn't give him the chance.

"From now on you can live with her. I hold no grudge. After all, it is my fault for not being able to hold my husband to myself.

But don't worry you can love her as much you wish from now. You and I will only be related through blood and name, nothing else. I already found someone who will love me."

"My love. I don't understand what you mean. Found another? We are married. I am your husband and you are my wife." He spoke up, hoping you didn't mean what he thought you mean. Anger and jealousy in his voice.

"No longer. I had asked Aegon to annul our marriage after you're raven arrived. And he did so. The whole of kings landing knows of what you did brother. The council has decided that me and my twin will marry each other so I can be relieved of the shame you bestowed upon me. Daeron and I did loved each other before he was sent to old town.

Now that I am no longer bound to you, I am free to marry him and my son does need a father. Aegon assured me that my son will be acknowledged by the people as mine and Daeron's son, as the people haven't seen Aenor yet. You would be wise to not disturb us." You spoke with venom as you walked away.

Annul the marriage? Your twin? When did Daeron return from old town? Aenor will be claimed as Daeron's son. His younger brother.

So many thoughts went around Aemond's head. He had messed up everything just for pleasure. He lost the only who loved him for who he was and now she left him along with his son.

Defeated, he asked a maid to escort him to where Alys was.

_________________________________________

All the family had gathered in the dining hall. Aemond came in and saw everyone already chatting and conversing. His eyes looked for you until they did find you.

In your right sat Helaena, conversing with you. And on your left, in his seat, sat Daeron.. he saw how the two of you held hands and occasionally smiled at each other.

His thoughts were disturbed as he felt a tugging on his arm. It was Alys.

The entire family's laughter and peace was stopped due to the unwanted face in the dining hall.

"Brother. I thought that this hall was only for family, you had been the one to tell me that. And yet you bring some whore here. Aren't you acting hypocritical?" Aegon said. Giving a disgusted look towards Alys.

Aegon noticed your discomfort with Alys present. He knew he treated his wife the same but Helaena was weird to him. Yet you... were his perfect little sister.

Aegon had completely changed after becoming the king. He couldn't quit drinking but he didn't go to brothels.

"Alys will be eating with us from now on. And I suggest you show her some respect." Aemond replied as Alys looked down.

"Suggest? Hah!" Aegon laughed. "Are you trying to intimidate me brother? I am the king. Your whore is of little worth to me." Aegon continued.

"Aegon." Alicent tried to stop her son. She got up from her seat and came around the table at your side and gently placed her hand on your arm.

"I could behead you and whore at once for the shame you brought to the house and my sister." Aegon said as Aemond had nothing to reply with. He only looked at your face as you turned away.

"Guards. Escort prince Aemond and that.... Witch! to their chambers." Aegon ordered as the said people were escorted away.

You looked at Daeron as he offered you a smile which you reciprocated and intertwined your hands together.

_________________________________________

"How could you?! You ruined everything that I had! Just to cover up one lie of yours! You decieved me!!"

"I'm sorry Aemond but I needed money to raise my child! I had to do it. I am sorry if I hurt you.. but I do accept that I never loved you to begin with."

Hurt?! You took everything from me! My child! My wife! My family!.. And now you tell me that... The child is not even mine?!!

Shouting could be heard throughout the castle.

Alys had been secretly seeing and writing to her lover. Not Aemond. Aemond had accidentally seen them kissing when he entered the room.

She confessed that she was pregnant before they even laid with each other. That the child was of her lover's.

Aemond in a fit of rage even slapped her when she told him that she only stayed with him for money to run away with her lover.

Aemond felt betrayed. Just as he felt when his father didn't take his side when he lost his eye. He felt blocked from all sides. Because of his mistake, no one in his family believes him anymore.

He ran out the door as fast as he could. He hastily reached the dragon pit and mounted Vhagar.

He took off to the place where Aegon had been coronated. As got off and pushed through the crowd. Tears flowed from his eye.

There you stood before the crowd. You and Daeron. As the High Septon finished his speech. You lips and palms were already cut. By the time he reached, you two were drinking from the cup.

He saw the way you both kissed eachother so lovingly, the same way he did when you both got married. But now he had to see his brother do that to you.

His mother, the dowager Queen. His brother, the king. His grandsire, the Hand. His sister, the Queen. All stood there and smiled. The crowd were cheering. Yet Aemond felt bitter.

_________________________________________

The Dowager Queen and The Hand had left for the Red Keep along with the King and the Queen.

Daeron was mounting Tessarion and you Moonfyre. Aemond ran to meet you. As he did, you looked down at him.

"It isn't mine. That child isn't mine." Aemond spoke. He was panting, having to run all the way to you.

"Oh that.. I already knew. Helaena told me 2 days after I last met you." You spoke calmly.

"Already knew?" He felt confused.

"Well if my mind serves properly, Helaena told me through her riddle 'The one who he sacrificed for is not his own.' "

Aemond didn't even know what to say, so you spoke for him.

"Brother..... I know it was a mistake you made. I won't blame you for seeking love hence I forgive you for what you did but I don't know if mother will. I am thankful to you." You spoke.

"Why would you thank me for what I did?" Aemond didn't understand what you said.

"I am thankful because for your mistake I was reunited with my twin, my husband. I blindly thought I loved you but it seems that I was wrong. I can only give you one advice... Move on." You said the last sentence coldly, not sparing him even a glance. And with that Moonfyre and Tessarion flew into the sky, roaring from above.

Aemond stood there, his one eye saw your pain and anguish. His tears fell endlessly as he stared into the sky.

_________________________________________

You stood near the corridor of the second floor, staring at the training yard. While your husband, Daeron, cradled your son to his chest.

You turned to your husband as he gently kissed you with one hand cupping your cheek and tilting your head up.

"I am to go get a dragon egg for my little princess." Daeron said as his eyes travel to your stomach.

"Princess? How do you know it'll be a girl? I am betting a barrel of wine that it'll be a boy. Mother's intuition." You replied to your husband, smirking at him.

"Let's see who will win. The father or the mother." Daeron spoke, giving you his kinky smile. You got on your toes to kiss his cheek as you both were leaving for your chambers.

Beknownst to you, Aemond had seen everything you two were doing. He felt hurt. Hurt because he couldn't experience it. Hurt because he saw how happy you were with his brother. He regretted everything he had done that day. The day he laid with the whore.

He saw you both leaving. While he was blinking away his tears, he saw you angle your head a little towards him. He saw you smile and rotate you head back to the front.

He heard you say a sentence before you left with you husband and child. One that completely broke him.

..."I finally made The Right Choice".......

-Lillian

[dedicatednotobsessed]

Comforts of the Night [Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader]

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

Other HOTD stories [requests open]

Summary: After a long day of trying to hunt down your elder brother, Aegon, you and your husband, Aemond unwind, trying not to think of what the morrow will bring...

TW: Mentions SA on a minor.

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Your long silver hair was down and flowing, and you were already dressed for the night while you put your twins to bed. Your fingers ran over the gold trim of the book in your lap, furrowing your brows. You wanted this moment to last forever, knowing that your peaceful life would plunge into chaos on the morrow.

“Mama?”

The small, sweet voice pulled you from your thoughts, smiling at your daughter, who watched you with big doe eyes, the same shade of soft purple as yours.

“Yes, little one?” You replied, standing up to put the book back on the shelf. 

“Why didn’t papa come?”

You sighed softly at the question. “Your papa had a long day.”

Vhaenys pouted. “Will he still come? He always comes.”

You turned to your daughter, giving her a soft smile. Vhaenys leaned more onto your brother-husband, Aemond, whereas her elder twin brother, Vanar, was more attached to you. Vanar was more timid than his sister, but sometimes you caught Vhaenys chipping away at his shy shell.

You stroked back her hair, frowning. “Perhaps he will still come in to bid you goodnight.” You leaned down, kissing the top of her head. “But because the sun is asleep, I need you to close your eyes, sweet one.”

“But, mama-”

“I will make sure Papa comes in and bids the both of you goodnight before we rest.”

The little girl pouted but nodded, hugging her stuffed green dragon close to her body. It was a toy given to her at birth. Hers was made to resemble your husband’s dragon, Vhagar, and your son had a white stuffed dragon to match yours—a shimmery iridescent dragon known as Revnass.

You pulled the blanket around her before giving her another small kiss on the forehead. You walked over to Vanar, who was already fast asleep, kissing his head. “Goodnight, my byka zaldrīzoti*.”

You took a deep breath, wrapping your dark blue robe tight around you as you made your way to your marital chambers. You walked in to see Aemond in the same spot he was in when you went to read the children to sleep, still dressed in his doublet. You stayed silent, making your way over to the wine to pour yourself a glass.

“Did the twins go down easy?” Aemond asked, breaking the silence.

You nodded, taking a small sip of your wine. “Vhaenys falls asleep easier if you read to her, though.”

“I will make it up to her and Vanar as well.”

You glanced at Aemond, watching his mannerisms, your eyes wandering down to his hands. The way he was fidgeting his fingers gave him away in his calm composure. He tried to hold his head high, but you could tell his mask was slowly crumbling.

You licked your lips lightly, looking down at your cup, tracing the lip of it with your ring finger. “Why did you never tell me what happened on our thirteenth name day?”

“I don’t understand what you mean,” Aemond replied, playing simple.

“Aemond,” You whispered, the hurt evident in your voice. “I know you better than you know yourself. Do not toy with me.”

His hand fidgeting stopped his gaze still on the fire before him. “What would I have said to you, Y/N?” Aemond questioned, his voice thick with emotion.

“You would have told me where Aegon took you, what the Madame–”

“We were children then!” Aemond raised his voice, his mask washing away as his voice cracked. “No one would have believed me in the end.”

You frowned, his words breaking your heart. “Oh, my love.” you set your wine down before making your way over to the fireplace. You bent beside his chair, taking his hand in both of yours. “Aemond, look at me.”

He clenched his jaw, shaking his head. He only turned his head when you reached up, cupping his cheek. The tears rolling down his cheeks glistened from the firelight, the sight utterly shattering you. It was rare to see him cry, your husband not even shedding a tear when he lost his eye from your nephew many years ago.

You sighed softly, blinking back the tears stinging your eyes. Slowly, you stood, taking his other hand to help him up. You reached up to remove his eyepatch, your thumb gingerly tracing his scar, his sapphire sparkling back at you. You moved your hands to remove his doublet, your eyes flickering to your husband. He seemed to be in such a vulnerable state.

“Come on,” You whispered, taking his hands once more.

You led him over to your bed, getting on first before you took Aemond’s hand after helping him take his boots off. You relaxed against the pillows, tugging Aemond to you. He sniffled, laid his head in your lap, and hugged you around the middle. You laid back slightly, removing the tie from his hair and running your fingers through his silver locks.

“I can kill her for you if you’d like,” You said softly after a moment. “The Madame,” You clarified. You did not enjoy how she was eyeing him earlier, as though he was prey and she was waiting for the right moment to strike. 

Aemond sniffled and shook his head, his tense body loosening under your touch. “I do not want to think about her,” He whispered, his voice hoarse.

You nodded, although your mind was already hatching ideas on ways to kill the Madame or torment her the same way she tormented your husband. Aemond squeezed you tight as though if he let go, you would disappear. You sighed while closing your eyes, your fingers still running carefully through each strand of his soft hair as you began to sing a lullaby. It was called Twin Green Dragons, one your wet nurse would sing to you and Aemond, and now you sing it to your twins;

“In a realm where moonbeams dance,

Two green dragons, twins of chance.

Their wings unfold, a gentle sight,

Guarding dreams throughout the night.

Twin green dragons, side by side, 

In their realm, they’ll be your guide.

Close your eyes, let worries fade,

In their care, your dreams are made.

Sleep now, dear one, without fear,

The dragons’ song is drawing near.

Twins of green, they softly sing,

To you, their lullaby they bring.”

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*byka zaldrīzoti: It means little dragons in High Valyrian.

Thank you to @mrsdaemontargaryen for writing the lullaby, Twin Green Dragons for me to include at the end of this Aemond drabble. ❤️

[unicoo]

Viserys neglecting his children is OKAY, but Aegon & Alicent doing it ISNT OKAY?…

Rhaenyra sleeping with a man who isn’t her husband AND having said man’s children is OKAY, but Alicent sleeping with Criston AFTER Viserys DIES ISNT OKAY?….

Rhaenyra & Daemon hooking up at Laena’s funeral is OKAY, but Aemond claiming Vhagar at Laena’s funeral ISNT OKAY?…..

Jace possibly cheating on Baela with Sara or Cregan is OKAY, but Aegon stepping out on Helaena ISNT OKAY?……

Daemon planning & plotting against literally ANYONE is OKAY, but Alicent, Criston, Otto, & Aemond plotting & planning ISNT OKAY?…….

Rhaenyra defending her sons & demanding Aemond be sharply questioned is OKAY, but Alicent wanting Justice for her son & an eye for an eye ISNT OKAY?……..

Baela & Rhaena being passed over for their BIRTHRIGHT is OKAY, but when it’s Rhaenyra who’s cheated out of her “birthright” it ISNT OKAY?………

Rhaenyra acts entitled & spoiled it’s OKAY, but let the Green kids act entitled & spoiled it ISNT OKAY?……….

Daemon pays to take young girls maidenhoods (most of them brothel workers who were TEENAGERS) it’s OKAY, but Aegon does it and it ISNT OKAY?………..

Daemon orders the death of a child & it’s OKAY, it’s JUSTIFIED, but Aemond takes RIGHTFUL REVENGE against a boy OLD ENOUGH TO FIGHT BACK and it ISNT OKAY?…………(idgaf what you say if someone bullied you then jumped you then took your eye & got away with it YOU’D BE PISSEED TO LIE & SAY YOU WOULDNT 😐)

Rhaenyra having “bastards” is OKAY, but Aegon & Aemond having bastards ISNT OKAY?………….

Daemon can allow for women & children to be hurt in all ways imaginable that’s OKAY, but Aemond taking ONE woman as a spoiled of war ISNT OKAY?……….…. (If Alys wanted to she could’ve ended up in various different positions yk being a WITCH & all)

Rhaenyra can lose nearly all her children & get compassion that’s OKAY, but giving Aegon & Helaena compassion over their son dying when he literally DIDNT DO SHIT ISNT OKAY??…………...

Visenya dies, being sad about that is OKAY, but being sad about Jaehaera’s death ISNT OKAY?………….…

Rhaenyra being a shit to children is OKAY, but Alicent being a shit to children ISNT OKAY?……….…….

Luke & Jace bullying Aemond is OKAY because they were younger, but AEGON bullying Aemond ISNT OKAY, because…?………………………….…

Because y’all are hypocrites! The whole point of this post is to showcase just how hypocritical the toxic fans (mostly team black) are. Rhaenyra & her side do it, all is fine & it doesn’t matter. Aegon & his side do it and there’s an uproar, they’re evil & deserve horribleness. Give me a fucking break honestly 🙄

If you see this tragedy and decide to make it worse by picking sides or not giving empathy, sympathy, & understanding to both sides then you need to grow tf up, mature A LOT, then look at the media again because somewhere along the way you missed the importance of this story and OUR WORLD is shitter for that!

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

What is Broken I (Aemond Targaryen x Pregnant Wife!Reader)

The war, the "Dance of the Dragons," as they have come to call it, is over. And yet, you are not celebrating. You have just learned that your husband, Prince Aemond, spent the last months of the war with another woman in his bed. Not only that, but his mistress is pregnant. Just like you...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (third person, no use of Y/N), side Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers

Warnings: Angst, pregnancy and related symptoms, infidelity, some pushing and hitting

Author's Note: It's finally here! Sorry y'all, this month a) I found out my dog has terminal cancer, b) I got covid, and c) my laptop randomly went kaput in the middle of an episode of the West Wing. But it's finally here! As it says on the taglist, this will be a three-part series.

Taglist is done via reblogs

Series Masterlist

What is Broken

It was a lovely night in King’s Landing.

There was not a cloud to be seen for miles, and the stars were bright and twinkling. The waters of Blackwater Bay were calm and reflected the full moon as clearly as a freshly polished mirror. Even the wind seemed in a pleasant mood, carrying the sweet scent of spring on its back as it drifted lazily through the windows of the Red Keep.

Every bit of it grated on her heart like a whetstone across dull steel.

The worst night of one’s life should not be so lovely, she thought. It should be terrible. With storms and an angry sea, and perhaps even a raging fire somewhere in the distance.

If the night had been so, she would not have seen it when, only a few moments ago, a massive winged form landed in the fields just outside the city with a lowing wail, the last person she wanted to see strapped to its back. Thankfully, Aemond was far enough away that she could not make him out against the mass of his mount.

The people would cheer him in the streets as he rode toward the castle. The victorious Prince, returning after long months at war, having not only ended the war itself but avenged the deaths of his eldest sister, brother, and his little nieces and nephews.

Daemon Targaryen and his dragon had perished above the God’s Eye, the waters below boiling when their bodies fell into its depths.

With the Rogue Prince gone, the war was swiftly over. Rhaenyra was killed, her last remaining son taken as King Aegon’s ward, and the royal host returned to King’s Landing victorious. Even Cregan Stark had agreed to halt his advance South, redirecting to Harrenhal for peace talks.

Harrenhal. A cursed place, now to be the site of great diplomacy.

Even thinking about the horrible castle was enough to turn her stomach.

A letter detailing exactly what had occurred within those melted stone halls during the war, written by the late Prince Daemon himself, sat on her vanity. A final act of retribution against his soon-to-be killer.

She knew that her husband was only returning home because of the letter.

My dear Princess, Despite the conflict between our sides of the family, I have always thought you a rather sweet girl. Therefore, it is with the deepest regret that I must now shoulder the burden of informing you of your beloved husband’s improper conduct during this awful conflict…

A pang of nausea shot through her stomach as she remembered the words.

A mistress… some Strong bastard… called Alys, my spies tell me… every night, without fail… from the very first week… another bastard babe in the whore’s witchly womb…

There was a pounding from within her, soft thumps and kicks as the life inside her own womb became unsettled by its mother’s roiling emotions. She laid a hand over her belly, whispering soothing words she did not believe to try and calm it – and herself.

Once, she would never have believed Daemon’s stories. But then word came that, after the final battle, Aemond returned to Harrenhal for less than an hour before he again mounted Vhagar and flew for King’s Landing. It was not like Aemond to make such swift decisions. Nor did it strike her as the action of an innocent man.

When she called for Ser Willis Fell, her heart had been filled with hope that the new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard would dispel her worries. That she had only allowed herself to consider the possibility of Aemond’s infidelity because her mind was addled by her delicate condition.

“My princess, I cannot, in good conscience, tell you a lie…”

She had screamed then. And cried. And possibly thrown things at the Kingsguard, but she couldn’t entirely remember.

All she could remember was how Aemond kissed her on the day he left for Harrenhal. Deeply and passionately. Until she could feel his love for her as clearly as her own heartbeat. Then he knelt before her and placed a single, tender kiss to her belly, to where they had only just learned that their babe grew.

Less than a moon’s turn later, he had taken another woman to his bed, and seeded her, too.

Now he was returning home – in haste.

He knew, then. That Daemon had let slip his secret. Perhaps it had even been the Rogue Prince’s last words. Spat in Aemond’s face in the seconds before his body tumbled into the lake below. Had she not been caught in the crossfire, she might have admired it for the masterful manipulation it was.

But in seeking to destroy Aemond, Daemon had destroyed her as well.

She was broken from her thoughts by the distant sound of people cheering. Aemond was making his way through the city more quickly than she thought. The streets weren’t as crowded as she hoped they would be this late at night.

It was late. Far later than she had become accustomed to. These days, she was often in bed and asleep not long after the sun had set, hoping that she would somehow find a full night’s sleep. Never to any avail.

For a moment, she thought of slipping beneath the blankets and pretending to be asleep so she would not have to speak to Aemond until the morning. But he would only crawl into bed with her, and then he would see when she inevitably woke…

That was not a conversation she wanted to have today. Really, there was no conversation she wanted to have with Aemond, only that which must be had.

She was resolved that Aemond would not find her weeping or stewing in heartbreak. No, she would not let him think he held such power over her, even if he did. He always had, even when they were young children.

So, she resumed her nightly routine as though nothing was wrong, as if she was entirely unaffected by his betrayal. Sitting at her vanity, she began to unbraid her hair. Her maids usually did it for her, but she had dismissed them the moment she read Daemon’s letter, not wanting to see their pitying faces for longer than she had to.

Since learning she was with child, everyone – including her maids – fussed over her constantly. It was not without reason, she knew. There was indeed very good reason why everyone was so concerned about her. But after six months, she was tired of it.

Just the simple act of taking her braids out and brushing through her loose hair by herself brought a welcome feeling of independence that she had not felt in some time. Perhaps ever.

That feeling slowly faded away as the cheering and celebration from the city came closer and closer, until she could hear gauntleted hands clapping in the castle courtyard below.

Aemond was here.

Her hand fell to cradle her stomach and was immediately met by three quick thumps against her palm. She knew the child did not understand what was happening and was only responding to the touch itself, much in the same way a cat arches its back when petted.

Still, it comforted her. It made her feel like she was not alone.

“Kirimvossi, rūhossas,” she whispered with a smile before resuming brushing her hair.

Her smile did not last.

Sooner than she had hoped, she heard the clanking of armor as the guards outside her door straightened, bowed, then retreated.

A shiver went through her, stealing the air from her chest while cold gathered in her heart and began sinking to her stomach. Dragging her brush through her hair suddenly took great effort, as did every breath.

Yet it was surprisingly easy to banish the tears forming in her eyes and school her face into tired neutrality. To glance only once at the figure now lingering in the doorway before turning away without acknowledging him.

She did not know if it was strength or cowardice.

He called her name, his voice rasping and low – desperate. “We must speak.”

She did not respond. She didn’t even look at him.

Aemond sighed, calling her name again. “Please, my love. Look at me.”

Still, she did not move.

“Ābrazȳrītsos,” he said, a hint of command slipping into his plea. Little wife.

He had always loved calling her little. According to their mother, the first thing Aemond did when he saw her as a babe was exclaim, “She’s so little!”

Ever since, he’d been calling her little.

First, she was simply hāedus. Little sister.

Whenever she tried to follow Aemond when he went somewhere she wasn’t allowed or did something she wasn’t allowed to do, he would gently scold her, “Haedus, you’re too little.” Inevitably, she would cry. About half the time, her crying was enough to sway him.

Then, she became zaldrīzītsos. Little dragon.

“You’re my zaldrīzītsos,” he would say when she hugged him tightly after Aegon or one of the Strong boys mocked him for not having a dragon. She didn’t have one either, but she never felt she needed one, for she had Aemond.

For a time, she was maegītsos. Little witch.

Aemond had dubbed her so when she came to visit him in the Maester’s tower while he recovered from the loss of his eye. The Maester would give her some “special leaves” so she could brew a “magic potion” to help Aemond get better. In truth, the potion was simply tea. But Aemond always pretended that the potion had indeed worked miracles, just to make her happy.

Once he was healed, she was again zaldrīzītsos.

Since he finally had a true dragon, she worried that he would not want her anymore. When she came to him in tears one day as he was leaving the Keep to see Vhagar, he hugged her tightly and told her, “You will always be my zaldrīzītsos.” Then he brought her with him to ride Vhagar. It was the best day of her life.

Or it was, until the day they were officially betrothed, and she became raqiarzītsos. Little darling.

It was what he would call her every morning when he greeted her with a chaste kiss on the cheek. How he would summon her to his side at court events. What he moaned when they kissed unchastely each evening before saying goodnight.  

She had been so excited when she became his ‘ābrazȳrītsos.’ The first time he had whispered it in her ear at the wedding feast, she’d blushed so brightly that their grandsire inquired about her health. The next time he said it, Aemond made sure they were alone.

Little sister. Little dragon. Little witch. Little darling. Little wife.

Always little.

Once, the names had made her heart flutter with delight. Now, they only prompted another wave of nausea.

Aemond was everything to her – he always had been. She thought he felt the same way, but it seemed she was wrong. To him, she was just “little.”

She flinched at the sound of his voice, of that word. How he spoke to her like she was some frightened animal poised to lash out.

Yet at the same time, her heart melted to hear the voice she loved so dearly after so long an absence. Merely the sight of him in the mirror sent a feeling of warmth and belonging flooding through her.

She hated him.

She loved him.

She was angrier at him than she had ever been in her life.

She wanted nothing more than to run into his arms.

She could do nothing but continue to brush her hair and stare into her reflection.

Aemond sighed, finally stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. “You won’t even look at me, ābrazȳrītsos?”

She gave no answer.

He whispered her name again, “Abrazȳrītsos, please,” Aemond’s voice turned quiet as he reached her and set a hand on her shoulder as if to turn her around by force, but she wrenched herself out of his grip, staring down at the floor. Though she did not look at him, she could almost feel the misery on his face. “Please look at me.”

“If I look at you, I fear I will be sick,” she explained weakly. “I don’t want to harm the babe.”

His irritation began to surge, she knew it even without seeing him. His breathing quickened slightly, and she could hear the creaking of leather as he rolled his shoulders and balled his hands into fists – he had been so hurried he had not yet taken off his riding gloves.

“You are my wife,” he huffed. She could hear him attempt to contain the sharp edge of barely contained anger in his soft voice. At least he was considerate enough to hide it. “You are my sister – my blood. You love me as I love you, and you carry my child within you. Yet you cannot even look at me?”

Fury roared to life like a surging flame within her. How dare he be angry with her when he is the one who ruined everything?

“Why did you come back?” she spat back, quietly yet viciously.

His stare continued to weigh on her through the mirror. “I promised you the day I left that I would return to you when the war was done,” he said, half-smiling at the memory. “The war is over, so here I am.”

She shook her head. “The war is not over.”

“Of course, it is. Daemon and Rhaenyra are dead, and – ”

“The fighting is over,” she corrected. “But the war is not finished. Peace must still be brokered. As Prince Regent, that is your responsibility. Yet you are here rather than with the rest of the soldiers and politicians at Harrenhal. Why?”

She wanted him to be the one to say it.

Aemond sighed, raising a hand to touch her, then pulling away. “Is it so hard to believe that I missed you and simply couldn’t stand to stay away a moment longer?”

She was moving before she could process what she was doing, standing from the vanity and turning to face Aemond, her hand raised and ready to strike.

But he caught her arm by the wrist, stopping her moments before her palm could impact his cheek – his scarred cheek. His eye was wide, filled with sadness and shock in equal measure. He turned to look at her hand as if it was some kind of curiosity he had never seen before, like he couldn’t understand how it could ever be raised against him.

Tears were spilling down her cheeks when he turned back to her, and his expression gave over entirely to despair. Aemond opened his mouth, but words failed him.

He lowered her hand gently, bowing his head slightly to the right to give her an easier target.

It broke something within her.

She dove toward him, wrapping her arms around him as she cried into his chest, clinging to him as if he were her the only thing keeping her anchored to the ground.

But the moment Aemond moved to return the embrace, she shoved him away. It only moved him a step back, still within her reach. He did not move closer, and when she began to pound her fists furiously against his chest, he didn’t try to stop her.

“Why did you come back?” she demanded as she pushed him once more. “Why did you not just stay in Harrenhal with your whore and leave us alone?”

Aemond did not respond. His mouth hung open, but he said nothing. He could do nothing but stare at her, his eye flitting between her belly, where his child had grown –so much he could hardly believe it – in his absence, to her eyes.

Those eyes. A warm, rich brown that shone with gold in the firelight. It was Aemond’s favorite color. For whenever he saw it, in her eyes or their mother’s, he knew he was home.

But now those eyes he loved so dearly were filled with tears of his own making. He wanted nothing more than to see them dry and sparkling with love once more.

“Abrazȳrītsos, you must know I will always return to you,” he begged, stepping forward and cautiously placing a hand on her belly. Almost immediately, he felt a stirring within her, and a weak pushing against him.

His child.

Was it reaching for him, or pushing him away?

Before he could truly ponder either answer, his wife pulled away from him, her arms curling protectively around her abdomen.

He had to say something. Something to take her pain away, to make everything well again so he would have the chance to hold her and the babe. Even if it was a lie, he would say it if it made her forgive him.

“Raqiarzītsos,” he started, only for her to take another step away and scowl at him. He sighed as the realization of how deeply had hurt her truly sunk in. He softly called her name, “My love, it was one mistake. One moment of weakness, I swear –”

“Liar!” Her voice had grown rough with her fury, and Aemond flinched at the sound. He had never heard her shout like that, not even when she was a babe herself.

She saw his discomfort and reveled in it. Seeing him suffer a fraction of what she felt gave her a sinful spark of joy, one that she felt no need to beg forgiveness from the Seven for. She turned away from him and retrieved the letter from Daemon, panting as she looked over the words once more.

“A mistress now lies in your husband’s bed. She was a wetnurse at Harrenhal, some Strong bastard. She must be something truly special, for she is the only Strong – trueborn or bastard – to have survived Aemond’s rather thorough purging of the bloodline. I suppose it is now clear why. I have not been able to learn much about her. She is called Alys, my spies tell me.”

With smoldering eyes, she turned to Aemond and began to read aloud. “She reports to your husband’s chambers every night without fail, as she has done from the very first week he arrived at that cursed place. One of my spies even reported that he calls her to him after each battle or razing of some poor Riverlanders, as well as anytime he feels frustrated. It is no surprise, then, that there is another bastard babe in the whore’s witchly womb. Your brothers do have a fondness for seeding unsuitable women, don’t they?”

When she looked up from the letter, she found Aemond’s face set in anger, his fingers curled as though they were aching to grip his sword and run someone through. His eye flew from the letter to her face, the rage burning there only softening for a moment.

The left corner of Aemond’s mouth twitched upward involuntarily, and he jerked his head to the side to try and hide it. “You would believe Daemon’s word over mine, abrazȳrītsos? After all he has done?”

She let the letter drift back to the table. “If all I had was his word, I would not have believed it,” she explained. “But it is not only his word.”

Aemond exhaled slowly, looking away from her. Incensed as he was, he would not make her the target of his ire. Never her.  “Will you tell me who else?”

“No,” she answered, shaking her head slightly. There was a dark glint in his eye that promised violent retribution upon whoever she would name. No one deserved torture, or perhaps even death, for telling the truth.

With a nod, Aemond closed his eyes and bowed his head. He would not press her further, though she knew he would likely still try to find out who it was by other means. But in that moment, she could not bring herself to care.

She was so tired.

She had anticipated a long fight, and thought she was ready for it. In the hours she waited for Aemond’s return, she had carefully tended the spark of her anger so it would burn only when she commanded. But the moment she saw him, it escaped her grasp and became a wildfire in a dry grassland. It was fierce, quick, and lethal. In an instant, it had consumed every bit of her strength, leaving only the barest smoldering remains in its wake.

After a few more silent moments, Aemond again opened his eyes and looked down at his wife.

“I will not insult your intelligence by trying to deny it any further,” he said, clenching his fist to stop himself from reaching for her, “and I know there is nothing I can say to excuse what I have done. But my love, I truly am sorry. For what I did, and for the hurt I have caused you.”

She stared at him, trying to detect and hint of insincerity. She found none.

“I love you. I know I have given you ample reason to doubt that but…” he swallowed thickly. “I do love you, abrazȳrītsos. I always have and I always will. I know in my heart that the gods made us for each other. And if they had fated us to others, I swear I would have defied their will and ripped them from the heavens so that I could love you.”

He licked his lips and removed his gloves before offering her his shaking hand.

Perhaps it was the result of the weariness pervading her entire being. Perhaps it was the tug of an unborn babe reaching out, somehow knowing its father was near. Perhaps it was the sliver of her soul that had always belonged to Aemond beckoning her to rejoin him and become whole again.

Whatever the reason, despite the protestations of her aching heart and her rational mind, she put her hand in his.

It did not fit as well as it used to.

If Aemond noticed, he did not acknowledge it. He raised their joined hands to his lips to kiss before resuming his plea. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I will understand if you do not give it, but for the sake of my heart and the love we share, I must ask it. Abrazȳrītsos, can you ever forgive me?”

The world fell silent, and so did she.

If she focused, she could hear her heartbeat, along with two others, thumping out three different rhythms. It was discordant, yet somehow comforting. She listened to it for a moment, trying to hear a melody within it. But there was nothing.

She turned her attention to her hand in Aemond’s grasp. There was a welcome heat where his skin touched hers, but also a tingling numbness. A slight discomfort, akin to wearing new gloves before they had softened and molded to her hands.  

Then, she looked at Aemond. At the face that was more familiar to her than her own. It had changed in the last six months – more so than she would have expected. The color of his skin had deepened from so many days spent in the sun, and there were new blemishes that had not been there before. The shadows under his eyes, the roughness where it once was smooth, and the new smudge of a scar above the corner of his right brow.

All of it was strange. Known, yet unknown. Question, but no answer.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

“What…” Aemond’s lip quirked again as he cupped her cheek with his free hand. “I don’t understand, what don’t you know, my love?”

She winced slightly at the foreign sensation of his hand against her skin. He had callouses now he didn’t have before. “I don’t know how to forgive you, or if I even want to. I just feel… tired.”

Aemond nodded, bowing his head once more to hide the disappointment he could not keep from his face, and looked at her belly. “Of course, you are tired,” he said, “I am sorry, I did not consider how late it was.”

She caught his eye flicking towards the bed – their bed, or at least, it used to be. A cold coil of panic began to wrap itself around her heart. He could not sleep here. He could not see…

“I would prefer if you slept elsewhere,” she said hastily before he could ask otherwise. “For tonight, I would like to be alone.”

Tears shone in Aemond’s eye for a moment, but he did not let them fall. He gave her a tight smile and again kissed her hand. “If that is what you wish, I will obey, but may I ask one thing?”

It would be foolish to say yes. Foolish to give him the opportunity to persuade her at all when she knew how easily he had always been able to sway her with his sweet words. Foolish to do anything but send him away immediately.

And yet…

“What would you ask?” she whispered, betrayed by the foolish little part of her heart and soul that was still and would always be his ‘hāedus.’

“I ask only for a few moments, and then I will leave, as you wish. But it has been half a year, abrazȳrītsos, since I have seen you, or heard your voice, or held you in my arms.” He squeezed her hand, drawing her attention to his face, open and earnest and pleading. “So for only a few moments, please, allow me to hold you again.”

His softly spoken words were like a siren’s song, and she began to feel faint as she struggled to resist falling under its spell. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, begging her mind to calm and think clearly.

“I promise, I will do nothing more than hold you,” he said, running his hand delicately over her cheek. “I just want to hold my wife.”

He did not deserve it, she knew. Nor did he deserve to be touching her as he did now, though she did not push him away. He did not even deserve her consideration of his request.

But it had been half a year for her, too.

Half a year with no one to kiss her good morning or good night. No one to carry her to bed when her legs and back ached. No one to hold her hair and whisper soothing words when she was sick.

She’d had her mother, her sister, and her maids. Even a Maester, at one very low point. But that was not the same. It was not the touch of a beloved husband.

Despite her anger, she was aching to be held by him.

“Just for a few moments,” she whispered through trembling lips. “Then you must leave.”

She did not have time to regret her decision before Aemond pulled her forward and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead as he thanked her. And before she could pull away, he was turning her slowly, so her back was pressed flush against his chest.

“It’s alright,” he assured her when she made a soft noise of confusion. “Trust me, abrazȳrītsos.”

His hands skated down her arms, his touch featherlight and yet searing. She gasped as he began to cradle her belly, her head lolling back into his shoulder. If given one more breath, she would have pushed him away, but then…

He laced his fingers together and took the weight of her belly into his own arms.

It was a rapturous feeling, to have the burden of it lifted from her and her eternally aching spine, even for a moment. She sighed in relief and leaned back further into her husband. Gratitude flooded through her, and her hands flew to rest over his.

“Oh, Aemond,” she breathed into his neck.

Gods, she had missed him so much. Everything would have been so much easier if he’d been here to hold her like this. He had always known been able to help her, she should have known that even with their first child, he would somehow know what to do…

Her eyes snapped open, and her blood ran cold.

This was their first child, but it was not Aemond’s only child.

He had another, far away, within a different mother. A mother whom he had been there for as she grew, Who, thanks to her role as a wetnurse, would be able to teach him exactly how to help.

“Did you hold Alys like this?”

Aemond stiffened behind her, and his grip tightened. “Abrazȳrītsos…”

“Don’t lie to me, Aemond. Not anymore.”

Silence, then…

“Yes, I did.”

She seized his hands and ripped them apart, tearing herself out of his grasp as quickly as she could, heedless of him reaching for her. Stumbling, she crossed the room before turning back to him, eyes blazing through new tears.

“Do not ever touch me like you touched her,” she spat. Her rage had reignited, the barren grassland now an endless field of flame.

Aemond’s mouth hung open as he looked to her in despair, his arms held helplessly in front of him. His voice broke as he said her name – a plea. “I just wanted to hold you. To help you.”

“And you did. For a few moments, just as you asked. Now leave, as you promised.”

He was looking at her like she was a wild beast, primed to lash out should he make one wrong move. But she didn’t mind, for that was exactly what she felt like. He had made her feel that way, and she hated him for it.

Aemond just stood there, and she could see his mind working desperately to figure out what to say to placate her. She would not give him the chance.

“Leave!” she screamed, her voice ripping its way out of her throat, burning as it went. She could not help but wonder if that was what dragons felt when they breathed fire.

Lowering his arms, Aemond nodded. “I will leave, abrazȳrītsos. Just as I promised. I am sorry.”

“I don’t care.” She meant it. His apology meant absolutely nothing to her raging, broken heart.

She watched him carefully as he turned and walked through the door, ready to rage at him again if she needed to. Perhaps she would actually breathe fire the next time.

Aemond did not try anything to soothe her or convince her to change her mind. The warrior prince knew when a battle was lost. But she knew he had not yet ceded the war.

That much was clear when he paused in the doorway, looking back at her in determination. “I love you, abrazȳrītsos, and nothing will ever change that.”

Then he closed the door, and was gone.

But she could not stop crying, for she knew he would return.

Worse, she knew that as angry as she was, she loved him, too. And nothing would ever change that, either.

-

[starogeorgina]

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲

Pairing: Aegon ii Targaryen × reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence

1.04

Your heart was still racing from witnessing Alicent slap Aegon across the face. The paleness of the skin on his cheek was now red and slightly swollen. Your heart bled for him; he was drunk and confused. Nothing that had transpired within the past few hours was his fault.

The queen’s handmaiden, Talya, had subtly moved you and Helaena further back from everyone else in the room as more people arrived.

The knight who escorted you to the great hall in Driftmark only said there was an incident; he never let on who was involved or what happened. Your younger brother, Aemond, had bonded with Vhagar, the queen of all dragons. Upsetting the late Lady Laena’s daughters Baela and Rhaena, which somehow resulted in an altercation involving the two girls, Jacaerys and Lucerys.

As a result of whatever transpired, Aemond lost his eye, and Lucerys was being blamed. Luke was a sweet child; you doubted any act of violence was unprompted, but then Aemond didn’t deserve the pain he was suffering.

You tilt your head closer to Helaena, who was almost the same height as you. “If ābri sia taught bona ziry iksos daor possible naejot laodigon iā zaldrīzes, bisa could emagon issare avoided.” (If ladies were taught that it's not possible to steal a dragon, this could have been avoided.)

“Skoros gaomagon ao nūmāzma?” (What do you mean?)

“If Vhagar didn't jaelagon naejot sagon ridden ondoso īlva lēkia, ziry would emagon zaltan iā iprattan zirȳla.” (If Vhagar didn't wish to be ridden by our brother, she would have burned or ate him.)

“He had to close an eye.”

You examine your nephews from afar; you wanted to comfort them but would not cross the room to stand with Rhaenyra. Your heart clenches. You felt torn and stayed standing in the middle of the room, not wanting to pick a side. Part of you felt ashamed, not rushing to Jace and Luke’s defence, but each time your mouth would form the shape of words, Talya would give you a look that would then silence you.

You notice Aegon’s hand trembling as Maester Mellos tends to the wound on Aemond’s face that stretches from his cheekbone to his forehead.

“Bro-”

It was hard to hear with various voices yelling their version of events, yet it was your oldest nephew's whisper that was heard by all. “He called us bastards.”

A look appears in Rhaenyra’s eyes that you’ve never seen before: fear. She claps hold of Jacaerys hand. “My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace. This is the highest of treasons. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders.”

“Over an insult?” Alicent’s eyes gloss over. “My son has lost an eye.”

“You tell me, boy. Where did you hear this lie?” The king's cain thumps against the floor as he storms towards Aemond, “Tell me who spoke these lies so I can cut their tongue from their mouth.”

You catch Aegon’s eye, and he slowly shakes his head. He may have called Rhaenyra a whore and her sons bastards in front of you, but you believed from the look on his face that he never said it to anyone else.

“Aemond!” Your father slams his stick into the ground. “I am your king, and I demand you tell me at once!”

Aemond glances up at his mother, who is standing beside him Alicent gives him a pleading look. Gulping down, Aemond looks directly at his older brother, putting the blame on him. Quietly he mumbles, “It was Aegon.”

Aegon looks hurt, “me?”

Your father has a murderous glare in his eyes as he goes towards Aegon. “And you, boy? Where did you hear such calumnies? Aegon!” Frustrated, he yells in his face. “Tell me the truth of it!”

“The insult was first said in the training yard, your grace. I’ve heard different lords sons saying it.” You weren’t lying; of course it was obvious to everyone aside from the king himself that the ‘rumours’ originally came from the queen herself. “Those boys who are the ones that should be sharply questioned, not your own sons.”

“You, girl,” the king now stands directly in front of you, his rotten-smelling breath warm in your face. “You should be standing beside Rhaenyra, your sister, my heir. Aemma would be ashamed of you.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Even the king's own brother, Prince Daemon, looks stunned by his brothers harsh words. You take a deep breath when your lips start to tremble. The blood of the dragon does not weep. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how deep his words had cut.

Alicent places her hand on top of the pendant, her fingers tracing the seven-pointed star, the symbol of her faith. She gasps, “Viserys.”

Aegon steps forward and looks directly at your nephews and sister. “We know, Father. Everyone knows. Just look at them.”

—

“I’m glad you left when you did, Princess, before the violence started. The maester who stitched Princess Rhaenyra's wound said it would heal.”

Knowing you were humiliated by your father's words, the queen ordered Ser Criston to escort you back to the bedchambers you were staying in, and during that time a struggle broke out between Alicent and Rhaenyra. Alicent tried to cut Lucerys eye out with the king's own dagger as an act of revenge, and Rhaenyra put herself between her son and the blade. Although Alicent’s actions were wrong, you blamed your father for not taking Aemond’s injury seriously in the first place.

“Thank you, Flora,” you say, stepping away from your handmaiden as she finished unclasping your hair from the braids you slept in. “I do not wish to speak of what happened anymore.”

“Very well, princess. Which dress would you like to wear while returning home?”

“The ivory dress.”

Nodding, she picks up the soft material with scale-like patterns embroidered into it and helps you step into the dress before fastening it at the back. “May I ask you something, princess?”

You look at Flora over your shoulder and say, “Yes.”

“Forgive me if this is out of turn, but what do you think will happen now? Will you remain in the keep, or do you think the king will force you to go Dragonstone?”

“I—” taking a shuddering breath, you stare at the tapestry hanging above the fireplace of a ship sailing through a storm. “I am unsure. I’m presuming the king will act fast to find me another husband. Preferably one far enough away that he will not need to see me again.”

Flora finishes lacing the dress and steps back to admire it. She wasn’t much older than yourself and seemed just as lonely as you did at court. “If you do go somewhere else, I hope the king allows me to serve you there.”

Her kind words push the tears that were already threatening to spill from your eyes out. How was it possible your handmaiden would want to be near you when your own father could not? You reach for Flora’s hand, and she says nothing as you sob.

—

While most of the royal party go aboard the ship near ready to set sail for the red keep, you look up at the rocks behind you and see Sunfyre resting his head next to Aegon, who lovingly caresses his golden scales. The only time you saw a true smile on your brother's face was when he was with his dragon.

“Would you like to touch him?”

“What?”

“Would you like to touch him?” Aegon’s asks, and he turns his head in your direction with a hopeful look on his face. “He won’t bite you in half.”

It was always a risk approaching a dragon that wasn’t your own. Most dragons had handlers beside their riders, and you doubted Aegon would risk your life. As you walk over to them, Ghost tilts their head to the side, observing you, and makes an almost purring sound, “Ao sagon iēdrosa ñuha favorite.” (You're still my favorite.)

When you reach them Aegon sees you hesitate and grabs your hand, pulling you closer, then places your hand on top of Sunfyre’s scales.

“He is truly beautiful.”

“The most beautiful in the world,” Aegon says proudly. “My golden boy.”

You remove your hand from the dragon's scales, and Sunfyre nudges Aegon in the chest with his snout. It was amusing to watch them be so playful together.

Sighing, you glance down at the ship, and your eyes land directly on your father. “I’m not looking forward to the journey home.”

“I’m not going with them.”

“No? Have you found another family to join instead?”

“The gods aren’t kind enough to grant me another family,” he tuts. “I’m flying on dragon back. Care to join me?”

Now that he suggested it, you wanted nothing more. “Let’s go then; even better, let’s make it a race!”

—

Dinner was awkward; it was mainly in silence. Your father had spoken a few times but not once had you, the queen, or any of your siblings responded. The mood was much lighter until he suddenly appeared.

Though you had worn the pale gold dress Alicent gifted you, the material wasn’t as thick as your other gowns. Feel a slight chill as you straighten your legs out and rub your ankles together, trying to get some heat.

“Are you cold?” Aegon asks, in a low voice.

You open your mouth to reply, but noticing your father looking in your direction, you say nothing and nod in response to Aegon’s question.

When the table is cleared, Helaena speaks up, “Can I return to my chambers?”

“No yet,” Alicent smiles at her before looking to her father. Otto mouths something you cannot hear. Clearing her throat, the queen stands up and holds up her cup. “The last few days have been difficult, but we now have something to celebrate. A betrothal between Prince Aegon and princess y/n has been purposed, and both myself and the king are in agreement that it would be a perfect match.”

The rest of her words disappear as everything becomes a blur. Was this real? Both Aemond and Helaena seem pleased for you, but when you turn to look at Aegon, he’s gone.

—

You find you’re betrothed in the cellars of the keep, standing in front of the skull of Balerion, the black dread. You always wondered if the largest and most fierce dragon that ever lived, that was once ridden by Aegon the Conqueror himself, dying not long after your father bonded with him, could be considered a bad omen.

In the glow of the flames, Aegon looks breathtaking—a true Targaryen.

“How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t. I come here sometimes to find comfort.”

Aegon continues to stare straight ahead as he asks, “Do you want to marry me?”

Under different circumstances, you would have laughed because what a woman wanted in a society ruled by men didn’t matter. You gulp down, “I’ve always accepted that I’ll most likely die in the birthing bed as my mother did. Death by duty. And when I was betrothed to Ser Harwin, I assumed that my fate would be giving him heirs until I no longer could. But now it’s different.”

Aegon’s eyes are clouded with uncertainty when he finally looks at you. “How?”

“I think a life with you would be worth the risk.”

[mswyrr]

One of the most important bits of dialogue in hotd is from Viserys in 1x01:

"The idea that we control the dragons is an illusion. They're a power man should never have trifled with. One that brought Valyria its doom. If we don't mind our own histories, it will do the same to us."

This is a man who bonded with Balerion, The Black Dread, the oldest dragon who had actually hatched in Old Valyria. This was the same dragon who flew Princess Aerea, a 12-year-old girl who bonded with him, back to Valyria against her will - sickening and killing her in the process (Fire & Blood, p 263). The little girl was away from her home at the time and probably feeling "I want to go home" but what Balerion did with that feeling killed her. His will was strong and his memory was *deep*.

Viserys only rode him one time, his inaugural flight, and then never again. IMO he experienced something bonding with that ancient beast that--in addition to studying the family's history and Valyrian lore--convinced him of the danger and fundamentally uncontrollable nature of dragons.

It is totally in keeping with canon events that Vhagar, in the current timeline the most ancient dragon alive--a dragon who drank deep of bloodshed and war with Visenya during the Conquest and *likes* war--translated Aemond's anger at Lucerys into murder of the boy and his small dragon. It is perfectly in keeping with what the show has been saying since episode 1.

An ancient, powerful and wilful dragon overcoming the will of its rider is *literally canon*. Princess Aerea must have been terrified during the whole, long flight to Valyria, and yet all her protests couldn't stop the dragon she'd bonded to.

I would also say that the Valyrians turned magical creatures, dragons, into weapons of warfare - that the dragons, in that sense, represent war. And the show is imo fundamentally antiwar - so here war is something you cannot control. GRRM has said the dragons are "nukes," which fits with this reading:

“Dragons are the nuclear deterrent, and only [Daenerys Targaryen, one of the series’ heroines] has them, which in some ways makes her the most powerful person in the world,” Martin said in 2011. “But is that sufficient? These are the kind of issues I’m trying to explore. The United States right now has the ability to destroy the world with our nuclear arsenal, but that doesn’t mean we can achieve specific geopolitical goals. Power is more subtle than that. You can have the power to destroy, but it doesn’t give you the power to reform, or improve, or build.” (source)

War and nukes - you cannot aim them only at the guilty, only at those you hate; you cannot prevent them from consuming the innocent as well. They a raging fire that consumes, that is all. And so, on that level, I just adore what they're doing and how it all fits together.

Aemond's domestic violence fits too - boys go to war thinking it will be honorable and manly and they'll protect "their women" but instead come home and hurt those very women. This thing burns and burns until it is exhausted, and it doesn't stay contained, not within you or outside you. "So it goes," to steal a phrase from antiwar writer Kurt Vonnegut.

The reason I keep coming back to my antiwar reading of the show is that things that people dismiss as "bad" or mock actually come together beautifully if you don't expect to war to be glorious and masterful and heroic. If you take the text seriously, in terms of what the dragons are metaphorically and what characters have outright said about their fundamentally uncontrollable nature. The lore supports what Vhagar did! That she could overcome a teenaged human's will with her century old bloodlust.

[entitled-fangirl]

Chance. (P2)

Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon!reader; Aegon x wife!reader

Summary: Aemond finds that his ploy is having the opposite effect- driving her away from him slowly.

Part 1, Part 3

Masterlist

....................................................................

In the days that followed, Aemond had managed to lure the poor doe from Aegon's room. 

She now took walks with him daily, something he found himself enjoying more than he thought he initially would.

Like now.

"Against Caraxes?" She asked with a slight grin. "I thought both Caraxes and Meleys have seen war."

"They have. But I believe Meleys would win."

"I believe Vhagar would best them both." 

He felt a warm feeling go through his heart at that. "That was not the hypothetical scenario that I stated though, was it?"

"No, but it is the truth. Vhagar is a formidable creature."

His head tilted, "Vhagar is quite… kind, actually."

She stopped walking to look at him. "Is she?"

He hummed, "Very gentle in spirit. She must make up for my lack thereof."

Her lips pulled into a teasing grin, "You're quite gentle when you wish to be."

"I suppose so." He reasoned, "I just do not wish to be very often."

…

"THAT BASTARD!" Aemond roared as he entered his mother's chambers. 

Alicent turned and stood, "Aemond, what are-"

"Did you know about this?" He seethed.

She stared. "About what?"

"The marriage. A fucking marriage."

"What marriage?" She asked. "What are you talking about?"

"That slimy bastard will have his hands all over her," he spoke through gritted teeth. "And I must let him."

"Speak plainly, Aemond. You're confusing me."

He forced himself to take a deep breath and lower his voice, "My brother denied my betrothal. And now he takes my place in it."

Alicent tilted her head, "He wishes to marry her?"

"He does not love her." Aemond's fist clenched. "He will not love her as I can."

"That's what this is about then," she said. "A brotherly feud?"

"He only wishes to make my life harder, mother. And you let him."

He stormed out the door, kicking a chair on his way, not caring for the loud clattering sound of it against the floor.

…

"How does he fair today, my queen?" Aemond asked.

She looked up from Aegon to the prince, "Better. He's… better, I suppose."

"He does not look it."

She let out a frustrated huff, "Anything is better than the state you brought him to me in."

He smirks, "Do watch your tongue, doe."

She tilted her head curiously, "Why? Don't misconstrue my words, my prince. I only mean to say that you returned without a mere scratch and our king is…" She paused as she look to him, "…beyond repair."

"That was the will of the gods, not mine own. Remember that."

"And yet they named you regent. Didn't they?"

Aemond's jaw clenched and he took steady steps to the foot of the bed she sat on, "I am a worthy candidate for the crown, am I not?"

"Your mother ruled in your father's stead. Should I not rule now?"

"No, pretty doe. You're to care for the king. He needs a… woman's touch."

Her eyes flitted down to the dagger Aemond possessed. 

He continued, "Do watch who enters here. You never know who you can trust."

She looked back up to him a new look in her eyes, "Right."

…

Something began to stir in the girl as she thought about Aemond as the regent now. 

Some things just didn't add up.

And it seemed Alicent thought the same. 

Y/n spotted Alicent walking down the halls and decided to catch up to her. "My lady?"

Alicent turned, seeing the girl, "Is Aegon alright?"

"Yes," she found herself now nervous under the older woman's gaze. "I found myself needing advice, is all."

"Oh. Um." Alicent hums, stumped. "Let us take a walk then, I suppose."

"I'd like that."

…

Y/n called in the knock that sounded at her door.

Aemond entered and she stood at his entrance, "My prince."

He shook his head, "Please don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Act so formerly. As if we were not betrothed only hours ago."

She sighed and sat back down. "I do not know what you wish for me to say."

"That you're upset, perhaps?" He scoffed.

She huffed back, "I have had no say this entire time. Why would I just now be upset?"

"Because you know what Aegon is."

"I do."

His jaw clenched, "And still nothing?"

"My prince, my life was bargained for before I was out of my mother's womb. I am used to the feeling of disappointment."

He sighed and moved towards her, sitting on another chair. "He'll mistreat you."

She stared at the flames of the fireplace, "So be it."

Aemond studied her with his one eye, "You'll wed yourself to a whoremonger that would rather spend his nights drunk in a cold, dark alley than sober with his wife in a warm bed?"

Her eyes watered. "Do not remind me."

Silence filled the room as he considered what to say next. 

But she spoke first, "You may not be my husband, but you will be a caring brother-by-law. I know."

He smiled, "I won't abandon you."

…

"As a woman, it must be hard to truly now who your allies are."

Alicent nodded, "It is. Men only want thing in life, and that is anything that gets them hard."

She hummed, a trait she no doubt picked up from her recent time with Aemond, "But how can you be certain?"

The queen regent frowned, "Is there someone you fear as of now?"

"Not I. I fear more for Aegon."

Alicent sighed. "I do as well."

Y/n began to step, leading the two more into the garden. "I cannot protect him all of the time."

"Nor do we all expect you to."

Her jaw clenched, "And yet I find myself protecting a man who cares not for my own wellbeing."

"That's not entirely tru-"

"IT IS!" She cried. "Aegon married me for nothing! I am nothing to him but a whore he can impregnate-"

Her head jerked to the side with a loud slap and a sudden hot pain spread across her cheek.

Alicent had slapped her.

"Do not," the queen regent sneered. "Say those words again."

A shaky hand came up to her cheek, the cold of her palm soothing the pain. "I thought you an ally. But you're not."

Alicent scoffed mockingly, "Silly girl. There are no real allies in this game. Only mutual interests for a common end."

"It seems we wish for different endings then."

"Does it matter anymore?"

When she didn't answer, Alicent began to walk away.

"Alicent-"

She whipped around, "Do not call me that."

Y/n's head shot up with a new look of determination, "I am the queen. Not you. I will call you what I wish."

…

The next day, she met Aemond as always to walk the gardens.

He moved to hold his arm out, but immediately stopped himself. "What befell you?"

Her brows furrowed, "I'm sorry?"

His hand gently brushed her cheek and she flinched at the contact. "My queen. Has someone laid a hand on you?"

She shook her head. "I was being reckless."

His eye studied her closely. "I don't believe you."

She pushed his hand away lightly, "Then don't."

He bent his head down closer to her, "Is someone a threat to you? Must I fix something for you?"

"There is nothing to fix. I wish to go on our walk so I may return to my husband."

My husband.

The words still burned him worse than dragon fire.

He hummed and held his arm out once again, staring their walk. 

"I am curious, if you allow me to be so," she began.

He nodded.

"You've dismissed Cole as hand-"

"-And you wish to know his replacement?"

Her head tilted to the side, "I do."

He let out a low breath as he looked down at their path, "I'm assigning it to my grandsire, Otto Hightower. He's done it twice before."

"In a time of peace, that is."

"I suppose that's true. Then again, not many others are good enough even in times of peace, my queen."

"Sitting on the Iron Throne is no easy task, Aemond."

He chewed on his bottom lip as they walked, unsure of what she really wanted to say.

She pulled away from him at the sight of a certain flower. She knelt down at it, touching it with a gentle calmness to her.

She could be such a good queen if Aegon had just given her the chance.

Aemond promised he would.

…

"Dismissed. Except for my mother."

The council members one by one left the table and out the door, save for Alicent who sat with a curious look.

Aemond stood, rounding the table to stand behind her chair, "You dare strike her?"

Alicent took a deep breath, "Aemond, this does not concern you."

"Concern me? Indeed it does." He moved next to her chair, leaning against the table now, "You believed that you could strike her and I would not notice?"

"I did not think she would tell you."

"And alas, she did not."

Alicent's eyes widened at that. "Then how-"

"You've just confirmed it."

Aemond crouched down to her level, practically spitting venom, "I'm removing you from the small council. You're of no use to us and the kingdom anymore if you cannot even keep your hands to yourself, mother."

…

Y/n walked down the halls of the castle, going to Aegon's room as she always did. 

Upon entering it, she was surprised to find Lord Larys Strong there. 

He pushed himself to stand, "My queen."

She frowned, "My lord."

He turned to Aegon, "I am grateful for your recovery, your grace."

Lord Strong limped by, stopping next to her and speaking in her ear, "If you're in need of an ally, I can be of assistance, my queen."

Her eyes studied Aegon, noting the watery look in his eye. Her jaw clenched, "I believe I am tired of alliances, my lord. They do nothing for me."

He hummed, "Very well, your grace. My offer stands if you change your mind."

She turned her head to him with disdain, "I won't."

His jaw set but he nodded and left without another word. 

Upon the door closing, she moved to Aegon's side, exactly where Lord Strong had been moments before. "There you are."

His hand moved towards the bedside table, clearly reaching for something. 

She looked, noting the cup of the milk of the poppy that sat there untouched.

She quickly took the cup in her hands, "Relax yourself, my king." 

He moved back, a small tear in his eye.

She leaned down, wiping it from his cheek with a gentle smile. "You foolish man. What's wrong?"

He coughed a bit, "Ae…aemond…"

Her brows furrowed, "Aemond? What of Aemond?"

His hand grabbed her wrist, yanking her to him with what little strength he had. He cried as he did so, "Do not…"

She studied him with a worried gaze, "Do not...?"

The door opened, and she quickly looked over her shoulder. 

Aemond himself stood in the doorway. 

"How is his grace?"

She looked back to Aegon who looked ready to cry again. "He's doing alright. He'll be resting again soon enough."

Aemond hummed, stepping to the other side of the bed to watch the two.

Her hand moved to the back of Aegon's head, leaning him up to sip from the cup in her other hand.

He carefully took in the liquid, sighing as he finished. 

The woman leaned forward and kissed his forehead, "Sleep well."

She stood up and abandoned the cup with her focus now on Aemond, "Let us leave him in peace for a while."

"Yes," he said absent-mindedly. "We should."

But his mind was far from absent. In fact, it only thought one thing.

What had Aegon told her?

..................................................

part 3

taglist: p45510n4f4shi0n, darktrashsoulbear

[aemondsquill]

Across The Stars

Aemond Targaryen × Niece!Reader

Synopsis: Reader delivers a marriage proposal to Lord Borros, Aemond does not take kindly to it.

Warnings: smut, violence, canon divergence, angst ofc, Aemond is mean during some parts, imprisonment, misogyny, abuse, lmk if I missed any

A/N: sorry bout the wait, gang! School has been kicking my ass lately but I promise more frequent updates from now on!

Thick swirling clouds blanketed the skies above Storm' End as Y/N dismounted her beast. The mighty Cannibal's throat rumbled in uncertainty at the situation. The spark of lighting across the gray sky illuminated Vhagar's monstrous form, which did nothing to ease his tension. Y/N rested a hand over his scaly snout in assurance. There would be no fighting today as she had only been sent as an envoy and surely even her uncle Aemond could respect that, he was slave to propriety, after all.

Y/N took a moment to gather her thoughts. Her fingers trembled at her sides as anxiety riddled her mind. She took a breath. 'Mother needs this alliance', she reminded herself. With a sharp exhale she pulled her heavy woolen cloak tighter around her and approached the guards.

Their shiny silver helmets seemed dull under the clouds and their faces were pinched in confusion.

"State your business!" Shouted a guard. His voice was as gruff as his appearance. It appeared as though he had not had a restful sleep in quite some time.

"I have a message for Lord Borros from Queen Rhaenyra, Ser." Y/N replied confidently. She held out a scroll with the Queen's waxy seal stamped upon it. The guard glanced at it and motioned for the door to be opened. A group of men escorted her into the keep.

"Princess Y/N Velaryon, daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen!"

Y/N's eyes followed the foreboding stone walls until they met Aemond's. Her breath caught in her throat and a sliver of pain struck her heart as she saw him next to Lord Borros's daughter. Her mind could not rid itself of the secret kisses and soft embraces they shared so long ago back when they were mere children, a time when war wasn't even a thought in their heads. Surely even he could not have forgotten her so easily?

Y/N rid herself of her foolish thoughts. She could not dwell on the past and she had a mission now.

"Lord Borros, I have brought you a message from my mother, the Queen." Y/N spoke.

"Yet earlier today I received a message from the King. Which is it? King or Queen?" Lord Borros mused, though the humor did not reach his eyes. "The house of the dragon does not seem to know who rules it!", the man chuckled, "what's your mother's message?" A guard grabbed the sealed letter out of Y/N's hand and presented it to Lord Borros. He held it for a moment before calling out for a maester.

An old maester scurried to his side and unsealed the letter, glancing at it briefly before leaning towards the Lord's ear.

Lord Borros's face crumpled into anger. "Remind me of my father's oath?" He seethed. Y/N slightly grimaced at his tone. Her heart sank as she realized she was out of options.

"King Aegon at least came with an of-"

"I offer you my own hand, my Lord." The court was silent at Y/N's bold proposal. She could feel Aemond's sharp stare burning into her, but she refused his eye. Shame prickled her spine and tears felt heavy behind her eyes. Lord Borros seemed to be lost for words, but his face held an expression of intrigue.

"You are offering me your hand in marriage, girl? Your mother is that desperate for my alliance that she'd give up her precious daughter?" He spoke. Y/N clasped her hands together to hide their trembling and swallowed thickly, "My Lord, war calls for desperate measures. I do not give my hand lightly, but I believe you and I would make a formidable match. With me at your side you would gain the Cannibal, one of the most fearsome dragons alive, and you would gain the favor of the Queen. Our marriage would promise you a position on the Small Council as well as an expansion of your lands. Your daughters would be given suitable matches, much more lucrative than the hand of a second son with no lands." Y/N spared a glance at Aemond, who was seething next to his betrothed.

Lord Borros sat back comfortably on his throne and thought of his options.

"Princess Y/N, Prince Aemond, please join us for dinner tonight. I shall allow both of you to plea for your cause and I will make a decision on the morrow. It would be an honor to host a prince and princess of the Realm." He smirked. Y/N nearly rolled her eyes at his invitation, but suppressed the urge with a tight smile.

"It would be an honor, my Lord."

----

Lord Borros was generous enough to provide the prince and princess their own quarters for the night. Y/N sank into a soft velvety settee in front of the roaring fireplace. She sighed heavily and watched the rain pelt against the ornate glass windows heavily. A maid left a few moments ago to fetch her a proper gown for the dinner.

A heaviness settled into her chest at the thought of entertaining Lord Borros tonight. If she plays her part well enough, then she will be bound to him until death. She let a tear slip down her cheek at the thought of her demise. Hopefully he would be an indifferent husband. He had a slew of daughters already so all she had to do was provide an heir or two to make him happy.

A rapid series of knocks yanks Y/N out of her trance. She sits up and wipes her tears away before smoothing the skirts of her dress.

"Come in!" She called out. Still she sat facing the fire, "just place it on the bed. I can put it on myself."

"Do you enjoy whoring yourself out, dear niece?" A cold voice traveled through the room. Y/N stood abruptly and turned to face the man.

"Aemond..." Y/N breathed out.

"It seems you take after your whore mother." Anger spiked inside Y/N. "My mother is not a whore and she will have your treacherous head on a spike next to the usurper!"

"Such harsh words, niece. That is no way to speak to your Prince."

"Why did you come here, uncle? I do not want your company."

Aemond glared at her for a moment, his temper rising.

"Surely Lord Borros would not take some bastard whore as a wife! Tell me, sweet niece, does your future husband know of the kisses we shared? I doubt he'd take you as his bride knowing you no longer have your maidenhead." His cruel taunts rang in her ears and tears sprung to her eyes. He stalked forward towards a trembling Y/N, reveling in the tears she shed.

"My maidenhead is still intact! We never laid together and you know that! Why are you being so cruel to me?" Y/N sobbed. She hated the power he had over her, even with his cruel words. Aemond reached out and stroked her cheek, catching a tear on his finger. Slowly he brought the finger to his mouth and groaned lowly at the salty taste of her anguish.

"A mere whisper of your tarnished virtue could destroy your betrothal before it begins" Aemomd threatened. Lust and anger sparkled in his eye as he pushed her against the wall and breathed in the scent of her slender neck. Y/N shuddered as his nose made contact with her skin, gooseflesh pebbling in its wake.

"Or perhaps I shall take you right here against this wall and put my bastard in your belly. Wouldn't you like that, sweet niece?" Aemond crooned in her ear. Y/N shook her head fiercely, "no! Aemond, please do not do this! I am under Lord Borros's protection and you cannot harm me!"

Aemond paused as he surveyed the room.

"Lord Borros is not here, niece, and I know you have not forgotten your affection for me" His slender fingers hiked up the skirts of her dress and stroked her squishy thighs. He closed his eye and groaned at the contact.

"But I am not cruel, my love. I will not take you unwillingly as I am cursed with affection for you as well." He whispered softly. Without a second glance, Aemond rushed out of the room and left Y/N in turmoil. She collapsed to the ground, dissolving into a puddle of tears. She hated Aemond. She hated the way he could taunt her so cruelly, yet fill her with such yearning for his affection. Being with him hurt her in the most delicious possible way.

-----

The dinner was enveloped in a stony silence. The only sound was the clinking of silverware. Fat slabs of beef and pork lay on silver platters flanked by flaky breads and fire-roasted vegetables. Y/N stirred a spiced soup numbly as she sat next to Lord Borros and across from her uncle. Floris Baratheon was beside him and attempted to make any form of conversation. Unfortunately for her, Aemond One-Eye was not known for being so courteous. Instead, his cold violet eye was locked onto Y/N.

"Princess Y/N, Prince Aemond, I humbly thank the both of you for attending this dinner. I wish we could welcome the both of you into our family, but that is not the nature of war, is it?" Lord Borros spoke. Y/N met his eyes and acknowledged him slightly. She took a breath before downing her goblet of wine. She would require much more if she was to build up the courage to persuade Borros to marry her.

"Please, my Lord, the honor is all mine. It is a pleasure to be welcomed into your home." Y/N smiled broadly. From the corner of her eye she could see Aemond grip his utensils until his knuckles turned white. She smirked and continued to gaze into Lord Borros's eyes, "I would be pleased to be betrothed to such a fearsome man such as yourself."

Lord Borros took a swig of mead as Y/N honeyed words melted into his ears. He grinned at her as his eyes swirled with lust.

"Men from every corner of the Realm would envy me for having such a beautiful young bride on my arm. The bedding ceremony would be such a site for them to see!" Aemond nearly choked on his wine at Borros's words. All eyes were on him and he looked at Y/N. Despite her grin, he could see the fear behind her lilac eyes. Vicious hatred made his hands tremble.

Finally, he looked away and gazed at the beautiful Floris Baratheon. Only animosity and hurt fueled his words. "You have the sweetest lips of all your sisters, my Lady."

Y/N felt the lump in her throat swell painfully before taking another sip of wine.

"I could bear you many sons, my Lord. My lineage suggests we will be fruitful with heirs." Lord Borros sucked in a breath at her words. The promise of many passionate nights with the princess seemed to solidify the drunken man's decision.

"Send a raven to the Queen, my Princess. We will wed within a fortnight." Lord Borros roughly grabbed Y/N by the sides of her face and pulled her in for a sloppy kiss. Aemond shot out of his seat at the sight, nearly gripping the dagger around his waist. He schooled his breath for a moment before speaking.

"Forgive me, my Lord, you said you would come to your decision on the morrow. Do not be so hasty with your treason." The prince seethed. The drunken Lord let out a wheezing laugh.

"My prince, I have made my decision! I will not allow you to dictate my affairs under my own roof!"

"Your King will not forget this transgression." Aemond sat down calmly and continued to eat his meal. Y/N let out a breath, thankful this night did not end in bloodshed. She had seen Aemond maim and kill for a lot less. The foolish Lord Borros should be grateful to still have his head. She was ashamed to admit that a small part of her hoped Aemond would unleash his vile anger and cut down Lord Borros to save her from this marriage.

The dinner continued as it was supposed to. Lord Borros made thinly-veiled promises to the princess that made her skin crawl and Aemond quake in fury.

-----

The princess was escorted back to her chambers by Lord Borros's personal guards. It took several attempts to convince him that they should wait until their wedding day to consummate their relationship, as it would be improper to do so before. Y/N sighed as she entered her chambers. This is not how she wanted this night to go. She wished to be back neslted in her mother's arms on Dragonstone. Back where it was safe and warm.

Slowly, Y/N unlaced her bodice and let her elaborate gown fall to her feet. Tears rolled down her cheeks and her shaking fingers fumbled with the laces of her corset. She prayed to the gods to spare her of this heartache, even if it meant her death.

Her head felt like it was filled with thick jelly and her stomach full of lead as she climbed into the feather bed. Sleep did not take her and she tossed and turned for what felt like hours.

The moon hung was obscured by the storm, so Y/N could not tell what time is was when she heard her chamber door creak open. She rolled over to see who had intruded on her self-pity. To her surprise and heartache is was her Aemond.

He closed the door softly and walked slowly to her bedside before lifting the thick blanket and crawling in. His arm slung around her waist as he pulled her to his chest.

"You were cruel to me today." Y/N spoke shakily. He sighed against the back of her neck causing the hairs to prick up.

"I know. I'm sorry, my princess. I did not mean my vile words." His warm hand turned her over so they were face to face. Aemond felt his heart crack at the sight of his sweet niece with tears leaking from her eyes. Slowly, he closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to hers. She sighed softly at the contact and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. They stayed like that for a few moments; lips moving in tandem, tasting each other for the last time.

Y/N felt his hardness poking against her thigh and gently ground her hips against it. Aemond moaned into her mouth at the contact.

"Careful, niece. I would not want to tarnish your virtue." He warned. She panted against his lips, "I don't care, my love, please take me." With that, Aemond's last tether of control snapped and he rolled her fully onto her back. His finger slipped down between her silken folds. He groaned at the feeling of her sticky arousal and pushed a finger in. Y/N gasped in delight at the slight stretch, her breasts heaving beneath her thin nightgown.

"Please, Aemond..." she whined, overcome with pleasure.

"Please, what, sweet niece? Tell me what you want."

"I want your cock. Please, fill me with your seed!" Y/N was desperate for more of him and he was all too thrilled to oblige.

Aemond sat back on his heels and unlaced his breeches before hiking up Y/N's nightgown. He grasped his length and stroked it against her slick folds, holding back a groan.

Slowly, he sank the tip of his cock in, hissing in pleasure. Then inch by inch, he filled his sweet niece's cunt to the hilt, watching her face contort in pleasure. He stilled for a moment, fearing that he might climax so suddenly.

Y/N was breathless beneath him. The delicious stretch of his cock was overwhelming and she could've wept at his tenderness.

"Please, Aemond...Please move" Y/N begged as she wiggled her hips. A firm hand rested against her hip, "patience, little one."

Aemond slowly started rocking into her, eyes rolled back as he relished her delighted squeals and moans.

He whimpered against her throat at the tightness of her cunt, squeezing him so exquisitely.

A primal urge to breed her trickled through his spine as his sped up his thrusts. He would be the one to put heirs in her. She was his, this farce of a marriage she concocted with the Baratheon Lord be damned!

"F-fuck, Y/N, you're mine!" He growled against her lips. She nodded fervently, "only yours, Aemond!" Her tongue was silky against own as he swallowed her moans.

The wet sounds of their coupling filled the room and the heavy scent of sex hung heavily in the air. Y/N felt an unfamiliar sensation building in her belly, shocks of pleasure coursing through her as Aemond's cock stroked the rough patch within her.

"A-Aemond" she whined, "'M gon-na..." she couldn't finish her thought as pleasure rippled through her in overwhelming waves. Aemond covered her mouth before she could let out a scream.

"Shhh, sweet girl. That's it, you're being such a good girl for me" he whispered praises into her ear. The words only served to enhance to earth-shattering orgasm that ripped through her.

The vision of his niece in the throes of ecstasy only propelled him towards his own climax. He grunted as his hot seed coated her twitching walls, making sure she got every last bit.

With a sigh, he slumped down on top of Y/N, kissing her hairline. He wrapped his arms around her in a tight, sweet embrace before pulling his cock from her drenched folds.

He watched in fascination as his cum leaked out of her. He took two fingers and gathered what had leaked out before pushing back into her. Y/N moan softly at the feeling, her cunt slightly twitching at the overstimulation.

"We shouldn't waist any of this. Soon, you will be swollen with my child." A devious smirk stretched across his lips.

-----

The early morning sun peaked through the windows, nearly blinding Y/N. She shivered, despite being tucked under numerous thick blankets. Slowly she reached out for Aemond, but was only met with a bed, cold and abandoned.

Betrayal shot through her veins at the realization. He had just left her like she was nothing. Despair ached in her chest and her shoulders shuddered as she stifled her cries. Her tender heart was no match for his cruelty.

-----

The afternoon rolled around slowly. The day was spent exploring the castle with her newly appointed lady's maids and her future stepdaughters. It was strange knowing they were no older than she was, but she supposed it would make her marriage tolerable. Although Floris had made herself scarce, still upset that her father robbed her of a marriage to a handsome prince.

Maris, however, seemed taken with the princess.

"Forgive my words, my Princess, but your uncle seems like a cunt." Y/N chuckled at her boldness, but could not find it within herself to disagree.

"Indeed, my Lady. One can only hope he gets his comeuppance during this war."

----

Y/N still had yet to send a raven to her mother, informing her of her upcoming nuptials to Lord Baratheon. This had not been apart of their plan to secure Storm's End, but Y/N could not risk going back on her word. So, after her swallowing her pride and bile, Y/N took a quill to parchment and sent it to Dragonstone.

Across the sea, Queen Rhaenyra nearly collapsed at the news of her daughter's betrothal. This is not what she envisioned for her daughter! She had begged Daemon to kill Borros or burn Storm's End to the ground, but he only held her as she let out her grief.

------

Nearly seven months had passed since the wedding of Lord Borros Baratheon and Princess Y/N Velaryon. It was a grand affair, full of food, drink, and dancing. Whispers say that the Lord Baratheon was nearly blind with drunkness and could barely mount his new bride. Spectators grew bored of the dire bedding ceremony and quickly left as soon as they heard the snores from Borros.

Y/N had been trapped under him, dignity destroyed and humiliated, but thankful that it had ended so quickly.

Today, Borros seemed overjoyed that his seed had taken so quickly in his bride. He spent nearly every moment rubbing a palm against her swelling stomach, much to Y/N's dismay.

"My Lord husband, I should like to visit my mother soon. I have not seen her in quite some time." Y/N gently requested. Borros looked up at her through his thick eyebrows, confusion coloring his face.

"Did you not just visit her a mere fortnight ago?" Y/N paused, nerves eating at her stomach. "Yes, but with the war going I feel like my place is by her side."

"Your place is by your husband's side, wife." Borros reminded her harshly, "your frequent absence has been noticed by the court and I will not be humiliated in my own Hall!" Y/N flinched at his tone. While he never laid a hand on her since falling pregnant, that did not save her from his harsh words. "Of course, my Lord husband, I apologize." Y/N bowed her head to hide her tears and Lord Borros stood up in front of her.

"Do not weep so openly, wife. It is unbecoming of you." Y/N wiped her tears quickly, shame oozing through her.

"May I be dismissed, Lord husband?"

Lord Borros nodded and Y/N's skirts swished around her ankles as she hastily made her way to her chambers.

She settled infront of the fire after looking her doors tightly. The flames licking the stone of the hearth reminded her of the night she shared with Aemond so long ago. She held her belly at the memory. Y/N knew that her time was running out. When the child is born, her lies will be exposed and Borros would surely kill her. There would be no denying the white haired babe is Aemond's.

Y/N had to distract herself from her nightmarish thoughts. She picked up a stack of letters from her brothers and carefully read through each one. The most recent correspondence, from Jace, has stated Daemon had tricked Aemond into taking Harrenhal. Her heart panged painfully in her chest. She hated him for leaving her at Storm's End. Every day she prayed he would come back for her and their child and every day her hope diminished. With Vhagar and the Cannibal they could escape this war together and raise their child in peace.

Y/N placed the letter neatly on top of the stack. It had been weeks since she sent her reply to Jace, yet she had heard nothing in return. Had her own brother forgotten her as well?

In her grief, she fell into a deep slumber with the fire warming her bones.

----

Days had passed since Y/N had reminisced over the letters and still no word had reached her.

She sat in the dining room with her Lord husband and his daughters. A light chatter flowed through the air, but Y/N could not find herself interested in the conversation. Until Borros interrupted her thoughts.

"Wife, I have heard news from Harrenhal," the smile on his lips was anything but kind. Still, Y/N perked up.

"Your stepfather and uncle had fierce battle above the God's Eye Lake. My sources tell me that both perished!" The news shook Y/N to her core, yet Borros continued. "The mighty Vhagar and Caraxes fell with their riders and neither had been seen since. I know of your affections for your uncle and of the bastard in your belly." Fear took hold of Y/N's throat. She felt dizzy as sweat beaded on her forehead. The dining hall came to a standstill. Not a word or clink of silverware could be heard.

"My Lord h-husband, I assure yo-"

Borros raised a hand to silence her. "For too long have you played me for a fool, girl. I will not tolerate such disgusting insolence in my house!" He shouted and Y/N jumped at his loud words. Her heart thrashed against her ribs as she pleaded to him for mercy, but it was in vain.

Lord Borros had Y/N escorted back to her chambers, imprisoning her.

Y/N was still breathless at the news of her stepfather and her Aemond. Borros was lying. He had to be!

She let out a shriek that shook the foundation of Storm's End until her throat burned and her voice became raspy.

Sorrow clouded her mind and stabbed at her heart with its every beat.

-----

Y/N could not tell how much time had passed since her imprisonment began. Hours melded into days and weeks as she rotted in her chambers. Her hair became knotted and her skin dull. Her eyes felt heavy despite her sleeping for hours on end. Yet, even in her dreams she could not escape her grief. She was tormented by memories of Daemon and Aemond. How gentle and welcoming Daemond had been after her father's death. How Aemond kissed her so tenderly as his fingers tangled in her hair.

A sudden burst through the door startled Y/N out of her trance. Several maids scurried in and began undressing her and forcing her into a ton of hot water.

"Lord Borros is expecting a visitor today, my Lady, we must make you presentable." And older woman, Mirren, spoke. The corners of her eyes crinkled as she took in the state of the princess. Her wrinkled hand reached out and wiped Y/N's tears. Mirren had always been kind to her, eventhough she was a prisoner. She was the one that made sure the princess age enough, for the sake of her child.

Y/N let them continue their ministrations; scrubbing her skin raw, soaking her in scented oils, and brushing through her knotted hair.

Afterwards, two maids gently dressed her in a fine gown of black with gold interwoven in the seams. She was every bit a Velaryon-Baratheon beauty.

Four guards ushered her toward Borros's throne, where he sat and scowled at her. Y/N refused to meet his scornful gaze.

Borros squeezed her wrist painfully, "you will drop the act of self-pity in front of our guest, whore." Y/N ignored him until he grabbed her throat, forcing her to meet his eyes.

"Think about your bastard, princess." She shook with fear and straightened her back and held her chin high.

The large doors of the Keep swung open with fervor. A cloaked figure entered the hall.

"We welcome you! We heard rumors that you had perished in the God's Eye Lake."

Aemond Targaryen pulled back his hood. An icy fury danced behind his violet eye.

"Only fools should believe such rumors, Lord Borros." He snarled. Borros seemed taken aback by the aggression.

"To what do we owe the pleasure, my Prince? Or is it just Aemond? Your half-sister now sits on the Iron Throne. Perhaps I would receive a reward for bringing her your head?" Borros mused.

Y/N could not believe her eyes. Her Aemond, in the flesh. Though he seemed to have a more dangerous unbridled fury rippling through him. His eye was wide and crazed and his nostrils flared and he took quick breaths.

"I came for my wife. Surrender her to me and you shall live another day, mercifully." Borros let out a laugh at such an absurd request.

"You mean the whore you put a bastard in? I should kill the both of you for attempting to embarass me!" Borros shouted. He stood and grabbed a handful for Y/N's hair and held a blade to her throat.

"You will watch her bleed before I kill you."

Aemond unsheathed his own sword.

"I will burn this fucking Keep to the ground and the Cannibal will devour your daughters' corpses before her body hits the ground." He snarled. Slowly, Aemond began his approach towards Borros and his captive, who struggled against his rough grip. Borros pressed the blade deeper, a thin line of blood pebbling from her skin.

Aemond stopped as he saw Y/N writhe in pain. His heart hammered in his chest. No one but him is supposed to touch her.

"I did not take you for a coward, Lord Borros. Release her and pick up a sword!" Lord Borros did not like having his bravery questioned. He roughly shoved Y/N to the stone floor and approached Aemond.

"It is admirable that you are so willing to die for a whor-"

Borros could not finish his sentence before Aemond let out a shout of fury and charged at him. The abrupt attack caught Borros off guard and he did his best to block each viscious swing.

Aemond had been blinded by primal ferocity and plunged the sword into Borros until chunks of him littered the stony ground. Blood had splattered on Aemond's face and he looked like a man crazed as he growled after each stab of his sword.

Once he was satisfied with the pieces of Borros he ran over to Y/N.

"My love, I'm here. I'm taking you with me." He placed his forehead against hers as he held her held. Y/N grasped his hands and kissed his lips.

"I thought you were dead. Borros told me you perished in the God's Eye!"

"Nothing can keep me from you, ābrazyrys, not even the Stranger." He promised.

Aemond stood with Y/N in his arms, where she belonged. The men he rounded up under Rhaenyra's orders filed into the Keep, forcing the Baratheon guards to surrender.

"I should wed you properly now, wife, my beautiful wife." Aemond pressed a kiss against her lips once more, his hand resting on her belly.

----

Aemond wed his beautiful wife according to the customs of Old Valyria. The ceremony was blessed by their Queen Rhaenyra, after she granted Aemond a pardon for killing his usurper brother and rescuing his Y/N from the clutches of Borros Baratheon.

[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.

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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."

[novaursa]

To Win a Princess (the war)

- Summary: Once you come of age, the realm seeks to curry the King's favor once more by seeking a hand of his younger daughter. You. 

- Paring: targ!reader/Tyland Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the king is dead

- Next part: son's choice

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @your-favorite-god

The news came in the form of a shaken raven, its wings tattered from the storm it had flown through to reach Casterly Rock. The missive it carried was brief, but the words scrawled in haste burned into your mind as you read them.

Luke is dead. Storm’s End. Aemond. Vhagar.

The parchment fell from your hands, fluttering to the stone floor like a fallen leaf. You couldn’t breathe, the weight of the words crushing your chest as tears welled in your eyes. The room seemed to blur around you, and the faint sound of your youngest daughter’s voice pulled you back to the present.

“Mama?” Alysanne’s soft, trembling voice brought you out of your haze. She stood in the doorway, her wide violet eyes filled with concern. “Mama, what’s wrong?”

You couldn’t speak. Instead, you opened your arms, and she rushed into them, burying her face against your shoulder. She was only nine, far too young to bear the grief that now settled over her small frame as you clutched her tightly.

“It’s Luke,” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper. “He’s gone, my sweet girl.”

Her body stiffened, and then she began to sob, her small hands clutching at your gown as if holding on to you would keep the world from crumbling further. “No,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “Not Luke. He… he promised he’d visit soon. He said we’d play again.”

You stroked her hair, your tears falling freely as you tried to soothe her. “I know,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I know, my love. He was so brave, so kind. He loved you so much.”

Alysanne pulled back slightly, her tear-streaked face looking up at you. “What happened, Mama? Why is he gone?”

Before you could answer, the door opened again, and Tyland entered. His usually composed face was tight with grief, his green eyes filled with sorrow as they flicked from you to Alysanne. He moved quickly, kneeling beside you and pulling both of you into his arms.

“Luke is gone,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Aemond… Vhagar… it was Storm’s End.”

Tyland’s arms tightened around you, his face grim. “I heard,” he said softly, his voice steady but filled with pain. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry.���

Alysanne’s sobs continued, muffled against his chest as he held her close. “Why would Aemond do this?” she cried, her small voice filled with heartbreak. “He was our cousin. Why would he hurt Luke?”

Tyland’s jaw tightened, his voice low but gentle as he answered. “Sometimes, people let anger and hatred consume them. Aemond made a terrible choice, one he can never take back.”

“It’s not fair,” Alysanne whimpered, her tears soaking into Tyland’s tunic. “Luke didn’t deserve this. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No, he didn’t,” you agreed, your voice trembling as you stroked her hair. “Luke was innocent, Alysanne. He was kind and brave and so full of life. None of this is fair.”

Tyland pulled back slightly, cupping Alysanne’s tear-streaked face with one hand. “But you know what Luke would want?” he asked gently, waiting until she looked at him. “He’d want you to remember him with love, to be strong and kind like he was. That’s how we honor him.”

Alysanne sniffled, her little hands wiping at her red, swollen eyes. “I’ll try,” she whispered. “But I miss him so much already.”

“We all do,” you said, pulling her close again. “But we’ll carry him with us in our hearts, always.”

You fell silent for a moment, your thoughts shifting to Rhaenyra. The grief that threatened to consume you must have already swallowed her whole. She had lost their father, her strength in the shadows, and now her son—her sweet Luke. “Rhaenyra,” you whispered, your voice breaking with sorrow. “How is she to bear this?”

Tyland’s gaze softened, his hand finding yours as he pulled you closer. “She’s stronger than most, Y/N. But no one should have to endure what she has.”

Tears spilled freely down your cheeks as you shook your head. “She’s lost so much, Tyland. And for what? A crown that will only bring more death? I fear this will destroy her.”

Tyland’s voice was quiet but steady as he replied, “We’ll support her. Whatever she needs, we’ll be there. But you mustn’t let your fear consume you. The children need you, and so does she.”

You nodded, though the ache in your heart remained. “I’ll write to her,” you said, your voice trembling. “She needs to know she’s not alone.”

“She knows,” Tyland assured you. “But hearing it from you will remind her. She’ll find strength in that, just as I find strength in you.”

For a long moment, the three of you stayed there, clinging to each other as the weight of Luke’s loss settled over you. The grief was raw, a wound that would never fully heal, but in the warmth of Tyland’s embrace and Alysanne’s quiet sniffles, you found a flicker of resolve. Rhaenyra might be far away, but you would do whatever it took to support her—even from a distance.

The storm raged on outside, the winds howling as if the gods themselves mourned the loss of the boy who had once brought so much light to your family. And though the world seemed darker now, you vowed to carry that light forward—for Luke, for Rhaenyra, and for the family you still had to protect.

The skies over Casterly Rock darkened as the blood-red shadow of Caraxes descended from the heavens. His serpentine form was unmistakable, his wings slicing through the air with powerful strokes as he let out a guttural roar that echoed off the cliffs. The fortress below erupted in commotion as soldiers and servants rushed to secure the grounds, their nerves frayed at the arrival of the fearsome dragon.

You stood at one of the balconies overlooking the landing courtyard, your children gathered around you, their gazes alight with a mixture of awe and trepidation. Loren and Rhaelle exchanged a glance, the silent bond of twins evident as they seemed to assess the situation in unison.

“It’s him,” Loren murmured, gripping the edge of the stone railing. “Prince Daemon.”

“And Caraxes,” Rhaelle added, her voice tinged with nervous excitement. “There is no other dragon like that.”

You placed a steadying hand on Rhaelle’s shoulder, your gaze fixed on the landing courtyard below. “Stay here,” you instructed your children, your voice firm but calm. “Your father and I will handle this.”

Tyland was already descending the steps to meet the arriving prince, his golden hair gleaming in the afternoon light. His stride was purposeful, but you could see the stiffness in his shoulders, the set of his jaw. The animosity between him and Daemon had never truly faded, and this meeting was bound to be fraught with old wounds and new challenges.

Caraxes landed with a resounding thud, his wings folding neatly against his body as he let out another low, rumbling growl. Daemon dismounted with practiced ease, his silver hair tousled by the wind, his dark armor glinting with a faint crimson hue. He strode forward with the confidence of a man who expected the world to bow before him, his sharp gaze sweeping over the gathered Lannister soldiers before settling on Tyland.

“Lord Tyland,” Daemon greeted, his voice smooth but laced with an edge. “Or should I say, the lion who stole my prize?”

Tyland’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he inclined his head with measured civility. “Prince Daemon. You honor us with your presence.”

Daemon’s smirk widened, his violet eyes gleaming with amusement as he stepped closer. “I wasn’t aware your family had taken to hosting dragons. Or was that your wife’s doing?”

Tyland met his gaze evenly, refusing to rise to the bait. “The dragons are here to protect my family and our lands. You’ll find Casterly Rock has much to offer—both in loyalty and strength.”

“Loyalty,” Daemon repeated, his smirk fading as he stopped a mere step away. “A word I’d not readily associate with the Lannisters.”

Tyland’s eyes narrowed, but his tone remained calm. “House Lannister has always acted in the interest of its people and its allies. I trust you’re here to discuss how we can further those interests.”

Before Daemon could respond, you descended the stairs, your gown billowing behind you as you approached. His gaze flicked to you, and for a moment, the tension in his posture eased.

“Y/N,” Daemon greeted, his tone softer but still tinged with something unspoken. “It’s been some time.”

“It has,” you replied, your voice steady as you came to stand beside Tyland. “Welcome to Casterly Rock, Uncle. I trust your journey was uneventful?”

He chuckled, the sound low and amused. “As uneventful as a flight on Caraxes can be. I see your family is thriving.” His gaze lingered on you for a beat longer than necessary before shifting back to Tyland. “Though I imagine your husband doesn’t think much of my arrival.”

Tyland’s hand brushed yours briefly, a subtle show of unity. “The Westerlands have a role to play in this war,” he said evenly. “If you’re here to discuss strategy, you’ll find us more than willing to listen.”

Daemon’s smirk returned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Strategy, yes. And perhaps a reminder of where loyalty truly lies.”

“Loyalty lies with my sister,” you interjected firmly, your voice cutting through the charged air. “And you’ll find no wavering here, Daemon.”

For a moment, the three of you stood in a silence, the weight of history and unspoken words pressing heavily around you. Finally, Daemon inclined his head slightly, though his smirk never wavered.

“Very well,” he said, his tone light but edged with steel. “Let’s see what the lions of Casterly Rock have to offer the realm.”

Tyland gestured toward the keep, his expression impassive. “Shall we discuss this further in private?”

Daemon didn’t answer immediately, his gaze flicking back to you. “Lead the way,” he said finally, his smirk widening as he fell into step beside you and Tyland.

Jason Lannister sat at the head of the polished oak table, his golden cloak draped casually over his chair. His expression was guarded, his fingers drumming against the armrest as he listened to Prince Daemon Targaryen.

Daemon stood at the far end of the table, his presence commanding as his sharp violet eyes scanned the room. He wore his dark armor, a faint glimmer of crimson catching the firelight, and his posture spoke of urgency restrained only by necessity. Beside him, Tyland sat, his demeanor calm but watchful, while you remained at his side, your expression neutral as you observed the exchange.

“The Riverlands are key,” Daemon began, his voice low but brimming with conviction. “If we secure Harrenhal, we cut off Aegon’s forces from the North. The Riverlords will rally to Rhaenyra’s cause if they see we have the strength to protect them.”

Jason leaned back in his chair, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “Harrenhal,” he repeated, his tone laced with skepticism. “A cursed ruin surrounded by swamps and ghosts. And you want me to march my men there?”

Daemon’s smirk mirrored Jason’s, though his eyes darkened. “A cursed ruin that commands a strategic position. If you march with me, we secure the Riverlands and bring more lords to our side. Aegon won’t stand a chance.”

Jason let out a humorless laugh, gesturing around him. “You think it’s that simple, Targaryen? Marching an army isn’t just a matter of pointing and walking. It requires provisions, planning, and trust. You’ve brought dragons, yes, but you’ve also brought war to my gates. You’ll have to offer more than vague promises of alliances to convince me.”

Tyland leaned forward, his green eyes fixed on his brother. “Jason, securing Harrenhal isn’t just about the Riverlands. It’s about showing strength. If we let Aegon’s forces control the heart of the realm, it will weaken our position everywhere.”

Jason scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “Easy for you to say, Tyland. You’re not the one who’ll have to explain to our bannermen why they’re marching toward a swamp to fight a war that should’ve stayed in the Crownlands.”

“Because it won’t stay there,” you interjected, your voice calm but firm. “This war will touch every corner of Westeros, Jason. The Westerlands may seem secure now, but if we do nothing, we’ll find ourselves surrounded by enemies. Supporting Rhaenyra isn’t just about family—it’s about ensuring our survival.”

Daemon tilted his head slightly, his gaze flicking to you with something like approval. “Your sister-in-law speaks sense, Jason. Perhaps you should listen.”

Jason shot Daemon a sharp look, his jaw tightening. “Don’t think flattery will sway me, Prince. I’m not so easily charmed.”

“Good,” Daemon replied, his smirk returning. “Because I’m not here to charm you. I’m here to remind you of the stakes. If Aegon wins, what do you think happens to the Westerlands? Do you think Otto Hightower will forget Tyland’s ‘insubordination’? Do you think they’ll let your family’s dragons remain unchecked?”

Jason’s fingers stopped drumming, his expression hardening as he considered Daemon’s words. The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of the question hanging heavily in the air.

“And what guarantee do I have that Rhaenyra will honor our sacrifices?” Jason asked finally, his tone measured. “If I commit my forces, I need to know it’s not for nothing.”

Daemon stepped closer, his violet eyes narrowing. “You’ll have my word, and Rhaenyra’s. And when this war is over, you’ll have the gratitude of the Queen and the future of your House secured.”

Jason met Daemon’s gaze evenly, his expression unreadable. “Your word is worth little to me, Daemon. But my brother and his family—” He glanced at you and Tyland briefly before continuing, “—they have put their faith in you. That carries weight.”

Tyland’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though his voice remained cautious as he said, “Jason, we need this alliance. The Riverlands are a stepping stone, not just for Rhaenyra, but for the safety of the Westerlands.”

Jason sighed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. “Fine. I’ll march with you to Harrenhal. But I expect results, Daemon. No reckless gambits, no half-baked plans. If my men are risking their lives, I want guarantees.”

Daemon’s smirk widened, though it carried a sharper edge. “You’ll have them. Harrenhal will be ours, Jason. And when it is, you’ll see the wisdom in this choice.”

Jason grunted, reaching for his goblet and raising it slightly. “To wisdom, then. And to victory, I hope.”

Daemon inclined his head, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “To victory.”

As Jason drank deeply, you exchanged a glance with Tyland, the faintest flicker of relief passing between you. The decision had been made, but the road ahead was fraught with uncertainty. For now, however, you could only hope that this alliance would bring the strength needed to weather the storm.

The faint glow of torches flickered against the stone walls of Casterly Rock’s lower courtyard as Loren approached Prince Daemon Targaryen. The evening was cool, the breeze carrying the faint scent of salt from the nearby cliffs. Daemon stood near the edge of the training grounds, inspecting the hilt of Dark Sister as the moonlight glinted off its polished blade.

Loren hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest, but his resolve hardened. The young lion stepped forward, his boots crunching softly on the gravel, drawing Daemon’s attention.

Daemon turned his head, his violet eyes narrowing slightly as he spotted the boy. His lips curved into a faint, knowing smirk. “Well, this is unexpected,” he drawled, sheathing Dark Sister with a practiced motion. “What brings you here, young Lannister? Shouldn’t you be in bed, dreaming of glory?”

Loren squared his shoulders, his hair catching the faint light. He looked every inch a Lannister—proud, determined, and unyielding. “I came to speak with you, Prince Daemon.”

Daemon raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Did you now? And what does the lion cub wish to discuss with the Rogue Prince?”

“I want to join the war,” Loren said, his voice steady but filled with youthful determination. “I want to fight.”

Daemon’s smirk widened, his amusement evident as he stepped closer, studying the boy intently. “Do you, now? And does your mother know you’re here, making such bold declarations?”

Loren hesitated, his jaw tightening slightly. “Not yet,” he admitted, his tone defiant. “But I’ll tell her. She’ll understand.”

Daemon chuckled, shaking his head. “Will she? Y/N is many things, but a fool is not one of them. She knows the cost of war better than you ever could.”

“I’m not a child,” Loren shot back, his cheeks flushing. “I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”

Daemon tilted his head, his smirk fading slightly as he regarded the boy. “Old enough to wield a sword, perhaps. But war isn’t just about swords, boy. It’s about blood, loss, and sacrifices you can’t begin to imagine. Do you truly understand what you’re asking for?”

“I understand enough,” Loren said firmly, his gaze unwavering. “Luke is dead. Aemond killed him. I can’t sit here while others fight for justice. I want to do my part.”

Daemon’s expression grew darker at the mention of Luke, the faintest flicker of grief passing over his face before it was replaced by his usual cool demeanor. He studied Loren for a long moment, his sharp gaze piercing.

“You’re brave,” Daemon said finally, his voice low and measured. “But bravery alone doesn’t win wars. Tell me, Loren, why should I let you march with us? What makes you think you’re ready for this?”

Loren lifted his chin, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Because I’ve trained for this my whole life. My father taught me strategy, and I’ve been learning to fight since I could hold a sword. I’m ready, Prince Daemon.”

“Are you?” Daemon asked, stepping closer until he towered over the boy. “Because the battlefield doesn’t care about your training or your name. When you’re staring down an enemy twice your size, when you see your friends fall beside you—will you still be ready then?”

Loren didn’t falter, his gaze steady despite the weight of Daemon’s words. “Yes,” he said simply. “Because I’m fighting for something that matters.”

Daemon regarded him in silence for a moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re your mother’s son, all right. Stubborn as a mule and twice as bold.”

Loren’s lips twitched into a faint smile at the comment, but his resolve didn’t waver. “Does that mean you’ll let me join?”

Daemon exhaled sharply, running a hand through his silver hair. “Not yet,” he said, his tone firm. “I’ll speak to your mother first. If she agrees, I’ll consider it. But don’t get your hopes up, boy. Y/N has a sharper tongue than I do, and I don’t envy the conversation you’ll have when she finds out you came to me.”

Loren’s confidence faltered slightly at that, but he nodded. “Thank you, Prince Daemon.”

Daemon smirked again, his hand resting on the hilt of Dark Sister. “Don’t thank me yet. And next time, try not to sneak around like a thief. It’s unbecoming of a Lannister.”

As Loren turned to leave, Daemon called after him, his voice laced with amusement. “And tell your dragon to stay out of trouble. We’ll need him in one piece.”

Loren glanced back, his cheeks flushing slightly as he nodded. “Yes, my prince.”

Daemon watched the boy disappear into the shadows, his smirk fading as his expression grew thoughtful. The lion cub had fire, no doubt about that. But fire alone wasn’t enough to survive the inferno of war.

The solar was quiet, the soft crackle of the hearth filling the space as you sat at the writing desk, your quill moving steadily over parchment. The warmth of the fire and the scent of ink should have been calming, but your mind was far from settled. The anxiety in Casterly Rock had been high since Daemon’s arrival, his presence stirring emotions and memories you had long tried to bury.

The knock on the door was firm but not aggressive, breaking your focus. You set the quill down, glancing toward the door. “Enter,” you called, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest.

Daemon stepped inside, his frame silhouetted by the light from the hall. His silver hair shimmered in the firelight, and his violet eyes were sharp as they locked onto yours. He closed the door behind him, the faint creak of the hinges the only sound as he took a step forward.

“Daemon,” you greeted, your tone guarded but polite. “To what do I owe this visit?”

He smirked faintly, though there was a weight behind it. “You always were direct, niece. It’s one of the things I admired about you.”

You leaned back in your chair, folding your hands neatly in your lap. “And yet, you’ve come to speak with me, not my husband. That’s rarely a good sign.”

His smirk widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Tyland has his uses, but this… this is a matter that concerns you more directly.”

Your brow furrowed slightly, but you nodded toward a chair by the hearth. “Sit, then. Let’s not waste time.”

Daemon strode across the room, his movements deliberate and controlled. He settled into the chair, resting an arm on the armrest and studying you for a moment before he spoke.

“It’s about Loren,” he said, his tone quieter than you expected. “Your son approached me earlier.”

Your heart sank slightly, though you kept your expression neutral. “What did he say?”

Daemon’s lips twitched, not quite a smile. “He wants to join the war. He’s eager to fight, to prove himself. I told him I’d speak to you before making any decisions.”

You exhaled slowly, your fingers tightening slightly on your lap. “Loren is brave, but he’s still a boy. He doesn’t understand what war truly means.”

“Perhaps not,” Daemon agreed, leaning forward slightly. “But he has fire in him, Y/N. The kind that could make a difference on the battlefield.”

You narrowed your eyes, your voice sharpening. “And what happens when that fire is snuffed out, Daemon? He’s my son. I won’t risk him for your ambitions.”

Daemon’s smirk faded, replaced by a seriousness that was rare for him. “This isn’t just about my ambitions. It’s about Rhaenyra’s claim, about the future of the realm. If Aegon wins, the Westerlands won’t be safe—your family won’t be safe. You know that.”

You stood, crossing the room to stand near the hearth. The flickering flames reflected in your eyes as you turned back to him. “I know what’s at stake, but I’ve already given everything to this war. My children are my line in the sand, Daemon.”

He rose from his chair, his gaze steady as he approached you. “I understand your fear, Y/N. Truly, I do. But this war isn’t something we can sit out. It’s coming for all of us, whether we want it to or not.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the tension between you crackling like the fire behind you. Finally, you sighed, your voice softer. “You said this wasn’t just about Loren. What else is on your mind, Daemon?”

His expression shifted, a flicker of something unguarded crossing his face. “You’ve always been perceptive,” he murmured, stepping closer. “Perhaps too perceptive for your own good.”

“Daemon,” you warned, your tone firm. “Don’t play games with me.”

He stopped just a step away, his gaze locked onto yours. “I came here because I needed to see you,” he admitted, his voice quieter. “Not as a prince or a general, but as the man I was before all of this.”

Your breath hitched slightly, but you held his gaze. “And who was that man, Daemon? Because I don’t think I’ve known him for a very long time.”

His lips twisted into a faint, rueful smile. “Perhaps not. But that doesn’t change what I feel—or what I’ve always felt.”

You shook your head, stepping back slightly. “Daemon, whatever you think you feel—”

“I’m not asking for anything,” he interrupted, his voice sharper. “I know where you stand, Y/N. I know who you chose. But that doesn’t erase the past, and it doesn’t stop me from caring.”

For a moment, you couldn’t find the words. The weight of his confession hung heavily in the air, mingling with the memories you had worked so hard to suppress. Finally, you exhaled, your voice steady but strained. “You care, Daemon? Then respect my choices. Respect my family.”

He inclined his head slightly, his smirk returning but softer this time. “As you wish, niece. But don’t expect me to stop watching over you. Or your son.”

With that, he turned and strode toward the door, his boots echoing against the stone floor. As the door closed behind him, you sank into the chair by the hearth, your mind racing. Daemon had always been a force of nature—unpredictable, relentless, and utterly unyielding. And while his words left you unsettled, you couldn’t deny the truth in them. The storm of war was coming, and whether you liked it or not, your family was already caught in its path.

[themotherofhorses]

Handmaid!reader and Aemond having a picnic with Vhagar in the background and playing with their children.

pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

notes: dad!aemond makes my ovaries hurt so fucking much.

his handmaid's tales | main masterlist

The morning of their planned family picnic dawned bright and sunny, with only a few puffy white clouds scattered across the sky. Such a perfect summer day, and his twin boys were beyond excited, nothing more than a pair of pups bouncing and wagging and yapping at their sire’s feet. Large, twinkling violet eyes and small pouts they gave him, and he could not say no to them.

So Aemond called for a royal cook to pack them a lunch before telling his sweet girl to dress comfortable, in one of the pretty and thin dresses he had tailored for outside events.

At midday, they settle outside King’s Landing, along the Blackwater Rush, tucked within a flowered grove with cool green grass and shade. The currents are wicked and treacherous, they warn their children. Do not venture too close, lest you be drowned in the waters.

But the boys are too taken with Vhagar, who slumbers behind them, to care the slightest about the river.

His handmaid sits beside him, upon the thick fleeced blanket, nursing their new daughter at her breast. Her back is to their sons, but Aemond has a feeling she’s aware of their every move around his dragon. Mother’s instincts. But gods, she’s so pretty in the sunlight, he thinks, with her arms filled with his own, and he’s stricken with lovesickness once again.

“Sweet, isn’t it?” Aemond asks.  

She lifts her head to look at him. “Hm?” Her voice is soft, airy and calm. “What is sweet?”

He gestures around them, to their woven picnic basket and the great rushing river, and their children and the beauties of the land. Scattered about the blanket is half a suckling pig and buttered turnips and a piping nutty bread loaf, as well as a pigeon pie, at the request of their twins. “Everything in this very moment.” He lifts his chalice to his lips, taking a quick sip of his mead.

“It is peaceful, quiet, and just our family- the way it should be. We ought to do this more. There is no need to worry about bloodshed and wagging tongues and wandering eyes. It’s just us.”

We’re husband and wife, he wants to add, but instead remains silent.

The elm, the alder, and the black cottonwood see us as nothing more, and nothing less.  

She smiles. “Yes, my prince,” she agrees, before glancing back down, to stroke their daughter’s browbone with her thumb, and coo at the little noises. Alysanne, they named her, after her own grandmother and the Good Queen Alysanne. She had been born during the early springtime, while a thunderstorm raged outside, and her father wept tears of joy inside. She has her mother’s features, to his delight.  

“Ah, well, it seems you were quite hungry, my little one,” she tells the babe, giggling.

“She’s a dragon, my love. Perhaps she wishes to grow as big and strong as Vhagar.”

“Maybe.”

Aemond snags two pieces of the bread and hands her one, before plopping the other in his mouth. It’s still warm on his tongue, and he can taste the sweet walnuts and hazelnuts, and the pumpkin and oat seeds.

It’s then that one of their boys- the youngest of the two, Aenar, creeps behind his father, before flinging his arms around his neck. “Hello, father,” he whispers, nuzzling his plump face against Aemond’s cheek. Aemion slides next to his mother, kissing her on the cheek. Both boys are red-cheeked and bubbling with breathless laughter, clutching their tiny wooden stick swords in their hands.

Their mother clicks her tongue. “Are you thirsty?” she asks, reaching for the water jug. “And look at you! All sweaty and soiled, what shall we ever do with the both of you?” Aemond takes the little Alysanne from her arms as she tends to the boys, washing the sweat and dirt from them with a cool, damp cloth. But she’s laughing too, and it soon makes him laugh as well.

Aemond leans in, sniffing Aenar. “You smell more dragon than human now. Should your mother and I be worried you’ll sprout wings tonight?”  

“Vhagar allowed for us to climb her legs!” Aenar exclaims, wiping his fingers on his tunic, then chewing on a piece of meat he stole from his father’s plate. Aemion nods from where he’s seated in his mother’s lap, nestled against her chest.  

“We felt like you, father! Big and strong and ready to claim a dragon of our own!”

Aemond smiles, and his handmaid giggles, and he reaches out to hold her hand in his. As their sons keep recounting their previous enjoyment with Vhagar, their fingers twine together as husband and wife.

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